The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]

[Chambers]

Herein Lie The Lost Lands

As I Would Think, so Shall Ye; As I Would Feel, so Shall Ye;
As I Would Do, so Shall Ye; As I Would Not Harm, Nor Shall Ye;
As I Would, so Shall the Clan; As the Clan Would, so Shall I;
As We Would, so Shall Ye.
The People are as One, and Never Shall I Stray From This,
Nor Shall Ye, For to Digress is to Diminish You and Your People
– Final Stanza of the Code of the People of Myth Drannor



"I dedicate this death to the Tel'Quessir." The masked elf said as he plunged his blade through the back of Coronal Ilsevele. A foot of steel slid out from her chest and she slumped over, her dead body held up by the free hand of the assassin. The blade began to darken and the Coronal's body flashed to ash, the now empty clothes flopping on the ground. The ash was caught by the wind and scattered across the marble courtyard, covering the shocked elves with a light gray dusting.

"Today Cormanthyr is born again!" He shouted and thrust the blackened blade up towards the sky.


1378 DR. Year of the Cauldron, Flamerule.

It's been four years since the Elven Crusade retook Myth Drannor from the daemonfey, yet only in the past year have the elves begun to hope again. The return of the Srinshee with the Crownblade and the anointing of a new Coronal are the cause of that hope and the elves are beginning to think of the glory that once was not just as some glimmering memory but as a possibility for the future.

As the Crownblade returns, so to do the elves. Houses that left during the Retreat for safer shores have returned to claim their ancient holdings. The elves are not the only ones to return as a clan of dwarves from Citadel Felbarr marched down from the newly named Silver Marches to live again in the City of Song. Coronal Ilsevele welcomed them but not all are pleased with her decision; many of the noble Houses that left Myth Drannor centuries ago left because they disagreed with Eltargrim Irithyl's pact with the Dales.

Earlier this year during the Greengrass festival two ambassadors from Cormyr arrived in Myth Drannor. Both claim that they serve the true King of Cormyr, each asking the Elven Court for official recognition of their chosen sovereign. Coronal Ilsevele has yet to see either of them as a strong body of Houses have been pushing her for Cormanthyr to remain neutral. A declaration of either party would bring Myth Drannor into Cormyr's civil war and Ilsevele has no desire to do so though she fears the consequences of inaction.

There are plenty of other matters to keep her mind busy though and in the two months since the Ambassadors arrival her refusal to see them has become more than a stalling tactic as she's had to keep a near constant watch on the attitudes and egos of the Houses. Some hidden faction among the Houses has used the turmoil of neighboring Cormyr as an excuse to revive a centuries old shame for the elves; the Eldreth Veluuthra made their first public killing in Kythorn, just days before the Summer Solstice. What should have been a time of rebirth and joy was tainted by six dead dwarves, each impaled by their own picks, stuck against the side of their wagon found a mile from the entrance to the city. Their tools lay broken on the ground beneath them and a single thinblade was left in the body of their leader, the sign of the Victorious Blade of the People.

Since then there have been two more attacks on non-Elves; the nighttime slaying of a halfling traveler and the murder of two human merchants from Shadowdale. The diplomats from Cormyr were placed under house arrest for their own protection after an attempted strike on them. No one died, but the masked elves were not captured.

The unease throughout the city has been magnified by unnatural dreams that trouble the sleep of the N'Tel'Quessir. For the past week those not of Sun Elf blood have been subject to ever increasing distressful dreams and night terrors. The nightmares are varied in their specifics, ranging from death by masked elves to famine, disease and war, though the intent seems clear; leave Myth Drannor. There are rumors that the plagued dreams are beginning to have their effect as one halfling tribe is reportedly preparing to leave. The dwarves are putting pressure on Coronal Ilsevele to find who is responsible, yet she finds her hands tied politically by certain old Houses.

As the city prepares for the Midsummer festival next week Coronal Ilsevele has made it known that she will not tolerate any attacks during the celebration. To that end she's been meeting with different groups of people outside the power of the Elven Court, making no attempts to hide her efforts at circumventing them. Last evening you received an invitation to breakfast with her this morning at her private residence, away from the palace. As you make your way to her home, the city around you is quiet and subdued, the expectant excitement of the festival replaced by the fear of another attack and the phantoms from last nights dream.

Dane, Aria, Sydil, and Ayorra have all had increasingly unsettling dreams of the sort described above. The dreams don't appear to be personalized though that doesn't reduce their effectiveness as the calamities of murder and war are troubles that everyone can identify with. Mithranix has not been affected by the dreams when he goes into reverie.

Each of you can assume at least a formal familiarity with Coronal Ilsevele, though you may choose to have a more informal relationship if you wish. She's hardworking and true to the dream, but is frustrated by the politics that hamper her.

Go ahead and start how you wish; already there, on the way, etc. I'm interested to read how each of you lives in the city and what your characters reactions are to the past months events.

[AmberVael]

Sydil was avoiding rest- the dreams were simply too disconcerting to her. It wasn't the violence and disaster they depicted, or the threat and hate they represented that truly troubled her though, it was the little grain of truth they pushed at her: She didn't belong here. She wasn't really what she appeared to be. And if the truth were known, the hate poured on her would eclipse everything done so far.

It was better not to think about it, not to consider it at all. No one knew, and no one had to know. So Sydil locked her fears away inside her and went about her daily life, trying to ignore the darkening circles under her eyes and the fatigue that clung to her; she couldn't go without rest forever, but she went without it as long as she could, only giving up when she couldn't pull herself to her feet anymore.

Though she was always quiet, this week Sydil has been even more withdrawn and terse. Even in Windsong Tower where she is well known and appreciated, she secluded herself in her studies rather than interact with others. She buried herself in books and arcane theory, piling her work around her like a fortress. None of the magi did more than quietly ask if she was alright, even though her schedule was erratic and her hours long- she was an associate, not a true member. Even if they had concerns, it was her business, not theirs.

Celidae was concerned though, and she made it her business. The officer had been meeting with her with increased frequency, as much for recreation as anything else, inviting her to taverns and social events whenever she had the time. Sydil felt fairly sure it was an attempt to encourage and cheer her, but though she didn't refuse, none of it raised her spirits. If anything, it sapped at the little energy she had left.

She was still tired, this morning, but less than she had been. Though she dreaded it, she had rested the night before after receiving the Coronal's invitation. Still, the signs of fatigue could be found on her, from weary eyes to hair that seemed frazzled even when she did her best to tidy it. Nonetheless, she set out to the private residence once she was ready, dressed in a dark blue robe and adorned with a few pieces of silver jewelry- just enough to be respectful of the invitation, but not enough to draw undue attention. Once she arrives, she gives a gentle knock on the door, glancing around her with a hint of worry after she does so.

[TheFallenSon]

"May we never forget our vows, as in life we are in death, the Eternal Guardians of our people. These are powerful words my friends. We have sworn an oath of service to our people that cannot and must not be forsaken. As you are guided now, so shall you guide a younger generation into battle. Your strength and resolve will forever be a shield that our people may shelter behind, be true and never forget your duty." Duty...duty was so much of his being now. It is what made him the leader of this small contingent of warriors. Duty had lead them out to punish the enemies of this refounded nation. It had been a short but bloody battle. The drow raiders easily tracked...not so easily killed. Duty, made him remind the men of their vows before they were released from this last Blade Oath, a reminder of who and what they are...then Home...Home to friends and family. Many of these warriors joined the order late in life...many had families...not all but many. He was never one to keep his men from a previous life...one of his failings...but one that made him proud.

He drew his rapier and held it high. The men and women gathered before him did the same, chests puffed out and it seemed for a moment as if the readied themselves for something. "Now we re-affirm our oaths, draw your blades and let us make ALL OF CORMANTHYR TREMBLE WITH OUR VOICES! *The Dark gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until the world is undone. I shall hold no lands, take no wife, and father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. All I do I do for my people, all that I am I am for my people. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realm. I pledge my life, my death, and my honor to Cormanthyr for this night and all the nights to come! * Go now and enjoy your leave, I believe there is a festival soon, be merry." Swords were sheathed, and backs were patted as the square cleared. A smile creased Mithranix's face. His men would do well with the leave.

The reports from the city had been troubling these last few days...nightmares...schemes...murderers and monsters. Those nightmares had even effected his warriors. Those men whose blood wasn't as pure as the sun...had their reveries filled with the same horrors as those in the city, the latest were reports of a successful assassination of the Coronal. That had shaken his men deeply. It was this dream that had truly brought his cadre of warriors back to Myth Drannor. He needed answers....hopefully someone would be able to ease his mind.*

There was also the talk of murderers...elves killing the other races...a horror not known for sometime. This was how many of his kin thought the court should be run, elves alone making choices. He knew that elves alone were not capable of claiming and holding their ancient homes. Something that even the elder blades had begun to admit as the wars of reclaimation had ended. Thoughts full and his body begining to demand food he made his way into the heart of the city.

It was then that a young elven boy stepped forward with his invitation to breakfast, duty. It was never done. The Coronal her same self had requested his presence in her home...to breakfast...she was a different one. But the warrior knew enough of the court to know when discretion would be necessary, that or maybe it was just a meal to be shared among friends? It had been sometime since he had shared a meal with his old comrade...though that was to informal a term for the relationship, he had been a guardian, a protector of sorts, appointed by senior blades, and disguised as a common ranger for the majority of the fighting in the ruined Myth Drannor, in this way he had watched her and kept her safe. On the day of her coronation his deception was revealed, the day the Eternal Order swore to serve her and her refounded nation. Yes maybe a simple day to rehash old tales and praise old scars. It would be nice.

He changed directions and hurried to a local vendor, a man known for possessing the very best of fruits. There he would pay entirely to much (10gp) for 6 ripe oranges. Then continue onto the home mentioned in his missive. He hummed an old marching tune as he went, his thoughts momentarily shaken away from all the dark that threatened so much of his homeland...all this would likely occur over the protestrations of his Blade Guide...that crusty old warrior saw little need for such distractions.*

Soon he would find himself waiting at a closed door, a hooded and robed...smelled like a Mage...And in this moment he realized that he may be under dressed for this particular engagement. He was wearing the same mud spattered and travel worn cloak and boots he had marched into the city with this morning. His armor was antique, his hair pulled back...and not a drop of any of the fragrances or makeup that should be required in the presence of....well her majesty...oh my. To late to leave now. He would wear his sheepish smile as he approached. Hopefully no one noticed. My he smelled of the forest and sweat...oh my.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra rose at dawn, as was her custom. Though she had spent several months in the city, old habits die hard, and she had not picked up the custom of "sleeping in," as some of the non-elves here refered to it, or "a large waste of time" as she refers to it. The elderly Hathran isn't particularly fond of her lavish quarters in any case--she would prefer more sparse Rashemi furniture and decorations, but appearances must be maintained--so she spends most of her time outside of her quarters, making friends with the native population and doing magical research in her spare time to keep herself sharp.

She had little desire to speak with the Cormyrian delegations, though she arrived in the city at roughly the same time they did. She was here to be ambassador to the elves, not to the humans, and she held no small disdain for a people who couldn't even govern their own country effectively. After a few offhand comments about how the Wychlaran would never allow a civil war to happen, the Cormyrian delegations didn't seem particularly interested in speaking with her either.

The third day of the last tenday was the anniversary of her husband's death, and she spent it locked in her quarters, communing with the spirits and reminiscing. The unfamiliarity of the local spirits made her long for home even more than the ongoing strange dreams did, which made last night's invitation a welcome relief from the introspection. That the local spirits had no idea what was causing said dreams was even more disconcerting. After performing her usual morning rituals to bind various spirits and magic to herself, she donned her formal robes and mask and went to call upon the coronal.

When she arrived at the designated place a few minutes early, Ayorra spotted an elf already waiting by the door. The elf looked tired and nervous, but then Ayorra expected that from a relatively young scholar invited to meet her leader. She had passed the elf once or twice in Windsong Tower, she believed, but they hadn't spoken and the Rashemi wasn't familiar with her area of research. As Ayorra approached the door she noted another elf approaching, this one closer to her age (or the equivalent, for an elf) and not wearing the usual formal elven attire. The witch smiled momentarily as she noted his sheepish grin, glad to see someone else who was concerned for results more than appearances, and she changed paths to meet him.

"Good morning, friend," she greets him politely. "I notice you are slightly under-dressed for the occasion. If you will permit me, I can assist you with that." Many Rashemi berserkers went directly from the battlefield to meetings with Hathran during long engagements, and Ayorra was used to dealing with worse than mud stains. With a wave of her hand, she prestidigitated away the mud and faded patches in the elf's cloak and added a good dose of sandalwood and citrus scents for good measure; those elves and their love for perfumes never ceased to amuse her. This done, she extended a hand to the warrior. "Well met. I am called Ayorra, daughter of Danirra, of the Selskhiva family. I do not believe we have been introduced...and if we have met in the Tower," she adds to Sydil, "I do not recall it."

[Chambers]

Castle Cormanthor was one of the first buildings repaired after the elves cleared the daemonfey from the Myth Drannor and today it stands as it once did centuries before, the largest and most fortified building in the city. Within its walls the Elven Court resides and rules, the factious politics creeping into every part of the castle. The Coronals official residence is in the castle, dozens of private rooms and separate staff to attend to her. The symbolism is obvious and intended; the Coronals life is inescapably tied to the ruling of Cormanthyr. When she announced that she was leaving the Castle to live in a nearby villa the Court did not react favorably.

She and her betrothed, the resurrected Fflar Starbrow Melruth have taken residence in a former noble house next to the Castle grounds. The villa was once the guest home of House Irithyl, the former line of Cormanthyr's Coronal's. Her message and challenge to the Court was clear, though unspoken; I stand with Eltargrim, his kin, and his decision. Where do you stand?

Though she still goes to the Castle to meet the Court, she's made no attempt to hide her meetings held at the villa in the past week. Small groups of people with specialized talents have been seen moving about the city on private investigations, each bearing silver leaf, the personal mark of the Coronal. Some wag in the ale houses called them Ilsevele's Leafs and the name has stuck. The Court is upset with her for going around them and delegating authority to what amount to deputies, and some suggest that is precisely why she's doing git.

Though nominally a private residence the Coronal is never without her Royal Guards and the elf warriors that stand outside the villa make no pretense at disguises. Apparently notified of your visit one takes out a magnificent gem and holds it up to his eye, looking through the amber gemstone at each of you in turn. The other guard simply watches, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The guard nods and replaces the gem, then comes to attention and offers Mithranix a salute. "Good morning General, Akh'Faern." He says in Elven to Mithranix and Sydil and then turns to Ayorra. "Gentle morning, Ambassador." He says in accented Common. The other guard presses his hand against the door and whispers a brief word of power, then opens the door and stands aside. "Please enter."

The foyer beyond the door is simply decorated with curving wooden furniture that appear to be grown from the building rather than placed there. A staircase wraps around the circular room and leads up and open doorways on either side lead to the rest of the house. The smell of cooking fruit wafts from the west doorway and greets you while standing outside, and passing through you feel a strong shock that only lasts a moment. The guards watch your reaction to the wards and then close the door behind you. A voice calls out from the west doorway. "Come in, please. Breakfast is almost ready."

The west doorway leads to a kitchen where Fflar Melruth is frying cakes over the fire. Small fruits are cut and placed on plates on the nearby table and a carafe of deep purple juice is in the middle, next to a plate of hard breads and cheeses. "Ilsevele will be down shortly." Fflar says as he looks over his shoulder and nods at you. If it seems strange for one of the resurrected legends of elven culture to be frying berry cakes while wearing a simple green and brown leather tunic and leggings, he doesn't seem to take mind.

For those following along on the map, the villa is number 11 on the map, marked C11 on the reference key.

The gemstone is clearly a Gem of True Seeing and the wizards in the group recognize the warding as a Forbiddance (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/forbiddance.htm) spell and Hallow (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/hallow.htm) spell, with the guard speaking the password for you all for Forbiddance. It's not clear yet what spell is tied to Hallow. For reference, everyone in the Hallow effect is protected by a Magic Circle against Evil (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/magicCircleAgainstEvil.htm).

Also unless I note otherwise Elves in the city will be speaking in Elven.

[userpay]

"Damn it all!"

Aria just smirks from the doorway of the bedroom, already dressed and ready to head out. "I warned you that the message might have been an important one when we got here yesterday. Tis not my fault you were more concerned with rest." Dane glares at the half-elf from under the hem of the shirt he was attempting to hurriedly put on, yet failing miserably due to said haste.

"You weren't much help either given how quickly you were dropping things once we arrived. You little temptress." A low giggle was the paladin's only reply. "Either way we're late for a meeting with the Coronal, the Coronal of all people! As if our presence didn't offend some of these elves enough this aught to make it worse." For the most part the duo had been warmly received by the majority of the inhabitants of the restored Myth-Drannor, especially given their service in the retaking of it, but it seemed that the elves who wished for the city to be a place devoid of non-elves had a special bone to pick with them. Likely it rested squarely with Corellon Larethian's evident favor of the two yet that a noble golden dragon had decided to bond with an 'inferior' also seemed to irk them.

"Well nothing can be done besides move on and get there now no?" Aria strides over and helps disentangle her partner from the shirt and tie it properly about him. The duo had only arrived last night after visiting with their friend Marcus Kerland, making the journey out of concern of recent events within the city. With an acknowledging grunt Dane flicks his wrist and duos outfits immediately changed. Turning from travel stained traveling garb into clean clothes, silver with gold scale edging, cut in a simple but popular style within Myth Drannor amongst the lower court. Dane finally dons his swordbelt, the hilt of the blade cast in Corellon Larethian's crescent moon and sets his holy symbol about his neck.

Hustling out the door of their apartment they eschew flight taking instead a brisk walking pace as the paladin sets about casting his daily wards. When they arrive its just as the door closes, evidently having admitted someone else given the barren street, and wait patiently for the guard's attention.

[Chambers]

"Fair morning, Sha'Tel’Quessir." One of the guards says as you approach. He takes his hand from his weapon hilt and places it against his breast and then bows from the waist. The other guard only nods his head as you see he's pulled an amber gem from a pocket and is looking at both of you through it. He startles a bit when he looks at Aria, but only the hint of a smile appears on his face. Replacing the gem he places a hand on the door and whispers something, then opens it and steps aside. "Please, enter."

Same effect as above for the wards, neither of them harm you or Aria.

[AmberVael]

Sydil watches the others approach, not saying anything as they speak, until she's addressed. She manages to give a small smile and a bow to Ayorra as she introduces herself. "Sydil of Silverstream."

If she was going to say anything else, it's interrupted by the guards and opening of the door, which she swiftly steps through, whispering a barely audible 'thank you' to the two warriors who let her in. What little drowsiness she had was at least temporarily banished by the magical jolt that passed through her, causing her to jump. She looks around with curiosity and some wariness, but eventually comes to focus on Fflar, her mind flicking through the facts she knew of him. While history was not her primary focus, she knew more of the hero due to his past involvement in the military of Myth Drannor- something of no small interest to her. And of course, his recent adventures were more common knowledge.

After a moment, she realizes she's staring, and quickly jerks her head away, taking a seat at the table and keeping her eyes on her plate. She feels she ought to say something, at least some mild pleasantry, but she has a difficult time bringing any to mind, especially as the warmth of the nearby fire threatens to lull her back towards sleep.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods to the guards in thanks as she enters the room and beholds the simple breakfast fare and the distinguished chef. She smiles warmly and bows her head to Fflar as she takes her seat. His and the coronal's willingness to set aside pointless protocol and the frivolities of rank appealed to her more practical sensibilities; the fact that he was doing his own cooking, where some nobles she'd met couldn't even hold a skillet the right way up without a servant's assistance, spoke quite well for him.

She decides not to stand on protocol if he won't and begins pouring four glasses of juice and passing them around the table. She pours a fifth and sixth glass when a half-elf and a human enter the room. She wonders idly whether they are a spellcaster-and-bodyguard pair in the tradition of Rashemen, the swordsman attending the lady as is proper, but recognizes the thought as bit of projection on her part and dismisses it. "Many thanks for your hospitality, Lord Melruth," she says once the drinks are all handed out.

[TheFallenSon]

A huge grin stretches across Mithranix's face as he felt the magic course over him, then the citrus, wonderful."Thank you for your ministrations madam ambassador, please understand that I am not the standard when it comes to breakfast party guests, I am certainly a bit more...dashing. Serious of course" His large crooked grin turning into a frumpy frown for a second. His eyes full of mirth...suddenly very hard and determined."But dashing none the less."

He turned his attentions back to the guards and returned the given salute."You honor me with your memory, but I have not been a general for sometime. Thank you for warming an old mans heart. I charge you to remember the words you spoke when you became a guardian to this family, stay true and stand firm. You are all that protects the Light of the Tel'Quessir from the gathering dark. I am honored to stand in the presence of one selected above his peers to be tue guardian of the first Coronal of Cormanthyr in an age." he would bow deeply before the two guardsman before entering the villa. His face scrunched up for a brief second as he looked to the ground. Had he really just said all of that? It seems that old Allistron was rubbing off on him more than he would have liked. Speaking of old disembodied warrior elf spirits. A small note of light would sit patiently at Mithranix's shoulder, the old man liked to ride...

He would place himself at the end of the strange assortment of people that made it's way into the Coronal's home. A sudden wave of anxiety washing over him as he realized that duty had just come calling yet again....oh yes something unpleasant would be asked of him here. Of that he was certain. Such an eclectic group, so many different talents. Yes. Duty would strike again. He was tied to duty, it was what drove him now.*

He was amused by that thought as he made his way to the bit of table he was claiming for his own. He was such a lover of fine cheeses. He thought he recognized the majority of those gathered her today. All fine warriors or mages of some sort. Should be an interesting meal, certainly should be. He would place his bag or oranges on the table and look about to the others.*

[userpay]

"And to you as well." Dane replies with a bow and Aria a curtsy. "Many thanks for your duty, may Corellon Larethian's grace ever shine upon you." As the duo enter Dane is relieved to see that they are not as late as he had feared. Though there is the feeling of being slightly overdressed.

"Greetings everyone." Dane says as he and Aria approach the table. Dane pulling a seat out for his companion to sit in.

[Chambers]

Ftar finished frying the last of the cakes as Ilsevele came down the stairs. Though wearing a simple yet elegant dress of white with yellow trim, Ar'Cor'Kerym was at her side, its silver sheath hanging from a black and gold woven belt. "Good morning, friends." She says and bows her head slightly. "I'm glad that you could join us. It's not quite Immilmar, Ambassador, but I hope you'll feel at home here as much as you would in your own land." The Coronal is still in the bloom of her life yet its clear that the weight of the responsibility placed on her is taking its toll. Her eyes seem tired and there are shadows under them, marks of troubled sleep, an unusual occurrence for elves.

She walks over to Ftar as he's placing the berry cakes on the table and rests her hand on his shoulder for a moment. He smiles at her and they both sit down, the simple show of affection not needing words. Ftar fills a glass of the juice and raises it. "Blessings to Corellon, blessings to the people, and blessings to the peoples friends." He says. "Please, eat. It's not often I get to cook for guests."

The food is fresh and light on the stomach, though the berry cakes appear to be an old recipe that has a much sharper taste than usual, though still good. Ilsevele waits for people to have eaten enough to sate their appetites and then looks up at all of you. "I wish that we could be meeting under other conditions so that we might be able to simply enjoy smothered company but these are troubled times for our city. Though todays troubles might seem to be small to where Myth Drannor was but years ago, I feel its more important in other ways. When the fiends held the city all we could do was hope to reclaim it, and now that we have we must not let that hope fade."

She pauses to rub her temples with one hand, then shakes her head. "As I'm sure you're all aware of the whole city has been upset by these murders and the dreams. I am convinced that the two are related, but I have no evidence, only suspicions. I have delegated other people to investigate the slayings and I'm confident the guilty party will be brought to justice. I'd like to ask you all to find out what you can about the dreams and put a stop to them. They've been getting worse...last night I saw my own death, but that was not the worst of it." She takes another sip of juice and you notice her other hand is tightly gripping the hilt of the Crown Blade.

"After I died the dream froze, every person in it suspended in action, my own ashes caught in the air by the still wind. The vision trembled as if someone were holding a picture frame and shaking it and I heard a voice speak. Every lie must be dead for the truth to live, for the blades to be united each wielder must die. The vision then shattered like a mirror and I saw a reflection of myself in shard, each reflection different than the one before. Some were...horrible to see, and admit that it could be the truth."

"I don't think the message was part of the dream...it felt like someone had intercepted the dream in transit and waited for it to run its course, then took over. As unsettling as it was it gave me an idea that you might pursue."

She stands up and stretches and begins clearing the table of the used plates, then stops besides the wooden countertop. "I know three things about these dreams. The first is that they are affecting all but the Ar-tel-quessir, even plaguing the reveire of other elves. The second is that the Masters of Windsong have informed me that the dreams are somehow using the power of the mythal, which I quite don't understand as it hasn't been active for centuries. The third is that someone was able to interfere with one of the dreams, mine. If one person can do it, it can be done again by others."

[TheFallenSon]

Mithranix's eyes never locked onto his Coronal as soon as she entered the room. They took in her weariness and his heart broke...so much strength was being stolen from her...so much responsibility...duty. It was a beast all it's own, and mastering it would often break you...it seemed to be breaking his queen. His heart broke and broke some more. He poked at his cakes and hardly touched the cheese. No matter the task his Coronal laid before him...he would give it hell...he would master it and hope against hope that he could ease the burden of leading the people.

Magic...dreams...changing dreams. He felt out of his element, how could he help...even with all the knowledge he had aquired through his long life... As Ilselve and Fflar put away the dishes and left over food, he racked his brain trying to come up with a time when maybe..something like this had occured to his people...or another people in history.

He stared off as he thought, listening not so very intently to any conversations that happened around him. He was deep in his thoughts...


Knowledge History
[roll0]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods and smiles softly at the coronal's comparison to Immilmar. While the decor in the elven lands differed drastically from the city in which she was born, both were lovingly crafted by spellcasters working in harmony and goodwill, which lent this old city some comfort and familiarity for an old, lonely woman. In the elven tongue, she responded, "I do indeed, Coronal. Your invitation is appreciated and your hospitality unmatched." Those words might be empty platitudes when uttered to any other superficial noble hosting her in the elven lands, but she truly meant them here; the coronal's unassuming appearance and quiet confidence had convinced her (as if she had needed any convincing) that her trust in the coronal was well-placed.

The Hathran listened quietly as the coronal explained the situation. Her ornate mask concealed her features from her companions, but when she spoke up after the coronal finished, there was definitely a troubled note in her voice. "I am familiar with the existence of and principles behind dream-altering magic," she mused out loud, "but these nightmares do not share the usual characteristics. They are not usually directed with such precision of timing as was seen in your dream, Lady Coronal, and of course they do not affect those who do not dream. I am familiar with the workings of mythals only on a theoretical level, but I cannot think of a way the mythal could be used to bypass the normal limitations. The mythal's involvement might explain why so many are affected, but not why they are affected in the first place--and not, of course, how a long-dead mythal remains powered."

After pondering for a moment, Ayorra turned toward Sydil. "You are a scholar of Windsong Tower; have you heard anything more from the Masters there regarding their research into this matter? If you know anything more, that would assist us in determining where to begin our search." She shifted her gaze towards Aria and added, "And, pardon me, but I am not familiar with your area of expertise, or that of your companion. Have you any knowledge of magical theory that might assist us?"

Knowledge (History) to see if Ayorra remembers Adaerglast: [roll0]

Knowledge (Arcana) to see what Ayorra knows about mythals regarding re-powering supposedly-dead mythals and using them to modify and enhance spells to do what they normally can't: [roll1]

[AmberVael]

"Well, I would tentatively agree with our Coronal's assessment of her dream." Sydil replies in a quiet voice. "To affect this many people, it seems like it would be far easier to strive for a more general result than to send out many specific dreams. The dreams experienced by most likewise indicate that what personalization the dreams have is supplied by the dreamer, not the magic itself.
"The difference between the second part of the dream and the first seems to indicate a more personalized magic taking effect. It could be from the same source, or a different one, but it was likely specifically targeted, whereas the dream was not."

"Dream magic is fairly rare and not something I've studied in particular. What I do know is that this particular working of it is difficult to shield against. The masters at Windsong Tower haven't been able to find a ward successful against it. Unfortunately, that brings up many more possibilities for who might have sent the message. " Sydil speaks this last phrase apologetically, lowering her eyes. "Without that, I would have said anyone who could have pierced the Coronal's wards was surely someone of note and power- but if they're simply riding on this already existing magic and adding their own touch... there are many mages who might accomplish that."

"The only master of Oneiromancy I'm aware of died a long time ago. Last I know of it, his research was intact, but we're no longer sure where it is. Lethanil Greenvine, was his name. He stored all his research in a selu'kiira... it's possible that it survives. If we found it, we might be able to learn more. It's also possible that whoever is doing this found it."

[Chambers]

"There are many selu'kiira that are unaccounted for. Finding Arfaern Lethanils would be a great treasure, even if it proved to offer no help, though I doubt that would be the case." Ftar says. He leans back in his chair and places his hands on his lap, fingers intertwined. "When I was dead I saw and learned many things that are hidden from mortal understanding. As is the case with such knowledge it faded from me when I returned to the People, though glimpses of forgotten memory would drift back sometimes during my reveries."

His eyes lose focus as he stares past you all, gazing at something unseen. "Sometimes it would be memories of the day, but placed in old settings from centuries ago. Other times I would feel as if I were still in Arvandor, not yet returned to life and not wishing to do so. Very rarely though I would recall reveries from my youth, yet they were not as I had experienced them in that time. The vision would be ephemeral and glossy, the edges of the memory blurring with others around it that were not my own." His eyes refocus and he glances at Sydil. "I spoke with the High Mages about the meanings and they said that it sounded like what N'Tel’Quessir call dreaming. They said that there was an entire plane comprised of dreams, and that every dream that ever was lives there still. These dreams slowly stopped and my reverie returned to normal; they attributed the strange effects to my soul gradually slipping free of whatever touch Arvandor had."

Knowledge: The Planes

DC 15
The Plane of Dreams The Plane of Dreams, usually simply called Dream, is where dreams cavort, heedless of the waking world. Dreams once dreamt fade into obscurity, but their echoes resonate forever throughout Dream. Carcasses of particularly vile dreams charged with dark emotion sometimes rampage from dreamscape to dreamscape, giving rise to terrible nightmares.

Into the Plane of Dreams come dreamers, whether they will it or not, every time they dream. Their minds take flight to the plane of Dreams. The edges of Dream expand and contract with temporary dreamscapes as dreamers on every plane sleep and wake. Dream would exist even if there were no dreamers though.

The many dreamscapes created by dreamers last but a short time and they rarely impringe on each other accidentally. However there are those knowingly walk between dreamscapes, doing as they will. Sometimes such lucid dreams pierce the very heart of Dream, where average dreams dare not roam

DC 25
The Plane of Dreams as the following traits.


Subjective Direction Gravity
Flowing Time (10 minutes in Dream to 1 minute on the Prime)
Infinite size
Highly Morphic
No Elemental or Energy Traits
Mildly Neutral-Aligned
Normal Magic, though any spell slots or prepared spells cast while on Dream are not expended upon returning and effects from spells cast while in Dream cease once the traveler leaves.


The Plane of Dreams is coterminous to the Prime and may be reached through the Plane of Sleep (which living creatures across the multiverse acess without conscious thought while they slumber. Spells such as Dream Travel are also able to take creatures into the Plane of Dreams.

DC 30
Travelers can attempt to wake themselves from a threatening dreamscape, and usually no harm comes to the dreamers body regardless of what happens to their dream form.

Within Dreamheart, the center of the Plane of Dreams, this is not often the case. The Dreamheart is a roiling boil of dream-born landscapes that melt, burn, grow and dissolve without any rhyme of reason. Balls of fire, pockets of air, chunks of earth and waves of watter battle against each other. Amid the chaose, half-melted dreamscapes drift - lakes, buildings, streets, strange creatures and small islands. Some provide shelter against the tempest but others are open to its deadly effects. These are dreamscapes that have been pulled into the Dreamheart, usually after their dreamers have awakened. It is more difficult for a traveler to awaken themselves while in Dreamheart and they risk real death while traveling there.

[TheFallenSon]

Mithranix listened intently to the old hero as he spoke of lost artifacts, then of his disturbing dreams. The recovery of as many artifacts of Myth Drannor and Cormanthyr were part of his orders eternal mission. It had long ago been deemed neccessary to protect what was left of the Peoples history and culture as possible. You are where you came from. So it was with history and with the crafts and magic of the elves. He knew his order had recovered many items of ancient power. "My lord and lady, I request permission to speak freely about these unsettling events." He was deferring to those he viewed as his betters, the Coronal and her husband.

Silently he would begin to converse with the Blade Guide that had helped him so much during his life. He needed to know if the old man knew anything about that old wizards things, or maybe even the old wizard himself "Have you ever heard of this mage they speak of, Lethanil Greenvine? What of his tower and his selu'kiira? I know it is a long shot my friend...but I feel as if this is a dark plot against our queen, and against our people."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods at Sydil's explanation of the different parts of the coronal's dream and replies, "Indeed, the second portion of the dream seems to have been more targeted, and I was speaking of the precision of that second portion. The usual dream-altering magic places its user into a trance if the target is not currently sleeping and begins the dream when they fall asleep; for the dream to have transitioned at the point that it did implies that whoever or whatever sent the dream had good information as to when Coronal Ilsevele went to sleep as well as how long the first portion would last. And that is a very disturbing scenario indeed."

At Fflar's description of a plane of dreams, Ayorra tilts her head thoughtfully. "I know something of this plane, Lord. Many of Rashemen's scholars have studied it to some degree in relation to our local spirits, to learn more about the manner in which they send us prophetic dreams and visions. Our research on that front is inconclusive," she says with a small shrug, "but it has taught us about the possibility of changing individual dreamers' personal dreamscapes from within and without, the malleability of the plane, and the very real danger of true death if a dreamer strays into the more dangerous regions. If the Plane of Dreams is somehow involved, that might explain the fine control exhibited, as well as the bypassing of normal immunity to dreams."

The witch falls silent for a moment, thinking. If a mythal were to incorporate dreamwalking magic...focus that energy over a wide area...potential to draw some into the Dreamheart...would depend on one's ability to observe it...necessary scale, potentially dozens of arcanists...what possible motivation...? Shaking her head and looking around at the others, she concludes aloud, "Wild speculation at this point is unwise. The best courses of action at this point would seem to be either selu'kiira or traveling to Dream, barring further insight."

[AmberVael]

"I'm not sure where we would begin in searching for the kiira. We could try divining for it, but I can't imagine that I'd bring anything that hasn't already been tried." Sydil says slowly. "But I believe I have magic that could take us to the Dreamheart, though I didn't prepare it today- um, just... I don't do a lot of planar travel. I didn't think it would come up."

She glances around at the others. "So, if that's what we want to do, I could be ready by tomorrow."

[userpay]

"For the blades to be united each wielder must die..." Dane drums his fingers on the tabletop as he contemplates that last part. Eyes flicking to the blade at Ilsevele's side. "And on top of that it was using the power of the mythal. I can't help but wonder if perhaps its some reference to restoring it but then one has to wonder what the other 'blades' are if that is the case."

"Perhaps the dreams being so widespread was a means of searching for the right person?" Aria pipes in.

Knowledge nobility and royalty [roll0]
Checking for any notable peoples that are known to be about that might beable to do something like the dream stuff.

[Chambers]

Ilsevele taps the hilt of the Crown Blade at her side. "This was the first blade I thought of, though the three are not the only blades to have recently returned." She says and nods toward Mithranix. "Keep counsel with whom you trust, Ar,Keryn, but not all who would listen do so with friendly ears."

Fflar taps one finger on the table. "Divination may prove useful. I don't imagine there are many that even remember Arfaern Lathanial, save for the sages and those that are performing these magics. Wandering without a clue in Dream sounds like a recipe for disaster. If we still had Ary'Faern'Kerym...." He says and shakes his head. "It is lost for now, though I hope not forever."

"The library of Candlekeep may hold a clue as to how the nightmares walk, but I fear it would be weeks, possibly months before it might be found. We do not have the luxury of time." Ilsevele says as she sits back down at the table. "I fear that whomever these hidden mages are they are quickly buildling up to some finale, something that we must stop. Midsummer festival is only five days away...I cannot fathom they would wait longer. Mayhap they need that day to work an even more powerful ritual. Long have mages drawn power from the festival days, though not always for the better."

"If you cannot find Arfaern Lethanils selu'kiira soon you might be able to meet this mage within his own spell. I do not know what would happen if you were to dreamwalk while the nightmares are about, but it seems a better course than searching all of Dreamheart."

[TheFallenSon]

Mithranix thinks carefully before he speaks, his face a clearly showing some sort of internal battle. This lasts for just a minute or so, but soon the agony of his thoughts slows, and he decides...he will speak. "It is spoken in the street and among the drink houses of the city, that several of the noble houses have utilized the services of a certain merchant to recover artifacts from the days of the Weeping War. As my lord has already mentioned, many of those artifacts were lost when the city fell. That being said...My youth was spent,uh, earning a living in and earning a living on the fringes of law abiding society. I have many friends who walk darker paths than what I have chosen. Those who hover in a realm of grey when it comes to right and wrong. I believe that these men and women may be able to help us locate this merchant. He may have Arfaern Lethanils selu'kiira, if he does not he could have sold that it back to that ancient worthies family...or at the very least a family who claims to have a connection to him. It is an idea, a path we may find ourselves wondering down."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra looks from Mithranix to the Coronal and taps her chin with one slender finger, pondering. "There is no particular reason I can see," she muses, "that would prevent us from both locating the selu'kiira and searching Dream for the source of the nightmares. Searching for the kiira by day and for our enemy by night would allow us to accomplish twice as much before Midsummer arrives, and though the non-elves here require more sleep than the rest, I am used to staying awake for a good day or two at once during pitched battles."

With a note of self-deprecating humor in her voice, she adds, indicating Dane and Aria, "And if I can manage that, I am sure the young ones will be still be full of energy and running rings around their elders by the third night. The only concern will be ensuring we have enough of a rest each day for the spellcasters among us to refresh our magic, but that, too, should not be problematic until we are much closer to either goal, in which case further preparations can be made."

[Chambers]

"Though Laranlors Ealoeth's ears would burn red if he heard me say it, I would not be surprised if his House were involved with the selling of the People's relics." Fflar says with a look that's a mix of amusement and anger. "I know they own controlling interest in the so called Shop of Secrets and the Silvershingles Guild Hall. Aster Enoctor's shop has been known to waver between legalities, though the silversmith guildmasters would cry insult if any such thing were said about their Hall."

Ilsevele nods and tilts her head slightly to one side as if listening to something. She frowns and then reaches into a pouch on her belt and draws out five silver brooches shaped into the form of an acorn laying on three leaves. "I apologize that I must end our meeting early." She hesistates for a moment and then smiles thinly. "My presence seems to be required elsewhere suddenly." Fflar looks at her with an eyebrow raised but doesn't speak up.

"These are symbols of my personal rune. Any servant of the city will recognize it and known you are acting under my orders. If need be, you can press the acorn and whisper a brief message and it will reach my ears." She says and then taps the hilt of the crown blade with her fingers. "As someone has apparently just done."

She forces her fingers to stop and looks around at you all. "Please, don't hesitate to contact me if you find something important. I...and the city, are depending on you."

So. Where to?

[AmberVael]

Sydil listens to everything carefully, considering options. If divining information might be a possibility, then that is one of the first things she could do. She needed very little preparation to use such magic- it came naturally to her. Maybe if she got to her books and could study and use her magic at the same time she could come up with some good hints to follow.

As Ayorra speaks, Sydil thinks of a restorative magic she could offer, and has the realization that she should have been doing this for herself before. It would have been a better strategy than what she had been doing, at least. However, she remains quiet as the Coronal offers the brooches and ends the meeting.

Sydil quickly stands and gives a bow to Ilsevele, not so much as a formal gesture as a real show of gratitude and submission. "I will do everything I can to help." She promises before accepting one of the brooches.

Once the meeting has been dismissed and they've made their way outside, Sydil will speak to the others again. "I've a little talent in restorative magic. If we wish to, I am sure I can sustain us without sleep for as long as we might need to accomplish our mission- or, well, until we don't have anymore time to do. I might suggest we do some research on the kiira first? I could use that time to perform some divination that might give us a lead."

[TheFallenSon]

He would listen intently as everyone spoke and look terribly interested when the magical trinkets were mentioned. He took his with a look of reverence on his face, he was ready to go. He nodded in agreement as Sydil spoke. "I believe you are correct lady Mage. Let us delve into the lore behind the Kiira. I can go an contact members of my order and those old companions I mentioned earlier. We will certainly be able to locate it, as long as it is still some where near the city. As the lady Coronal's husband also mentioned you all could ask questions around thAt noble house. What say you Dane? Madam ambassador? And lady Aria?"

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra stands to receive her brooch and dips her head in a small bow as the Coronal departs. To Mithranix's and Sydil's suggestions she responds, "Division of labor until we discover some leads would certainly cut down on the time required later. Sydil, I would appreciate working with you in your research, if you would allow it; I have studied elven magical theory while I have been here but have not yet had the opportunity to work with an actual elven spellcaster."

[Chambers]

Sydil/Ayorra

While the mythal protected the city, no mage or priest could scry into or from out of Myth Drannor. As the mythal dormant, if not gone entirely, this and many other restrictions are no more and any mage may scry as he or she pleases. As to be expected, not everyone is happy about this situation, particularly those Tel'Quessir that had grown used to their affairs being private, aside from prying ears and eyes. While the restrictions have been lifted, those mages that lived in the city many years ago still follow the old practices of circumventing the arrointed magic.

At the top of the tallest tree in Myth Drannor the mighty trunk splits into three final branches, leaving a wide natural hollow at the base of the three branches. The bowl is wide enough for a man to lay down and sleep in - or half a dozen halflings - and when it rains it fills up with clear water. Aside from the natural beauty of it, the top of the tree actually rests just above the invisible dome of the mythal making it an ideal location for those who wish to cast their scryings upon the outside world without trekking out of the city. Years ago someone shaped the base of the three branches with magic to make six seating places around the rainwater pool. It was considered polite to wait at the bottom of the tree while someone else used the scrying pool, and the Masters of Windsong never feared about enemies scrying on the pool itself to spy below into Myth Drannor; to one doing so, the mythals dome is no longer invisible but a blinding white glare, guarding her secrets within.

The tree is on the peninsula in Glyrryrl's Pool, the small lake south of the city, and the naming of the lake has helped to hide the nature of the scrying pool atop the tree, for when a mage refers to Glyrryl's Pool one doesn't know if he's referring to the lake or the rainwater pool. It's a brief walk from the Coronal's house to the peninsula and Sydil and Ayorra find the city slowly waking up. The Kerradunath district has always been a late riser with many deals cut in the late hours. While mostly populated by elves, a fair number of humans and halflings have moved into the district, though as you walk towards the Pool the only people about are Tel'Quessir. It's always been common for people to wear blades within the city, but it's only been the past few days that they've been accompanied by furtive face and wary glances. The district is quiet in its rising and no one appears to want to interfere with either of you. In a few minutes you cross Suldar's Walk and walk the length of the unnamed peninsula, the trees growing larger and wider as you approach the point. The canopy overhead is thick, shading the grass below and the muted sounds of the city make it seem more distant than it actually is.

I'll post again with the update for Mithranix and Dane, and I'll be NPC'ing Dane for the moment until userpay gets a chance to post. No worries about that, by the way. I understand you're busy.

For those following along on the map, the pennisula is in the lake numbered 25, and is K25 on the key.

[AmberVael]

With the use of a swift spell, Sydil takes to the air, pausing only for a moment to see if Ayorra can follow without her aid before she smoothly drifts up and around the tree towards Glyrryrl's Pool. She was not sure whether their magic would bring them any success, but if it did, this was the best place to perform it.

"Do you have any thoughts on how to go about this?" She asks Ayorra uncertainly. "I'm honestly not sure where to begin."

[Chambers]

Mithranix/Dane

The Shop of Secrets is not far from the Palace and the Coronal's nearby guest house. THe paved stones of Shandols Street provides a shortcut to the Street of Song; the Shop less than a hundred yards up it. If one were to turn the other way on the street they could follow it out of Myth Drannor, walking southeast until they were out of Cormanthyr and standing where it branched towards Semberholme and the Darkwood. The Shop is a much closer destination.

Aster Enoctor is a half-elf who quickly built a successful business and an unsavory reputation. It's known that House Ealoeth owns an interest in the shop but it's only rumored that they use thier influence to dissuade the guard from paying too much attention. For his part Aster runs a quiet business, always taking extra efforts to insure his shop doesn't bother his neighbors. The area around the shop is safe, and being close to the Palace no one asks too many questions as long as it stays that way.

The shop itself ia ground level building, a large house with the private upsatirs serving as his residence. Walking to the shop the three of you pass elves going about their business, but the streets are emptier than normal for the hour. This close to the Palace the streets are usually bustling with Elves and N'Tel’Quessir engaged in the business of the city and out for pleasure. Now the only ones about are those that apparently have to be, their hands never straing too far from their sheathed swords. The absence of people enjoying their leisure is keenly felt and as you approach the shop you are the only ones around.

The heavy wooden doors are closed and the glass bay windows reveal only a dim interior, though a light in some back room can be seen. A moment later you hear a series of muted thumping sounds and a voice from within cursing in elvish. "Damn it! Why do you have to be so - thud! - difficult? Just cooperate - thud! - like the others."

[userpay]

Dane and Aria exchange a significant glance as they begin to hear the commotion. Dane's hand drifts up to where he'd pinned the brooch upon the inside of his collar but instead clenches his fist just short of it. A whispered word and suddenly the paladin is adorned in silvery armor, Corellon Larethian's moon adorning the accompanying shield and helm. Reaching out he tests the door handle while drawing his sword with the other. "Any thoughts?" He mumbles to Mithranix.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra follows Sydil through the air, alighting gracefully next to the elf. "A methodical search would be the best option, beginning with the kiira's location and branching out from there," the Hathran says briskly, in a tone of one used to command. "I doubt direct divinations will be very successful given the plentiful wards against them, but it is always preferable to attempt the simple solutions first in case our enemy has left holes in his defenses. Should those prove unsuccessful, more abstract divinations including probing the kiira's history and petitioning the gods should follow, and lastly searching for references to it via mundane or magical means."

She takes a seat and makes herself comfortable. "I am not familiar with your magical capabilities, so we will need to take a moment to determine how best to divide our efforts. I study both the arcane and the divine aspects of magic, though my arcane studies are focused much more on wards and combat enhancements; if you possess any arcane divination or summoning capability, you should make use of those first. As for my divine studies, I can call upon all of Mystra's gifts, and She grants no shortage of divinations. What are your particular magical strengths?"

[Chambers]

The view from the top of the tree would be reason alone to visit it, as sitting in the branches allows an unobstructed panorama of Myth Drannor. From high above the somber mood of the city is even more evident; across the city people are traveling in pairs and quickly, not stopping for leisure or strolling the avenues. The light rain from last evening refreshed the pool and the smell of fresh rainwater is soothing.

Sydil and Ayorra can both feel a power within the pool, their trained senses recognizing the presence of latent magical energy. The three foot deep pool is clear and the water calm despite the strong breezes that come through the tree. The pool reflects the trees and branches around you and the cloudy sky above, but even though the water is still the reflected images waver.

[AmberVael]

"I study both halves of magic myself." Sydil explains with a small smile as she settles among the branches of the tree, taking a seat next to the pool. "Though I'm not really devoted to a god in the same way as a cleric would be. I've had to gain my power through study and research, whether it was arcane or divine. A great deal of my studies have been turned towards spells that could be useful in the restoration of our lands and Cormanthyr in general, but I've also enough offensive magic to have aided the army when they've needed magical assistance.
"But um, in truth, research is what I feel most comfortable with. I do have quite a few divinations available to me to assist with that, especially among my repertoire of arcane magic. I've a certain affinity with it, I guess- study and research are laced through all my magic, and so all of them can be refined back to their roots. I've never actually had to prepare divinations because of that."

"I do have a few spells that will simply reveal the kiira's location if they succeed. I suppose I can start there." Sydil suggests, taking a breath before she begins working her magic.

Hooray for Spontaneous Divination!

Edit: Oh right, can't use Discernt Location. Darn. In that case, Sydil will sacrifice Energy Immunity to try out a Greater Scrying, and that'll only take an action. DC is 26.

[Chambers]

The image of the reflected branches and leaves still for a moment as the pool appears to be settling itself. The water ripples and goes dark for a moment before the branches and sky reappear, showing the same as before. It's clear that wherever the mage is, the spell failed to find him.

[TheFallenSon]

Rolling neck and shoulders, Mithranix seems to come to the same conclusion as his two companions. He frowns abit, and thinks it best if he readies blade and body for a potentialy violent encounter. "It certainly sounds as if our merchant friend is involved in a less than friendly altercation with someone...or thing. Perhaps we should announce ourselves? Magic would be terribly useful at the moment...wouldn't it."

Sighing the warrior draws his magical rapier and readies himself to...knock on the door...hand raised and knuckles poised he turns to his companions..."Shall we?"

[userpay]

Dane sighs. "Well I suppose we'll have to do this the noisy way no?" He motions for Mithranix to stand to the side and takes his place. Taking up a two handed stance Dane pauses as if steadying himself before his sword flashes out, cleaving into the door. As soon as the door is open the paladin heads through with Aria close on his heels.

Popping Elder Mountain Hammer to break the door. I'm hoping to target around where the locks would be specifically so the door doesn't appear to be so obviously broken from the outside, and possibly be a little quieter. If I have to break the whole door so be it.

Use Aura of Perfect Order to roll an auto 11 on my to hit roll for a total of 36.
Damage [roll0][roll1]

If when we're all through the door and there is no immediate response from the back rooms I'll use Make Whole on the door to repair it.

[Chambers]

Dane's sword easy cuts through the door, slicing just left of the lock and leaving it still attached to the door frame. The splintering wood cracks loudly as the door is thrown open and a muffled shout of surprise can be heard from a back room. Someone yells out "Help!" in a high pitched voice and the three of you can hear the sounds of furniture being knocked over, but Dane has a closer problem at hand.

As soon as the door opens something inside the room flashes silver and Dane feels a wave of energy surge over his body, encasing it in a yellow glow. He can feel the magic attempt to burrow deep into his body, trying to grab hold and do violence to his form but the protection of Corellon is strong and he shakes the spell off. It fades from him in a shower of yellow sparks that quickly shimmer to nothing.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra tsks in disapproval at Sydil's words, though her tone is more chiding than actually disapproving. "Mere study and research is not sufficient to encompass the wonder of the divine. You must feel the spirits, feel the Lady's presence, feel--well. Now is not the time for a philosophical debate. I would be happy to host you among the Wychlaren after this affair is handled; I'm sure we would have much to teach each other."

The Hathran waits patiently as the elf casts her spell to no apparent effect, then nods once and rolls up her sleeves to prepare for her own spellcasting--a purely ceremonial gesture, as Ayorra's multi-layered clothing still entirely conceals her arms after she does so. "Mmm. Perhaps, if the kiira's possessor is warded, a less direct approach may bear fruit." She pulls four strips of ivory out of a hidden pouch and holds two in each hand as her hands move through the delicate motions of a spell.

Ayorra will cast vision, asking after the kiira's location.

Caster level check: [roll0]

[Chambers]

As before the image on the water sets motionless, except this time the leaves and branches fade away as the surface of the water becomes crystal clear. The wooden bottom of the pool can be seen for an instant before the water begins swirling in many circles, dozens of whirlpools swimming across the pool, each whirlpool spawning others as they collide into each other. While the whirlpools sink below the surface of the water another form rises up straight and rigid. You can see tiny crenelations along the top of what must be a fortified wall of some kind. Part of the wall falls away in the middle, mimicking the opening of a gate. The gate collapses and the water splashes back down into the bowl and miniature fighting men wage battle against a great scaled beast across the surface of the pool. The beast claims the lives of many of the men, but in the end it is slain and the figures lose their form, rejoining the pool.

The whirlpools swarming beneath the pool continue to smash into each other for a few more moments, and then the pool calms with tiny ripples flowing across the surface. The water shines bright for a moment and then the branches and leaves can be seen reflected on the surface again.

Ayorra
The behavior of the water reminds you of certain water spirits in Rashemi, though the rainwater pool is not an elemental as could be summoned and controlled. It's possible that it's another type of spirit that is animating the water, though more study and thought would be required to determine how and why.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra ruminates on the meaning of her vision, and reaches out with her mind to the spirits in the pool to see if they can shed some more light on it. They don't respond, of course--typical of the impolite local spirits in this area--but she has enough information to draw some conclusions. "The Sword Heralds' labyrinth under Battlegate," she says finally, voice dripping with distaste. "In Cormyr. As if searching extra dimensions for this kiira were not difficult enough, we may have to wade into the midst of a civil war to do so. Wonderful." She sighs and turns to Sydil. "If you possess any other divinations that may help us narrow our search, or to corroborate my vision, I would suggest you use them."

[TheFallenSon]

Blade raised the elven warrior pushed into the shop, moving quickly towards the sounds of moving furniture and that yell for help. He would move his hand about trying to give hand signals to the next course of action, the force of the gestures making them almost order. His hands quickly told the human and his partner to try and flank around, as he pushed through the door, a surprise from behind would probably be the best way to crush their mutual foe. He waited for just a second or two before forcing his way deeper into the shop. Hopefully his allies had understood...if not, well a full frontal assault has always been able to break a shield wall...right?

[AmberVael]

"I could try contacting entities in the outer planes." Sydil suggests slowly. "But the answers I would receive would be very limited. They can give only the shortest answers, little more than a word, really. I'm not sure how I could narrow down the location with that. If you had some suggestions though, maybe we could use that spell?"

She thinks on it, and then mentally peruses her list of magic for anything else she might use, but nothing else truly comes to her mind.

[Chambers]

The inside of the shop is dimly lit but Mithranix's keen eyes have no trouble seeing. The merchandise appears to be a mix between obvious religious relics from various divinities, small curios, and a smattering of jewelry behind glass cases. Weapons hang on one wall, swords and daggers mostly, and they look to be more ceremonial than functional, quite a few of them you recognize as being the weapons of the royal guards of Cormyr - the ones they wielded 300 years ago, that is. Sitting atop the glass jewelry case is a miniature dragon, a pseudodragon, and for a moment it seems to be alive but you quickly realize that it's dead and has been stuffed and preserved.

Along the back wall is a door with light coming from underneath it. The only other exit is an opening that leads to a hallway, the doorway obscured by hanging beads. The door isn't fully closed and it pushes open easily, revealing a large work chamber of sorts. Small feathers are scattered on the floor and along one wall sits a large workbench with half a dozen shelves in the wall above it, each shelf holding pots, boxes, strange and not so strange tools. The room itself has a peculiar odor, something of a cross between embalming fluid and animal dung. There's a wire frame stand in the middle of the room and the coarse skin of an owlbear has been stretched over half of the frame. The rest of the skin is hanging loose and falling down into a pile on the floor. Next to the wire frame is a stool that's been knocked over and a mallet laying on the ground.

As you enter you can hear some muffled noises coming from the only closet in the room.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra's masked face is impassive, but her tone implies a frown. "I am familiar with that sort of magic, and I know it can be dangerous to its user, but if you are willing to risk the contact that could prove useful. I am able to commune with Mystra in a similarly-limited but much safer fashion, as the sensation of being in Her presence is overwhelming to mortal minds but not harmful, and perhaps working together we can pare down the possibilities." She ponders silently for a moment, then suggests, "Asking whether Battlegate is indeed the correct location should be our first priority; it is possible that my vision showed us the past and the kiira has been moved elsewhere in the intervening years. Once that is established, we should ask after any creature that possesses the kiira, as an intelligent adversary would make finding it and defeating any wards around it much more difficult.

"Once that is done, then we should attempt to hone in on its location. The answers to simple yes-or-no questions are the easiest to make out during the rapture of communion, so I believe I shall attempt to establish that Battlegate is the correct location, whether the kiira is currently in someone's possession, and similar, and then you can contact your sources for more detailed information based on those answers."

[AmberVael]

"It's a risk to the unprepared mind." Sydil acknowledges. "But I am focused and willing to make the attempt, and I don't think failure is likely under these circumstances."

"If you know the spell though, you'll know that the answers are not always... um... accurate. I'll attempt to contact the highest powers I can to avoid that, but there is still a small chance that we'll get false information. So, if we can make your questions- which from what I know of your magic, don't suffer that risk- work to guarantee certain facts, then we should be able to work together somewhat better. That is, if we get a false answer from my side, properly worded questions on your side might reveal that falsehood."

"Anyway, um, if you'd like to begin, I can get ready to cast my own magic."

[userpay]

As the trap triggers Dane pauses, allowing for Mithranix to push past the glowing paladin, though thankfully his faith is stronger than the magic. As it breaks Dane flicks off the last lingering sparks and steps inside, Aria quickly follows and closes the door as best she can given its damaged state. The duo quickly stalk across the room past the signalling elf, either not understanding the gestures or ignoring them. Within the tanning room Dane eyes the rattling door, given the previous trap, but with a sigh reaches out to open it. Sometimes one didn't have time to check for further traps though the same could apply to those that lay them.

OOC
Sorry about not posting, was time for my parents to move to the new house last week so I had to help them between homework and part time job.

Anyway is the closet the only other door in the tanning room?

[Chambers]

Dane opens the door and the light from the room shines into the small closet, illuminating a half-elf man struggling to stand amid a jumbled collection of brooms, mops, heavy towels hanging from racks and other cleaning supplies. He's brandishing a dagger in one hand while the other tries unsuccessfully to push the broomhandles away from his face so that he can properly threaten you with his blade. "Stay back! Take what you want and go! You haven't long, they'll be here soon!" His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail that's quickly coming undone and he's wearing a heavy leather apron over a shirt and simple pants.

The closet door is indeed the only other door in the room. By all accounts it's fair to assume that the half-elf in the closet is Aster Enoctor, the owner of the shop.

[TheFallenSon]

Mithanix moved quickly to stand behind and to the side of Dane. He was excited to see how this all played out. He felt almost like a child...anticipation was killing him.

The human threw the door open and their stood the cowering half blood. A knife pointed at the two warriors. His lip curled in disgust, such a lack of martial ability...or any real power. "Calm yourself, look at us man. I wear the armor of the Eternal Guardians, my companion is clear a Dragon Knight. Calm yourself and tell us what has happened here."

Mithranix would lower his blade as he spoke, ever so much, trying to appear as un-threatening as possible. His warrior spirit wouldn't allow him to completely lower his guard however. If neccessary he would strike the cowering man with the pommel of his blade, hoping to knock him unconcious if need be.

[Chambers]

The waters of the pool ripples with wind as you both meditate, both seeking to speak with the Lady of Mysteries. For the devout the whispers of your prayer float on the breeze, carried away by the air and make a soft echo in her throne room, worlds and spaces away. What power is granted to the faithful may be attempted by the wise and Sydil instead feels her spirit leave her body. She watches the contrail of Ayorra's prayer - a light blue cloud that spirals in on itself - and follows it across time and through space.

Sydil's spirit catches a glimpse of Mystra's throne room and is almost overwhelmed by the raw intensity of the magic within. Spells visible to her as bands of color twist and weave through it and comprise it, a prismatic kaleidoscope that shines with colors no mortal could comprehend. The vision lasts less than a moment before Sydil's sight is abruptly blackened. She hears a voice in the darkness speak. "You could not survive another look, little one. I know the answers you seek. Listen to the words of my servant."

Sydil's vision slowly returns to her, patches of brightness at the edge that resolves into the leaves and branches of the tree. Her spirit is back in her body and Ayorra sits across from her, the Ambassadors eyes rolled into the back of her head. As Sydil asks her questions the surface of the pool quivers - as if it too were curious - and listens to Ayorra's clipped answers, spoken in a voice not her own.

"What is the first name of the current possessor of the kiira, if any?"

Answer: None.

"What is the greatest danger we will face in attempting to retrieve the kiira?" worded in such a way that the answer would be along the lines of 'fire' or 'illusions' or 'undead' or whatever, not just 'magic' or the like.

Answer: Undead.

If the answer to the previous question is a name, "Is the possessor currently in Battlegate?" otherwise "Is there any creature in Battlegate that knows about the kiira?"

Answer: No

"Is the kiira warded or protected in any way that would harm us?" worded in a way that says we don't care about traps that would send an alarm or the like, just ones that would actually interfere with our retrieving it.

Answer: Yes

"Are there any wards that would prevent or block magical means of getting in and out of Battlegate?"

Answer: No

Commune Questions: 3/16
Contact Other Plane Questions: 2/8

At this point Ayorra and Sydil can't discuss the answers, only ask more questions, per the limits on Commune.

[Chambers]

Aster's eyes go wide and he stumbles, catching himself on the door frame. "What happened?" He shouts in near hysterics. "You broke into my shop, that's what happened!" His eyes track the movements of Mithranix's blade and he glances at the insignia on his armor. He sneers and quickly drops his dagger, the blade clattering to the floor as he holds his hands high above his hand. "I surrender! Don't hit me, I surrender!"

He takes a half-step out of the closet, looking towards you to see if you'll cut him down first. He keeps his eyes darting about the room as if looking for something but quickly looks back at the three of you, hands still raised.

[TheFallenSon]

His lip curled just ever so slightly. Years walking the straight and narrow had culled the sympathies his heart may have had for a man like this half-elf. A man who made his living by homesteading in the morality's grey area. Not a man of evil, but neither was he a beacon of the Elf Fathers light. In seconds he had judged this man and found him wanting. That judgement would flash across his face in his curling lip and bared teeth. His face returned to normal and his brain raced for a second.

"We heard a scream for help and what sounded like a scuffle of some type. Honor demanded we find the cause and protect a life my brother. Now, some may call my next statement a bit of ego stroking, but the An officer of the Eternal Order, and a member of the Dragon Riders of Cormanthyr stand before you with blades drawn...and you appear frightened of...something else. What has happened here?

[Chambers]

His arms droop as he looks at Mithranix confused. "Scream for help...? Oh." He says and blushes a bit. "That was...uh, that was me. I heard you break down my door and it, well it startled me." He coughs and straightens his collar and smoothes down his apron. "As for the scuffle, I was getting a little frustrated with that owlbear. They can be kinda hard to work with." His eyes light up and he smiles. "If you're interested I've got a line out on some more exotic creatures, should be getting them in soon. Maybe you'd like a nice dire tiger crouching in your living room?"

Bluff to your Sense Motive: [roll0]

Edit: Nope. Definitely not hiding anything from you. Just a bit nervous after having people bust into his shop.

[userpay]

Dane sighs in relief as their fears appear to have been misguided, sheathing his sword with a smooth flourish. "I really must apologize for our actions then. Just... Well given events as of late we couldn't help but act based on what we heard without knowing the circumstances." Dane takes off his helm to take a better look around the room, Corellon Larethian's symbol fading away from the faceplate leaving it blank once removed. "If it pleases you we'll be more than willing to make amends."

"Indeed." Aria says coming out from behind Dane. "Our magic can easily repair the damage we did to your door though the ward on it may be beyond us if it is destroyed. If its within our means however we'll try and pay for its replacement if it's gone."

Alrighty so Diplomacy roll from Dane, Sense Motive from Aria, and Dane's popping Detect Magic to see if anything seems off.
Diplomacy [roll0]
Sense Motive [roll1]

[Chambers]

"Of course, of course. I understand, can't be too careful these days." Aster says and he moves over to the owlbear stand and begins tidying up the tools scattered on the ground. "And I appreciate it, I do. Glad to know that there's those that still watch out for the less fortunate." He says and it's clear he's including himself in that but from the looks of the shop it doesn't look like business has been hurting lately. He raises an eyebrow at Dane and raises his hand to cough behind it. "Begging your pardon, sir, but unless you've a writ from the palace could you please not perform any divinations? I've as much as right to privacy as any other law abiding citizen." He says and half-bows as he takes a step back and places the tool bag on the work bench along the wall.

The most powerful auras in the room belong to Mithranix, Aria and yourself, though you do recognize a scattering of weak magical signatures among the racks of tools and bottles. He coughs again and takes a step to the left, blocking your line of sight to a small box that radiated no magic at all. "If you'd like to come into the front I can make some tea and we can speak about repairs to the door. I've just got a shipment in of jasm-" His words are cut off as he glances towards the main room. You all hear the sounds of people walking and moments later four elves enter the room. Three are clad in mithral chain and hold naked courtblades while the fourth wears heavy draped robes, colored in deep brown and fringed with yellow. Three short red stripes run across the shoulders and a yellow rose is pinned to the front of her robe. She quickly glances at the three of you and motions to her guards who stand near the doorway.

Her arms folded within the deep sleeves of her robe she looks at Aster and frowns, raises her mouth to speak and then shakes her head instead. She turns toward Mithranix and gives him a curt bow of her head, low enough to respect his station and title. "Good morning, Ak'hrua." She says and scowls as she looks at Dane. "Fair morning, Sha'Tel’Quessir." She says as she barely nods her head, her words laced with scorn, her loathing for you obvious. She turns back to Mithranix and says "I am Ar'faern Ealoeth. How do you find your day thus far?" Aster tries to not so subtely get her attention but she ignores him, as do the guards who don't seem to be looking too kindly upon Dane.

[AmberVael]

Sydil bows her head and closes her eyes, focusing on her questions, not presuming to seek further visions of the goddess of magic.
"What is the most important action we can take to maximize our chance of success in acquiring the kiira?
"What is the source of the undead previously mentioned?
"Where can we find the most information on the kiira?
"What is the second greatest danger we are likely to face in attempting to retrieve the kiira."

[Chambers]

Serving as a vessel for the knowledge of Mystra is taxing on mortal bodies and Ayorra can feel part of a small part of herself being overwhelmed by the power. Small waves roll across the surface of the pond, as if the spirit within is agitated by presence of such godly power. Even as her body speaks the words to answer Sydil's questions Ayorra can feel the truth of her statements. In her minds eye she sees her own words hanging in the air, each vibrating through the spectrum of colors. When Sydil asks about secondary dangers Ayorra notices that the colors of her answer shift through the spectrum in reverse.

"What is the most important action we can take to maximize our chance of success in acquiring the kiira?" (Contact Other Plane)

Answer: Guard your mind and body.

"What is the source of the undead previously mentioned?" (Contact Other Plane)

Answer: Dragons

"Where can we find the most information on the kiira?" (Contact Other Plane)

Answer: Within the selu'kiira

"What is the second greatest danger we are likely to face in attempting to retrieve the kiira?" (Contact Other Plane)

Answer: Dragons

"Is the selu'kiira in Battlegate?" (Commune)

Answer: Yes

Commune Questions: 12/16
Contact Other Plane Questions: 6/8

I counted off Commune questions to verify the answers given so far. Ayorra knows that the answer to the secondary dangers question is false but can't communicate that to Sydil at the moment.

[Chambers]

The colors from Ayorra's speech drift apart and lose their clarity, falling down to lay upon the water like oil slicks. Each drop of the prismatic sounds cause ripples across the water that touch the other ripples and rebound in an endless cycle. The surface of the water quickly agitates to a white froth, spraying mist over the two mages and leaving a negative rainbow in the air. Even deep in the trance Ayorra can feel the pain of the elemental spirit and it's response as the whitecaps on the surface swirl into miniature hurricanes that sweep the slicks of color away from it. As the last bit of color is flung away the hurricanes drop and the water returns to a slow wake.

You both come to and realize that Mystra's presence has gone. The small pool of water is calm and once again reflecting the branches of the limbs you sit in.

"In what way are the wards most likely to harm us?"

Answer: Eternal slumber

"Is there some fancy ritual related to them and Midsummer?"

Answer: Yes

"Can we find out more about that relationship using/within the kiira?"

Answer: Yes

----

I asked Vael if she had more questions and she said she didn't so I ended the spell after Dice's last batch. If there was another one that you really wanted to ask post it in OOC and I'll answer it as you had 1 Commune question left.

[userpay]

"My apologies once more, one merely wishes to assure safety." It didn't bother Dane to have to end his spell given that at best he could barely identify what he sees and that was with assistance.

Dane inclines his head as the elves enter. "And to thee." Their dislike didn't bother the paladin one bit as used to it as he was... So long as such people stayed civil. Dane glances to Aster. "I take it this is what you meant earlier?"

[TheFallenSon]

"Archmage"he used the common trade tongue as he returned the greeting to the Mage. He really hoped that sat sideways in the mans stomach...this was another of those that caused Mithranix no end of frustration. Elitist elves...what was next? Heroic Kobolds?

"What has summoned one of your stature from the tower? Did this store owner summon you?He would wait for Dane to finish his own comments before uttering his own.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra releases the power of her spell reluctantly and sits back with a sigh. Leaving the presence of the Lady always left her feeling lonely for a while and disappointed with the mundane world around her after the too-short glimpse of the Lady's majesty....

But there isn't any time for that now, so she pulls herself together and whispers a short prayer of thanks to Mystra for gifting her with Her knowledge and guidance. That done, she stands and says, "And now we have our information; I only hope it will be sufficient. Come, let us find the others and go over our answers together. They must have finished their investigations by now." Ayorra takes a few steps, then looks up at the position of the sun and corrects herself, "Or perhaps they have not. I always forget that divine communion plays havoc with one's perceptions--'time flies,' as the Cormyrians would say. Perhaps we should ask before seking them out."

The Hathran whispers a prayer to Mystra to carry her words through the Weave, then says, Sydil and I have completed our divinations. What is the status of your investigations, and would it be beneficial for us to join you now?

Ayorra casts sending to Mithranix.

[Chambers]

Yrthraetha frowns as Mithrnaix responds in the common tongue, then raises one eyebrow and smiles. It's not a pleasant smile. "No, this one did not summon myself. As my family owns this business, it is warded and when the door was broken I was alerted." She says in Elven. She glances around as if looking for someone else. "As there does not appear to be any great calamity I'm not certain why the door was breached but I'm sure that ones as highly regarded as yourselves have an adequate explanation."

Aster raises his head and says. "My lady, I was working on -"

"Silence." She says without facing him and he instantly is quiet, head down and looking at the ground. She glances at Aria and her gaze lingers, her eyes seeking weakness. She sniffs and turns back to Mithranix. "I overheard him speaking of entering into talks with yourselves over the repair of his door. I presume then that it was your actions that broke it? If so, I must ask you, as a representative of my family, what business you have with this shopkeeper and my families estates."

The half-elf shifts his weight from one side to the other but keeps looking at the floor while the three elven guards continue to stare at each of you. Moments later Mithranix hears the whispered words of Ayorra on the wind.

[TheFallenSon]

"My companions and I are on business for my order, we were coming here to ask the shop keeper questions about some of his business....it was then that we heard a yell for help. Of course we responded quickly. There have been murders of late Archmage, citizens have been put to the blade. Their crimes seem to be, that they are different. Something that our half kin friend here is." His tone changed a few times during that bit of conversation. When he brought up the murders he would give the other elves here a slightly...knowing...look.

"You should consider it a blessing from the elf father that we were here and able to respond as quickly as we did. It turns out however, that your tradesmen was losing a fight with one of his pelts...which led him to hiding in his closet...strange, but he seems fine. Do the pelts and stuffed animals often trouble your crafters? Mayhaps you have wronged another wizard who is trying to cause you problems." Mithranix caught himself and turned away from the gathering for a second. His face twisted in a smile. He had begun to travel down a road of humor that might have ended badly.

While his back was turned he would answer the others. "There is a game a foot here, a mage from the tower has responded to a magical alarm and summons of some type. We may need your help."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra tilts her head to the side, listening to the return sending, then tells Sydil "Mithranix says they have been intercepted by an arcanist from the Tower under suspicious circumstances and requests our presence. Let us go." The hathran whispers a prayer of guidance and recasts her spell of flight before leading Sydil to their companions' location.

Ayorra casts locate creature to locate Mithranix. She will fly back to the palace and then spiral outwards until Mithranix pings on her spell (the range is 1040 feet) and then home in on his location.

[Chambers]

Mithranix/Dane

"I consider many blessings from the First of the Seldarine, Ak'hrua, though I am not certain that an overzealous paladin and his entourage would be considered one of them. Any questions you would ask him you may ask me." Yrthraetha says in Elven with an icy voice as she motions her head towards the cowed shop owner.

Ayorra/Sydil

The pool sends a small wave to slap against a tree limb as you fly and leave, almost like the spirit within waving goodbye. Many of the streets and buildings below are covered under the canopy as you fly towards the palace though from this height you notice aerial guards keeping watch in the taller trees that you hadn't seen before. Pairs of elves and large flying beast, griffons and wyverns, rest in the highest branches of the canopy. Some of the wyverns growl at you but their riders snap at them in Draconic and silently regard you as you pass.

Flying out from the Palace Mithranix is not hard to find. Ayorra feels a gentle pull on her second pass around the Palace, leading her to the west and down to where Danglestar Street dead ends into the Street of Song. The spell pulls you a little stronger as you fly over one building in particular, a two story manor house that looks like it's been converted into a business of some kind. Seen from the street, the front door has been smashed in and the street is otherwise deserted.

TheFallenSon Are you still speaking in Common? I wasn't sure.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"Is there a problem here with which I may assist you, Distinguished Magus?" Ayorra asks in polite Elven as she steps over the wreckage of the door. Having heard the elf's comment about an overzealous paladin, the hathran smiles to herself behind her mask; she could usually sympathize with the woman's sentiments, but this particular paladin was an ally and the victim rather than the cause of a suspicious scenario, for once. Solving this peacefully would let them get back to their real business, or discover that this shopkeeper related to their primary objective, and either case would be a good outcome.

"My companion and I were nearby, heard some upsetting noises, and thought to investigate." All technically true, depending on how one defined "nearby" and what sort of noise one found upsetting. Hathran have no trouble with lying for the greater good when necessary, but Ayorra prided herself on sticking to the truth whenever possible even if only by a technicality.

[AmberVael]

Sydil quietly steps into the room after Ayorra, still mulling over the answers they had received to their divination, though the destruction of the door and tone of the magus before them draws her attention at least partially to the present. She blinks at the sight of the mage in question, remembering the summary of the situation that had been relayed to her. She wasn't sure of the source of the misinformation, whether it was a mistake, so she decides to be as discreet about it as possible.

"Yrthraetha, Archmage of House Ealoeth." Sydil whispers quickly to Ayorra. "I don't know her through the tower- I don't think she's affiliated with them- but I've heard of her." Even if anyone overheard, Sydil hoped they'd think she was just keeping Ayorra informed of the situation.

[TheFallenSon]

"It just seems strange that one of your stature would see it necessary to personally come to the aid of your families servant. It seems a task better suited to those men at arms, or the local authorities. The law fivers do act in the name of the Coronal herself. Strange...probably nothing.The only bit of speech not in a nice traditional Elvish would be the honorific. He would bow just a bit to the rest of his companions as they arrived.

"Archmage, your shop keeper has become known as a collector of artifacts and trinkets from the days of the cities glory. We were interested in the location of a particular piece from days long past."


just the title...Archmage...

[Chambers]

The elven guards move aside to let both of you in. Yrthraetha does not raise her well-manicured eyebrow at Ayorra and Sydil's entrance. "Fair morning, Ambassador. It seems the day for unusual visitors." She barely nods her head to Ayorra while her eyes have already skipped over to Sydil. "An Ambassador, Ak'hrua, Faern, and a...paladin." She hesitates over the last word as if merely acknowledging Dane was painful. The slight to Sydil was more subtle but no less an insult, Yrthraetha referring to her as simply 'One Who Practices Art' instead of the other half-dozen more respectful titles for her to choose from. "As the business here does not involve the business of our two nations, I don't see how you may assist, but please feel free to remain. I would offer you refreshments as a proper host, but this one barely holds to any rules of civility..." She says and motions her head towards Aster, still standing still and looking down, "...and Ak'hrua Mithranix was in the process of asking impertinent questions regarding the operations of my House and business."

She said all this while still looking at Sydil, her pale green eyes staring without blinking. She finally turns and gives another slight nod towards Ayorra before turning to face Mithranix. "I've heard such things myself. It's always interesting what one may hear when one simply listens." She raises an eyebrow. "Which particular piece are you referring to?"

[TheFallenSon]

"The order seeks knowledge to fight those enemies which plague our people. The seek the Selu'Kirra of as many ancient members of the Windsong Tower as can be found. The order believes that there is a truly dark force present in the City of Songs. That other worldly powers are seeking a way to destabilize our nation and to harm our people. The tactics, spells, notes, anything really is what the grandmasters seek to collect. Do you and your merchant have any wares from before the fall of this city?"He would sound as earnest as possible his face changing to concern as he mentioned the darkness that fouled the city now. His eyebrows knitting up in frustration as he talked of old evils.

His face lights up for the briefest second, as if he had just remembered a particular detail. "In particular my masters are interested in the Kirras of those mages learned in the nature of dreams, the magic inherent to them, how they are made, their realm. Lethanil Greenvine is a name on of my masters mentioned."

[Chambers]

One corner of Yrthraetha's mouth rises up briefly before her frown returns. "I have heard of Arfaern Lethanil, but the last I heard he was dead and his selu'kirra went missing when Myth Drannor fell." She says, placing emphasis on the correct pronounciation of the elven lore-gems. "If you seek information regarding dream magic, he would be the one to find."

She turns one hand palm up in a gesture of apology. "Unfortunately luck is the only thing I may offer as I've no information about the whereabouts of him or his selu'kirra." She glances over at Dane and then back to Mithranix. "In recompense for not being able to help, I will waive the debt of the door and spells. Unless there is some other business that you have...?" She says.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods minutely to Sydil when she identifies the archmage, but refrains from saying or doing anything else at the moment. She finds it a bit suspicious when the archmage denies all knowledge and attempts to usher them out, under the circumstances, so rather than attempting to dig deeper she merely smiles in response to the Archmage's question and responds, "As you appear to be occupied with repairing the premises, honored Archmage, my companion and I will take things from here."

She ushers the others outside and down the street a ways until they are all out of earshot of the store. "A dead end," she murmurs, "and a curious one at that. Sydil and I were successful in our divinations for the most part, so we have some leads to follow...but we should definitely look into this archmage's activities and connections after that. As you noted," she says to Mithranix, "her personal involvement in this seems highly irregular."

Ayorra will roll Sense Motive to see if the Archmage is lying about lacking information or otherwise trying to conceal something.

[roll0]

[AmberVael]

"I don't know that it makes it our concern though. There are lots of legitimate reasons to strongly want privacy and security." Sydil quietly interjects. "I think we should just look for the kiira. Do we need to prepare anything? I've the magic to get us where we need to go available to me."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"Many legitimate reasons for privacy and security in general, yes," Ayorra counters, "but the personal involvement of one so powerful in such times as these...well. As I said, this is not a matter to investigate immediately, but one to keep in mind after the kiira situation is resolved." She shakes her head in response to Sydil's question. "I have made all the preparations I require; there is no time to waste."

[Chambers]

"I know more people than this little shop, others that would be more willing to talk." Mithranix says. "If Dane and the lovely lady would be so kind as to accompany me, I think a trio of servants of the Coronal will strike a more imposing figure than myself." Dane nods and Aria places her hand on his shoulder in agreement. "Let us meet at the Serpentspires Feasthall for supper this evening, along Berduin's Ride. It's not far from the Palace and many agents of the Crown frequent it. Until then, Madam Ambassador, Ar'faern Sydil." He says and bows with a flourish, leading Dane and Aria away from the district, towards the less savory part of the city.

A few moments later and Sydil and Ayorra are alone in the street. As Sydil prepares the incantation that will take her and Ayorra to the outskirts of Battlerise, Ayorra catches a glimpse of Aster's face near the darkened storefront window. He looks sad, but is quickly surprised when he notices her watching him and quickly darts back into the store. Speaking the words of power familiar to her Sydil visualizes what little she knows about the village and moments later feels herself and Ayorra pulled through the strands of magic that infuse Myth-Drannor and arrive outside a devastated town.

Arriving next to an overgrown hedge that lines the road east of Battlerise Shortages and Sydil see what remains of the village. Of the twenty or so buildings that once made up the village only three still retain enough walls and a roof to provide any shelter. The others have been completely demolished and are little more than heaps of rubble.

The small fields where crops grew are nothing more than blackened and scorched earth and no animals are visible around the burned husk of the large barn. Two of the buildings that still stand are in the center of the town about a hundred yards away and look to be battered, but the stone walls of what appears to be a smithy and temple still stand. The third building is a small castle that sits on top of a small hill just north of the town. It's walls bear many scorched marks but are in better shape than the other two. No smoke rises from the chimneys of the castle, nor lights in the windows, and there are no sounds of people anywhere in the village. A moment later Ayorra notices that there are no corpses either, animal or people. Whatever force destroyed this village picked it clean of all signs of life.

[AmberVael]

In response to the destruction around them, Sydil begins weaving spells around herself in preparation for offensive action. It takes only a minute, and once she has completed that, she casts one more spell, a spell that summons a near invisible elemental.

"I was thinking we could use a scout." She quietly explains to Ayorra, as she commands the elemental to search a short distance ahead of them and report back if it finds anything unusual.


Sydil will cast the following spells on herself:

Barskin
Burrow
Freedom of Movement
Greater Blindsight
Magic Vestment
Moment of Prescience
See Invisibility
Superior Resistance
Stormrage
Tongues

[Chambers]

The elemental glides over the hedge and flys through the air towards the center of town, soaring above the ruined houses and diving low along the street, small whirlwinds of leaves and debris that are born and die furiously the only sign of its passage. It floats in the air at the center of town and seems to slow down for a second pass around the smithy before gliding back to Sydil.

The shifting mass of distorted air sighs and burbles for a moment and then fades away with the breeze.

Auran/Tongues: The ignan burns within the iron.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

While Sydil's summons her elemental and sends it out to make the rounds, Ayorra holds out both her hands in benediction to encompass herself and Sydil and begins chanting prayers and words of magic. By the time the elemental returns the Hathran has warded them both in yet more layers of magic and a magical bond pulses between them. "If the way is safe," she says, her words sounding to Sydil like Ayorra is whispering them right into her ear, "we should proceed. There may still be an ambush or traps here, so use caution; whisper your words and only I will be able to hear them."

I'm assuming Sydil is already part of her Arcane Tapestry and that Ayorra already has Greater Anticipate Teleportation and Energy Immunity for all 5 energy types up, since those all last 24 hours.

Ayorra casts the following spells on both of them:

Body Ward (Con)
Soul Ward (Wis)
Death Ward
Owl's Wisdom
Crown of Protection
Protection from Evil
Speak to Allies
Heart of Water
Fly
Indomitability

She will then cast the following spells just on herself:

Battlemagic Perception
Sanctuary
Ebon Eyes
Shield of Faith
Ironguard
Starmantle
Freedom of Movement

There's no kill like overkill. :smallwink:
Ayorra cautiously moves into the city proper, floating a few inches above the ground to avoid making too much noise and keeping an eye out for any observers or other threats. She leads the way to the smithy that Sydil's elemental indicated and, pausing to scan for threats, makes her way inside.

Before entering the smithy, Ayorra will cast Detect Magic and Detect Thoughts. If she detects anything, she'll stay outside.

[Chambers]

The silence of the village is not even broken by your footsteps as your magics carry you across the ground and into what was once the center of the village. From close up you can see that the scorched marks that cover the crumbling buildings are scattered and uneven. There was no precision in this destruction; the evidence before you indicates a carelessness - or perhaps indifference - in the application of arcane fire. You sense that as well for even though the fires have died out the lingering residue of powerful magic remains. You both feel a slight twinge, a pull of the Weave, the remnants of magic used to hurt and kill with joyful intent. It's almost nauseating, but the Weave is strong and the part that goes through this land has already begun to heal.

Ayorra senses a strong binding within the smithy and it leads her to the anvil. You can feel the heat from a few feet away but can sense no minds in the area. Enchanted forges are not unheard of and whatever spell has bound the fire elemental to the anvil appears to have suppressed its thoughts as well. Sydils third eye sense reveals no creature before her; the spell has invested the life of the elemental into the anvil itself.

As you investigate the smithy you hear the sound of hoofbeats outside. Looking through a destroyed part of the wall you see three riders approaching from the castle. Each is clad in plate mail and bears a shield and lance, the banner of the Purple Dragons flying from a pennon on the lead riders mount. You each immediately recognize their horses as creatures of magic, phantom steeds capable of flying and traveling at great speed. Within a few moments the riders have raced down the hill and come to a halt about 50ft away.

The lead rider holds up his lance in salute and flips up the visor of his helm showing a pair of clear blue eyes. "Halt and identify yourselves travelers." He says, his voice a rich baritone. "I am Sir Bronin, Captain of Battlegate. These are my lieutenants." He nods towards the men behind him, their faces hidden behind their helms. "This is a restricted area. Please state your business here."

See Invisibility & Blindsight don't reveal any hidden creatures. If Ayorra maintains her Detect Magic and turns it towards them, which I'm assuming she'll do, the above would count as 2 rounds of study.

The horses are of course magical, easily identifiable as Phantom Steeds. You sense three auras on each rider. The strongest aura is Faint.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods respectfully to the knights, concealing a flash of annoyance behind her mask. When she speaks, however, her tone is conciliatory: "Well met, Captain. I am Ambassador Ayorra of Rashemen, and my companion is Lady Sydil of Silverstream. We are seeking an item belonging to the elves of Myth Drannor which we have reason to believe has been stolen and hidden near here. When we arrived and saw what had happened to this town, however, we thought that a hostile force might be in the area and decided to investigate first."

She pauses for a moment, debating whether to mention exactly what they were searching for and where, but the Hathran decides she doesn't trust these Cormyreans yet--if that is actually what they are--so she merely adds, "What did happen here, Captain?"

[Chambers]

Captain Bronin nods his head towards each of you. "Ambassador, Lady. I know of no elven relics that are sequestered here, though Myth Drannor fell many years ago. It's possible that it was placed here soon after the Fall and either abandoned or forgotten by the thief. If I know what you were searching for I might be able to offer more help." He says and shifts in his saddle, the weight of his armor a burden that he's clearly experienced with. He frowns and as Ayorra mentions the destruction. "The rebels sought to seize Battlegate Keep and use it to choke off any aid we might receive from the Dales." He spits on the ground as his face contorts in anger. "When the traitorous war wizards learned that we would not give up the Keep they decided that they would destroy the town, presumably to prevent us from using it if they could not have it. Many innocent lives were lost, and the few surviving villagers left town and headed inland."

He pauses and takes off his helm, resting it in his lap while he runs his free hand through his brown hair. His fatigue is clear under his eyes and worry lines spread across his forehead. "And now I have an additional trouble to add. I'd tell you that the Keep is restricted and that you're not allowed inside, but I think that no elven artifact is to be found anywhere else in this town but at the Keep, if there at all. Do you have any thoughts on how to solve this impasse?"

Last round of Detect Magic. Ayorra would tap the Spellcraft DC's to identify the three aura's on each rider. The aura's are identical in strength (as mentioned before) and in school; Evocation, Abjuration, and Illusion.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra's sympathy for the town is somewhat muted when she finds out the cause of the destruction--more stupid partisan bickering by the Cormyreans; no Rashemi would ever let such a thing happen!--but she does bow her head and murmur a prayer to the local spirits to help guide the lost souls to Kelemvor and to Mystra to speak well on their behalf before the Lord of the Dead.

Not wanting to be forced into subterfuge and seeing no reason not to take the easy and legal path, she decides to trust the knight for now. "The item we seek is an elven selu-kiira, a lore-gem that holds information which may be instrumental in resolving a current trouble that threatens the elven lands. We do not know when it was lost nor who stole it, but our divinations and other inquiries have led us to believe that it is in Battlegate, possibly even in the Labyrinth below it."

Ayorra folds her hands before her in the gesture she usually uses when mediating disagreements. "Might I ask why the Keep is restricted, and why we would not be allowed within it? Lady Sydil and I do possess the full backing of our respective nations in this matter, and I would be prepared to swear any necessary oaths affirming that we bear no ill will against the Cormyrian people. If we were to be allowed to explore the Labyrinth without entering the Keep proper, would that be satisfactory for your superiors? This is a matter of some urgency to the Coronal and Myth Drannor as a whole, and if there is any way for us to be permitted to carry out our search we would welcome exploring the possibility."

[Chambers]

"This is official business from Cormanthyr then?" The captain says and narrows his eyes. "Funny that they can't find the time to send help to an ally but have no problem sending people out to search for lost relics." He holds one hand to his head and massaged his temple. "Forgive me, but I've little sympathy for the worries of the elves at the moment."

He twists in his saddle to face the keep and raises his arm and makes three rapid hand gestures before turning back to face you. "The keep is restricted as its now the garrison for this area. If you wish to get lost in the labyrinth that is your concern." He puts his helm back on and the other riders turn their phantom steeds back to the keep. "I'll escort you to a servant entrance, it will take you into the labyrinth, and I've no need for any oaths. My men would welcome the opportunity to strike at those that would harm Cormyr. Walk carefully and I'm sure there ire will be directed elsewhere."

Captain Bronin lowers the faceplate on his helm and brings his steed along next to the other riders. "Follow me. It's on the east side of the keep." Without looking back the three riders take off towards the Keep, moving slow enough so that neither of you has to walk fast to keep up. Instead of going straight up the hill to the Keep the three riders follow a worn path that winds around the hill on the east side, following it as it winds twice up a gentler slope to reach the Keep. Up close you can see the age of the walls of the keep, the outer stones weathered and smooth but still strong. The path leads to a small door made of heavy wood reinforced with metal straps. Captain Bronin nods to his companions and they ride off, going further around the hill to the back of the Keep. Bronin dismounts and pulls a large key from his pouch and unlocks the door and pushes it open with his shoulder. "It's a bit drafty inside. I hope you've brought some warmer clothes." He says and stands aside for you to enter. As you pass by you feel a chill, whether from the dark insides of the Keep or a psychic remnant of the battle here you're not sure.

The door opens into a mud room of sorts with large tables stacked with drygoods and outdoor work clothes hanging up on pegs along the wall. Bronin takes a lantern off the wall and lights it with his flint and you can see a large open passage leading further into the keep; a wooden door is set into the west side of the room, closed and barred with a worn piece of lumber. He sets the lantern down on the table and grunts with effort as he unbars the door, letting the wooden beam clatter to the floor. He raps his knuckles on the door and listens for a moment before turning back. "The stairs behind here lead down to the old basement. The entrance to where you want to go will be clear to see once you're down there. From what I've heard, no one's been down in years, so watch your step."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra spreads her arms in an I sympathize, but it's out of my hands gesture as the captain grumbles. "It is precisely those 'worries of the elves' which prevent Myth Drannor sending aid to Cormyr," she responds as the group begins moving. "Your country is not the only one suffering from political infighting, rebellion, and assassinations at the moment, Captain. I am not at liberty to discuss the precise nature of the internal issues that compel us to search for this kiira, but I can say that if and when the current dangers pass, the Coronal will be in a much more solid position to extend external aid."

As much as she might look down on Cormyr's government for allowing political squabbles to devolve into a civil war, she does sympathize with the Cormyrean people--if she thought other nations were inferior to Rashemen she would never have become an ambassador, or even left her country. "I am one of the delegation arguing against the isolationist elven Houses. If this mission of ours is successful, I cannot promise that the Coronal will take a side in your conflict, but I can advocate on your behalf."

She is quiet as Bronin leads them down to the Labyrinth entrance, content not to talk if the captain isn't one for idle conversation. When they reach the entrance, she nods respectfully to him once more and says, "Thank you, Captain, you have been most helpful. May the spirits favor you in battle." When the soldiers leave them, Ayorra prays once more and weaves her protective magics, before turning to her companion and asking "Shall we?"

I'm not sure how long as passed since we buffed up, so Ayorra will re-cast her earlier spells to refresh their duration, and Sydil should probably do the same.

Also, she will cast the following spells into her Quiescent Weaving:
Displacement
Ray Deflection
Karmic Backlash
Greater Dimension Door

[Chambers]

It's been four tiresome days since the Coronal asked the three of you to investigate the Eldreth Veluuthra. You've spent the past few days in the Dlabraddath District, trying to ferret out any information from the increasingly guarded N'Tel’Quessir community. While they've always known that Myth-Drannor was an Elven city, the inability of the Coronal to stop the attacks has created a breeding ground for fear and mistrust of elves in the city. In the ward itself N'Tel’Quessir travel in groups with weapons barred and no elf walks those streets alone at night for fear of being set upon by a vengeful mob.

A band of human warriors from Shadowdale have started patrolling the Dlabraddath Ward after the merchant they were guarding was slain. Calling themselves the Eight Broken Swords they have become popular among the N'Tel’Quessir for their aggression towards any elf that enters the Alliance Ward (as the N'Tel’Quessir call it). The symbol of the Coronals personal rune that you wear has kept them from openly confronting you but the people of the ward have been frustratingly closed mouthed to you about the killings. "How do we know you're not just lookin' for your next dwarf to kill?" One dwarf said before spitting on the ground at your feet. His response has been unfortunately common among the people you've talked to.

The few leads you've gotten through divination and leg work appeared to split off in half a dozen directions which may be accounted for by the peoples reluctance to talk to you and heavy wardings against detection by whomever is actually doing the killing. After chasing down dead ends you've one lead remaining: a sympathetic halfling mentioned a certain elf that keeps strange hours at the Treant's Treat. The halfling said he never sees the elf enter or leave, but sometimes sees him talking with folk he does know. He had no idea who the elf was, but said he recognized one of the men he met with, a cutter that used to work out of Waterdeep. "I haven't always been a saint, and this one time...well, never mind that. I seen that guy before and if he's here, watch your throat. I know that sonofabitch is up to no good. That elf can't be meeting him to trade recipes."

There's an early lunch crowd in the Treant's Treat as walk down the stairs to the taproom on the second floor; the past few days have seen little work go on in the ward as people become more conscious of security than profit, and the taverns and bars are the only ones still making any coin. Three humans sit at a long table drinking with a pair of dwarves while two other humans sit at one end of the bar, as far away as they can be from a lone elf sitting at the other end. The humans and dwarves stop their conversation and look up as you enter. One of the dwarves laughs and turns back to his companions while one of the humans slams his drink down and stands up on wobbly legs, one hand on the hilt of his sheathed dagger. "Sit down Yeorn! Don't cause trouble where there isn't any." The dwarf next to him says.

While the patrons might not be friendliest sort the tavern itself is beautiful to look at. The large roots that stick out of the earthen walls appear to reinforce it and while some dirt crumbles on the floor the they look stable enough to support the stone floors and ceilings. An open doorway behind the bar leads to the kitchen and storeroom downstairs while the stairs you walked down are the only exit back up to the street.

[Heavensfury]

As Tyriel and his companions walk down the boulevard towards the Treant's Treat, he pauses to marvel at how large the stately oak has grown in his absence. So much has changed he marvels, taking in the colorful neighborhood around him, and simultaneously noticing the many unfriendly glares being sent his way.Yet the atmosphere remains all to familiar, he thinks sadly before shaking himself out of his reverie and striding quickly to catch up to his co-investigators. After all, that was exactly the reason he had been so quick to volunteer his services in the effort to bring down the Eldreth Veluuthra, to prevent history from repeating itself.

As they approach the door to the establishment, he mentally checks the status of the spells he had already cast in preparation for this afternoon's investigation. The search so far had been frustratingly inconclusive, and the excitement of an actual lead had put them all on edge. Still, they had planned their approach to the situation carefully, and Tyriel trusted his almost preternaturally charming companions to handle the schmoozing, just as he hoped they trusted his magical expertise.

Before entering the establishment, Tyriel quietly intones the words to a pair of divinations, concealing the small gestures required as best as possible by walking between his two companions. The first spell gives his eyes a faint blue glow, but he hopes the patrons within will merely attribute it to his obvious supernatural origins. His heritage was no secret, and with his large alabaster wings, white trimmed in gold wardrobe, and always-shifting translucent shroud, he looked every inch the otherworldly scion.

They enter the tavern, and the greeting they receive is about what he expected, though he smiles with genuine gratitude to the dwarf who talks reason to his intoxicated companion. He scans the crowd with his magically enhanced senses, seeking tell-tale magical auras, and listening for unusual thoughts and conversations. His powerful mind handles the required multi-tasking, and he whispers what he finds, magic whisking the words to his allies' ears.


Spells Tyriel keeps up at all times: Mage armor, Shield, Resist energy (fire), Resist energy (sonic), Keen edge, Mind Blank

Spells Tyriel cast in preparation for the tavern (150 minute duration): Tongues, Comprehend languages, Message

Spells Tyriel cast just before entering the tavern (15 minute duration): Arcane sight, Detect thoughts (concentration)

[The Great Skenardo]

Aged Elf
Sitting rather by himself is an elf in faded black clothing contemplating a chessboard opposite no one. A metal walking-stick leans against the table, and a plate of cress and mustard sandwiches sits at his elbow, and one of these he picks up with an age-spotted hand to nibble at.
Turning to look at the newcomers, his gaze is somewhat vague and betrays only a little bemusement at the collection of ostentatious individuals stepping into the Treant's Treat.
His features are angular, like most elves, and his sunken eyes are dark and quick. His etherial blonde hair is gathered in a loose and untidy ponytail.

Tyriel

Under Tyriel's gaze, the elderly elf gleams with a number of magical auras, consistent with magical equipment of some power. Furthermore, a weak magical aura of some kind is upon him

[Oh My God]

Ethnic violence sits particularly poorly in the pit of Valinor's stomach. He'd seen the logical final extrapolation of that chain of thought in the Blood War, and the thought of where this could all lead was enough to chill his blood. And so the paladin does what little he can to soothe tempers. Wherever the trio travels in the ward of the so-called N'Tel'Quessir, they leave behind them a faint whiff of genuine kindness. It isn't particularly potent. It won't magically change any minds. But it lingers for the rest of the day, ever so slightly softening the nerves drawn taunt with fear.

" I say,", the star elf remarks to his fellows as his eyes adjust to the dimmer interior of the bar," Quite nice, isn't it? Very, ah, homey."

Valinor is in the Aura of Triumph stance all day long; this has no mechanical effect, but it does generate a palpable aura of goodness.

[Chambers]

Ayorra

The heavy door opens onto a short landing and stone cut stairs that descend into darkness. Sydil flicks her wrist and three glowing balls of light slowly rotate around her hand like a bracelt. Captain Bronin nods and says "This was a secondary access to the Labyrinth, near as we can figure. The main entrance is further within the keep though it's been sealed shut for years. Good luck." He salutes you and then frowns, remembering that you're not part of the Cormyr military. "Old habits die hard." He mutters before picking up the lantern, turning away and heading through the hallway into the Keep.

There are thirteen steps on the stairs with an an extra long step at the bottom. The wide room is musty and significantly cooler than above, but what grabs your attention away from the chill and dust is a large archway set into the wall on your right. Seventeen stones cut of basalt form an arch set into the worked stone wall; the archway itself goes nowhere as it appears to have been filled in with stone of the same vein as the wall. Each basalt stone has three emeralds embedded in the center of it, the gems forming a triangle. Standing close to the archway you can feel the shift of magical energies and the temperature changes to warm, hot, cold, or freezing seemingly at random. Timing the differences in temperature you figure that whatever is shifting is doing so about once a minute.

The rest of the large room is filled with broken furniture, storage crates and barrels and an empty winerack. Cobwebs hang down from the corners and cover the wooden chairs and tables and you smell more than see a large patch of mold growing in a corner next to the winerack.

Detect Magic: The gems around the archway register a strong aura of conjuration. There are no other auras in the room.

[Chambers]

Whadda they think they doin, just walkin in here? I bet I could cut those wings off and - Damn your eyes elf! Had to come in here, in his cups too.- It'll be their blood spilled and no doubt if he pulls that. That's Illsevele's rune, I know it. -Ah, let him have a go, they don't look like much. - This axe is sharper than your wit brother.

The drunks thoughts are easy to pick up along with another of the humans sitting with them. It's odd to hear dwarven spoken in a dwarves head but your magic translates it to perhaps some of the strangest elven ever heard. From what you hear of the one dwarfs mind you can read it seems as if he's having a telepathic conversation with the other dwarf sitting next to him, though you're only hearing his side of it. A pair of matched rings glow yellow in your enhanced vision along with the boots, belts, gloves, and axes of the dwarves.

The minds of the two men sitting at the bar are silent to you. As you turn your gaze towards them their outlines blur for a moment as if trying to hide from your sight but their forms clear and you see a dozen auras on each of them ranging from faint to strong. They're dressed in soft shirts of green and grey with matching brown leather breeches and doeskin boots, all of a high fashion that seems more belonging in one of the more cosmopolitan cities on the Sword Coast. One turns to look at the three of you as you enter and his face is fair, his hair dark red, the same color as the others. He glances over each of you and raises his eyes at Tyriel's wings. You can see him take a closer look at the angelic elf and his eyes narrow as he meets Tyriels gaze. He scowls and taps his fellow next to him who also turns around and you all see that the two of them appear to be identical twins. "Tell me brother..." The first one says without taking his gaze from Tyriel. "...because I may have forgotten. Is it customary to divine without permission, to seek to know every little secret and crumb of a stranger without so much as a leg bow and by your leave?" The dwarf who spoke up glares at the other one and drags the drunk man back down into his seat.

The other twin looks briefly at Tyriel and rolls his eyes, then goes back to the soup he was eating. "In civil society? Certainly not, though I suppose when one chooses to sup in a root cellar all manners and good thought stay in the leaves above." The first twin nods and snaps his fingers while whispering a word of power and his own eyes turn the same shade of blue as Tyriel. "If we're to fit in with the local populace it seems we must degrade ourselves to all sorts of unruly behavior. Please promise not to tell father."

The other twin lifts his left hand and intertwines his first two fingers. "Word of honor, brother. Your transgressions shall not pass my lips."

The drunk man sitting with the dwarves is of average Intelligence (11), while the other two have a little bit more going on upstairs (14 & 15). The dwarf whose mind you can read shares a similar predicament with the drunk (10) and you can't detect the other dwarfs mind or the two twins minds at all.

Spellcraft DC 18: Both of the Twins have Nondetection cast on them.
Spellcraft DC 18: Waterdhavian Twin Mage cast Arcane Sight.

The other humans and the dwarves didn't appear to pick up on Tyriels blue eyes as anything stranger than what he currently looks like but the one twin appears to have a keen eye for magical phenomena (made his Spellcraft check) and your arcane sight shows you that both of the twins are capable mages, able to cast 7th level spells each.

All

Anybody have Nondetection up or something else that would stop Arcane Sight from working?

[bindin garoth]

As they approach the tavern, Aranel cannot help but think of his old house. How were they doing. he wondered. But alas, he knew such thinking was worthless. After all, he had been dismissed from the house long ago, something one can never gain back.

The sight within the tavern, however, was a curious one. He found it ironic that the tavern was such a beautiful place, and yet a human was threatening them! He chuckled inside, but does nothing to show this, knowing such a reaction would provoke them more.

He says nothing as the dwarf's comments. And why should he? They were treating the group as if every elf was a problem! He'll admit, it's not the..... Best of manners to divine on someone without permission though....

"We apologize for the intrusion with the divination. Unfortunately, we are on a mission which does not permit us from excluding anyone from suspect, however. Not to mean you were of suspect, we were actually here looking for another, and thought it might be good to use divination before even entering...."


Diplomacy: [roll0] +3 from Ministrel mask

I do have up a constant Lesser Globe of Invulnerability, which affects both me and my allies (Angel Mask:Protective Aura).Not sure how'd it interact with Arcane sight. It is a 3rd level spell, and allows for seeing in a 120ft area, although technically it's range is personal......

Otherwise, I have nothing to stop it.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel prepares to offer an explanation to the inquisitive twins, but stops himself when he sees that they are content to bask in their own cleverness. Many mages of even middling power have minor divinatory powers rendered permanent upon their persons, and spellcasters as learned as these two have surely encountered such before, hence the nondetection spells. He wonders about the source of their arcane education, and why fashionable young men would choose to "sup in a root cellar". Even as his sun elf companion offers a disarming apology, Tyriel steers his associates to a corner table. As they take their seats he makes sure to probe the rooms above and below with his magical senses, knowing the divinations should be able to penetrate the wood and dirt floors.

"The Treant's Treat was one of the first places in Myth Drannor to embrace the integration of the N'Tel’Quessir, and has hosted gods in its time" remarks Tyriel in response to Valinor's offhand comment. He wonders again about the kindred of the oddly striking elf, whose looks combined the best of both silver and gold elves, yet seemed to belong to neither. "It's beauty aside" he says, admiring the flawless melding of nature and civilization "it is a place of significance." He beckons a server, orders a cup of hot tea, and offers to buy his friends something to drink as well.

Noticing the aged elf sitting at the far end of the bar, Tyriel studies him closely. It was rare for an elf to so visibly display the signs of advanced age. Normally their bodies remained outwardly fairly youthful, while their souls burned brighter and brighter with the passing years, until their mortal forms could no longer contain the fierce blaze and they pass to Arvandor. Such decrepitude in an elf was usually a sign of a magical mishap of some sort, yet he detected no connection between this elf and the Art, though he did sense an impressive intellect.

After a moments study he senses the faint emanation of illusion covering the figure. A magical disguise could certainly explain how an "elf" could keep appearing at the tavern without anyone seeing him enter or leave he ponders. "The elf at the bar is not what he appears," he whispers for his companions, "and given the quality of the illusion, I would hazard that he is not even Tel’Quessir. Unfortunately, his mind is closed to me, but perhaps your charm and wits can succeed where my magic has failed?" Having identified the illusion, Tyriel attempts to penetrate it with a simple exercise of will.

[The Great Skenardo]

Aged Elf
Under half-lidded eyes, the elf picks up a pawn and moves it up the board, keeping his finger on it for a long moment... before returning it to its previous place.
Subsiding in his seat once more, he picks up a sandwich once more and nibbles reflectively, gazing with mild interest at the various back and forth and up and down of elves and humans. His wandering gaze settles finally on the bright-blue-eyed elf, matching his gaze evenly for a long moment, before giving a slight shake of the head and turning stiffly back to contemplating the board.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Once she and Sydil finish their spellcasting, Ayorra examines the archway with more than a hint of suspicion; she would prefer to be able to scout ahead, but doing that through a portal is not really possible without going through it, and she isn't sure if this one is two-way or even reliable. The witch turns to her companion and suggests "You had mentioned some facility with conjuration spells, before; perhaps summoning a creature and asking it to ensure that the area beyond the portal is safe would be the wisest course."

I assume I can make use of Sydil's spells as long as she's with Ayorra, and in that case she'll have Sydil summon a lantern archon to go through the portal if possible, scout the area for monsters, dangerous terrain, and a general description for a minute or so, then come back and report.

[Chambers]

Ayorra

Sydil nods to you and clears her throat softly. "That's a good idea, but can I make a suggestion first?" She says and offers a shy smile, a little embarrassed to offer a different opinion. "I've seen many portals in Windsong Tower and each has their own special way of telling you their stories." She says as she takes out a small mirror and crystal lens. "They're quiet though. You have to listen carefully." She fits the lens over one eye and turns her back to the archway, holding up the mirror to show the arches reflection. "Ah...this portal isn't functioning properly. I can see a bright room with large braziers hanging from the ceiling. There's something moving between them but it's too smoky to make out. Oh. The portal shifted." She says and holds the mirror closer. To your eye the mirror shows just the reflection of the archway and stone.

"Tha...that's quite a lot of bones. Sorry." She says as she pulls back. "Some kind of giant chessboard - really? They made a chessboard room? - but most of the pieces are smashed and there's an awful lot of bones on the board. Are those knights? Maybe a bishop...shifting again. It's outside in some park. Maybe an illusion? There's a large stone fountain in the middle but all the water is frozen...actually, the ground is covered in ice. The statues in the fountain look grim, like ice sculptures of a battle...wait. I think that orc blinked." She shakes her head and lowers the mirror and walks toward the archway. "The portal is two-way, or rather multi-way. Each place can be reached by this one portal and they can all reach here. It's started to seep, though I can't say for sure what that might mean. It's simple to activate. Too simple, unfortunately. You speak the word...hmm."

She pauses and the small globes of light detach from her wrist and float in the air, elongating until they are squiqqles of light that form the word Auantiver. "You speak that word and have your destination in mind. But I didn't see all of the places where it could go. Sorry."

[Oh My God]

" I agree that his having a disguise on makes him suspicious,though it is impossible to be certain that this is indeed the suspicious elf he mentioned, rather than simply just 'a' suspicious elf. Its a wide world after all," is his eventual, magically sub-vocal response to the idea that the lone elf is the one their source named. He continues expostulating," Given the manner of our arrival, it would be difficult to gull him or trick him. Perhaps something straight forward?"

Having said all that Valinor steps up to the bar and then leans against it. A whim takes him, and he raps a knuckle against its surface, testing its soundness. Nodding with satisfaction, as if to say,' Yes, that is indeed a bar!'. That accomplished, he waits.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra watches Sydil's display with great interest. Rashemen never had much to do with the portals that so entranced the other nations of Toril, as the creation of magical items is beneath the Wychlaran and the Vremyonni have more important things to do with their magic than craft portals, so all of this is new territory for her. She says as much to her elven companion, and adds that she would like to take some time to study portal lore with Sydil when all of this is over.

"In the meantime," she continues, "we must make a selection if we are to proceed. The chess puzzle is cliché to be sure, but familiar ground is safe ground...though I would certainly prefer the cold outdoors of the fountain, despite the danger posed by the living sculptures. Yes," she nods decisively, "we shall take a chance with that location. As the portal is two-way, we can retreat if there is any overwhelming threat, and if we are going to explore past that area clearing out the fountain would give us a good base of operations in which it would be difficult for foes to hide from us. If you do not object, let us go. After you, daughter."

[Chambers]

Treants Treat

"Fair warning brother. We share this room with a master of the Art." The slightly taller twin says as his blue eyes look over Tyriel. He holds up a hand in warding. "Take no offense and we shall dine in peace." He says and sits back down.

The men at the other table look uneasy at apparently being in a room with three mages and the drunk breaks out of the dwarfs grip. "I'll no be drinking wit' an elf wiz'rd!" He says through slurred speech as he stands up. The dwarf looks ready to force him down again but the other two men quickly stand up and take him by the arms, leading him up the stairs. "Another time Gard. I've just recalled some...place...I should be." One of the men says to the dwarf. "Some place not here." He mutters as the three leave.

A young half-elf woman comes through the kitchen door wiping her hands on a rag as she goes behind the bar. She looks up and realizes that the three men are gone and looks at Tyriel and his companions with an annoyed glare. "I suppose you entering had nothing to do with them leaving." She says and sighs. "Be welcome nonetheless; I'm Athana, and this is the Treant's Treat. What can I get for you? Lunch is a bit spare today, vegetable stew or small sandwiches."

[The Great Skenardo]

Aged Elf
The elderly elf glances at the figure rapping the bartop, pausing around a mouthful of sandwich... then turning back to contemplating the game. Again, he lifts a pawn and nearly places it, only to hesitate and replace the rough wooden piece once more.
Moving with shuffling slowness, he takes the walking stick next to the table and leans his chin atop his hands along it, gazing with faraway eyes at the scratched harlequin pattern of squares on the board.

[Heavensfury]

As the Waterdhavian twin offered as much as an apology as his pride would allow, Tyriel waves his hand dismissively, indicating he considers the incident already forgotten. He glances sharply at the drunk's comment, but as he and his human companions leave, the look melts into one of sorrow. Given the current climate in Myth Drannor, the reaction was understandable, but it still stung. Resolving to do something about it, Tyriel rises from his seat and makes his way to the dwarves' table.

"My apologies gentlemen" he says, bowing deeply. "It appears I have inadvertently spoiled your afternoon, but I assure you that was not my intent. Please allow me to make amends by paying for your drinks and lunch." He holds their gazes, letting them see the sincerity in his eyes.

"If you will do me the honor of accepting my apology, then perhaps I could further implore you to allow me to dine with you. Though I am sure I am a poor substitute for the company you have lost, I have not shared stories over drinks with the Stout Folk since I had the honor of fighting beside the Shield Guard of the Akh'Velahr." Tyriel's eyes seem to lose focus as he momentarily dwells on distant memories. "Their zest for a good meal and brew was matched only by their bravery in battle. It is among my fondest hopes that the descendants of those who survived have returned to Cormanthor, or soon will."

Tyriel looks up as Athana enters the room, and smiles at her welcome. When she asks for their order, he looks to the dwarves, quirking an inquiring brow.

[bindin garoth]

At the mention of the disguised elf, Aranel steps forward slightly and whispers back. "Perhaps I might suggest I go and talk to him?I have a knack at being diplomatic." Then, as an after thought to himself "The wondering mage always seemed to have a way with words, his role would definitely be suitable."

Aranel quickly waves his hand over his face, and to many nothing seems to happen. However, to his companions, who are more familiar with him, his demeanor and posture shift slightly, becoming more upright and possessing a slightly weary look upon his face.

As Athana walks through the doors and mentions food, Aranel is quick to realize how hungry he is. "My dear, vegetable stew would be lovely." He replies rather quickly.


Switching around masks for a greater bonus to diplomacy. Loosing aura.

[Chambers]

Ayorra

As you say the name of the long dead Cormyr noble house the stone wall in the archway transforms into a shower of snow flakes. Sydil takes a moment to cast a ward against the cold and you step into the portal and feel yourself transported to a land of frost, instantly questioning the wisdom in coming here. The ground is frozen and part of it covered in snow while a snow storm falls all around you. The temperature is obscenely cold; if you were not magically protected you would die within minutes from hypothermia and frostbite. Visibility is poor and you see less than a hundred feet. Sydil wraps her cloak around her tighter and says "There's nothing out there. It just...stops." Sydil's enhanced senses tell her that the land that appears to be hidden by the snow storm doesn't exist at all. You recognize the area as a small extra-dimensional island and can feel the shift of energies in the Weave that run throughout this pocket dimension. The portal that you stepped through doesn't appear to be behind you anymore. Looking back all you see is ten feet of frozen ground and then a solid wall of white, a curtain that extends all around the area.

The only thing in this place other than snow and frozen water is a very large fountain in the middle. A low wall of cracked stone rings the fountain and instead of playful cherubims or dancing children, the figures in the fountain are all men, women and beasts that have been frozen solid. Their ice-encased bodies are collected into a giant heap, one massive ice sculpture that has its frozen-creatures-as-constituent parts fused randomly across the whole of it. Sydil takes one hesitant step forward and then two back as she examines it. "There's something unsettling about the sculpture, beyond it's horrific appearance. The frozen creatures seem to be arranged in such a way as to resemble the limbs of a deadly ice beast, an aberrant thing known as the Shivhad. It's some kind of cross between a giant spider and six sand-worms. See the orc and the dwarf with the poleaxe? Those look like one of its giant pincer claws. It has those too."

You and Sydil tap the Knowledge: The Planes to recognize this as a demi-plane. It's about a hundred feet in diameter and has been tailored to mimic the Elemental Plane of Water with some modifications, primary among those Supernatural Cold. It shares some base characteristics with the EPoW such as Impeded Fire Magic and Enhanced Cold Magic (Maximized, Empowered).

Sydil cast Mass Resist Energy (Cold) on both of you before entering the portal. Her Greater Blindsight spell tipped her off to the small dimensions of the pocket-dimension and she used her Moment of Prescience spell to get a (roughly) +35 bonus on her Knowledge: Dungeoneering check to tap the base identify DC for the Shavhid (Frostburn pg152 for those following along), which has been altered by whomever created this particular demiplane to be better suited for local conditions. Sydil knows that all Shavids are Immune to Cold, have Spell Resistance and Epic DR, and drain the life (ability drain) from those it bites.

Link to the map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1XudWIqcpR82dnHfr1oznKgvH5jUmfd6ZvOei6iqyXnI/edit). If you login with a Google account you should be able to edit it. I've got a Google account that I use just for PbP gaming; I suggest others make one as well if they don't want to use their primary account.

[Oh My God]

Knowing that Aranel will be able to handle the conversation with the Unknown Elf, Valinor turns himself towards the now important task that falls on him; looking normal. Or, at least as normal as anyone looks in the Coronal's City. It was interesting how hard the demographics here skewed any sane bell curve way out of shape.

" And tea, perhaps? ," the elf adds in a hopeful tone to his comrade's request for the stew.

[Chambers]

Treants Treat

The dwarf called Gard slowly nods to Tyriel as he holds both hands around his mug. "Dwarves did fight alongside elves and men for many years here, not so long ago." The other dwarf snorts and Gard glares at him. "You would pass a moment to drink to your ancestors deeds Halred, son of Halred?"

Halred stiffens and returns Gards stare for a moment before lowering his eyes. "Never let it be said I carry that shame." He says in stiff, formal tones. "Air sgàth có cath ri galad cridhe agus marvh cuartaich aig marbh urk."* Halred says in dwarven and takes a long pull on his mug, drinking til it's empty and then smashing it on the floor. Gard nods and follows suit and both of them look to Tyriel.

Athana shakes her head. "Always lose more mugs when dwarves drink." She mutters before heading into the kithen to get your orders.

*To those who fought with brave hearts and died surrounded by dead Orcs

[bindin garoth]

Aranel starts to head towards the aged elf, ignoring the dwarfs as Tyriel talks to them. He proceeds to take a seat by the aged elf, and greets the man with a warm voice.

"Hello! Name's Aranel. And you are?"

[Heavensfury]

As the dwarves talk of drinking and honor, Tyriel signals to Athana to bring another round for the table. He listens respectfully to Haldred's prayer, and remembering what comes next manages not to wince as the mugs shatter. He raises his own cup, sadly containing only tea, and responds "May they find peace and joy in the Soul Forger's domain" before swallowing what's left of the tea in one burning swallow. As he takes a seat at the Dwarves' table he throws the empty cup to the ground to shatter with the rest.

"Tell me, have you perchance heard of the battle of Yelping Gnolls? No? Well, while we were evacuating some gnome farmer's over at what is now known as Moander's Road, a huge force of gnolls fell upon us. Fortunately, our company was being led by Hrolm of the Ironheart clan, originally from Ammarindar I understand. He and his boys formed ranks before I could so much as blink, and those gnolls fell faster than..."

Tyriel settles in to trade stories of battle and glory with the (he assumes) clan brothers, enjoying the opportunity to make new acquaintances. He'll keep an eye on the human brothers and the disguised elf, but is content to let Aranel do his thing.

[The Great Skenardo]

Aged Elf
He blinks once, slowly, at the sprightly elf sitting down next to him.
"Well met," he replies, in deliberate tones, although his voice carries the faint tremor of age, and also an accent.
"Berubella, they call me, and Limosen, too."
With that, he returns his gaze to the chessboard, setting his thin shoulders as he leans against his stick.

[Oh My God]

Valinor sips his tea once it arrives, assuming that it does. Beyond that, he's clearly content to listen to the conversations in progress in the interesting tavern.

[bindin garoth]

"If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get the second name?" Aranel asks the man, looking reflectively at the board. It had been ages since he played the game! Then again, with how busy he tended to remain, it was no surprise, really.

"Are you recollecting an old game?" He asks.

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen Birubella
The elf takes a moment to lift his eyes from the board.
"They are both my name," he says, simply. "You did not tell me one but," a wheezy chuckle, "I assume you must have two names of your own. Now," he faces the board once more,
"please leave me be; This is a game I am playing with my son, and it is as close as he has ever come to besting me."
After a moment of silence, he takes up the sandwich once more and nibbles at it.

[Chambers]

Treant's Treat

Gard listens carefully to Tyriels tale and even Halred leans forward and seems to be loosening up, old stories of dwarven glory winning over his dislike of elves. "A fine battle, to be sure, but have you heard of the last Orc charge against Mithral Hall? My cousin Oflo Haredge was there, and he said..." The story Halred tells is familiar to you but it seems a bit more grim and heroic by his telling. Gard keeps silent but you can see him smile to himself behind his raised mug.

Athana brings out a tray with food and drinks and gives Aranel a look with raised eyebrows and a slight shrug of her shoulders that seems to say 'Don't ask me, I just work here.' After refilling the twins glasses from a green glass bottle kept under the bar she leans forward. "Must be your first time here, as I've never seen you before. You know the history of this place? Legend holds that this was one of the first trees that the elves crafted with their magics, way back before Myth Drannor had a mythal." She says and smiles as if she knew a secret that you didn't. "Back in those days they say that the tree would come to life, talking with the elves that sat down here. It must be sleeping now, but I've heard it said that these roots could come alive, mostly if it was ever attacked."

One of the twins coughs lightly and raises his head. "Pardon the interruption, fair maiden, but I have seen all there is in this bar, and while I admit that the ambiance has a rustic quality that one does find oneself being attached to, the roots - and presumably the rest of the tree - are simply normal roots, albeit of a large size common in Elven woods."

Athana scowls at him and starts to respond but is cut off as the entire room begins to violently shake. Clumps of dirt fall from the earthen ceiling above and bottles clatter to the floor. The twin stares wide eyed at the shaking walls and stammers. "I...I'm sorry, great tree, I meant no offense..."

"It's not the tree you dolt, its an earthquake!" Gard shouts as he dives below the table, hands warding his head. "Get to cover!" The shaking quickly escalates and larger clumps of dirt and stones begin falling. The dwarves take a few hits by stones but Halred merely grunts as he drops down to join his cousin under the table. The twins make little effort to dodge the rocks and falling debris as their skin suddenly gleams like adamantine. The larger stones fall around them and the smaller ones that do hit them merely bounce off. One of the twins takes a sip from his glass. "Never argue with dwarves when it comes to falling rocks, brother."

Athana doesn't spare a moment for a quip in return. As soon as the shaking started she dived to the floor and curled up underneath the bar, safe from the stone and heavy dirt. "When's it going to stop?!" She shouts and as soon as she does the vibrations instantly cease. "Stay down! There's gonna be an aftershock!" Gard yells as he pulls a chair next to the table, forming a table-chair fort.

No one's got ranks in Martial Lore for the dwarves, but to the untrained eye it looked like some kind of dwarven battle tactic - probably called Stand There and Take the Hit.

An easy spellcraft check shows that a Contingency for Stoneskin was activated on the twins, and Athana just appears to be really quick on her feet.

Knowledge: History DC 35 or Knowledge: Local (Cormanthyr) DC 15
Earthquakes are so uncommon in Myth Drannor that many believe that either the land lies far from the edges of any tectonic plate or that the mythal protected the city from any quakes in the past. While rumors are usually false, in this case both are true. Myth Drannor in specific and Cormanthyr in general are over fairly stable geographic areas and the mythal did ward the city against earthquakes.

Even in the years without the mythal there haven't been any earthquakes that weren't magical produced.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel hops to his feet the moment the ground starts to shake and easily keeps his balance as the earth violently trembles. With his magic ring speeding his reflexes, he manages to dodge all the falling rubble while glancing around to see how everyone else if fairing. Cormanthyr doesn't have earthquakes, he thinks to himself as everyone scrambles to avoid the debris,this is the result of magic...divine magic.

A thousand possibilities for the quake race through Tyriel's mind, but he responds to the situation like the soldier he once was. "Valinor, secure the civilians and prepare to evacuate. Don't forget to check the other floors. Aranel, report the situation to Ilsevele with your token, then stand guard by the door. I will evaluate the situation outside and let you know if the exit is clear." That said, he quickly barks the words to a spell, enunciating the syllables clearly despite the chaos around him. On the final word he feels the brief, dizzying sensation of translocational magic before appearing 100' in the air above the Treant's Treat.

With a gentle snap he unfurls his wings and gently glides over the tavern, his eyes roaming over the devastation caused by the quake. "I have reason to believe this is not a natural earthquake" he whispers, his magic carrying the words to his companions ears, "try to keep everyone calm, but stay alert. I doubt this is over just yet." Tyriel scans the area with his Arcane Sight, looking for anything suspicious. He also keeps an eye out for anyone still in danger from the earthquakes effects.

Tyriel uses Dimension Door to get outside. Casting the spell requires him to stop concentrating on the Detect Thoughts spell (I'm assuming it hasn't been 15 minutes).

Tyriel is shouting orders out of habit. Feel free to ignore him.

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen Berubella
After the first torrent of rock and earth, there is no sign of the aged elf- merely the scattered pieces of a chessboard, and a mound of dirt and debris where once he sat.

Those who can see into the Etherial Plane

Limosen is standing a little ways away from his seat, leaning on his stick with one hand and stroking his chin with the other, gazing thoughtfully around the rumbling commons. After a time, he makes his way to the door and heads outside.

[Oh My God]

" Yeah," Valinor responds to Tyriel's suggestion, though the chaos of the earthquake rather prevents him from taking any particular action towards -advancing- same suggestion, so he does a quick inventory of the people he can see. The twins can obviously take care of themselves, warded with magic. The dwarves... should have experience with the hazards of the earth. He has to prioritize the well-being of the half-elf and any other unknowns further below them.

The jostling and jarring ruin his train of thought, one which went along the lines of,' sure would be nice to be able to move during this nonsense'. Once the first crashing roar of chaos was complete, Valinor springs into motion towards the prone presumed barmaid and places himself between her and any further debris falling from above.

" How many others are in here, miss? Downstairs and up?," he asks Athana while calmly drawing a wand from his haversack and pointing it at his feet. Feet which, it should be noted, are no longer touching the ground.

[bindin garoth]

Aranel manages to dive for cover in time, although a sharp rock to his leg still leaves a small gash on him, and a small yelp of pain. The distraction causes him to miss Tyriel's orders, unfortunately.

Instead of following the orders, Aranel takes a quick look around, noting how everyone else is doing. He notices Valinor checking up on everyone, and Limosen's absence. Aranel ignores thsi fact for the moment however, and decides to head over to Valinor's side to make sure everyone is ok. Before heading over, however, his facial expression changes again, becoming more energetic and youthful than before.

And in an instant, he's by Valinor's side, almost as if he teleported there. "Does anyone need any healing?" He asks everyone else.

[Chambers]

Treant's Treat

The twins both finish their drinks and stand up, brushing dirt from their clothes. "I believe it is time for us to leave, brother." The slightly taller one says as he drops a few silver coins on the bar top. Without another word both of them vanish.

Gard ignores them and shouts at Aranel and Valinor. "Get down! They'll be more coming!" Gard grabs another chair while Halred reaches up and takes his stein from off the table and continues to drink, now under the table. "This is nothing, just a lit'l shake. The cave-in of '68, that was an earthquake."

Athana keeps her head tucked under the small shelf space underneath the bar. "I'm fine, sir. Just shook up. Uh...maybe you should listen to the dwarves?" She says and then sneezes. "Excuse me. No one's downstairs, just storage. The apartment up in the limbs belongs to the owner, but he rarely stays there. Shouldn't be anyone up there."

Outside

Floating just below the canopy affords Tyriel a spacious view of the district and most of what he can see is in bad shape. More than a few of the large trees are listing badly but none have fallen over completely, much to the gratefulness of those caught in the tree-houses during the earthquake. The prevalence of heavy stone masonry in the buildings of this district has helped keep most of them upright, though all of the buildings he can see have cracks in them ranging from hairline fractures to wide gaps that run like lightning bolts across the brick and stone. The buildings made of wood have suffered the worst fate as every one of them that you can see has completely collapsed. You see half a dozen demolished structures and people are running out of buildings everywhere, some just standing around dazed while others run over to the nearest collapse and begin trying to search for survivors.

Your enhanced senses also show the devastation among the magical workings of the district. Magical energy is seeping from a number of the more damaged buildings, flowing swiftly away like mercury and fading into mist. Those buildings that were only partially damaged still appear to have a ward surrounding them, each ranging in individual styles from bars of solid gold over the doors and windows of one building to a translucent green glob speckled with flakes of purple that surrounds another house.

Limosen's street level view shows him the emotional impact of the destruction more clearly. People rush by - and through - him, unaware of his spectral presence and each face is a multitude of emotions - fear, anger, uncertainty - yet no face is unique as all share the same pain. Three dwarves stumble out of one almost completely collapsed house, the trio unbalanced by the deadweight body of a fourth dwarf that they're carrying, his head and face bashed beyond recognition or life. The rumble and crash of settling stone and snapping lumber is dully muted to you, sound not carrying well across the planar divide, though you can see the reactions to what people hear. A halfling and another dwarf pause in a heated argument - about what you're not sure - and run over to a rubble filled alley and begin heaving trash and broken wood and roof slates as they try to clear it.

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen Berubella
Limosen reflects, using sporadic pulses of power to keep himself insulated from the destruction and chaos around him. Decidedly, he did not like to be jostled.
Nonetheless, perhaps there was something to be gained by rising above street level...
He drops his magical disguise with a thought, his features youthening from a withered elf into a younger, fierce-looking elf with dark, watchful eyes and a short metal spear strapped to his back. A murmured word of command, and his form turns hazy and translucent. Stepping back between the curtain between planes, he emerges from the alleyway. Glancing up, he makes a leap onto the bark of the tree nearby and begins to climb with great speed, seeking a higher vantage point below the treehouses.

Climb at +14 up to second-lowest sturdy branch, and then Hide amongst the foliage. [roll0]

[Oh My God]

" As much as I appreciate the advice of those wiser in the workings of the earth, I feel safer able to duck out of the way of falling debris. Thank you for your concern," is Valinor's response to Athana, his tone genuine and polite.

To Tyriel, he whispers," Tree clear except tap room; human twins departed, the rest feel its safer to wait it out in cover. I'm staying with them."

Valinor looks over at the other elf and says," Aranel; if you would get up and out to the street, quickly. Help any you can."

[Heavensfury]

Bastards Tyriel thought as he surveyed the devastation from on high. What kind of cowardly monster inflicts all this suffering on so many innocents. Seething with righteous fury, he prepares to conjure mystical eyes to try to seek out the perpetrators, but stops himself when he realizes that's not what he needs to do right now.

Tyriel takes a deep breath, calming himself, and sets about the task of dealing with the situation at hand. First, he sends a message to his companions securing the Treant's Treat. "The exit looks clear. No sign of the enemy. There are a lot of injured and trapped civilians out here. Tell Ilsevele we are going to need clerics and mages experienced with structural wards as quickly as she can gather them. I'm going to start retrieving and organizing the survivors. Please set up an area for the wounded in the pavilion and help where you can."

Tyriel will be using Detect Thoughts and Ghostform to search areas of rubble for survivors. While searching he'll make frequent use of Message to contact any healthy people he sees and try to organize them into search & rescue groups, or send them to the medical pavilion if they have experience with healing.

When he finds trapped survivors, he'll use Dimension Door, Telekinesis, Disintegrate, Bigby's Clenched Fist, or whatever is required to free them (and bring them to the medical pavilion if injured). Anyone in critical condition he'll try to stabilize with the little bit of healing magic he has (Aid and Cure Serious Wounds both 1/day).

Tyriel will do his best to be comforting but efficient. Ilsevele's rune will be displayed prominently on his vest.

Thank goodness for recharge magic :smalleek:

[bindin garoth]

Aranel moves swiftly outside with but a nod to acknowledge his companion.

Upon going outside, Aranel immediately moves to the sides of anyone trapped or hurt. Luckily, he knew some healing magic, and begun healing those hurt and teleporting those trapped beneth rubble. Admist all of the confusion, luckily get a second to contact Ilsevele and tells her of the situation, requesting help from clerics and mages ASAP.


Using Dimension Door, Cure Serious Wounds (from Angel as secondary mask), and Mountain Hammer as needed to heal and rescue those trapped or hurt.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra and Sydil

"I admit, I am feeling quite out of my comfort zone at the moment, and I am not referring to the temperature," Ayorra says quietly to Sydil. The Wychlaran's attempt at levity fails to mask her concern at the circumstances in which the two find themselves. "I have heard of the shivhad, though I know no more about them than you do. Rashemen is close to the glaciers but not so far north that such creatures are a regular threat, and I have not been one of those Witches who defend against the Nar barbarians and other northern threats for twoscore years at least. I am not used to facing such beasts without good, strong Rashemi warriors at my side, or even the elven warriors we recently left behind, and my repertoire is sorely lacking in spells direct offense."

She does not let such thoughts trouble her too much, though. She squares her shoulders and suggests, "First of all, can you detect the portal hidden behind us, or is it actually gone? If that portal was one-way we might want to consider retreating. Second, as long as we are here, we might as well attempt to continue our quest--aberrations of such size and strength are often powerful, evil, and intelligent, so my guess is that it was imprisoned here in statue form...but it is entirely possible that that is merely a disguise to lure in prey or the like, and perhaps this creature has kept an eye on goings-on in the Labyrinth and will be willing to share information. After all, the only creatures too evil to attempt to negotiate with are Thayans."

[Chambers]

Dlabraddath District

When there are no immediate aftershocks Athana sticks her head out and slowly rises to her feet. She takes one look at the broken furniture and rocks strewn around the bar and grabs the bottle of whatever the twins where drinking and climbs up on the bar, then promptly sits down on it. "Graysil is going to be upset, that's for sure. Probably find some way to blame me for it too." She says and takes a long pull from the bottle.

Gard pushes his chairs out of the way and clambers out from his temporary fort with a worried face. "That's not normal...there should be at least one aftershock...unless it was some spell or other magic that caused it." He says as he works through the problem on his own. Halred belches from under the table. "See? Told ya it was nothin'. No spell could match the rumble of a real quake."

Limosen easily climbs up a tree that's wider than a giant is tall. Perched comfortably among the lower branches you can see that the buildings nearest to you weren't the only ones affected. The earthquake seems to have spread out further into the district and after a few moments consideration you realize that there seems to be a clear demarcation line separating the damaged buildings from those untouched. The line weaves around in a rough circle and you see that if follows the common boundaries of the Dlabraddath district. Whomever called this earthquake was able to confine it to this district, an observation with ominous followings as it would be a fantastic working of the Art and seemingly targeted against the N'Tel'Quessir as they reside mainly in this district.

The halfling takes a step back as Tyriel approaches but the dwarf glares at him and asks "Help if you can, otherwise stay out of the way." Besides their two minds you can feel the panicked thoughts of someone trapped beneath the rubble, their legs and chest pinned by fallen timber. With one thin green ray you vaporize the wood and stone leaving the surprised man covered in a heavy layer of dust. The halfling ducks under you and passes the man a potion which he drinks in choking gulps. His legs remain broken but he's no longer in danger of being crushed. The dwarf nods to Tyriel and points to a building that was only partially damaged and says "That roof is going to collapse any minute now."

Taking a glance at the building you can tell it's seen better days but the two and a half remaining stone walls seem to be holding it up fine. "Don't look at the whole thing, look at the details. The walls were built with a single interlocking pattern, each of the walls isn't strong enough to be load bearing but if you distribute the weight across all points then the whole is stronger than the parts. Without all the walls to support it the roof is going to come down, and soon. But if you can destabilize this section, that one, and there, we can control the collapse to fall behind it." The dwarf seems to be confident in his assessment and trusting to his clearly superior knowledge of stone and things built from it you fire three more green rays at the indicated points. Within seconds of the last one the walls shake and the roof does collapse, but it falls exactly where he predicted it would, behind the house and away from the street. The dwarf grunts. "Well done. My name is Ulfar Ironshield."

Aranel hears the whispered voice of Ilsevele as if she were right behind him. "Thank you, I'm aware of the situation. Help should arrive momentarily. Please assist them in whatever manner you are able." No sooner than her words finish do three elves materialize in the middle of the street. Two of the elves are dressed in the distinctive gold and crimson garb of the Armathor and stand on either side of the third elf, both of their great courtblades drawn and held ready. The gold elf they are guarding is a slight but beautiful elven women, clothed in delicate silks of white and silver, though her clothes are not the first thing noticeable about her. A halo of blue fire floats above her head, the unmistakable artifice of spellfire. She turns her head to look at the devastation and you immediately recognize her as Lady Symrustar Auglamyr, one of the Court Mages of Cormanthyr and a Chosen of Mystra.

Everyone in the area stops and looks towards her, caught by surprise by the sudden arrival of one of Mystras blessed. One halfling whispers to his companion and the sound carries across the abruptly quiet street. "Is that who I think..." he says and shuts up as he realizes everyone can hear him. Lady Auglamyr gives him a slight nod and the lightfoot turns bright red. Her two guards maintain their stance while she raises her arms and streaks of silver fire slither away from her spellfire crown, sliding through the air like snakes through water. Hundreds of the shimmering tendrils go away from her in every direction, the whips of pure magic seeking out every person in the area. At their touch each person is covered in a silver sheen that glows brightly for a moment and then fades away, leaving their skin unbroken and their spirits refreshed.

Down below in the Treant's Treat Athana is surprised by the four streaks of silver fire that come down the stairs and barely has time to let out a shriek before everyone left in the bar is touched by the silver fire and healed of their wounds. Gard looks down at the gash on his arm that quickly knits itself together and says "By Moradin's great stone..." He stops himself before finishing and quickly looks up to Athana and away again. "Cry your pardon, miss."

Limosen can see the silver fire spreading out through the entire district, racing down into collapsed buildings and throughout the streets. Though no one has noticed him in the tree with all the business in the streets one of the streaks steers itself unerringly towards him and finds him hiding behind the leaves. To his fortune his was not the only streak to fly towards the trees as upwards of fifty other streaks were directed towards the canopy as well.

To be clear, everyone in the district (including the party) was affected by her spell.

Streaks of Silver Fire (Spellcraft DC 30)
To say that there are common effects of spellfire would be a misuse of the word. Accounts of spellfire use tend to be fantastic and hard to believe...and those are the stories that are telling the truth. The Chosen of Mystra have been seen to use it to fly, destroy enemies, and heal the wounds of their allies, yet surely these are not the only ways the Lady of Mysteries gift may be used.

Through your extensive understanding of the Weave and it's practical uses you realize that the bolts of silver fire sent out by Lady Auglamyr are not a conjuration of mystical fire but miniscule portions of the very Weave itself. The merest touch of the raw essence of the Weave revitalizes body and mind, healing each person as if affected by a Heal spell but through arcane energy rather than divine.

Lady Symrustar Auglamyr (Knowledge: Local - Cormanthyr DC 15)
Called Symma by her friends and relatives, the Lady Symrustar Auglamyr is yet among the most breathtakingly beautiful women on Faerûn. Her status as the first of the people to become one of Mystra's Chosen is quite evident in the bright silver stomach tattoo that flickers with almost-hidden flames. Her former salaciousness and guile have been transformed into craft and an appreciation for Art, though Mystra's tasks involve the spreading of knowledge between her People and humanity. Thus, Symrustar keeps a sharp eye out to both protect folk from the abuses of elven power in which she once reveled and to find bridges over which everyone can share the gifts of both the Seldarine and the Weave.

[bindin garoth]

Aranel is in awe of who they sent. Lady Symrustar Auglamyr herself! The Chosen of Mystra! He can't help but be in awe, completed distracted from helping the nearby citizens, as she weaves the mysterious silver flame and sends out streaks of it to all, including himself.

Feeling completely rejuvinated, he quickly runs up, taking care to show he guards he is no threat. He makes a quick bow as he approaches. "Thank you for the help, Lady Symrustar Auglamyr. I'm Aranel Falassion, an agent of the Coronal. While I was in the area, I unfortunately do no know much about how this happened. Do you know of anything?" He asks.

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen Berubella
Limosen considers the situation. Probably no one had been looking for him past the initial shock. Down below was a very powerful personage, in whom he had no especial interest, and then a couple of the gaudy strangers who had shown such an interest in him in the Treat. There would be sense in hearing what they had to say amongst themselves...
Limosen takes a few moments to gaze at the damage from his perch in the tree. Well, well. A mighty wizard of some kind who took exception to the non-elves in this district- or perhaps the district as a whole? Hm.
Setting that thought aside, Limosen makes another brief jaunt into the etherial plane and descends. Reaching ground level, he assumes an offhand magical disguise: a bewildered-looking half-elf in merchant's clothing with a bloodied lip. So disguised, he staggers along at a brisk pace to where the mystic emanation of healing magic came from; this Chosen of Mystra.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel gives a slight nod of thank for Ulfar's praise, and is about to offer his own name in return when senses the inter-dimensional pull of teleportation magic behind him. He turns to see the source, and immediately winces at the blinding aura of magic emanating from the central figure. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust, he finally notices the identity of the new arrivals. Well done Ilsevele he thinks to himself. It was very shrewd for the Coronal to dispatch someone of such import and power, both personal and regional. It both showed how serious she was taking this attack against her people, and discouraged any further aggression by the terrorists.

He knows he should go over and see if she required anything of him, but the famous...or rather infamous sorceress had always made him nervous, even when he was a child. When the Crown of Fire releases it's power to succor the wounded, he instead uses the opportunity to take to the air and see where the streamers of spellfire travel. The magic alleviates any immediate danger, but people are still trapped. He notes where the spellfire penetrates areas of rubble and sets off to help those still buried, confident that if Lady Auglamyr requires his presence, she or Aranel would let him know.

[Oh My God]

" Well. That... seems to be that," observes the star elf out loud to himself in the aftermath of the miraculous arrival of the spellfire, his feet still bobbing several inches from the floor.

He briefly considers asking some questions of the barmaid, but figures that the back to back shocks of the earthquake and the mystic fire would render it largely pointless; hard to expect much of a serious answer to,'have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately, miss?'. What an odd series of events. " Do any of you require further assistance? "

[Chambers]

Dlabraddath District

One of the Armathor points his blade at Aranel's eyes and takes a step toward the running elf. <"Bide."> Lady Auglamyr says in elven and the warrior halts, holding his blade steady. Lady Auglamyr takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, the halo of silver fire fading out until nothing remains. She sighs and nearly collapses but the other Armathor catches her and puts an arm across her shoulder. Standing close to her you can see that face is still the beauty that she was many years ago, but her eyes tell a tale of bone deep weariness. She takes a sudden breath and manages to stand on her own. <"He is known to me, Elsoin."> The Armathor nods his head slowly without taking his eyes off you and lowers his blade to a less threatening position.

<"I do not know who did this or how, but that magic was involved there is no doubt."> She says softly and looks around. Most of the people have gotten over their initial shock and have gone back to digging out those still trapped. <"I do know that Mystra is to be thanked for her gift..."> She pauses and seems to try to cast a simple spell but her shoulders slump and she leans against the Armathor again. <"...and that there is still work to be done that I cannot aid in.">

A handful of half-elves and two moon elves still stand in a small circle all of them talking in hushed tones and casting glances at Lady Auglamyr, a mixture of worry and excitement on their faces. One half-elf nods to Limosen as he passes. <"Are you well enough to walk, Ebrath?"> He says and Limosen catches some of the others conversation. <"I've seen her before at the Palace!"> <"Who do you think did this?"> <"The Eldreth Veluuthra of course! Who else would strike an earthquake in this district?"> <"Shush! Don't speak so out loud!">

The streaks of silver fire leave trails of quicksilver to Tyriel's eyes, the concentrated essence of the Weave standing out clear as black on white even after vanishing. Flying up under the canopy you can see that there isn't a single building that wasn't affected and you quickly spot the one that suffered the worst. What was once a grand mansion is now a gigantic pile of rubble. The six towers that once topped the tallest building in the district have fallen and lay broken aross the place that was called the Six Tyryl Towers. The central keep of the wizard's college is gone, buried under the fallen towers.

Flying closer you can see that only a single quicksilver trail disappears into the rubble where the keep would be. A handful of people stand in a cluster outside the destroyed mansion, one man cries as he sits on the ground and holds the body of a badly crushed woman. His own clothes are ripped and covered in blood stains but there's no wounds on him and you can see the trail of silver fire that leads to him but none go towards the woman. Standing next to them is an old halfling absently smoking a pipe that he hasn't realized has cracked in half and he's gazing into the rubble as if trying to find something.

Standing behind and slightly to the left of the halfling are the twins from the Treant's Treat. One of them raises an eyebrow at your arrival and then nods slowly. The other twin stands with his eyes half-closed and doesn't notice you approach. "Master Filthrip, one has arrived who is a master himself and bears the leaves of Ilsevele." He says and the halfling glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the rubble and holds up his hand in sign of peaceful greeting. "I'd say fair morning but it has turned foul. I'd say good timing but I'm trying to see through eighteen...no, now seventeen extra eyes. Lastly I will say that Mystra be praised for her gift to the Chosen." He says in three rapid sentences while still looking at the destroyed mansion. "Do you bring news from the Coronal?"

"No. No, I think I've had enough for one day." Athana answers to a question that wasn't actually asked. Gard furrows his eyebrows and glances at her then says, "Aye, maybe you should lay down and rest. The stone will be here later to clean up." He turns towards Valinor and says "They'll be people needing help up above if it was this bad in here. Halred." He says and begins to walk towards the stairs. Halred belches and Gard stops and moves back to the table, kicking aside one of the chairs. "Halred! Time to drink later. Come on." Halred grumbles something and stands up, eyeing Valinor while giving Athana a nod as the two dwarves climb the stairs.

"So..." Athana says after she takes a small pull from the bottle. "What'll ya have?"

Knowledge: Local (DC 15)
The largest structure in Dlabraddath rose by wizard's magic little over a year ago and the Six Tyrl Towers are a point of pride to many Dlabraddath and a sore wound for those that spurn the N'Tel’Quessir. The school of wizardy has attracted a wide clientele of mages from across all of Faerun and of all races, fueled by the instructors bold claims that they have some secret remnant of the lost Netherese magics.

[Chambers]

Demiplane of Ice

Sydil turns towards the ice Shavid and looks into her mirror. "I can't see it. I think it's still there, but -" Her words are cut off as the frozen body of an elf is split in two and a blast of ice and sleet roars out from the grotesque mouth. A wave of cold rushes towards the both of you but the magic of your ring alerted you to the coming attack and snow rises up from the ground at your command to dilute and nullify the roar.

Sydil nods her thanks and reaches into a pouch, bring forth a handful of ruby dust that she flings at the ice Shavid. The sparkling dust disappears and bands of solid force spring into existence around the aberration. The limbs of frozen creatures immediately begin moving, thrashing against the force bars and the thing lifts itself up out of the stone fountain - you see that it's nearly twice the size it was pretending to be while crouched - and smashes its back up against the ceiling of the cage.

Surprise Round: Ice Roar. Sydil and Ayorra each take 46 cold damage after Resist Energy. Ayorra is Stunned for 1 round and deafened for 17 while Sydil is deafened for 8 rounds.

Round 1:
Ayorra & Sydil: Sydil casts Forcecage.
Ice Shavid: ---

It's technically the Shavid's turn as Ayorra is stunned but I'll wait to see if you've got something to negate it or if you just want to post a reaction.

Ayorra is up.

Link to the map. (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1XudWIqcpR82dnHfr1oznKgvH5jUmfd6ZvOei6iqyXnI/edit) The yellow box is the Forcecage.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel returns Master Filthrip's gesture of greeting, but postpones answering the halfling's questions so he can deal with the matter that drew him here. He circles above the ruined keep, carefully analyzing the angle at which the fire's trail enters the rubble. As his mind calculates the necessary vectors, he weaves his hands through a series of intricate gestures while carefully muttering a complex couplet in iambic heptameter. As he completes the spell his body becomes hazy, color draining away as he assumes an incorporeal form. Surprisingly, the change makes his normally ghostly shroud appear more solid and real. With a thought he reaches down to the holy light that burns in his core, and wills it to manifest. He starts to glow with the warm, brilliant light of the sun.

His preparations made, he flies one more tight circle around the rubble until he is in just the right position, then abruptly folds his wings. He plummets in a breathtaking dive, his form shining like a falling star. All at once he soundlessly plunges through the wreckage, leaving no evidence of his entry save for the sudden loss of light.

He slows himself with a thought, something that would have been impossible if not for his current weightlessness. He focuses on the senses imparted to him by his spell, somehow feeling the areas adjacent to himself, confident that he was following the silver fire's trail. When he feels himself near the trapped victim, he extends a ghostly hand through the stone, cupped as if in supplication. Pushing his glowing face through the rubble as well, he offers the poor soul a benign smile.

"Everything is going to be all right now, I've come to set you free. Take my hand and I will bring you to your friends outside. They've been looking for you."

Using Ghostform to get to whomever is trapped in the rubble. Tyriel uses his ability to create Daylight to set himself aglow in hopes it will make him appear less like a spooky ghost and more like someone making a rescue attempt :smallbiggrin:.
I'm not sure about this part, but it seems logical. The item Ghost Shroud allows a corporeal person to affect incorporeals with all melee attacks as if they were enchanted with the Ghost Touch ability. The Ghost Touch ability also allows incorporeals to affect corporeals the same way. I'm assuming the Ghost Shroud would let me touch "attack" the corporeal victim so I could get him/her out of there via dimension door?

[Oh My God]

" Just the tea for me, thanks. I don't drink anything harder than a nice oolong. Don't stand on ceremony, though. Have another. That was more than a little frightening."

Valinor moves about the room as he continues to speak, picking through tthe scattered bits of debris and broken furnishings, starting to tidy up the space. Seems he isn't any good at keeping idle.

" We don't have earthquakes, back home. Not that we have earthquakes here, either, but there you are. First one, for me. Was that your usual crowd? Pretty steady group of people come here?," Valinor asks, hoping to prompt Athana into talking about the diverse group that was oh so recently here.



Trying to use Diplomacy to put her at ease by reassuring her that its perfectly normal to be freaked out by bizarre acts of nature, and then using that good will to dig for information (which is what we came here for in the first place, right? )

Diplomacy [roll0]

Gather Information time! Sub-optimal character build go! [roll1]

[bindin garoth]

"Lady Symrustar!" Aranel shouts out as she almost collapses. Thankfully, it was only exhaustion from the huge amount of energy she had put into her....... What could only be called a saving grace for the many people here. Aranel lets out a visible sigh.

Lady Symrustar, please leave this to us. It would be best for you to rest at the moment, that spell of yours surely took a great toll on you. For now, my companions are aiding those hurt. I will go and get a look from above, abit with the help of the ancestors. Hopefully I will spot whoever did this. For now, I bid you farewell. Thank you for your help." Aranel says as he rushes off behind some nearby rubble.

As soon as he is out of sight from everyone, he whispers Srinshee, guide me." As he does so, he pulls off what appears to be a mask of a beautiful elven woman from his face, seemingly appearing out of thin air! He immediately puts it back on...... Except it doesn't go invisible. Instead, it seemingly merges with his face, and with but a flash of white flames, his appearence completely changes.

His face now appears to have taken a lighter hue, as if blessed by the brilliance of the golden sun. On his right check, a small tribal swirl in golden ink stands out. His hair appears to have taken an aqua blue hue, and his eyes now appear as golden orbs seeming able to pierce one's soul. His clothes have changed too, taking on a much more elegant and royal look to what they use to look like. But perhaps, the most noticeable change is a pare of dove-white wings sprouting from his back, each easily as long as he is tall. With but a small flap from his new-found wings, Aranel is able to take off, and fly to the skies at a quite rapid pace.

He quickly takes out a wand from a pouch at his side, and with but a swing, causes his eyes to burn a light blue as he searches the area.


Switching masks:
1. Angel
2. Ascetic
3. Gladiator
4. Ministrel

Using Alter Ego to appear as Shrinshee. Image fro reference:

http://images.wikia.com/forgottenrealms/images/d/d2/Srinshee.jpg

[b]Edit:[/s] See post for new description.

Mechanically, using Alter Ego to assume the form of a Firre Eladrin. BoED p.169. But's that's all that changes, my looks. Alter Ego does not grant the mechancialy benefits of Alter Self when transforming into a non-humanoid or monsterous humanoid form.

Using my wand of Guidance of the Avatar (http://www.wizards.com/dnd/article.asp?x=dnd/sb/sb20010504a), I auto-succeed (have a +25 modifier).
Using Guidance of the Avatar grants me a +20 competence bonus to Spot.
Gain a +3 from my Ascetic mask.

I'll fly over the city and look for anyone suspicious, such as someone running away from the area or anything otherwise suspicious.
Spot:[roll0]

Note:And sorry for the late reply. :smallfrown: Been really busy lately.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Demiplane of Ice

"Fugue take the beast," Ayorra swears as she finishes the gestures of her counterspell. So much for diplomacy. What I wouldn't give for a good warrior at our side.... She takes a few steps to the side to present less of a tempting target, then calls over her shoulder to Sydil,"I have prepared hardly any offensive magics, so if you have any, use them!"

Dropping quickly to one knee, the witch extends a hand and utters a short prayer: "Lady of Mysteries, your servant is in need of aid. I beseech you, send me a light in the darkness, a flame in the cold." The air within the cage of force bursts into golden flame, and Ayorra smiles. "Thank you, my lady."

Ayorra will move to G2 and use Rashemi Spirit Magic to spontaneously cast flame strike on the shivhad. It takes [roll0] damage, half fire and half divine, with a DC 23 Ref save for half.

I'll leave Sydil's actions up to you, of course, but a fire-based offensive spell or some sort of debuff would be great.

[Chambers]

Six Tyryl Towers

The halfling raises one eyebrow at Tyriel but is silent as Tyriel dives into the wreckage of the keep. Your body floats through masonry and timber, as well as a few dead bodies crushed beyond recognition. The trail of silver fire leads you deep within the rubble and it stops before a young man trapped under a semi-collapsed archway. Part of the stone doorway remains upright and the man - little more than a teenager really - is pinned against it, the few stones that didn't fall partially sheltering him from the rest.

He screams in fright as your disembodied hand and head suddenly appear through the rubble. "Ahhhhh! Get away from me!" He yells and jerks as he tries to flee but the wooden beams laid across his legs prevents him from moving. When you don't attack him he looks at you again and seems to listen to what you're saying. "So...so I'm not dead? Get me out of here!" He manages to move his hand a few inches to touch your outstretched glowing fingers and moments later you travel dimensionally and appear on the street next to the company you left.

"Master Filthrip!" The youngster shouts as he stands up and dashes over to the halfling. "Everything started shaking and the keep fell down around me and I was stuck under a door except it wasn't really a door just lots of stone even though Aj'har said you should get to a doorway when there's an earthquake. Was that an earthquake? I've never felt one before. Where's everyone else? Why is that man crying..." he says in rapid fire succession while the halfling remains silent and lets the boy answer his own questions by looking around. When he sees the dead woman the man is holding his excitement vanishes and he looks around and realizes the extent of what's happened. Filthrip nods and blinks hard twice before walking over to you.

"Thank you for your assistance, Ar'Faern. While my eyes would have found him eventually it pleases me to know that some elves still know how to take action." He says and bows deep.

Treant's Treat

"Tea! Right!" Athana says and hops off the bar, picking her way into the kitchen. "Luck! There's still hot water on the stove. Won't be a minute." She shouts from the back. A minute later she comes back in and though the place isn't anywhere near clean after your efforts, you've managed to clear off one table and the space around it. She smiles and brings the copper tea tray to it and sets it down. "This seems as nice a spot as any." She says and sits down and serves both of you tea. "It's from my private stock, aged leaves from the Ypres tree in the Neverwinter Wood. They say the continual warm weather gives the fruit and leaves of the tree an extra potency." Whether that's the real reason for the strong but pleasant taste you're not sure but the tea is quite good and seems to settle Athana nerves.

"That was my first one too." She says and tops off her cup. "Those brothers? They're from Six Tyryl Towers, the new wizard college. Don't worry they always act like that but they're all talk. If it's not from Waterdeep then it's obviously second-rate. Though they do come here frequently so our stew can't be that bad." She says with an exaggareted Waterdhavian accent.

"I didn't recognize the dwarves or men they were drinking with, but I've certainly seen their type before. The drunks, I mean, not the dwarves." She says and blushes. "Our customers don't usually get drunk and rowdy but there always seems to be that one guy that ruins it for everyone." She blows the steam away from her cup before taking another sip. "The old elf with the game is an odd one. He keeps to himself most of the time and doesn't really like interruptions, as your friend found out. He comes in here every once in a while, usually just sits by himself. A few times though I've seen him sitting with some other folk. Didn't recognize who they were though, and they never seem to stay for long. More tea?"

Outside the Treant's Treat

Lady Auglamyr nods slowly. <"I will carry your words to those ears who need hear them."> She says and places a hand on the shoulder of the Armathor. She takes another look around and glances down at a halfling woman standing nearby, looking at the four of you. Her clothes and face are stained with dirt; the only thing clean are the lines on her face where her tears ran down. Lady Auglamyr breathes in deeply and motions to one of her Armathors. The elf switches his courtblade to his other hand and points at the halfling woman with two fingers extended. In an instant her clothes are clean and dry, though her face is still dirty. Lady Auglamyr looks at her Armathor with a puzzled face. <"My lady, I could not heal her hurt so I did not try to hide her wounds.">

Lady Auglamyr nods to him and turns back towards the halfling but she's run off. <"Take me back, please."> She says with a sigh and moments later all three of them are gone.

One of the half-elves in the group nearby Limosen closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them wide. <"Hey! Listen up!"> His friends clamor down and turn towards him. <"I just heard that the south half got it the worst. Apparently the Six Towers is completely ruined."> <"No!"> <"Really? But it's a wizards school! They've got wards against that, right?"> With the Chosen of Mystra gone, the five of them starting walking down towards the lower district. <"Are you coming?"> One of them asks Limosen.

Flying above the district Aranel sees the full spread of the destruction. Their is a clear line of damaged buildings that marks the limit of the earthquake and you see that it was confined to the Dlabraddath District. A break in the normally smooth canopy to the east of the district catches your eyes and you realize that the earthquake extended beyond the buildings of the district and into the tree dwellings that make up the eastern boundary of Myth Drannor. With the eastern tree dwellings being affected, that would make the total area affected into a rough circle...and from above you quickly spot what would be the center point of that circle - and the focal point of the earthquake - a completely demolished mansion that was once called Six Tyryl Towers.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel smiles at the halfling and responds "The value of haste is one of the many lessons gifted to The People by the younger races, Master Filthrip was it? The Coronal will be sending additional aid as soon as possible, and in the interim my companions and I will provide what aid we can on her behalf. Speaking of which, please excuse me for just one moment."

Taking a few steps away from the group, he reaches up and place a finger on the acorn of Ilsevele's badge and quietly mutters a quick report in elven. <"Lady Coronal, the wizards' school Six Tyryl Towers appears to have been the epicenter of the eathquake spell. The structure is in ruins, and there has been at least one fatality here. I do not...nay, can not believe The Seldarine would have granted this spell.">

Returning to his previous spot, he turns his attention back to Master Filthrip, and offers a deep and respectful bow, his pinions sweeping out in such a way as to enhance the gesture. "My apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tyriel Eldanon, at times called 'Ardentwings', for obvious reasons. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of another adept of The Art, but lament it isn't under more pleasant circumstances."

His expression turning grim, he meets and holds the halfings eyes, somehow managing to do so without giving the impression of looking down. "It appears this school was the primary target of an extreme and cowardly attack. Do you know of any who wish harm upon this establishment or those whom dwell within? We have all heard the rumors of the revived Eldreth Veluuthra," Tyriel makes their name into a curse, "but are there others we should consider suspect?" He lowers his voice to a whisper only the halfling can hear. "I am sure you know as well as I that this spell is a divine magic, one only a powerful priest could have cast."

[bindin garoth]

Upon noticing that the structure is the focal point of the earthquake, Aranel flies straight towards the area.

At closer inspection, however, he does notice Tyriel is aready there. He continues his path, however, perhaps he can help? Who knows, but this place surely has something to do with the quake.

But, of an even greater wonder........ Was the spell cast there, or just targeted the towers? He unfortunately doesn't know much about this structure, but surely there was something about it.

On his way in, he tries to take note of any high places from which one could see the towers.


Chambers, are there any dist buildings/areas that Aranel would know about, from which one would have a clear view of the building to cast a spell at?

Also, due to the Hunter's Sense stance, Aranel has the scent ability. Does he smell anyone he cannot see, or anything unusual?

[Oh My God]

" We must feel a certain degree of pity for those who let their pride in their homeland cloud their appreciation for the wonders which surround them", he observes of the twins, settling his own tab, those belonging to any of the other patrons who forgot to settle up in the hurly-burly of the earthquake and his companions besides. Heading for the stairway back to the surface, he stops, turns halfway back to Athana and asks," Perhaps, though, you have some memory relating to those who met with the solitary elf? A face that stood out from the others, or a strong accent to a voice?," he adds hopefully.

" The name's Valinor, incidentally. Valinor Silvenruth. My humble thanks for your hospitality and your help," and armed with whatever additional information she might have, he returns once more to the streets of Cormanthyr.

[Chambers]

Demiplane of Ice

Mystra hears Ayorra's pray and divine fire rains down in sheets around the shavid. It screams in three different pitches and digs furiously at the ground beneath it but the bars of the forcecage prevent it from escaping. As it continues to slam itself against the bars of force great chips of ice break off from itself and fly out of the cage, sometimes carrying a body part of whatever creature was trapped in that ice limb. The ice encased eyes, fingers and toes bounce into the snow and Ayorra sees something out of the corner of her eye that is both familiar and unnatural. A pale ice finger - elven by the looks of it - starts to twitch after it hits the ground. The frozen digit seems to wiggle in the snow and then sink an inch or two down into it. The only thing familiar about it is her sixth sense telling her that there is magic at work here beyond the obvious.

Sydil wastes no time in distraction or words as she opens her hands towards the creature. Seven rays of intense color spread out and weave amongst each other as they wash over the ice shavid, glancing off it's frozen carapace as water off a duck.

Spellcraft (via Ring of Spell-Battle): The dismembered frozen body parts being scattered outside the forcecage are being targeted with an Animate Objects spell-effect.

Round 1:
Ayorra & Sydil: Sydil casts Forcecage. Ayorra casts Flame Strike.
Ice Shavid: Shavid breaks ice and Animates Objects.

Round 2:
Ayorra & Sydil: Sydil casts Prismatic Spray.
Ice Shavid:

Ayorra is up.

Link to the map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1XudWIqcpR82dnHfr1oznKgvH5jUmfd6ZvOei6iqyXnI/edit).

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen Berubella
Limosen has been giving matters some thought. Clearly the nature of his exit precluded going back to the Treat exactly, but at the same time he was experienced enough in these matters to spot rogue agents when he sees them.
Short term, there could be no point in following the lady of Mystra- indeed, to do so in her vulnerable state would only attract unnecessary attention.
Hm. A conundrum. But since I am here, I suppose I have a duty to see to at least find the fullest information.
In his half-elven guise, Limosen strolls in the direction of the Treat, taking advantage of cover to shed his injured countenance for one merely bruised and battered.
Poking his head inside, he brushes a thin hand over his brow and looks hurriedly about the commons.

[Chambers]

Six Tyryl Towers

"Your thoughts and mine are the same, Ardentwings. Please extend my sympthaies to those that survived. I would welcome any insight the school's instructors have on the situation." The Coronals voice whispers into Tyriel's ears while the boy he resuced simply stares at the ruined school. When Tyriel rejoins them Master Filthrip shakes out a small wand from his sleeve and begins tracing runes in the air. He speaks but no words sound until the air around you both pops and you can hear his voice.

"No apologies needed Ar'Faern Eldanon. As you speak for the Coronal for the moment, I presume you were whispering to the Lady herself?" He waves his hand and the orange glowing tip of the wand leaves hypnotic trails in Tyriel's arcane sight. "I'll not ask to be privvy to Her commands, save that worry. The school was destroyed, yet was it the real target? I wonder." He says and pauses to look around at the people gathered together in small groups around the district. "A school can be rebuilt Ar'Faern, just as a city can. Yet if the heart is taken away what returns will not be what once was. Am I to rebuild just one tower and rename it The One Tower That Was Once Six? No...no." He shakes his head and lowers his voice. "Whomever breached our wards and then sent the quake did this much. It is finished. Take care that your city does not become the city that once was Myth Drannor."

The glowing tip of the wand fades and your ears pop again as the halfling archmage walks back to his three remaining students. He takes a long pull on his pipe and finally realizes that it's not lit. Knocking the pipe clean he pauses and looks up at Tyriel. "That's how it happened. In an instant they disabled all of our wards and for a brief moment before the building started shaking I thought I heard the echo of a laugh, one of cruelty and malice. Every ward gone faster than you can blink as if they had never existed, a clearly impossible thing to do. Yet it was done. Think on that, Ar'Faern."

Quite a few of the people in the district stop and point at Aranel as he flies around but no one takes great alarm as he's not the only flyer in the sky. A knight dressed in celestial mail with lance couched and ready has taken to the skies riding a large gold dragon, the pair flying in slow circles high above the city. Though they are patrolling around the palace you see that the rider notices you and dips his lance in salute before being joined by six other wyrm-riders, the Wing & Horn cavalary of the Akh'Velahrn. While Six Tyryl Towers was the tallest building in the district it was topped by the canopy and surrounding forest; any treehouse could give a clear sight of the mage's school.

Treant's Treat

Athana takes the proffered coins but pushes back three silver pieces. "Yours are on the house. Thanks for cleaning up some." She sets her tea cup down and spins one of the silver coins on the table. "I've heard so many accents here its hard to place just one...well, with the exception of the twins." She says with a grin and wink. "But the coins..." She trails off and reaches into an inside pocket of her shirt and takes out a tarnished platinum piece, stamped with the head of some dwarven king. What script was once engraved on it has long been rubbed away.

"I remember he met with an old man once. Nothing really unusual but the elfs visitor got really upset about something. He said something about a debt...no, he shouted 'the debt must not go unpaid' and then he realized he was shouting and got quiet again. He slid this coin over to the elf and was insistent he take it. He shrugged and put a finger on it and slid it to the edge of the table and paid me with it." She says and pushes the coin over to you in a similar manner. "I kept it because it's an odd coin, and worth so much more than his tab. I suppose you could hold onto it for a while, if you think it'll help." She says and smiles quickly and then takes a long sip of tea.

As you stand to leave you both hear the door open on the floor above and Athana rises out of her chair. "Maybe it's the dwarves..." She says but stops when a wounded half-elf appears on the stairs. He doesn't seem to be favoring any injury in particular though his well-tailored clothes look like they've seen better days. "Oh! Hello, Ebrath. We...well, we're closed at the moment, though I've got some tea here if you're thirsty. Can I help you with something?"

[The Great Skenardo]

Ebrath
Ebrath waves away all ideas of tea and simply sinks into a seat.
"No thanks. Just need a place to catch my breath for a minute or two. Is my friend Birubella here?" He glances significantly about the room, and then at the table with the smashed chessboard.

[Heavensfury]

"If that is your decision, Master Filthrip, than I shan't try to stop you. If ever you or yours return to Cormanthor, though, know that there will be a place for you, however many towers it may require." He smiles sadly, then tilts his head as he listens to Ilsevele's response, nodding solemnly. "The Coronal offers her deepest sympathies for your losses. She also invites you to the palace, as she would welcome any insight you could offer. I do hope you take her up on her offer, master mage, as I am sure she could benefit from your wise council in the wake of this crisis."

Tyriel steps to the side and stretches his wings, preparing to ascend to the skies once more. He looks over his shoulder and says, "You have given me much to think on, for which I thank you. I wish you luck in your journeys, whatever path you may choose. <Sweet water and light laughter, my friend, until we meet again.>" With that he leaps into the air once more, flying in expanding spirals as he gains altitude, his mind afire with the implications of today's events.

Could the supposed resurgence of the Eldreth Veluuthra truly just be a ploy by some malicious, mysterious third party who seeks to destroy Cormanthyr's unity? If so, then who? Who would possess the means to instantly disable all the wards in such a large institution? His mind briefly flashes back to the final days of the war to reclaim Myth Drannor from the Fey'ri. Hadn't there been some artifact the elves utilized to disable the mythal's wards? If these theories were true, then continuing to seek out the Eldreth Veluuthra would mean perpetuating a wild goose chase.

Deciding the matter required deliberation with his companions, Tyriel recites the words to a powerful abjuration. Rekindling the passive message magic, Tyriel whispers "Arenal, Valinor, new and disturbing information has come to light. Please meet me, discreetly, in the basement of the Treant's Treat in ten minutes." With that he incants the words to his familiar translocational magic, and instantly shifts himself to the Treat's lowest level. With no time to lose, he quickly removes various spell components from the small pouches sewn into his belt before beginning the lengthy spell that would ensure their meeting would be shielded from prying eyes and ears.

Tyriel casts Mind Blank on himself before using Dimension Door to arrive in the Treat's basement. Going to cast Mage's Private Sanctum to encapsulate the basement, and once the other two arrive will seal the floor off with a dome-shaped Wall of Force so we can discuss our next move. I'm not paranoid, really!

[Chambers]

Treant's Treat

Athana shakes her head. "Sorry, you just missed him." She says and follows his gaze to the gameboard. She walks around a particularly large mound of dirt and starts picking up knights and pawns. "He's okay though...I think." She says with a bishop in her hand. "Left right after the earthquake, didn't he Val..." She trails off and looks down at the game piece in her hand and then towards Valinor.

"Actually, he just disappeared as soon as it hit." She shrugs. "Didn't know he was faernaa." She puts the dozen or so pieces she's found on the table and gathers up the parts of the broken game board. "You can take his gameboard if you think you'll see him first, though I don't mind holding on to them for him."

[Oh My God]

" Your memory is as impressive as your hospitality. I commend you," says Valinor as he pockets the unusual coin (he can examine it in greater detail later). He doesn't spare much attention for the arrival of the half-elf until he mentions his friendship with the elf they'd been hunting. Then, it takes all his practiced guile to not betray his gratification at this lucky turn. He whispers to the other members of his trio," A friend of the elf we were watching at the Treant's Treat has just arrived. A potential break. What's the urgency? Is another earthquake imminent?"

To Athana, Valinor agrees," He -did- just vanish. Though, given all of the strange things that have happened in and around the aftermath of the earthquake, it would have been hard to remember." Now the gaze of the paladin falls upon the unknown half-elf, Valinor's golden eyes meeting and matching his. " You said you're a friend of Birubella? "

[bindin garoth]

Aranel's surprised by Tyriel's sudden disappearence. Not that he should be, he should know that Tyriel is a big fan of teleportation magic, after all! He soon hears Tyriel's voice inside of his head. Aranel sighs as he gracefully stops right above the ground for only a moment, before conjuring up similar magic to Tyriel's and seemingly vanishes himself, reappearing right in front of the Treant's Treat. He doesn't bother dismissing he new appearence, and instead strolls right in, wings and all.

"Tyriel, what'd you find?" He asks, his wings slightly twitching behind him. That was the only problem with this form, it tended to cause him to be more serious than normal and become uneasy in any enclosed space!

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel continues his spell, carefully plucking strands of raw magic from the omnipresent Weave and splicing them together into a fine mesh. The small bits of lead, chrysolite, and other spell components hovering nearby slowly crumble to dust as the magic imparts their anti-divinatory properties into the arcane net. The glowing construction fades from Tyriel's view as his arcane sight begins to expire, but his hands continue flawlessly plaiting the strands of magic.

He hears his companions questions and concerns, but is unable to reply as his lips busily recite the formula defining the abjuration's purpose and dimensions. The arrival of the mysterious elf's friend was an intriguing development, and Tyriel was confident the charismatic Valinor could learn much while waiting for Tyriel to complete his spell. Patience my friends, he thinks to himself, and by the Seldarine, please let them remember to come down here discreetly. I'd hate for this spell to go to waste...it's exhausting!

[The Great Skenardo]

Half-Elf
The newcomer shrugs, a little uneasily.
"Well, I say friend. He seems nice enough, although maybe a little distant. One tries to be kind to the elderly, you know? I don't think he has family around here, so some of us try to keep an eye on him."
He tilts his head, gazing with frank curiosity at the rather imposing elf opposite him.
"Er. Are you friends of his as well...?"

[Oh My God]

" A most excellent kindness done by you and the others; you do your family and your city proud," enthuses the paladin, tilting his head in a grateful acknowledgment of the half-elf's good deeds. " Sadly, I have not yet had the pleasure of an introduction and as such I cannot yet call him my friend as well. The earthquake struck, and he vanished, before I had sussed out an appropriate way to approach him. He seemed to be enjoying his solitude."

Heaving a regretful sigh, Valinor continues," Unfortunately, my errand is a matter of no small import, and it seems as though I will have to violate that solitude all the same. You say you keep an eye on him? No doubt he used his Art to return to some place he considered safer. It would be a further kindness if you would be able and willing to show me to his domicile."



Valinor -is- suspicious to start with, since he thinks that this guy might be an associate of the suspicious elf they were investigating, so we're going to be going with a Sense Motive roll (not that I have much hope of penetrating the machinations of this guy).

[roll0]

[The Great Skenardo]

Half-elf
The lean man lifts his eyebrows in surprise.
"His house? I could lead you there I suppose, but at the moment, I don't see a reason to do so! Why should I lead a heavily-armed stranger to the doorstep of an old man? "
His prickly expression softens somewhat.
"Look, I saw you trying to help folk outside; you seem like a good person, but what is all this about? You don't think he had something to do with...?" he waves a hand vaguely to encompass the mess the earthquake had left.

EDIT: to act in character
[roll0]

[Oh My God]

He shakes his head from side to side, " No, no. Of course not. No such suspicion entered my mind for even an instant. If for no other reason than it hardly seems likely one would trigger an earthquake whilst one was underground, no? "

The paladin adjusts his clothing, nudging the insignia of the Coronal which he wears further into view, calling attention to the symbol of authority. " My name is Valinor Silvenruth. Mister Berubella has nothing to fear from me. I just need to ask him a few questions. He might be able to help me with something I've been looking in to. One of the reasons we respect our elders, after all, is that they so often know so very much."



With the UHE's failed Bluff, Valinor has reason to believe that Something Is Up. Now that he is genuinely suspicious, Valinor is doing his best to not betray that fact.
Bluff
[roll0]

[The Great Skenardo]

UHE
There is a long moment. Finally, the dusty and battered half-elf speaks.
"Well... All right, I guess I can hardly refuse to help someone so important, can I? I'll take you to where I always leave the old man whenever I see him home. You might be in for a wait though; he isn't often there."

[roll0]

[Oh My God]

" Splendid. Here, let me get the game he left behind. We'll bring it to him." And with his back to the UHE as he walks to retrieve the broken board Valinor mouths to his colleagues, " I'm being taken to the home of the suspect. We'll see if that's where he wound up after the earthquake struck. If nothing else, it might give turn up more material for a diviner to work with," a pause as he stows the board and its pieces in his sack. " Something isn't right, but I can't place what. In any event, the fastest way to trip a snare is to step in it. I'll be in contact."

Returning to the exit, he dips his head in a half-bow to the hostess. " Good day to you Athana. Lead onwards, friend."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Demiplane of Ice

Ayorra looks upon the result of Sydil's spell with dismay; if the elf's battle magics couldn't harm the creature reliably, they were both in deep trouble. "Sydil," she calls while keeping an eye on the caged aberration, "this situation is deteriorating, and without our protectors here I believe retreat would be wise! Do you have any spells to help us escape this place? I may be able to extract us, but I'd rather rely on your expertise before trying an unorthodox solution."

Sorry it took a while to respond, I've been away from the forums for a week or two thanks to being busy with visiting relatives.

If Sydil has a plane shift or similar prepared, she should use it; Ayorra has banishment and can try to get the two of them out that way, but plane shift would definitely be more accurate.

In the meantime, Ayorra will ready an action to counterspell the shivhad if it casts anything at them directly.

[The Great Skenardo]

UHE
The half-elf shrugs. "All right then."
He shuffles out of the treat and into the stricken city, walking at a slow pace through a route that takes many switchbacks and detours around collapsed rubble or persistent crowds.
Finally, he comes to a hesitant stop in front of a ruined brick building; one that suffered the brunt of the earthquake... and broke.
"Oh." The half-elf wavers a little, glancing from the warrior elf to the cracked and broken building.

[Oh My God]

Trouble. There's always trouble. Valinor doesn't let this twist ruffle him. If the old elf is trapped in there, he can still be rescued.

His voice rings out, radiating a sense of calm," A moment. I'm going to try to determine whether there is anyone trapped inside the rubble." Valinor centers himself, speaks the words of power, their potence belied by the lyrical cadence with which he speaks them. First he faces the collapsed building, sweeping his focus from side to side over it. When that fails, he widens his search, spinning in a quick three sixty.



Casting "Locate Creature", visualizing Berubella. I'm actually not sure how this works with illusions and disguises; the person he's trying to find doesn't exist with that appearance, after all, but the actual creature still does. If he's polymorphed, though, its definitely just baffled. Mostly, it obviously won't pick him up in the rubble. Thoughts?

[Chambers]

Treant's Treat

Athana waves goodbye to Valinor as Aranel comes in. "Uh...hello, Ebrath." She says and goes over to clean up the tea tray. "Apologize for the mess, as you can see. What can I do for you?"

Street of Gardners' Ride

The paved streets of the heart of the district quickly give way to the gold and white gravel gravel path named Gardner's Ride that meanders its way north through many flower and herb gardens, the majority of them currently smashed under rubble. The Half-Elf's route stops outside a building that was - and still is - called Jalbaerth's Tower, but the elven mage died many years ago during the fall of Myth Drannor and the opulent four story mansion was renovated into an extended boarding house for the wealthy traveler. Many of its residents lived there more or less permanently and the Tower became an elite club of sorts for the rich N'Tel’Quessir. Membership by reputation and letter of credit only.

The Tower's wealth didn't protect it from the earthquake and Valinor and the Half-Elf find many people in the street, mostly humans and half-elves. Most are consoling each other in various stages of shock and grief while a few seem to be rallied around one man who's upset and ranting.

"...see this? It's an outrage, a complete disgrace I say, that the Coronal hasn't tracked down and hanged those elven renegades already!" He shouts to the small group around him. He's a head and half taller than the rest of them, though that's most likely as he's standing on the steps that lead up to the ruined tower and the both of you get a clear look at him as you see him just beginning to work up a head of steam. "You think the dwarves would allow something like this to just happen in their city, even the part where they don't live? You think that anything happens in Shadowdale without the Old Mage keeping an eye on it? Well, believe me that nothing happens here that the Coronal doesn't know about it, that's for sure."

The people around him nod and shout out agreements with him as he pauses for a breath before continuing. His rant is obnoxious but Valinor is able to concentrate enough for a few moments to determine that his spell tells him nothing of the old man he's looking for. "It just doesn't add up, does it?" The man says. "I mean, it just doesn't make any sense. Unless..." He says and trails off, looking up at the trees with a trace of fear. The people around him all cast their gazes about as well, a few of them noticing Valinor and the Half-Elf, while the both of you realize that the small group around the man has grown as passerbys have stopped to listen; about twenty people besides yourselves are listening to him and Valinor is the only full elf in sight, a fact not unnoticed by some evidenced by the suspicious looks they're giving him.

The man looks back down at the crowd and hunches his shoulders and the crowd moves closer to him. "Unless she knew about it." He says in a quiet voice that carries across the silent street. "Unless she knew about it and didn't want to stop it."

A few in the crowd gasp while others all start talking at once, seemingly in agreement. One half-elf raises his hands and shouts above the din. "That's crazy! Coronal Ilsevele has done everything she can to stop the attacks. She-" He's cut off as he suddenly drops to his knees, his hands holding a bleeding and broken nose courtesy of someone's elbow. The ringleader stands tall again and stares at the half-elf. "You invoke her name like a prayer, but she left even you to suffer. She only cares about the true bloods, like him!" He shouts and points at Valinor.

"See her rune upon his cloak? He's one of her trusted servants. You see no blood or rips on his clothing, do you? Come to see the destruction your mistress has caused?" The crowd turns it's eyes towards the two of you and you can see their pain clear within them mixed with the fear that the man has turned into anger.

You're standing outside Jalbaerth's Tower, D42 on the map.

Knowledge: Local DC 20
The man agitating the crowd is Sir Alasdair Freehold, an exiled noble from Neverwinter that has lived in Myth Drannor for the past year. He's an excellent swordsman and claims to be the fastest blade in the Sword Coast. While that part of his reputation may not be true his temper and flair for the melodramatic is widely known.

[Oh My God]

Valinor listens to the ranting human with something akin to resigned bordeom. He knows his sort, he knows how they prey on the fears and hopes that slumber within each of us, even as they do within Valinor himself. He listens, waiting for a chance to cut in to the shouter's rhetoric, a space in the man's tempo where he can cut in with a clever word and overturn his litany of hate. He knows that there is no need to address the supposed arguments of the man. They are, after all, hollow. When Valinor speaks, he must speak to the hearts of the crowd.

As the blow falls upon the half-elf in the mob, Valinor's eyes flinch and he begins to move forward, a single step automatically taking him closer to the endangered man. It is then that the haughty human makes his mistake. He thinks that calling attention to Valinor will direct the simmering fear of these poor souls into some rash act of violence. But all that the demagogue achieves by this is to hand the audience directly to the paladin.

" As much as I hate to contradict, I do not serve the Coronal. I serve the common good. I serve each and every last one of you. You, who are my brothers and my sisters. I serve you." He isn't angry, or afraid. He isn't even sad. He speaks with a quiet composure that radiates peace, springing from a deep well of tranquility beneath his breast. The single step he took turns into a second, and a third. The lone paladin is walking directly in to the maw of the angry crowd. " It is only because I know, know with an iron certainty that the Coronal likewise serves you that I wear this badge."

" So long as even one of us lives in fear, none of us stand free. Not one of us. This I will not, cannot abide. I will not yield until those responsible for these monstrous attacks have answered for their crimes." Valinor continues his inexonerable advance, the tone of his voice as calm and resolute as his steady footfalls. " Though my breath quit my body, and my heart cease its beating, I will not rest 'til peace fills these streets with its joyous melody once more."

Stepping into the thick of the crowd, Valinor heads directly for the stricken half-elf. Helping the poor man back to his feet, his injuries mending, his pain vanishing as the paladin grants him a measure of Corellon's grace. Looking about at the mob which now surrounds him, he holds out his arms wide in a gesture of plaintive entreaty. " That we lash out at our brothers is what the enemy wishes of us. It is their fondest hope. We must stand shoulder to shoulder. We must stand as brothers, lest we grant victory to those who seek our ruin." His brow furrows slightly, the first sign that he possesses anything but limitless compassion, the first time that any emotion other than serenity underscores his words. He is... irked. Tilting his head back a degree, he looks at the rabble-rouser. " You sir. You are unknown to me, as I suspect I am to you. Let us rectify this. I am Valinor Silvenruth, the Singing Sword of Sildëyuir. Who sir, are you?"



Valinor will be entering the Bolstering Voice stance. While it is obviously not going to mechanically modify the crowd, I figure putting out anti-fear vibes is a good thing to be doing right about now.

Its possible someone (or someones) in the crowd is going to try to hit him as he steps into their midst. I'm guessing his DR is going to be enough to stop any punches thrown his way. If such violence is directed his way, he'll just be ignoring it.

And... Go go Diplomacy! Trying to soften the mood of the crowd.

Diplomacy: [roll0]

[The Great Skenardo]

UHE
outwardly, the dirtied half-elf does nothing but stare at the scene unfolding.
Inwardly, there is a much more precise calculus going on.
He found himself marveling a little at the strength of Valinor's individualism. To his ears, it rung a little hollow in front of this battered, frightened, bewildered, and angry crowd, and by their reactions, he could see that many of them felt the same way.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel slowly lowers his hands as the spell reaches its conclusion. He swallows several times to wet throat, left parched by the lengthy incantation. "Sorry about that my friends, you caught me in the midst of shielding the basement, leaving me unable to respond." He takes a second to think about the last few messages his companions had whispered to him through the Weave before phrasing the rest of his reply.

"Valinor, I hope you are being careful. Remember, the elf we were observing in the Treat was shrouded in an illusion. It is quite possible any 'friends' of his would also be other than they appear. Do not hesitate to use your paladin abilities to see the truth of their hearts. If you require aid, call for me and I shall come."

"Aranel, recent events have shed a new and nefarious light on what's been happening, but I hesitate to discuss them further until we are all secure within my wardings here. We should see where Valinor's new lead takes us, and afterwards return here and share all we have learned."

Satisfied in his response, Tyriel casts a quick invisibility spell on himself, then shifts himself though another dimension door in order to return to the skies high above the district.

[The Great Skenardo]

UHE
Finally, the man clears his throat.
"Look, ah- this man is all right. He was out earlier helping people out of the rubble. And he is trying to help a friend of mine; an old man who's gone missing since the earthquake."

[bindin garoth]

"Don't worry about myself, ma'am. I'm only here to meet a friend. " Aranel says as he continues forward, only stopping to briefly help the lady clean up the tea tray before continuing to the basement.

Aranel tries to say something as Tyriel finishes talking, only for the man to teleport away! He let's out an sigh, this truly was a mess. But, nonetheless, Aranel should follow suit. He calls upon the familiar magics, and follows Tyriel by also teleporting, this time simply straight above the Trent's Treat. Catching a nice, warm breeze, Aranel relaxes as he scans below for Valinor

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

"Your words are pretty, elf, though they fall on deaf ears." He says with a sneer and turns towards the crowd. "My people, do you want vengeance for your fallen?"

Angry shouts rise up through the crowd and the people press in close around Valinor. "Then take it, and send a message to the Coronal!" He shouts and draws his sword, holding it high above him. A raw scream bursts forth from the crowd as they lash out at Valinor with their fists, trying to pummel him to the ground.

Above the Treant's Treat

The initial shock among the District seems to have worn off and Tyriel and Aranel both see that there are fewer people simply standing around and more working to pick through the rubble. The Wing & Horn cavalry are still flying in the air above the city, though none are patrolling the Dlabraddath District. A careful search reveals that there are actually no guards or watchelf in force in the district at all. As you realize this you hear a savage shout from behind a canopy a few streets over and what sounds to be a riot.

Demiplane of Ice

Sydil shakes her head as her spell fails to harm the shivhad and takes a step back towards Ayorra. "I do, but what I was trying to say before it attacked was that the portal is still active, even though we can't see it. This is a labryinth, remember? There should be a way to move from room to room." She says while keeping one eye on the shavid thrashing against the forcecage. Dozens more frozen fingers lay scattered across the ice, each of them twitching in random sequences.

"Do you want me to take us somewhere else or should we risk the portal again?"

Valinor is grappled and takes 17 damage from the grapple and 15 damage from the Mob.

Street Riot Map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit?usp=sharing). Tyriel and Aranel are placed off the map; go ahead and place yourself where you want when you arrive.

The map is just for a visual aid; I'm not running this as a tactical combat. For iniative it'll be [Party] then , so everyone go ahead and post.

Spellcraft DC 21: Sir Alasdair used a Mass Suggestion effect on the crowd.

[B]Dice - Plane Shift or Spin the Portal?

[The Great Skenardo]

UHE
for his own part, the half-elf sets his lips in a hard line and then vanishes into the crowd of rioters.

Turning invisible to the naked eye, Virodel sheds the rather clumsy magical disguise. He takes a slow, catlike approach to the treasonous instigator atop the step, drawing both his weapon, and his hood up above his pointed ears. focusing all his tactical attention upon the man, and none on the incoherent mob behind him. With his saigham at the ready, the elf stabs at his gut with a vicious, snakelike blow!
Fighting defensively.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2] + [roll3]

From nowhere, a short, slim figure in black, nondescript robes with hood drawn up materializes in front of the rabblerouser, sketching a short bow before taking up the stance of a duelist; an exotic-looking pointed blade held at the ready.

[Oh My God]

Valinor struggles futilely against the mob. "Not to worry you fellows, but I think a situation is developing here," he speaks under his breath to the two not immediately present.

[Heavensfury]

Still no elven response teams? How odd...

The surprise of Aranel's sudden arrival in the nearby airspace causes Tyriel to shoot up several feet before regaining his composure. While silently thanking Corellon that his invisibility kept anyone from seeing the embarrassing maneuver, he hears the angry shouts coming from nearby. He immediately flies towards the disturbance, sparing a quick glance behind to make sure Aranel has also noted the ruckus.

As Tyriel clears the final screening canopy, he's struck by a scene of absolute anarchy. Two figures with bared weapons appear to be squaring off on the steps of a ruined tower. In the street a large, unruly mob appeared to be swarming...was that Valinor? Something very wrong was happening here, and it was going to stop now. Seething with righteous fury, Tyriel cries out in a voice like thunder. "Enough!"

With one hand he snatches a bit of spiderweb and points forcefully at the dueling combatants, blasting them with a sticky net of iron-strong webbing. The other hand sweeps to encompass the entire chaotic display before him, ending the gesture in a closed fist as he completes the short, hissing incantation. A lightning-quick fissure appears in the midst of the crowd, snaking its way around the mob's periphery before shooting out to encompass the recently quagmired duelists. No sooner does the crack complete its circuit than the ground appears to rip open, leaving everyone hovering over an endless void. Valinor is left on a small island of solid earth, surrounded by a large, dark pit.

"<Aillesel seldarie Valinor, what is going on here!>" Tyriel asks in elven as his invisibility fades.


Crowd control powers, activate!

Quickened web directed at Sir Alasdair Freehold and Wen Shu's current incarnation (DC 22 reflex).

Illusory pit (Complete Arcane p.112) shaped to encompass the crowd and two enmeshed combatants on the tower stairs, but merely encircling Valinor (DC 26 will).

[bindin garoth]

Aranel sees the crowd swoop down upon Valinor, shock written all upon his face. Mobs were so hard to deal with. You have to figure out ways to disable them without killing any, and even then, in situations like these, you can't really target multiple people without hitting your ally! Luckily, he had such a spell that would help, with the holy elven power running through him.

Aranel swoops down, try to reach Valinor as quickly as he can to free him. All the power he needed in a singlular holy word. "Leitha." is all that is said before he reaches out and touches Valinor causing all who have a grip upon him to loose their holding. Of course, now he was in range of their grasps, so he must prepare. A swift wave of his hand over his face causes a sudden shift in his expression, into one of wisdom and reflection. As calm as the eye of the storm.


Flying 5ft above Valinor, casting Freedom of movement on him.

Switching the Angel and Ascetic masks.

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

Alasdair rolls away from the silent assailants blade at the last moment; a cut that would have opened his gut merely leaves a scratch. Before the blood even hits the ground the mob leaders own sword swipes at the robed figure's head, a reflexive but unwieldy strike that fails to connect. He touches his stomach with his free hand and holds a bloody fist up in the air. "See!? She sends her hidden assassins to silence any resistance! Fight harder my brothers and sisters!" To Valinor and the robed bladesmith his words seem to make perfect sense and they each feel an urge to join the angry mob.

"You!" He shouts at Tyriel and vanishes from the porch steps, only to reappear a heartbeat later in the street, still caught on the edge of the web. "Her spies are everywhere, even hiding in the air!" He says to the mob as his form wavers and splits into ten different perfect replicas. In their frenzy the people simply ignore the chasm beneath them and pounce on Valinor as he slips from their grasp, slamming their fists and bodies against him.

He auto-succeeds on the Concentration checks to cast in the Web and to cast defensively.

Spellcraft DC 20 (Song of Discord)
Spellcraft DC 19 (Dimension Door type effect)
Spellcraft DC 19 (Greater Mirror Image)

Greater Mirror Image: [roll0]

Valinor and Virodel must make a DC 24 Will save or be subject to Song of Discord (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/songOfDiscord.htm).

Mob
Engulf Auto-Damage (Valinor) [roll1]

TGS: He wasn't susceptible to Sneak Attack for that attack.

I've updated the map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit) and added a Red Circle to indicate the Web.

----

Status/Damage:
Webbed: Alasdair, Mob, Virodel
Damaged: Valinor (-12), Alasdair (-18)

Round 2.
Mob: Engulf'd Valinor
Alasdair: Casted spells.
Party: Current turn.

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel vanishes to the space between worlds, now observing the blathering traitor with a measure more of respect. Something, magical or innate, had rendered this bellowing ant-fart resistant to the artistic stab of his blade.
He also noted the almost-reflexive counterattack, clumsy though it was.
Clearly, the man he was facing was no stranger to a blade, and intelligent enough to refuse anything like a fair fight. Well then-

The robed assassin appears out of nowhere, interposing himself between swordsman and Mob. With an arrogant flick of the point, he makes another jab at the man, still keeping his weapon warily at the ready.
"If your blade is as dull as your wit, what have I to fear?" he hisses.

[roll0] Fighting Defensively.
[roll1]
[roll2] [roll3]
[roll4]

[Oh My God]

Surprised and gratified at the sudden arrival of his friends and allies, Valinor doesn't catch what sort of magic that the roguish knave hurls towards him, but he -feels- it shattering against his discipline. Someday he will err, Valinor is certain. Mortal that he is, someday he will step wrongly. But when he does, it will be -his- will that makes it so. His choice. His burden. None may dictate to him otherwise. To allow another to shove his will, his own self, as though it were a balking sheep... anathema. The scenario that surrounds him comes together in a flash, his confusion transfiguring itself into certainty.

" My thanks. Be careful of the bystanders. Their will is not yet their own." Valinor says under his breath directly into their ears as he starts to advance once more on the swordsman, drawing his sword as he does. His expression is stern, his gaze locked on the enchanter. " The target is the human. If one of you could drop his doubles and the other could somehow bar his escape via magic, now would be the time. We need to capture him. He has questions to answer."

The paladin begins to sing, a low throbbing bass line, a portion of an a capella number. Wordless, it punctuates the chaos of the mob that seethes around him, an animal rhythym that everyone can feel in their gut. The crystal sword he holds almost seems to -twist-, a hungry dog catching scent of its prey, and it takes up the tone, a profound basso flooding the air.

His humming blade held high, Valinor advances through the crowd, a fish . He leans forward, his center of mass tilting with him, eagerness to engage written in his very fiber. His tone vaults upwards in octaves, a bright tenor tone beginning to unreel an epic song. His words are meaningless to those assembled, their origins nestled in the heart of his distant home, but their -intent- is clear.

Defiance.



Detect Evil on Mr. Loudmouth

Activating Leading the Charge Stance

Singing a Countersong, accompanied by his sword: [roll0] Hopefully, a 45 beats the save the mob would have needed to beat whatever spell he cast on them to get them to mob up.

Advancing on Mr. Loudmouth

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Demiplane of Ice

"You said you think it is still there," Ayorra corrects Sydil skeptically. "We are indeed in a labyrinth, but one-way portals are not unheard-of in such structures. If the portal is still present, and you are able to activate it, then let us chance it. And Mystra forfend that we come to a worse location than this one."

Ooh! Ooh! Spin the Portal! I love that game! Let's do that one!

Our first spin sucked, let's hope this next one is better. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZH9-bypdt4&t=0m20s) :smallwink:

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth

Sydil lowers her head at the correction and shuffles back. "Yes, I did say that. My apologies." She says softly, her voice barely audible over the snowstorm and snarls from the shavid. She holds up her mirror and briefly glances over her shoulder at the space where you both appeared. "It is still active, and though the seepage is worse on this side I think it will still carry us." Holding out a shaking hand - whether from the cold or from nervousness - she waits for Ayorra to join hands and then leads them both through the snow, speaking the name of the long dead Cormyr nobles who paid the mysterious Sword Heralds to build this labryinth. White fills your vision as the portal is suddenly visible right before you step through and the last echoes of the screaming shavid are cut short as Ayorra and Sydil step into a warm chamber hall, the destination Sydil first saw in the portal.

It appears to be a throne room of antiquated design with a high arching vaulted ceiling and polished marble floors and pillars. Dozens of large braziers hang on long chains from the ceiling and the light from their fires cast shifting shadows across the walls of the long room. Numerous small alcoves are spaced along both walls, their depths hidden by the darkness. The smoke from the hanging fires drift like clouds pulled on string towards the end of the room where they sink down and roil on the floor, partially obscuring the high-backed throne though something on the seat glints in the firelight - a gemstudded crown, perhaps.

Sydil glances around and watches the shadows on the wall. "This place seemed better than the chessroom. At least it's warmer."

There is a reason I didn't roll for Portal Malfunction the first time the two of you traveled through it. I could explain it through some appropriate knowledge checks but I thought I'd check and see if you wanted to try and figure it out first.

I've left a few clues laying around, though I admit they're not really apparent as clues. But, maybe you like puzzles. :smallwink:

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel is less startled by the humans translocational jump than by his chosen destination. He understands Valinor's concern that the man may use the same magic to escape, but if he had such power, would he not at least have cleared the hindrance of the web spell entirely? Still, the advice is sound, but before Tyriel can ready the necessary spell, the tricky instigator gives him many more targets to consider!

Eyes narrowed at the swarm of duplicates that suddenly appear, he summons his magic and drains a portion of the power stored within his mystic belt. For a moment time seems to slow, though he knows the perception is deceptive as the belt has actually momentarily boosted his speed. With a thought and a word, he twines together two dispelling enchantments, hoping that the first may at least weaken the mirror image spell enough for the second to shatter it entirely. Alas, either due to the interaction of the magical energies in the area, the bard's personal power, or perhaps even just bad luck, both dispellings fail to undo the defensive magic.

"Well, so much for using finesse." Tyriel mutters to himself. Not yet beat, he soars a little closer to the action while reaching within himself to the font of spiritual energy that was his birthright. He mentally grasps a portion of the holy power, and casts it towards the melee below.

used quickened Dispel Magic (via swift abjuration class feature) and a regular Greater Dispel Magic via the standard action granted by draining two charges from the Belt of Battle.

Since I fail at rolling dispels, gonna try the low-tech way and use Holy Smite (Will for 1/2, DC 16) to attempt to clear away the images. Have to position it so none of the spell hits the crowd. Do not want to hurt any neutrally-aligned civilians.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"Do not think that I was criticizing your skills, Daughter," Ayorra tells Sydil once they escape the demiplane of ice as she places a reassuring hand on the elf's shoulder. "I was merely suspicious that the labyrinth's builders would provide a way out of what was apparently a prison for that creature. You have done an excellent job working with this portal network.

"As for our destination, I think I preferred the cold." The Hathran loosens her furs slightly as she takes a moment to examine their surroundings. "Though this chamber is more comfortable for you, it is no less dangerous. I would guess that the throne is a trap of some sort. Still, barring any immediate danger we should probably examine it." Ayorra begins walking slowly toward the throne, and as she does so she waves in the direction of the throne causing four bright bluish lights to wink into existence around it, rotating slowly.

Actually, I figured the portal was deliberately set up to dump unauthorized visitors into a nasty place, so I didn't think anything of the lack of a roll.

Ayorra casts dancing lights, the glowing orb version, and puts each light 5 feet away from the center of the throne along the compass points to illuminate the throne and anything around it. If nothing dangerous immediately presents itself, she will walk closer to the throne until she's about 20 feet away and give it a closer look. If I need to roll some Knowledge or perception checks for the throne or crown, let me know.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

The globes of light hover around the throne and even though the thick smoke makes it hard to see clearly the gems embedded in the crown sparkle brighter in the reflected light. Sydil raises her hand and blows upon it and a blast of strong wind surges towards the smoke cloud, dispersing it and fully revealing the throne on its marble dais, yet three pillars of burning cinders and black smoke remain, standing guard around the throne. Dark red pits near the top of the smoke pillars glare at you but they remain in place as the wind dies and the smoke from the braziers quickly settles down to reform the obscuring cloud.

In the few moments before the smoke cloud returns you can see the crown clearly. Seven gemstones, each of a different color shine along the high points of the golden crown, one gem for each of the prismatic colors.

So, I finally realized that Vael left a list of Sydils prepared spells in the OOC. :smallredface:

Sydil cast Gust of Wind at the smoke cloud.

Spellcraft DC 22 (Ayorra taps it)
- The quickly reforming smoke cloud strongly hints at a magical source and you realize that the smoke from the braziers is acting in a manner similar to the smoke from an eversmoking bottle. (Spellcraft check to identify spell in place & active: Pyrotechnics)

Knowledge (the planes) (Ayorra result 35)
- Though not one of the commonly encountered elemental varieties, Ayorra has extensive experience with the elemental spirits of Rashemon and she quickly identifies these creatures as Smoke Paraelementals, native to both the Planes of Air and Fire. Each elemental has it's own special qualities and the Smoke Paras are no different. Their favorite tactic is to swarm onto a creature and force their smoke tendrils down the victims throat, choking and clawing them from the inside.

This trio of Smoke Para's are large enough that the top of their pillars reach nearly 40ft from the floor and the distinctive pattern of cinders floating within their smoke bodies indicates that each is very old and one of the most powerful and dangerous of their kind (Elder Huge).

Edit: The smoke cloud fills an area approximately 20ft long by 40ft wide, reaching from wall to wall (the 40ft width). As you see the smoke reappear you can tell that the cloud covers the throne within it's area.

[Chambers]

Mithranix

"I told you, I don't know anything!" The man said as he tried to press himself further against the brick wall, as if he were a dwarf and the stone would grant him passage. Arid growled - definately not a sound that would come from a half-elf - and Haln's eyes went wide. "Okay, I might know something. Just keep her away from me." He wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled nervously.

"Look, you didn't hear it from me, all right? I know a guy that knows some elves and he said that he heard them talking about some elven relic they found, some headband or something. This was, oh...about three tendays ago." He says with a wave of his hand. "Said they, uh, recovered it from a private collection in Waterdeep, from a wizard that wouldn't care that it was gone, so to say." He sniffs and rubs at the pain in his shoulder from when the three of you captured him as he was trying to escape. Dragon claws can be delicate instruments if the dragon desires and Aria had left little more than bruises and soreness before changing her form back to the half-elf disguise.

"I don't know what the relic does, so don't bother asking." He says and holds his palms up and eyes Aria. "Wait! They were those sun elves, Ar’Tel'Quessir. My friend said that they were preparing for some journey, but that it was kinda odd as they weren't packed or clothed for a trip. They said something about going to sleep, I think. I don't know, my elven...I mean, my friends elven isn't that great."

Haln looked around and licked his lips. "That's all I know, right? He didn't hear all the details as, well, they didn't know he was listening, got it? Now, I think I've told you more than enough and I've got-"

The informants demands were interrupted by a violent earthquake that shook the very foundation of the cheap row house basement you were in. The ceiling cracked and crates fell to the ground and before he could properly scream in panic the wall he was against collapsed, pouring hundreds of bricks on top of him in an avalanche of stone.

Dane protected Aria from the falling rubble with his shield and you jumped clear of the falling wall, but each of you heard the distinctive sound of snapping bone as Haln was buried. A few short moments later three streams of liquid silver came gliding down the steps and touched yourself, Dane and Aria, healing you of the injuries from the falling rock, but no such magic touched Halns crushed body.

The whispered words of the Coronal then reached your ears. "Kerynsuoress Everson, please report to Ahskahala Durothil. Akhrua Mithranix, I have other agents within the Dlabraddath District. Please find them and aid them in maintaing peace and order." Dane helped Aria to her feet and the three of you climbed out of the ruined house and onto the street. "Yes, Coronal, we will leave at once." Dane replied to the Coronal while Aria shook her long hair out and transformed back into her natural form. Dane nodded to you and climbed atop the gold dragons back and her powerful wings beat once and lifted them into the air. "We will meet later this evening, as arranged. Stay safe." He said and took off into the sky, flying towards the Palace.

Madame Pykkaen's House - or what was left of it - was just behind the large mansion that once was called Six Tyryl Towers. Now no towers remain, just an enormous pile of rubble. As you make your way through the streets you see many people of all races standing together, some in shock, some in grief, others numbed by the tragedy. The Wing & Horn cavalry soon takes to the skies and you see Dane among them, patrolling high above the entire city. The Coronals voice whispers behind your ear once more. "Seek out Tyriel Eldanon near the Six Tyryl Towers."

You recognize the name, having fought with the elf during the Crusade to retake Myth Drannor. That name is known to me, though we called him Ardentwings before the fighting was done. He fought against the Army of Darkness. I am pleased to know that he survived. Walking around to what was once the entrance to the Towers you find the street empty and hear what sounds like a riot happening a few streets over.

Pardon the recap and fast forward, if you will. Mithranix is currently on the Walk of Seven Wings near Six Tyryl towers (D25). The sounds of commotion and trouble are coming from D42, which is about two blocks up. Assume that you heard the commotion when it started, so you're able to hustle up there in time to react to what's currently going on.

The silver italics was your Blade Guide speaking to you.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

Ayorra raises an eyebrow at the results of Sydil's spell. "First an ice prison, and now smoke paraelementals and eversmoking braziers. I suppose our next destination will be an active volcano, to continue our jaunt around the Inner Planes." Sizing up the very dangerous elementals, she muses to herself Definitely a trap, but a trap guarding something valuable--and an obviously-magical crown has a possible connection to dream magic.

"The elementals have yet to attack us, so negotiation may be possible," she says softly to Sydil, "but all the same, be prepared for a battle." She retrieves a coin-sized clay model of a Mulhorandi pyramid and casts a quick spell, touching the model to Sydil's and her own lips and ears before it vanishes in a puff of smoke. Ayorra then takes another few steps forward and bows respectfully to the elementals, ever the diplomat. "Greetings, elder ones," the Hathran opens politely in Aeran. "My companion and I apologize for intruding upon your hall, and we mean you no ill will.

"We are exploring this labyrinth for reasons unrelated to your own chamber, but we are scholars of the Art and I notice that the crown upon that throne bears seven prismatic gems, implying that it is a magical item of some sort. I am always interested in learning more about historical artifacts, and your presence implies that this item has some importance. Would any of you be able to tell me more about it and its history? If you would rather we did not bother you, however, simply say the word and we shall leave you in peace."

Ayorra cast tongues (via Uncanny Forethought) on Sydil and herself.

Diplomacy check to hopefully make the elementals more inclined to chat: [roll0]

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

The thick smoke makes it hard to tell if the elementals are moving within the cloud or whether it's the cloud itself. A voice responds to Ayorra, hissing and popping like the sparks above a fire.

"The crown is not a crown when worn."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

The elementals may be among the most terse that Ayorra has met--Rashemi spirits are certainly much more polite--but at least they are talking. "I see," she answers the voice. "Quite intriguing. Is it an illusion, then, or does the crown change shape? Would I, or my companion, be allowed to examine it more closely, perhaps to wear it for a time? And, if I might ask, why are you guarding it?"

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

"It changes neither shape nor sight, nor refuses any who would wear it."

The shadows within the cloud appear to move closer to the throne and you see one of the dancing lights suddenly jerk up thirty feet and vanish somewhere below the red cinder eyes of one of the elementals.

[TheFallenSon]

It seemed the whole world had gone mad since he and his men had returned to the city. There had been disgruntled whispers and bar talk since the city had been resettled, but open rebellion...he could smell the stink of fear and bared steel.

He was sprinting thanking the whole of Corellon's family for his mithril regalia...the ancients might have had a myriad of problems, but they damn sure knew how to make some armor. "Old master, what should I know of your friend, Ardent Wings? And do you know a faster way to the towers?

He was running as nimbly as possible, shield forward, only knocking aside those who seemed completely intent in blocking his path.

Hearing the air stance, and double moving.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Labyrinth

Ayorra's warm smile dims as one of her dancing lights disappears--never a good sign when dealing with hostile creatures. Taking a deep breath, she brings a smile back to her face and asks, "And would you, O guardians of the throne and crown, refuse one who would wish to wear it, or wish to harm us if one of us were to do so? We would not want to cause a conflict merely to settle our curiosity."

In case it's necessary, a Sense Motive roll for the elemental's response: [roll0]

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

"Uselessness, apparently." Alasdair says and sneers at Virodel as the assassin's sword pierces through an image. Alasdair holds his hand to his heart in mock pain and winks as the replica vanishes. Without turning his back on the duelist he flicks his hand towards Tyriel and easily deflects the elves abjurations. He winces briefly as the divine radiance washes over him but he brushes some dirt off his shoulder and flourishes his blade as Aranel calls down holy fire that seems to dance around him without burning. "So you fight along the side of the angels? Or perhaps you've managed to steal it from the gods..."

His banter and smile are shattered by Valinor's song of defiance. He narrows his eyes and scowls at him as the mob ceases their attacks against Valinor. They stagger around, dazed and confused by what just happened as a tall and regal elven knight comes running up the street, clad in gleaming mithral and bearing a stout shield. Alasdair shakes his head and then disappears again, reappearing on the porch, settled into a defensive posture. "Really, five on one? I'll wait for more of your allies to arrive. Make it a fair fight."

He taps the DC to cast defensively. One of his images regenerates; there are currently 8 images of him.

Map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit) is updated.

Status/Damage:
Webbed: Alasdair, Mob

Spellcraft DC 19 (Freedom of Movement)
Spellcraft DC 19 (Dimension Door type effect)

Virodel: Make a Will save. After rolling the save, you may make a spellcraft check.

Round 3
Mob: Dazed and confused
Alasdair: Spellcasting and defensive banter.
Party: Current turn.

Round 2.
Mob: Engulf'd Valinor
Alasdair: Casted spells.
Party: Valinor Countersung, Tyriel Holy Smited, Virodel stabbed an image, Aranel Flame Struck.

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

"We oppose all who would wear it."

The smoke paraelementals says from the shadows of the cloud. Sydil shifts nervously and leans closer to Ayorra. "I can bring the crown to us, if need be."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Labyrinth

"I hope you are not irritated by my persistence, respected guardians, but you have not said why you are guarding this crown," Ayorra calls in Auran. "Does it have some historical importance? Perhaps there is some sort of curse associated with it?"

Under her breath in Elven, she responds to Sydil, "That thought had crossed my mind, yes. I hate to plunder what may be a historical relic, but though the crown isn't a kiira it may have some mental magic that may aid our mission. As soon as we know whether it is safe for us to handle it, you can retrieve it, and we should be prepared to abscond with it as soon as you do so. Is the portal still here and operable?"

[TheFallenSon]

Arriving at the scene of the riot, Mithranix quickly decided to use his position to his advantage, few could look upon the enraged warrior and doubt his resolve. Roaring a command he walked forward...the naked blade of his black iron rapier a stark and he knew an unsettling contrast against the gleaming silver of his mail and shield "CITIZENS OF THE RECLAIMED CITY. IN THE NAME OF THE CORONAL YOU WILL DISPERSE AND RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. ANY WHO DISREGARD THIS ORDER WILL BE NAMED AN ENEMY OF THE CROWN!!!" There would be a naked and obvious silence as he finished his advance...barely above a whisper the next bit he hoped would carry extra weight. "For I am the sword and shield, may her will be done."

intimidate on the crowd, no collateral damage this way...right?
[roll0]

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel takes note as the cocky human cloaks himself in yet another protective enchantment. With a thought he banishes the sticky webbing and illusory pit, knowing they now could only hinder the man's capture.

Considering his options, Tyriel opts for a simple evocation, sending a quintet of azure missiles to unerringly strike at five of the "bards". Concerned this entire encounter may be a distraction, granted a very effective one, he labors to ascend, getting a better view while still keeping the conflict in range of his many spells.

cast magic missile at five of the images and ascend 30 feet

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel's quick, elven eyes take in the arrival of reinforcements and this new estimation of the man. He made it a point never to fight a battle of attrition personally. Taking a short step backwards, the slim, cloaked figure vanishes from view.

Virodel steps into the space between worlds and makes his way a little ways off to hide and observe the battle.

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

As Virodel disappears from sight Alasdair raises his own eyebrows, his eyes uncannily tracking the movement of the ethereal assassin. He sketches a short salute with his blade and turns to face the elves and holy men. "Ah, yes! Peace through iron order!" He says with a smile as he nods to Mithranix. "Listen and obey, children...this is the price you pay for speaking the truth." As the spider webs and gaping chasm vanish the remaining 4 images of him half-bow to Tyriel and as he rises another pops into existence. He rolls his shoulders and flexes. "My thanks, those webs were quite constricting."

Freed of their compulsion and caught between dueling spellcasters and a loud knight, the people of the mob wisely choose to run away, some screaming in terror, others merely screaming. Valinor continues his song of defiance, his sword slowly weaving a hypnotic pattern as he advances on Alasdair. The disposed noble merely blinks twice and ceases trying to follow its movements with his eyes, instead letting his sword fall into a matching rhythm, the tips of their blades barely touching. Aranel touches down to the ground next to the swordsmen and a wave of sympathetic energy rushes out among you, energizing your bodies.

"What a poor minstrel I am...my audience has fled. All I've left is you all, and you look like a particularly glum fellow." He says to Aranel. "Wouldn't you rather enjoy a dance?" Alasdair says with a sing-song lilt and to the elf's consternation Aranel's body begins to gyrate and jerk as if a marionette were forced to jig. "There! Much better."


Valinor advances, maintaining Countersong and switches to the Thicket of Blades stance. Aranel casts Haste (affects Aranel, Tyriel, Mithranix, and Valinor).

Alasdair defensively cast a spell. There are 5 images total.

Spellcraft DC 21 (Irresistible Dance (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/irresistibleDance.htm)).

Map is updated (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit).


Round 4
Mob: Run away!
Alasdair: Defensive casting and offensive banter.
Party: Current turn.

Round 3
Mob: Dazed and confused
Alasdair: Spellcasting and defensive banter.
Party: Valinor Countsung again, Tyriel Magic Missiled, Virodel Vanished and Mithranix threatened.

Round 2.
Mob: Engulf'd Valinor
Alasdair: Casted spells.
Party: Valinor Countersung, Tyriel Holy Smited, Virodel stabbed an image, Aranel Flame Struck.

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel steps back into the material plane and settles into his hiding place. From here, he could monitor the battle. There didn't seem to be much point in engaging the enemy while the mirror images were up, and so he settles back and leisurely begins applying a particularly virulent poison to the points of a small throwing knife.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

Sydil holds her mirror up close and peers into it. "Yes, it's still behind us." She says and quickly puts it away. "If the crown isn't the selu'kiira do we really need to see it?" She ask softly.

The last two dancing lights wink out and the shadows within the smoke shift around. "It is neither curse nor blessing, only a way out."

Sydil squints to try and see through the smoke. "A way out..." She mutters to herself. "This is a labryinth connected by portals...it might be a key for the portals."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Labyrinth

Ayorra smiles to herself beneath her mask, glad that her expression is concealed from the elementals. "This relic may not be enchanted with mental magics, but it seems it might aid us in our quest nonetheless. Precisely what I was hoping to hear," she murmurs to Sydil with satisfaction. "Whatever means you may have to retrieve the crown, use them. Prepare to retreat as soon as you have it; I will attempt to defend us against the elementals if need be."

[Heavensfury]

"Enough of your fallacious harangue" Tyriel tells Alasdair, sending a weak burst of disruptive magic at the bard. "You accuse the Coronal of tyranny, and yet it is you who enchants innocent citizens into fulfilling your will. You claim malevolence rules the Coronal's heart while you serve justice, but you cringe when faced with holy power that cannot burn those of goodly character. Even now that your captive audience has fled you continue to prattle on. Are you so enamored of your own forked tongue?"

Tyriel reaches into a pocket and draws forth pair of shark teeth as he swoops somewhat closer. "If you insist on continuing to flap your jaws, at least allow me to provide you with company that can appreciate the effort it requires." He flicks the teeth towards the steps, where they immediately shatter, each piece transforming into a set of disembodied jaws which enthusiastically attempt to chomp at the bard and his images.

quickend dispel magic, which fails

manyjaws (spell compendium, p.138) summons ten sets of chompers for me to play with, and I'll use them to attack all 6 targets (2 on 4, then 1 on 2). They automatically hit their targets, which get reflex saves (DC 24) for half damage.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

Sydil nods and whispers "Foqal auglathl." Through the dense smoke you can see the crown lift into the air and drift towards you. The cloud whips into a fierce whirlwind as the smoke paralementals rage at the theft and the trio rush out of the cloud. The elders on either side of the throne shrug off Ayorra's spell while the third one howls in agony - the sound of thundrous wind rushing through an empty canyon - and Sydil is cut off from your sight as she's covered by an angry whirlwind of smoke. You can hear her choking but the crown still hovers in the air, her concentration unbroken by the assault.

Long tendrils of smoke lash out at you and rip through your clothes and skin, tearing deep gouges that bleed dark red.

Round 1
Smoke Para's: Grounded, Engulf, Charge
Ayorra/Sydil: [Current Actions]

Surprise Round:
Sydil: Telekinesis
Ayorra: Legion's Undeniable Gravity

---

Ayorra takes 64 damage from the claws and rend. Sydil saves and takes no damage, currently has total concealment from Ayorra. Treat as fog cloud (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/fogCloud.htm) for purposes of sight. Map! (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/14jjsZJgFOXKrdc9VdOrPq2hhfKXuq7GbaPYNR1_Nth0/edit?usp=sharing)

[TheFallenSon]

As quickly as he could Mithranix would rush his foe. He would try and place himself in as good a position as possible to try and box his foe in. His blade would lash forward an object of his unadulterated fury. His blow was aimed for the traitors heart. Death was his objective.


Mithranix will try and flank his Alasdair, if successful his attack roll will increase that tiny bit and he will do some extra damage...YAY!!!

Attack
[roll0]
Damage
[roll1]
Frost
[roll2]

Elder Mountain Hammer Strike
[roll3]

Sneak Attack
[roll4]
2 Strength-Crippling Strike
2 Constitution-Wounding Strike

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

"That tickles." Alasdair says as the jaws of force chomp down on his figments, each one winking out. He winces as the last sets of jaws bite down but slaps it aside with his sword and brings it back in line as Mithranix climbs the steps. "Just what do you think you're going to do with that blade, Sir Knight? I have a few sugges-" He's cut off as Mithranixs sword runs straight through his chest, Alasdair turning aside at the last moment as it barely misses his heart. Valinor abruptly ceases his song and slices across Alasdair's exposed back with his own blade, causing Alasdair to double over in pain and scream in agony.

The duelists cries quickly change to laughter as he lurches back upright and glances between Mithranix and Valinor. "Don't fret boys, there's plenty of me to go around." He says and slaps his blade against his thigh. His blade begins to vibrate and the tremor passes to the rest of his body until he's shaking so hard it seems his coming apart. There's a loud snap and suddenly there's a duplicate of himself, standing next to himself, each carrying the same weapon and bearing the same wounds. "There, that's better." Both of them say simultaneously. They turn towards each other and wink. "My, you're a handsome devil. Why don't we leave these fools and enjoy some better company?"

While Aranel continues to dance uncontrollably Valinor narrows his eyes at the two of them and shakes his head. "Illusions." He says and turns his head, casting his gaze about. "Both of them. He could be anywhere."

As before, no sneak attack on Mithranix's attack. However, both he and Valinor struck true and by all rights the blathering swordsmen should be reeling from pain at the moment.

Valinor & Mithranix recognized the Illusion after hitting it, though Mithranix only picked up on one figment. Valinor seems to be saying that they both are figments (though he doesn't know the exact spells).

Now that you can see the effects of the spell...
Spellcraft DC 25
Mislead (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/mislead.htm)
Spellcraft DC 26
Project Image (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/projectImage.htm)

Map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit)


Round 5
Alasdair: Falling in love with himself.
Party: [Current Actions]

Round 4
Mob: Run away!
Alasdair: Defensive casting and offensive banter.
Party: Tyriel manyjaws, Virodel poisons, Mithranix Hammers, Valinor Stuns, Aranel Dances.

Round 3
Mob: Dazed and confused
Alasdair: Spellcasting and defensive banter.
Party: Valinor Countsung again, Tyriel Magic Missiled, Virodel Vanished and Mithranix threatened.

Round 2.
Mob: Engulf'd Valinor
Alasdair: Casted spells.
Party: Valinor Countersung, Tyriel Holy Smited, Virodel stabbed an image, Aranel Flame Struck.

[Heavensfury]

More illusions, of course.

Of the two decoys, Tyriel knew that the projected image was by far the more dangerous. It's quite possible that the bard had been a projected image the entire time, since such shadow duplicates were capable of channeling their casters' spells. Tyriel could almost believe that to be the case, except for one not so little thing. Projected images are unable to teleport, and their elusive foe has dimension hopped not once, but twice.

Meaning he's probably still right there, concealed by invisibility from the Mislead spell perhaps...

Unfortunately his arcane sight has not yet renewed itself. He could not currently penetrate such an obfuscation...but Valinor had access to such magic, and Aranel's esoteric arcana gave him access to many useful abilities. "Do not concern yourselves with the illusions, he may still be there, cloaked in invisibility," Tyriel whispers to his comrades through the Weave. Summoning his innate power, he sheathes himself, his two companions, and Mithranix in golden holy power.

Communicating my suspicions then buffing my allies with Holy Aura. Would include Skenardo in the effect, but I believe he is hidden somewhere.

[The Great Skenardo]

Limosen
Limosen digests the shouted news in his hiding spot. If the traitor were hiding somewhere about the place, it was no good acting until either he showed himself or left the field entirely. Instead of action, he awaiting the fruits of the others' frantic energy.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

Ayorra coughs the rest of the smoke out of her lungs, glad to have avoided the worst of the assault. She assesses her injuries: painful, but not yet debilitating, at least as long as her adrenaline is pumping. Without being able to see Sydil she can't be sure of the elf's condition, but she fears the worst. Time to go on the defensive.

She chants a short prayer to Mystra and interlaces her fingers, releasing pent-up magical energy she had earlier stored in a miniature Weave of her own, and magic rushes out to protect and defend both arcanists. "Sydil! I have discharged my Weave! Escape through the Astral, if you can!" she calls.

Move action: Release Quiescent Weaving; Sydil and Ayorra are now under the effects of Diplacement, Ray Deflection, Karmic Backlash, and Greater Dimension Door. They both have a 50% miss chance, attackers must make a Will save (DC 20) or be exhausted for 2 rounds each time they damage one of them, and they can teleport 60 feet as a move action without provoking AoOs.

Standard action: Cast Cure Critical Wounds on Ayorra and Sydil, healing Ayorra of [roll0] damage.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

Sydil coughs again, her lungs expelling the smoke paraelemental before it can get it's claws in her. The other smoke paraelemental reaches out with its claws and slashes at Ayorra, though only one strike gets through her protective magics.

Ayorra sees the crown wobble for a moment and then steady as it continues floating, disappearing into the cloud of smoke. Sydil's voice whispers behind your ear. "I've got the crown, follow me through the portal!" You feel the tug on the Weave and the portal flares to life behind you as Sydil teleports right through it. You see her standing in a room that you haven't seen before, the walls and floors seemingly made of interlocking cogs and spinning wheels. As soon as she steps through she's whisked away out of your sight by a rotating gear and the portal winks out.

Splitting the party again!

Round 2
Smoke Para's: Engulf Attempt, Full Attack
Ayorra: [Current Actions]

Round 1
Smoke Para's: Grounded, Engulf, Charge
Ayorra/Sydil: Release Weave/Healing, Sydil took the crown and stepped through the portal.

Surprise Round
Sydil: Telekinesis
Ayorra: Legion's Undeniable Gravity

Map. (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/14jjsZJgFOXKrdc9VdOrPq2hhfKXuq7GbaPYNR1_Nth0/edit?usp=sharing)

[TheFallenSon]

Growling a very ancient and disgusting curse Mithranix took a few steps back as he shifted his focus. He closed his eyes and let the great hunters of the skies take over his entire being. His hearing sharpens and his whole being becomes suffused with a heightened sense of things. Finding his center he would tilt his head from left to right, trying to hunt out the slightest sound that might betray the hiding place of their foe.


5ft step then activate Hearing the Air Stance, 30ft Blindsense and +5 to listen checks. Attempting to hear the cursed human bard.


Listen check!!!
[roll0]

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

The duplicates turn towards Valinor and Tyriel, shaking their heads in unison and sighing as Tyriel's abjuration frees Aranel from his dancing compulsion. "First you make my audience flee and then you stop my dancing boy. I'll find somewhere else to play." The duplicates flourish their swords and sheathe them as a word of power is whispered from back somewhere in the rubble. One of the images winks out immediately while the other stands there mute, a mocking smile on its face before it too disappears.

In the moments before the images vanished Mithranix could hear a faint scraping of hard leather over stone nearby, but the sounds left with the images. Curiously the wind brings another sound unexpected, one of a soft cloth wiping along polished metal. Somewhere in the nearby trees is another person hiding, though you can't see them.

As Aranel recovers from his forced jubliance Valinor scans the street, rubble and trees once more before lowering his guard. "He's gone, though whether he return or not I cannot say." He says and sheathes his sword, then faces Mithranix with a glare. "Who are you to declare innocent people as enemies of the crown? They were under an enchantment, magically compelled against their will to fight." He says and waves his hands towards where the mob was. Valinor opens his mouth to continue but pauses and shakes his head. "You wear the Coronal's rune, I will trust in her judgement of you. I am Valinor of Sildeyuir."

Limosen is at the edge of Mithranix's blindsense.

Spellcraft DC 20 (Teleport)

Map (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/1GLIFambxyHZKep2bD8XixmNJR6hyFdBMwergFG66hbA/edit).

[Heavensfury]

"Peace, Valinor" Tyriel says as he gracefully alights among his frustrated friends. "Mithranix came upon an undoubtedly confusing situation and sought to immediately differentiate between friend and foe. He knows it is not within his authority to declare the policies of the crown, but he chose the words most likely to clear innocents from this dangerous area." As he finishes his postulation, Tyriel glances at Mithranix with a quirked brow, seeking confirmation.

"It is good to see you again, Brightstar. I understand you have been quite busy reforming the Eternal Order, so I will forgive you for not having made time to visit with me since the Crusade's end." Offering a smile that shows he is only half serious, Tyriel warmly clasps arms with Mithranix, a soldier's greeting. "I trust the Coronal sent you to our aid. Any news on the attack? We should report what has transpired here now that our foe seems to have departed. Valinor, I believe you were the first to arrive on the scene, if you would be so kind?"

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

Ayorra utters a few choice words in in Rashemi as the portal closes after Sydil. And this is why you should have forbidden Mithranix from departing with the others and leaving two witches without bodyguards, she berates herself. She quickly concentrates on her last glimpse through the portal and disappears, reappearing on the other side of it.


Splitting the party again!

Yay. Nothing like being the buffer for a party of one. :smallwink:


Move action: Teleport via greater dimension door up to and through the portal.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

The invisible portal flares to life a moment before Ayorra slips through the Weave as her thoughts turn toward it but the expected view of another place - any other place than trapped in a room with angry smoke elementals - isn't there. In its place is a slightly concave barrier of pure force that flexes as Ayorra tries to push through it. The barrier gives for just a moment and then springs back, attempting to fling her clear cross to the end of the room but the witch of Rashemons training in the Art saves her as the force is dissipated harmlessly around her, leaving her standing next to the portal as it disappears from sight again.

The portal malfunctioned and attempted to hurl Ayorra with Telekinesis. She still has her Standard and Swift action this round and is adjacent to the portal.

Round 2
Smoke Para's: Engulf Attempt, Full Attack
Ayorra: Move action: Greater Dimension Door

Round 1
Smoke Para's: Grounded, Engulf, Charge
Ayorra/Sydil: Release Weave/Healing, Sydil took the crown and stepped through the portal.

Surprise Round
Sydil: Telekinesis
Ayorra: Legion's Undeniable Gravity

Map. (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/14jjsZJgFOXKrdc9VdOrPq2hhfKXuq7GbaPYNR1_Nth0/edit)

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

Aranel shudders once more as he shakes off the last of he enchantment. "I will carry word to the Coronal, and perhaps speak with Lady Auglamyr again." With a brief nod toward Tyriel his cloak billows behind him and he steps into the air, flying off towards the palace.

"He was preaching before a gathered crowd, riling them up with lies. To what ultimate purpose I cannot say." Valinor says. "I saw that the half-elf that was leading me to our suspect was taken up with mob." He says and frowns. "He appears to have fled with them, though I do not blame him."

He eyes Mithranix again. "Brightstar of the Eternal Order? I have heard of your deeds." He says and half-bows to Mithranix. "Forgive my outburst, sir. I cannot abide those such as our vanished foe that warp the minds of others for their pleasure."

[TheFallenSon]

Jalbaerth's Tower

He cocked his head couriously at Valinor's tone and demeanor. Of course he would have tried to avoid killing, his intent was to frighten and scatter them. On the other hand had the crowd stood firm before him he would have done what was neccessary to accomplish the goals at hand. The war had taught him that there was no such thing as black and white, his world was a sea of grays...lighter...darker...gray all around. He smiled at the naivette he thought he sensed in this man.

As his witty retort began to form Tyriel fluttered down like some sort of blasted angel. That blasted man had a flare for the dramatic didn't he? His face broke into a wider grin at seeing an old battle companion. He returned that shake with a firm grasp."I would have done what was neccessary brother, you know that. The war didn't end with our victory in the city. The Order has been tasked with rooting out and destroying what is left of our enemies. The Crusade will never truly end I'm afraid. However, if you were to offer a man lemon cakes and cider you know he wouldn't be able to resist your company. "

Chuckling he released his grip on his friend. "She sent word of a disturbance in this district, told me to expect more of her operatives here. Good to know she recruits the best." Turning to the Star elf he bowed slightly at the compliments.

"Your reputation proceeds you also, my men call you The Great Star Brother, i'll shorten it to Star-Kin. That is if you don't mind." His eyes began to turn very slowly towards the bushes behind the gathered warriors. He would crack a slow grin and **** his head ever so slightly.

He whispered quietly to the men with him. "Someone is listening to our little reunion in those bushes behind you brother, I think we should invite him to our little party don't you think?

[Heavensfury]

"It's good you have come, Brightstar, for I believe we have uncovered some very interesting information on our aggressors..." Tyriel begins with a glance to Valinor, all the while using his body to shield his hands from the area behind him. Using the military gestures known by every soldier who participated in the Crusade, he reveals his intentions to his comrades. Stay. I'll scout. Engage in a 30 count.

Counting on Valinor to continue the verbal ruse and hold their watcher's interest, Tyriel uses a few small, curt gestures to enact a spell, creating an identical replica of himself superimposed over his body while he fades into invisibility. Hoping Mithranix's "spy" wasn't using magic-enhanced sight, he whispers an incantation that allows him to slip his now-incorporeal form into the ground beneath his feet. After a quick check to make sure his illusionary doppelganger is maintaining the ruse of animated conversation, he flows towards the area under suspicion, using his eyes, ears, and tactile sense imparted by the ghostform spell to locate this person before the others make their move.

I hope I'm not taking any great liberties in assuming there is some sort of hand-code in the elven military.

Enacting mislead and ghostform in an attempt to be sneaky.

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel sighs inwardly as he overhears the elves talking. He could, of course, simply evade and then follow them- but something in the Way was telling him that there was little to be gained in so doing. Possibly they had information to share.
In the silence following the whisper, Virodel rises from his place behind the convenient bushes, and says simply, "Here I am."
The elf before the group is garbed in elegant but serviceable black, unadorned except for a circle of brocaded scorpions circling the heart. With his black hood thrown back, his visage is grim, belying the relative youthfulness of his features. His etherially blonde hair is drawn back with a ribbon from his temples, and he sports a trim imperial.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

Ayorra's abjuration sticks to the smoke paraelementals smoke claws like amber resin and the whole cloud pales as the magic weakens its body. Frustrated by your protections it rushes towards you and covers you completely within the roiling cloud. You can feel the other elemental slash at you with its own claws but each strike seems to be aimed at either the left or right of you, missing you completely. There's little time to appreciate the effectiveness of your ward as thick smoke fills your lungs and compresses in a way that no normal smoke would, ripping and tearing at your from inside your chest.

Ayorra takes 23 damage from the Smoke Claws. You can make a Fort save at the beginning of your turn to cough out the vapor and avoid further damage. Other than the damage there's no status effect or condition.

Map. (https://docs.google.com/drawings/d/14jjsZJgFOXKrdc9VdOrPq2hhfKXuq7GbaPYNR1_Nth0/edit)


Round 3
Smoke Para's: Engulf/Smoke Claws, Full Attack
Ayorra: [Current Actions]

Round 2
Smoke Para's: Engulf Attempt, Full Attack
Ayorra: Move action: Greater Dimension Door

Round 1
Smoke Para's: Grounded, Engulf, Charge
Ayorra/Sydil: Release Weave/Healing, Sydil took the crown and stepped through the portal.

Surprise Round
Sydil: Telekinesis
Ayorra: Legion's Undeniable Gravity

[TheFallenSon]

Mithranix would turn to fae the man that approached them. He would do a quick assessment of the man before him. Mithranix ran the circle of scorpions through his knowledge of those from this area and what he knew of those that had once run the various districts of the city. He would let the silence hang heavy for a few seconds. His face was a hard mask as he evaluated the man that had kept himself hidden in those bushes. It was quite a feat to remain hidden from Tyriel's wizard sight. His voice would be filled with a very deadly trickle of violence as he spoke.

"Yes. Yes, there you are. Who are you boy? Be quick with your words. My patience is wearing thin

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

Ayorra's mouth tastes like embers and ash, and for a fleeting moment she regrets choosing to wear such an elaborate mask that morning, since her mask makes it difficult to cough or spit out the smoke attacking her lungs. Complaining is a waste of time, though, even to herself, so she quickly murmurs a prayer to Mystra to protect her and make her whole and then tries once more to escape through the portal.

Fort save to end the Smoke Claws: [roll0]

Standard action: cast heal, bringing her up to full health; Ayorra automatically makes the Concentration check to cast defensively
Move action: teleport via greater dimension door through the portal

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
the elf sketches a bow, his expression neutral.
"This humble one is known as Virodel. Congratulations on your victory over the firebrand and traitor. I have great hopes that you will one day bring him to bear under the law."
His gaze rests significantly upon the badge of office Mithranix wears.

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

"No offense taken Brightstar. It would not be the first time I've been called that." He says with a shrug and smile but quickly narrows his eyes as Mithranix warns him of the eavesdropper. His hand goes to his sword in his scabbard while he tries to maintain an air of indifference. When Virodel steps forward his hand clenches for a moment around the hilt but he relaxes and holds his hands out wide and empty.

"Thank you for coming forth, ebrath, and thanks for your assistance against that madman." He says and motions towards Mithranix with one hand. "Be at ease, Brightstar. Thaes put his blade against the mages alongside us but fell back when confronted with the nobles skill." He half-bows to Virodel. "No slight against you intended, a brave heart will give one strength to overcome any foe. You fought with impressive skill, Virodel; from where do you hail?"

Mithranix
[Via Blade Guide]
I know not what the emblem means to he who wears it, but it bears a passing resemblance to some of the sigils burned and carved into the flesh of tana'ri we fought, summoned by the Ssri'Tel'Quessir of the Twisted Tower. The Ssri'Tel'Quessir favor lesser creatures such as those in homage to their Queen of Spiders; meaning the spiders, scorpions, and demons all.

I remember another emblem now...save that this one was of rose petals intertwined and circled 'round a sleeping dragon and the person who wore it was much more friendly than this fellow. She was from a far country and she said...well, she told me many things, but she said that it was a complicated symbol that somehow identified her family, her profession, and her status both within her family and in the government. Truthfully I did not pay much attention to her explanation at the time.

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Inwardly, Virodel smiles. at last, someone with a trace of decorum.
Outwardly, Virdoel... smiles.
"Ah, you have found me out," he says, pleasantly. "I am not from this city. But I think of it as a second home, so I was honor-bound to take arms against that slug who spoke out of turn and out of place. To foment rebellion is the capital crime, after all."

[Heavensfury]

How fortuitous that the one they had sought and lost would now present himself so openly. Well, as openly as one could expect from someone who veils himself in illusion and seems able to disappear in the blink of an eye. Satisfied that this Virodel wasn't an immediate threat, Tyriel silently slips up out of the ground from his spot behind the newcomer. As he brushes by Virodel, he drops his spells of deception, ghosting back into visibility and corporeality as his illusory decoy fades away.

"Yes, thank you keryn, for your aid." Tyriel says as he takes his place besides his comrades, noting how Virodel danced around Valinor's question. Having no patience to parse words after the trying events of the day, he decides to get straight to the point. "When you vanished from the Treant's Treat during the earthquake, I had feared the worst. I am relieved to see that you appear unharmed."

Attempting another will save in case that faint illusion aura is another disguise self.

[roll0]

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel lifts a thin eyebrow, stroking his trim beard.
"The Treat? Yes, I know it well. I marveled at your vim in the chaos, but I am frankly surprised that you spotted me concealed in the upper boughs. You seem to see much.

Ah, but as trusted servants to her Ladyship herself, you are of course very powerful. And surely such worthy and powerful servants have equally worthy names...?"

[Heavensfury]

"Ah yes, of course, my apologies. My name is Tyriel Eldanon, and my companions here are Valinor Silvenruth and Mithranix, better known as The Brightstar. We have been charged by the Coronal to investigate the attacks on Cormanthor's citizens and guests. Have we had more success, perhaps all of this" he gestures to the ambient devastation, "could have been stopped."

"As it stands, our foes have been most thorough in warding themselves from divinations. In the course of our more mundane investigations, we learned of an elf in the Dlabraddath District whom boasts connections to the side of our society that is...let us say normally less than forthcoming in their dealings with authority figures." Recognizing that he would have to play the game, he pauses, catching and holding Virodel's eyes while carefully choosing his next words. "We believe we had located him within the Treat, but in the chaos of the magical earthquake he slipped away before we could talk. A shame, since we wished him no harm, and he may have been able to help our cause, and himself, considerably if he wished us the same."

Breaking the eye contact Tyriel shrugs and smiles, offering Virodel a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Ah, but enough of me boring you with our frustrations. We have work to do, and I'm sure you were about your own business when this catastrophe struck. Aranel, our friend who departed, is a most thorough agent. Be assured that the Coronal will know of your bravery this day."

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
Virodel's thin and rather bony shoulder flinches slightly at Tyriel's touch, and a flash of annoyance crosses his normally reserved features, before he moves back to the matter at hand.
"Interesting. You're speaking then of thieves? What were you trying to find out about, magical earthquake relics, perhaps?"

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Throne Room

The weavings of Art can be fragile things and even as you feel your body made whole by the Lady of Mysteries blessing you see the portal flare into visibility again, this time showing a swirling vortex of colors that flash and strobe. The prismatic light floods the room for an instant and you feel some of your wards simple dissolve. The smoke paraelemental engulfing you ignores the burst of light but the other backs away, wary of the malfunctioning portal that strangely continues to stay open after the wave of antimagic has passed.

The colored vortex is quickly drained off all colors and then stops spinning itself, the view within the portal become a solid sheet of white that starts to bend from the otherside. It flexes and resists the pressure but the white explodes into nothing and is replaced with Sydil floating in the air above rotating gears, the stolen crown held in her hand. "I can't hold it open long - hurry!" She shouts as cracks appear in the dimensionally thin space between the throne room and where she is.

Smoke Claw damage: [roll0]

Ayorra lost the following spells from the portal malfunction:
Energy Immunity (fire)
Energy Immunity (acid)
Body Ward (Con)
Owl's Wisdom
Fly
Freedom of Movement

Round 4
Smoke Para's: Engulf, Move away.
Ayorra: [Current actions]

Round 3
Smoke Para's: Engulf/Smoke Claws, Full Attack
Ayorra: Heal, Greater Dimension Door

Round 2
Smoke Para's: Engulf Attempt, Full Attack
Ayorra: Move action: Greater Dimension Door

Round 1
Smoke Para's: Grounded, Engulf, Charge
Ayorra/Sydil: Release Weave/Healing, Sydil took the crown and stepped through the portal.

Surprise Round
Sydil: Telekinesis
Ayorra: Legion's Undeniable Gravity

[Heavensfury]

"Thieves?" Tyriel says, looking perplexed, "I said nothing about thieves, and magical relics are not needed to invoke this destruction."

"Terrible as they are, today's events have opened my eyes to new leads, new possibilities." Tyriel shares a look with his comrades. "Possibilities we must now discuss among ourselves in order to best determine where next we should take our investigation. It was a pleasure to meet you , Virodel. If you should happen to learn anything about today's attack, please leave word at the palace. I hope our paths cross again."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

Coughing still, the Hathran takes several quick steps and ducks through the portal, not willing to chance another teleportation after the latest mishap.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth

Sydil reaches out with her other hand and clasps Ayorra, pulling her through the portal. The snarls of the smoke paraelemental are cut off as the portal snaps closed as soon as Ayorra crosses. The ambassador coughs out a thick plume of smoke that quickly dissipates and Ayorra is whisked away by the spinning gears. Sydil looks surprised and floats next to you, murmuring a brief word of power and you feel the pull of gravity fade.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you'd lost your flight." She says and then looks over you. "Are you all right? I was worried when you didn't come through and I tried to go back, ah...but there were some complications with the portal. The elementals seemed to think the crown was important, so I cast a brief divination." She closes her eyes and rubs her temple. "They always leave me with double vision." She says.

"Sorry. The crown was never worn by any king or queen; it was created just for this maze. Mostly I saw people fighting the elementals...and sometimes each other, but whomever won it always carried it through the portal and it always lead to this room." She says and gestures at the walls, floors and ceilings made of interlocking gears. "The way it was used, always from there to here, made me think it was a key for that portal."

Sydil casts Fly on you. The spell she's referring to is Vision (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/vision.htm) via Spontaneous Divination. When you've absolutely, positively, got to have an answer in one standard action or less...accept no substitutes.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"As a matter of fact, I did not realize that either," Ayorra says, feeling slightly dizzy at the sudden loss of magic and accompanying falling sensation before Sydil gives her a lift. "It wasn't dispelled until my latest attempt to enter the portal, and I didn't actually expect to make it through."

She shakes her head and pats herself down to make sure nothing else went awry in the transition. "I'm growing to dislike this labyrinth's structure. If I had any doubts about the wisdom of our tradition of leaving portal creation to the menfolk, they are certainly gone now.

"In any case, it's good that you've discovered some useful information about the crown. If it was specifically crafted as a key to bring the wearer here, there is logically something valuable or important about this place." The Hathran peers around at the gears in curiosity, but is careful not to let her elaborate clothing get caught on them. "Any ideas?"

[Chambers]

Dlabraddath District

"Earthquake relics? I know of no such thing, yet perhaps some rare focus was used to confine the attack to the district." Valinor says and catches Tyriels glance. He turns towards Virodel and offers a short bow. "I am glad to have met you Virodel. May our paths cross again, with blades sheathed and cups raised." Nodding towards Mithranix and Tyriel the ruar-tel-quessir turns and walks back down the street.

Once out of earshot he says to Tyriel. "To the Treat, I presume? You wished to meet with us among the deep roots of the Treant and share news." The Treat is only a few blocks away but the streets are much changed than they were only a few minutes ago. People no longer gather together to mourn and wonder, instead choosing to withdraw to the seeming safety of the buildings that remain standing. Word of the mob appears to have spread as fast as it formed and you all catch glimpses of faces peering out from behind shuttered windows and leaves rustling from above as you pass below. Always a bustling and noisy district, the sudden silence in Dlabraddath is like waiting for a familiar echo that does not come.

The ground floor door set into the massive tree that is the Treant's Treat is shut and the everburning torch that rests in a sconce next to it has a hood placed over it. The magical flame does nothing to harm the leather and all know that the simple sign means that the Treat is closed. "Well..." Valinor says and frowns. "I suppose Athana has gone home as well. Not altogether an unwise move." He says then shivers as he looks around the ruined and empty open street. "They are scared...and who can blame them?"

Jalbaerth's Tower

When the elven heroes pass out of earshot a whisper reaches behind Virodel and tickles the hair above his left ear. "A curious mixture of impulse and restraint, one I find refreshing. Tell me, do you truly intend to toast with Her toadies? I could offer you more interesting drinking companions." The whisper says and a small gust of wind swirls around your head almost in anticipation. The street ahead and behind is empty while a lone timber creaks as it settles among the ruined Tower.

[Heavensfury]

"Come Brightstar, we must be on our way as well." Tyriel places one hand on Mithranix's shoulder, using the other hand to sketch a quick arcane figure in the air. A dimensional doorway appears under their feet, through which they quickly fall, landing gracefully in the Treat's basement. Tyriel faces Mithranix and holds a finger to his lips, requesting silence as he checks both the integrity of the ward he had lain there earlier, and the stairs leading up to the bar.

Tyriel turns back to the Brightstar. Sorry for the sudden departure, but today's events have revealed new and disturbing information to me. We were all busy dealing with the fallout at the time, so I have not shared these new suspicions with anyone as of yet. I had just prepared wards to protect this place from eavesdropping when the mess with that troublesome bard demanded our attention."

He ponders on if he should share with Mithranix his suspicions about the "Virodel" character...but decides to leave it for now. Instead he gestures to a nearby crate and suggests he make himself comfortable while they wait for Valinor. "He shouldn't be too long, as I believe he also knows the spell I used to convey us here. The bar appears closed though, so that might give him pause. The owner doesn't really know we are making use of his establishment. Unless I've gotten fantastically sloppy in my old age, no one does", he jokes.

Seeing no reason to avoid taking all possible precautions, Tyriel uses this bit of downtime to transform a handful of crystal marbles into floating, translucent little eyes. "Scout the building and surrounding area. Report to me any unusual events or people showing interest in the Treant's Treat. Be stealthy and quick." He watches the constructs zoom off to do his bidding before settling down to wait for Valinor.

Dimension Door to the Treat, checking on my Private Sanctum spell, and using Prying Eyes to keep watch.

[roll0] eyes

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth

"Maybe not expecially important...just the next room." Sydil says with a shake of her head. She nods back behind you towards the now invisible portal and hefts the crown. "This is definitely the key for that portal and the other portals shared a similar pattern in their weaving, except that certain parts of the repeated formula were different at each portal. So this key will fit for this portal but I fear that it won't fit for the others." She says and blushes, then looks away. "At least, that's what it seems like."

The gears that comprise the floor, walls, and ceiling of the large room continue to spin while Sydil and Ayorra catch their breath. The smallest of the cogs could fit on Ayorra's fingernail - if she could catch it. The diminutive cog is spinning so fast that it's edge are blurred while the largest cog turns much slower, having just now completed a full rotation in a matter of minutes. That one takes up most of one "wall" and rivals some of the oldest trees in Cormanthyr in width.

"If we stay on the same plane...if we even are on the material plane anymore, I could cast a dweomer that would lead us to where the selu'kirra is...if we knew it's location." Sydil says with a frown. "Too many ifs. Sorry." Something peculiar about the rotation of the gears catches Ayorra eye. All of the gears have been spinning since she entered the room but now a few seem to be in slightly different positions as if one or two were taken away. Either that or the room is shrinking as the gears spin. Ayorra does a quick mental calculation based on the time spent in the room and the previous and current dimensions of the room and the result indicates that it would be better if one or two gears merely went missing.

Sydil is referring to Find the Path.

Ayorra's Intelligence Check: The room has shrunk 5 cubic foot in the 2 minutes that you've been in it (2.5 ft³/1 min ). The current dimensions of the room are 40ft high by 30ft wide by 25ft long. If the shrinkage maintains at the current rate then in 8 minutes the room will be reduced to 20ft high by 10ft wide by 5ft long.

[Chambers]

Treants Treat

Valinor walks down the stairs a few moments after the flying eyes float up them. "I presumed these were your creation Tyriel and opened an upstairs window to let them out. The main entrance is closed and locked." Valinor says as he joins the two of you in the storage basement of the Treat. "I suppose it's appropriate that this is named a root cellar..." Valinor says with a smile as he looks around. The thick roots of the Treant spread wild down here and whether by nature or design the roots have been shaped to serve in place of cupboards and tables. Indeed it seems that only natural magic could bend a 4ft thick root to swirl around itself to create a highbacked chair and footstool next to a low bump with a curiously smoothed top, perfect for setting a cup of tea on.

Barrels of wine and ale are stacked in the walls like corks in a bottle, the roots gently wrapping around each holding it in place. Valinor leans against a wall and then springs off it and begins pacing back and forth. "The streets above are empty, as I said through your spell." He frowns and stops pacing to check his blade in its scabbard. "I've half a mind that's also due to some frightful weaving...but it's probably just their real fear. I cannot shake the feeling that there is more to come this day. What of your own intuitions?"

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel reaches up and caresses a root hanging down near the center of the cellar, infusing it with the warm glow of daylight, confident that his ward will keep the magical light from showing outside the confines of the basement. "The very moment this earthquake struck, new possibilities and avenues of investigation revealed themselves. Keep in mind that what I'm about to share is partly speculation, but if I'm right things may be far more dire than we originally thought...or perhaps less so, depending on your point of view."

"Let me begin by recounting the facts. The Eldreth Veluuthra are, in effect, a radical group of elven supremacists, and as such do not venerate any deities except for the Seldarine. Earthquakes such as the one experienced today are created through powerful divine magic. Throughout the long and bloody history of these Blades, never have their actions found favor with the Seldarine, and as such they have had no druids or clerics in their ranks."

Tyriel waits a moment to let this sink in before continuing. "This leads me to a few conclusions of which only one seems truly feasible, since I doubt our gods have suddenly decided to favor these murderers, and the Eldreth Veluuthra are unlikely to have sought non-elven aid."

"No, I think it far more likely that these attacks are being staged so that they appear to be the work of disgruntled elves. I fear some external power seeks to attack Cormanthor's unity, weakening her until we are unable to effectively defend ourselves or our neighbors. After all, we have no shortage of enemies."

"The wicked drow ever seek a way to wreak chaos upon we elves. Zhentil Keep has surely recovered from their attempt on Shadowdale during the Crusade, stronger than ever with the acquisition of Hillsfar. Have no doubt that Shade despises us, for with Cormyr still weak, we are the only great power keeping in check their desire to expand northward. And then there is always the possibility this is the doing of Malkizid or some remnant of the fey'ri."

He looks around the room, trying to gauge the reactions of the others to his theories. "Does it not seem possible? Should we not bring these concerns to the Coronal's attention? If nothing else they would give her diviners new avenues of inquiry, and would give us the oppurtunity to reach out to our allies among Eilistraee's faithful and Those Who Harp. Perhaps their agents could find what we have yet to."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"I would guess," Ayorra offers, "that if this location, of all the others in the labyrinth, requires a special guarded key to reach then it is likely important in some respect, particularly given that this place requires a key while the prison of a frozen abomination did not."

After observing her surroundings for a moment, the Hathran narrows her eyes and begins counting under her breath. She frowns, and with a note of concern in her voice continues, "Or perhaps we are only meant to think so, and this is in fact a trap of some kind. The walls appear to be closing in--and I do not mean that I am feeling claustrophobic. By approximately half an inch per second, if my estimate is accurate. We have a few minutes before we are in danger, so I would suggest that we analyze this area quickly to determine if there is anything of use here; your divination would come in handy for this, if it can show us an alternate route out of here towards the kiira. I will attempt to analyze this pocket plane for other magical properties while you do that."

Ayorra will cast analyze dweomer and start analyzing the gears and portal for a few rounds (six, if she can analyze "this wall" or "the floor" as an object, otherwise she'll just analyze a few of the largest gears) to see if she picks up anything interesting from them. While she does that, she'll start re-casting the buffs she lost so she's back at full strength.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth

"Oh. That's...quite clever, actually." Sydil says and hangs the crown on a loop on her belt then pulls out her pocket mirror again. "It won't show me the selu'kirra itself and we don't know what room it's in, but we do know it is somewhere in this labryinth. If we go through each room we should be in the right place eventually." She says and breathes on the mirror then draws a sigil upon the fogged surface. "Show me the path to exit the labryinth."

Your own divination reveals that the gears are not separate objects as the dweomer recognizes them. The gears on the floor, walls, and ceiling all are seamlessly connected and amazingly you discern no lingering conjuration auras. Whomever crafted this gigantic box of gears did so by hand though one magical aura remains. All of the gears take on a faint blue sheen when viewed with Mystra's aid and you recognize two familiar spells.

Sydil squints at the mirror and watches something within it but you see only her own face reflected. "Ah, yes. Of course." She says and floats over to one of the walls and stops a few feet from it. She glances back at the mirror and then gazes at the wall. "Here." She says and points to a gear about the size of your palm that is quite different than all the other gears in that this one isn't moving at all. If she wasn't pointing directly at the gear it would be difficult to pick out from the thousands of others. "That's the next portal key. We have to take it from the wall." She says and glances back to you. "I'm not sure what happens to the rest of the gears afterwards. The spell doesn't show that."

The spells detected on the gears are Shrink Item (Permanency'd) and Contingency.

Treants Treat

Valinor frowns at Tyriel and shakes his head. "There's too many unknowns to start looking everywhere for a threat." He says and then holds his hand up in peace. "I agree that our enemies are numerous and would use this time of troubles to spread further anguish, but there are others beyond the servants of the gods that could have cast that spell. Even here in Windsong Tower there are priests that have more in common with wizards than their fellows, learning their spells by rote each day." He says and turns up his palms as if he's sorry to disagree with you.

"An even simpler answer could be that some scoundrel read a divine missive that contained the prayer on parchment. What bothers me most about it is that the damage was confined to this district. Have you learned how that was accomplished?"

[The Great Skenardo]

Virodel
The half-elf considers the voice. Impulse. He supposed it had been. Something in his Way had compelled him to follow the elven magicians about, and now the result was something he would have to act upon.

"Interesting companions bring interesting times with them." He muses, aloud.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel acknowledges Valinor's reasoning with a nod. "It is true an exceptionally powerful archivist could summon an earthquake, and I'm sure the Coronal is already investigating those talented few whom reside in Cormanthor. I do not mean to suggest that we in any way lax our current investigations, just that we keep our allies informed of these new developments."

"As for how this magical attack was accomplished, that is another reason I thought to gather us here in private. A sufficiently powerful caster, someone on the same level as Mystra's Chosen perhaps, could have shaped earthquake magic to encompass so large and specific an area. High Magic could have crafted such a dweomer, or a deity's fulfillment of a petitioner's miracle. What's concerning is under most circumstances, the utilization of any of these methods should have been detectable by Lady Auglamyr, given her intimate connection with Mystra's Weave."

"During our efforts after the disaster struck, I found the spell's point of origin, which appears to be not too far above what remains of Six Tyryl Towers. It appears the spell was cast transdimensionally...that is to say that the caster evoked the effect not from the Material Prime, but rather from some coterminous plane of existence. The Ethereal and Shadow planes would be the most commonly utilized, but given what we all have been experiencing over the last several tendays, I'm inclined to suspect that Dream may have been the source."

Tyriel turns to Mithranix. "I understand that the Coronal dispatched other teams to investigate the nightmare that has been plaguing the kingdom. Do you know what, if any, progress has been made by these agents?"

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

Ayorra offers a silent word of congratulations to whomever built this magical gear contraption; it is some of the finest and most intricate construction she has seen. Aside from some of the Vodyanoi who have studied mystical crafting for their whole lives, of course, but then it wouldn't be fair of her to expect non-Rashemi to measure up to their standard.

"I would assume that the rest of the gears would rapidly try to occupy the same space, preferably with us in the middle. I doubt it would turn out well for us," the Hathran answers Sydil dryly. "There are traces of spells on the walls--specifically a shrinking item enchantment and a dormant ward--that is triggered by a means which I cannot identify, so we should be exceptionally careful when attempting to remove this gear. I could attempt to dispel the wards, but I am loath to do so without knowing the parameters of the contingent ward.

"Have you any spells that could remove the gear rapidly without interfering with its surroundings, such as by telekinesis or teleportation? If so, I will weave some wards around us and then you can attempt to remove it...and then we will trust to Mystra's favor to keep us from whatever harm the labyrinth designers intend for us."

Assuming Sydil has a spell prepared that will work, Ayorra will cast ironguard and indomitability on both of them to try to avoid being crushed to death and then Sydil can work her magic.

[Chambers]

Jalbaerth's Tower

The breeze snatches up your words and whisks them towards the heart of the city. A few moments later a sudden movement catches your eye and you see the swordsman reclining on the steps to the destroyed house. He waves a hand in lazy salute and grins. "I've always found interesting times to be worth their own cost. And new friends are always interesting." He says and springs up.

"You know who I am of course, but who will you be?" He asks as he walks towards you and slowly circles around you. "Mysterious swordsmen are all well and good for the peasants but we go to make merry with much more refined folk. A heavy hearted duelist with a troubled past? No, too overused." He says with one hand cupping his chin as he looks you up and down.

"A sellsword for whom gold has lost its luster, eager only for the next challenge? Bah. Those can be found in any tavern on the Sword Coast." He frowns and tilts his head, looking at you sideways for a moment. "No, that won't work either. If only you didn't look so much like an elf." He says and tsks. "Nothing wrong with being an elf, of course. It's just that given the recent events..." He trails off as if the implication should be obvious. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to improvise."

He unhooks his sheath from his belt and sketches a twisting diagram in the dirt with seven quick strokes. The lines don't appear to make any sort of pattern. "Step into my parlor, said the matron mother to her daughter." He says and offers his hand out to you.

Auantiver Labryinth

"If the gears do collapse I'm sure your abjurations will protect us. I'm not certain I'd like to find out what the designers intent was though..." She says and glances around the room as if expecting a gear to suddenly spring out at her. "I can call it forward, just as the crown." After floating back to where you entered the room she holds her left hand up, palm up and fingers curled as if clutching something. The unmoving gear rattles for a moment but doesn't leap free of the wall. At the same time a thunk can be heard, almost coming from behind the wall with the portal key gear and all the other gears in the room begin to spin faster as the room lurches closer together. Sydil keeps her hand frozen in mid-air as the gears maintain their new speed and looks at you. "I think it's stuck somehow. And did the room just...jump...closer to us?"

Current Rate: 5 ft³/1 min.
Current Dimensions: 35ft high by 25ft wide by 20ft long.
Treants Treat

Valinor furrows his brow. "Dream? Such a place truly exists?"

Mithranix shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "The Ambassador and Ar'faern Sydil left to investigate an old Cormyian ruin, supposedly where the selu'kiira of an ancient Ar'faern could be found. Some master of Dream magic. I have not heard from them since we parted but we agreed to dine together this evening and report our findings." He says and scowls. "Not that we have anything to share! That thief slipped away during the earthquake."

[Heavensfury]

"Indeed it does," Tyriel says in response to Valinor's inquiry, "though as elves our unconscious minds seldom visit the plane, as we take our rest in the Reverie. Yet another of the reasons the events of recent days are so...troubling." He grimaces inwardly thinking of how difficult it would be to search for clues within the tumultuous plane, half hoping his theory would be proven wrong.

"Nay, not a thief Mithranix, but an instigator. More importantly, one with an ego. He will be back, and it is our responsibility to be ready for him."

Tyriel looks to Valinor. "Our foe is utilizing his bardic skills to capitalize on this climate of fear. Master Silvenruth, I need you to use your oratory talents to comfort the people here. Open their eyes to this fiend's manipulations, so that he may return to a less receptive populace. It will be a challenge, but I can think of none better suited to the task."

"Brightstar, as leader of the Eternal Order you are well versed in strategic planning and have access to formidable resources. Can I trust you to find a way to trap or perhaps track the next troublemaker to make an appearance? As you say, we need answers."

"As for myself, I shall follow up on Aranel's report with what I've learned about the spell's source. Perhaps I can work with the Coronal's diviners to unravel a bit more of this mystery," Tyriel finds himself wondering if the Coronals other agents have run into trouble as well, "and learn if Mithranix's companions have made any progress or require aid. It goes without saying that if either of you run into trouble, I will come to your aid."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"Indeed it would seem so," Ayorra replies impassively. She studies the walls, noting their new speed and orientation. "If indirect methods are not effective, we may need to resort to a more direct approach." She doesn't even bother cursing her decision to leave her more martially-inclined companions behind, having resigned herself to it at this point.

"I have the ability to summon some creatures to attempt to pry out the gear, but that would require altering my prepared dweomers and I am reluctant to allow a creature to come into physical contact with it without knowing the function of the contingent ward on it. Do you have any other potential means of removing the gear aside from telekinesis?"

[Chambers]

Dane

The skies above Myth Drannor had always been a welcome escape for you and Aurixhysvear, one of the few places and times that let the two of you be with each other in Aurixhysvear's natural form that felt free and right. Two became one while soaring through the air and skimming above the tree tops but this last ride was far from peaceful. Recalled from your investigation into the murders Selkerdrim Ahskahala had little time to receive your report and the two of you joined two dozen other riders that leaped into the air to patrol the skies above the city. Dragons, hippogriff, and pegasi flew above the trees in expanding circles, watching and waiting for...something. Anything.

From high above you could see the devastation in its entirety and note the boundaries of the Dlabraddath district in a new and unsettling way. While Lady Ahskahala was busy in the palace with the other leaders of the city you and the rest of the riders patrolled over an uneasy city.

"No natural earthquake could make such a clear form." Aria remarked as you passed over the district. Your patrol was cut short by a message whispered to your ear. "Kerynsuoress Everson and Aurixhysvear, there was a small riot in Dlabraddath. The crowd has been dispered but I have other orders for two of my agents there. Please join with Tyriel Eldanon at the Treants Treat." As Aria banks and wings towards the great tree you see that the streets of the district have become deserted, those healed by Lady Auglamyr having retreated within what buildings are still standing.


Treants Treat

Mithranix nods. "We three did manage to find one who knew something about a relic of dream magic but -" Mithranix is cut off as the Coronals voice whispers behind each of your ears. "Greetings, ebrath. Brightstar, the Eternal Order has requested their General. Selkerdrim Elensear awaits you within the palace. Valinor Silvenruth, the Court Magi wish to speak with you regarding Sildëyuir at your earliest convenience. Tyriel, I am sending two of my agents to join you, Kerynsuoress Everson and Aurixhysvear." Valinor frowns and says "Strange, but I would not deny them their wishes. I shall leave at once."

Mithranix stands and says "I will go with you. 'Tis not safe to walk the streets alone, and Dane may tell you what little we learned. Safe travels, Tyriel." He says and looks towards Valinor. "Let's not keep the Magi waiting, right?" He says with a grin as Valinor lays a hand on Mithranix shoulder and the two of them disappear.

The cellar is quiet in their absence, the only sound a slow drip of water from one of the roots in the ceiling.

Auantiver Labryinth

"No...I can...ugh...get it out." Sydil says as she narrows her eyes and focuses on the spell. The gear shakes for a few moments as if straining against something and then it turns half a rotation and pops out, floating in the air next to the gear wall. Sydil immediately draws it towards her and holds it in her hand. As soon as the gear is free a high pitched screeching is heard from all around you as every single other gear in the wall grinds to a halt. Your ears ring from the sound but the room has stopped shrinking.

Sydil glances around at the gears and takes out her mirror, looking at the reflection over her shoulder. "Ah, close." She says and takes a small step back at which point the portal flares to life behind you both. The portal shows the lanceboard that Sydil saw earlier before you both entered the labryinth. Life sized chessmen stand on a checkered board strewn with piles of bones. The figures look to be cut from stone and resemble humans dressed and armed in an antique fashion, presumably popular with Cormyr nobles when the labryinth was created. Of the twenty pieces that should be there only five remain; the black king with two pawns in attendance and the white king with only a sole knight-errant in service.

The lanceboard is surrounded by high walls, above those many tiers of empty seats as if the board were the center of a colosseum. Seen from your angle through the portal there are no gates or barred doors along the walls of the arena. Sydil raises an eyebrow and turns towards you. "I don't particularly wish to go there...but more importantly I don't wish to stay here."

Chess Puzzle!

{table]White|Black|White|Black|Knight (W)|Black|White|Black
Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)|Black
Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)
White|Black|White|Black|White|King (W)|White|King (B)
Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
[/table]

[userpay]

"Certainly not..." While Dane was not an expert with stone and earth he did have some small knowledge from hollowing out the pairs lair. "And rioting in the streets despite a Chosen of Mystra's assistance? That smacks of something more as well. A pity we couldn't have moved in sooner to assist but orders are orders." The duo float gently towards the Treants Treat upon Aria's sure wings, alighting near the door with hardly a sound. As Aria shifts back into her half-elf form Dane changes his lance back into its longsword form and sheaths it with a click. Set they approach the Treants Treat and enter, Dane mildly surprised at the lack of people. "Hail and well met."

Assuming I was in the air and saw all the spellfire.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel sighs in exasperation. If chaos was the goal of whomever unleashed the earthquake spell, then they did quite well. Even the agents of the Coronal herself were being constantly shuffled around in response to this threat. "Good luck friends, keep me informed of any new developments, eh?" he says with a wave as Mithranix and Valinor depart.

Kerynsuoress Everson and Aurixhysvear he thinks to himself, trying to put faces to the names. He doesn't have long to ponder before a disembodied eye zips down the cellar stairs and hovers impatiently at his side. Tyriel absently reaches out with a hand into which the eye settles, glowing faintly as it replays the scene of a gold dragon and her rider alighting by the Treat. "Ah, of course" he says with a smile, hurrying up the stairs to meet them at the entryway.

"Hail and well met Ruathar Dane and Lady Aria, it has been a while, has it not? I would say this is better than when last we met, fighting together in the skies above Myth Drannor, but well..." he trails off, looking out the door to the broken buildings and empty streets.

[userpay]

"Indeed though I suppose it would depend on the perspective of a outside viewer." Dane says with a small, sad smile. "Where is everyone anyway? I have news that will hopefully be of use assuming the source can be trusted." He and Aria continue down the stairs and turn once more to Tyriel when the reach the bottom. "Bah well I suppose it cannot be helped that we're all not together, best to let the information be known in case we are split again and meet with the others. An item of some assumed power, one that may be what we are looking for as it was described as a head accessory, was stolen from a collection in Waterdeep by a band of sun elves. Furthermore from our sources description they may be attempting a journey that is not a physical journey soon if they haven't already... And that is all we have as that earthquake was ill timed."

[Heavensfury]

"I'm afraid Aranel Falassion has gone to report matters to the Coronal, and Valinor Silvenruth has been summoned by the Court Magi. Mithranix the Brightstar was here briefly to put down the insurrection, but has since been called back to his Order." Tyriel shrugs apologetically. "I'm afraid that for the time being it is just you and I."

Settling back into his impromptu seat within the Treat's cellar, he listens attentively to the information Dane shares. "A journey that is not a physical journey? Sounds like Astral Projection to me, powerful magic. This news fits with what I've learned about today's earthquake, for it appears the spell originated from some coterminous plane of existence. I'm guessing Dream, but I will need the services of a skilled diviner before that can be confirmed. Any recommendations?"

Tyriel purses his lips as he ponders his next move, then shoots Dane and Aria an inquisitive look. "Aren't there some friends of yours off looking for the artifact, the selu'kiira, that you believe this group of Ar’Tel'Quessir have already obtained?"

[userpay]

Dane and Aria both shrug. "I believe it was mentioned that they were going to try and follow a lead but we left before they actually set out. As to divination to confirm we do not have any magic ourselves that can assist in that manner. Who might though..."

I guess I'll make some knowledge checks to try and think of someone who would be sympathetic to us and assist?
Dane
Religion [roll0]
Nobility and Royalty [roll1]

Aria
Religion [roll2]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"Well done, Sydil," Ayorra compliments her companion approvingly as the elf removes the gear, "and not a moment too soon." Pausing to study the lanceboard and its surroundings for a moment, Ayorra is forced to agree with Sydil's assessment: "Nor do I wish to go there, for that arena seems to be such an obvious trap that even the youngest berserker initiate of my people could not fail to notice the ambush. A chess match...so unsubtle, and such a Cormyrean choice," she adds with more than a hint of disdain. "Yet go there we must, as it is the only way forward; we can only pray that the puzzle presented is an honest one and not one that will kill us if we even attempt to solve it."

The Hathran reaches into her robes and traces a complex gesture with her finger against a particular pocket. It shudders, and with a pop of displaced air a raven appears on her shoulder and makes a short avian bow. "Ayorra, my love," it caws cheerfully, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" Stroking its head with one finger, Ayorra smiles under her mask and replies, "You know I hate to place you in danger, my love, but I will require your assistance with this." She motions to the chessboard, and while the raven looks it over she explains to Sydil, "This is my husband, Taladrik. No, I have not married a familiar; my love was slain by the thrice-damned Thayans many years ago, and I have performed a ritual to bind an echo of him to me as a telthor until he can be properly resurrected. I never particularly enjoyed chess and he was always more tactically-minded than I, so hopefully he will be able to advise us regarding this puzzle."

With that, she motions for Sydil to join her as she steps through the portal and walks toward the lanceboard.

Yay, chess puzzles, my favorite! :smallwink:

I assume the entrances will seal dramatically and the two of them will be directed to win the game as white in a certain number of moves?

[Heavensfury]

"Mithranix mentioned that they went to investigate an old ruin somewhere within Cormyr. Given the events of the day, I think it would be wise to dispatch a sending to check on their progress and inform them of what has happened. We'll need a diviner who is not only skilled, but also trustworthy in these uncertain times."

Recent memories of a wise and elderly halfing float to the surface of Tyriel's thoughts. "If they have not yet departed the city, I think the mages of Six Tyryl Towers might be willing to aid us in this. Few would harbor a greater desire for justice in this than they."

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Lanceboard

Sydil bows her head to your husband. "I am Ar'faern Sydil, of Windsong Tower. Well met, ebrath." follows you through the portal. As you've come to expect it vanishes behind you and the two of you stand ankle deep in the broken bones that cover the lanceboard. Sydil glances over her shoulder and sighs. "I'd hope that it would have stayed around, at least one time."

The giant sized lanceboard is in the middle of a small coliseum, the sandstone walls around the arena 20ft high with two dozen rows of empty stone seats that ring the arena. The ceiling seems to be made of the same stone, the whole place lit up by torches that burn in sconces around the walls. Sydil holds up her mirror and slowly turns in a circle. "Everburning, most likely." She nods towards the knight statue. "The dweomer shows me pushing him over...there." she says and points to a square before turning back to you. "It seems simple enough, so I'm worried about what happens afterwards."

Your husband bobs his head. "I see stone statues intact and real bones broken. I don't see broken statues, nor discarded armor or weapons."

Proposed moved: Knight to f6.

{table]*|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H
8|White|Black|White|Black|Knight (W)|Black|White|Black
7|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
6|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)|Black
5|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
4|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
3|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)
2|White|Black|White|Black|White|King (W)|White|King (B)
1|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
[/table]

{table]*|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H
8|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
7|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
6|White|Black|White|Black|White|Knight (W)|Pawn (B)|Black
5|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
4|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
3|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)
2|White|Black|White|Black|White|King (W)|White|King (B)
1|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
[/table]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labryinth

"We can only pray that the magic of the labyrinth repairs the pieces after a battle," Ayorra responds to Taladrik, "for the alternative, that these statues are nigh-indestructible, is...worrying."

She ponders the board for a moment, but no better alternative presents itself to her; she was always a better strategist than a tactician. "I see no other option, my love; we shall trust to Mystra's favor and to your judgment. Hopefully this first move is indeed as simple as it appears, and the difficulties will arise later. Sydil, if you would...?"

[userpay]

Dane looks up from his musing at Tyriel. "Do you have someone close by in mind? If so then let us depart to find them. I've some other leads if it doesn't pan out for us to act on."

[Heavensfury]

"I would assume Master Filthrip and his associates are still shifting through the remains of their school for personal affects and any undamaged arcane paraphernalia. It's just a short walk away, and it surely wouldn't hurt for our citizens to see agents of their Coronal patrolling the streets." Smiling, Tyriel gestures for Dane and Aria to precede him up the stairs and out of the Treat, making sure the building is locked up tight before departing.

During the brief walk to Six Tyryl Towers, Tyriel strikes up a pleasant conversation with his newest companions, all the while going over in his head what he knows of Dream, namely what creatures and societies inhabit the chaotic plane, as well as what deities may be associated with the place.


Knowledge (planes) 1d20+23

Knowledge (religion) 1d20+23

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Lanceboard

Sydil nods. "Of course." After checking the mirror once more she raises her hand and extends two fingers, drawing a slow circle in the air. The knight statue slides across the chessboard pushing bones aside and leaving a white smear of dust behind it. It stops next to one of the two black stone peasants and moments later the peasant slides forward itself.

Sydil glances around the room and then into her mirror. "Well...that went good. The next move is to place the knight in front of the peasant."

Currently:

{table]*|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H
8|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
7|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
6|White|Black|White|Black|White|Knight (W)|White|Black
5|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Pawn (B)|White
4|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
3|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)
2|White|Black|White|Black|White|King (W)|White|King (B)
1|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
[/table]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labyrinth

Taladrik tilts his head and carefully examines the board with one beady raven eye. "That move should be safe one, but afterwards there is the potential for stalemate. We must be cautious; a stalemate is better than a loss for us, my love, but I'm not sure how those statues would react." Ayorra nods to Sydil that she's fine with the move if Taladrik is.

[Chambers]

Auantiver Labryinth - Lanceboard

Sydil reaches out with her telekinetic grasp and slides the knight sans horse around and in front of the peasant. A loud gong sounds from deep underground and shakes the room, sending the piles of bones skittering across the checkered board. Sydil looks surprised and starts to speak but holds as the black stone king slides away from the knight into the corner.

"A warning, perhaps?" Sydil says and checks her mirror. "Our king moves next, same column, bottom row."

Currently:

{table]*|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H
8|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
7|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White
6|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black
5|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Pawn (B)|White
4|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Knight (W)|Black
3|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|Pawn (B)
2|White|Black|White|Black|White|King (W)|White|Black
1|Black|White|Black|White|Black|White|Black|King (B)
[/table]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Auantiver Labyrinth

Ayorra nods at Sydil. "The divination has not led us wrong yet, so--" Taladrik, however, raises a wing in warning before Sydil can act and caws, "Wait!" Ayorra looks at him silently, an eyebrow raised quizzically behind her mask which he cannot see but knows is there after their many years together, and he explains, "This is too simple. If we move our knight there, the only enemy piece able to move is the nearer peasant, at which point we move the knight next to our king and achieve checkmate by boxing the enemy king in with his own piece. Even a lanceboard novice should be able to solve this puzzle--you protest your lack of skill, my love, but even only knowing the rules of the game and no common strategies I am sure you could figure this out quickly on your own.

"The question then becomes, are we certain that winning this game is the correct approach, particularly given the warning knell that we just heard? Yes, the Ar'faern's divination is guiding us that way, but if I were to construct a puzzle trap, I would use my enemy's wits against him and cause the trap to trigger if they succeeded in solving the puzzle; remember the way we tricked the Red Wizards in their sortie in the Year of the Bloodbird. A checkmate could open a new portal on the other side of the board while animating all the pieces to attack us, or worse...which technically leads us to the right path according to the divination's instructions, but places us in grave danger nonetheless."

The hathran nods slowly as she considers her familiar's warning. "An excellent point, my love." To Sydil, she continues, "Let us not move the next piece quite yet. Further precautions are in order." Ayorra steps forward and begins chanting prayers softly as she examines the room more closely.

I'm not sure exactly how much time has passed as they went through the past few rooms, but I'm assuming Ayorra's buffs and her analyze dweomer are still running. If not, she'll re-cast any that have lapsed and then analyze the chessboard, one of the walls, and one of the chess pieces looking for any contingencies, anti-divination wards, or other tricky stuff that might signal an imminent trap or that might be interfering with the find the path somehow.

Assuming she doesn't find anything that would make checkmating the black king a bad idea, she'll get back to approving Sydil's moves. If the next black move is pawn to H2, the suggested move is knight to F2, and there are no other obvious warning signs, she'll approve that move, otherwise she'll talk things over with Taladrik.