Apocalypse 4 Horsemen Game IC

[FyreByrd]

In character Thread for Apocalypse

OOC Thread Here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=268264)



@WAR:

His blades flashed back and forth, the foes falling like chaff seperated from wheat. The war wasn't about anything anymore, the time for reasons was long past. The two sides clashed again, fighting an unending battle for never-ending reasons, blades tore at faces, limbs were struck from bodies, and all above all the scent of rotting flesh...the smell of the battlefield. Frevor Fiulfr paused for a moment, dashing the cloying blood from his blades, and his eyesight. This was what he loved, War for no other reason than for War itself. This was what he lived for what his purpose was. Another foe came at him, snarling more to give itself confidence than to scare Fiulfr. When the charge came Fiulfr was ready for it, springing aside, he turned in mid-air, both blades swinging down to intersect his luckless opponent.

Then he heard the call.

It struck him like a blade straight into his heart, something that he'd felt many times. He doubled over, his swords dropping, the blow to his opponent never landing. He staggered to his feet, and through hazy vision ripped his opponents throat out with his teeth, as he turned for another attack. Then once more falling to his knees, Fiulfr spat up blood. He had never experienced this before, yet he knew exactly what it was...he had never been told, none of them had, yet he knew...it was the call. His heart racing, the pain receding he staggered to his feet, and with a seconds concentration, opened the portal back to the demi-plane, and he stepped through the blue corridor.

He had heard the call...The Apocalypse was nigh...it was time to ride...




@MADNESS:

The sanitarium was a dark, souless place, filled with echoes and gut wrenching cries. However in one room, there was colour, one room there was brightness, in one room there was hope. It was called the flower room, and it was where Lily lived. Except here, and now Lily was not here, she alone of the patients, the inmates came and left as she pleased, and as the quivering, twitching, muttering three came to the flower room, there was no-one but the blooms there.

Some people like to destroy things just for the noise it makes, some people don't need a reason. These three may have had a reason, but what it was...no-one could guess, yet destroy they could, and destroy they did. The petals were ripped and torn from stems, the cold ground of the room, was covered in upset dirt, and the remains of flowers. They giggled, insanely as they trashed the room, unaware, that they were being observed.

They never knew what hit them, the one on the left, the large one with mishappen hands, and an even more mishappen mind crumpled to the ground, his mind turned off in an instant. The other two turned to see their aggressor, but it was too late, and their bodies hit the ground with a much more satisfying thud then the flowers had. Lily was expressionless as she stalked amongst the blooms, justice had been done.

Then she heard the call.

A bright bolt of pain lanced through her mind...through HER mind, tearing at her nerves, shredding her will. She fell to her knees gibbering madly, all control lost. The room shook as her mental energy seeped from her skull, an invader striking at her most treasured possession. Her fingers bled as she scratched them across the surface of the cold stone floor. She had never experienced this before, yet she knew exactly what it was...she had never been told, none of them had, yet she knew...it was the call. Her heart racing, the pain receding, she staggered to his feet, and with a seconds concentration, opened the portal back to the demi-plane, and she stepped through the blue corridor.

She had heard the call...The Apocalypse was nigh...it was time to ride...



@PESTILENCE:

The forest was cool, and dark, peaceful as only wilderness can be, and unbelievably beautiful. The soil was soft beneath his feet, the dappled sunlight made colours dance over fallen leaves. Birds, and unidentified small creatures made small noises that didn't disturb the quiet, but in some unknown way, added to it.

Corion sat in the midst of peace, and thought of destruction. Imagine a bird, a hawk with sharp eyes, flying high above the forest, this is what they would see: A figure sat in the midst of a forest, as time moved on, second by second, a ring would push outwards from the figure, a ring of death. Slowly but surely, all around the figure leaves turned brown, flowers died, animals ran, the ground turned to ash, foot by foot the circle widened, destruction in it's wake. As Corion watched, his power grew, the forest no longer cool, and dark, no longer peaceful, no longer beautiful.

Then he heard the call.

He coughed, loudly, suddenly, explosive in the quiet. As he brought up his hand to meet his mouth his eyes saw many legions appearing on his skin, covering it's translucence with solid colour, pink's and greens. His breath caught in his throat, and his limbs felt heavy. He gasped for air, and the gasp came out in another explosive cough. He had never experienced this before, yet he knew exactly what it was...he had never been told, none of them had, yet he knew...it was the call. His heart racing, the pain receding he staggered to his feet, and with a seconds concentration, opened the portal back to the demi-plane, and he stepped through the blue corridor.

He had heard the call...The Apocalypse was nigh...it was time to ride...



@DEATH:

Death comes to everyone, the dreaded, yet sometimes wished for relief from corporeal existence. Makaira looked dispassionaltey down at the boy. He had fought, he had tried, his whole life had been a struggle against the hand fate dealt him. Many would have given in long, long before, but he hadn't, he had fought all the way, and now he, like everyone else, was dead. She slid her scythe back behind her, glancing at the gaping wound in his chest. It had been quick, and merciful, like it always was.

Then she heard the call.

Death comes to all, and as Makaira watched a shadowy figure appeared in front of her, bone like finger pointing to her heart. The word's weren't spoken, but seemed to cleave straight to her mind without that tedious business of sound-waves. The words were, “You're next!” Her scythe was in her hands in an instant, and the blade whistled through the air striking though the nothing that was there. The figure was gone, but its laugh, deep, hollow, and empty remained. She had never experienced this before, yet he knew exactly what it was...he had never been told, none of them had, yet he knew...it was the call. His heart racing, the pain receding he staggered to his feet, and with a seconds concentration, opened the portal back to the demi-plane, and he stepped through the blue corridor.

He had heard the call...The Apocalypse was nigh...it was time to ride...



The four portals opened at almost the same time. Makaira, Corion, Mishpatili, and Fiulfr stepped into the conference chamber. Death, Pestilence, Madness, and War, the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. It had been months since they had seen each other, years since they had been all four in the same room, yet they knew without speaking what had happened. They had heard the call. The Apocalypse was nigh...It was time to ride...else the multi-verse would be destroyed, and everything that had ever existed would never have existed.


Ooc:

So you are all on the demi-plane of the four horsemen. Whenever you plane-shift back here, you always arrive in the conference chamber. This is a safe(at least at the moment) place for you to recharge your batteries etc.
Map:

https://dl.dropbox.com/u/72064128/dnd/apoc/demiPlane1.jpg

Notes:
This map isn't great...but in-combat maps will be better!
Each square is 5ft. The conference room is effectively a big room with a large table in the centre of it, with four chairs. The whole of the demi-plane has a gothic look to it. Any more details you need just ask.

You each have a room, with whatever pointless furniture you need, if you sleep you have a bed etc...The evergrowing forest whatever gets down to it (Mister Blighter deforestation) will always re-grow once every 24 hours due to a special spell I'm calling “Because the DM says so”. Your horses are all in the stable. The butler is a strange planar being that looks after your demi-plane. He will buy from you, and sell to you, and if you want anything added to/changed about the demi-plane he can help. He may also give advice or rumours at times. (basically, you as the horsemen probably can't walk into a pub ask to buy their shiny sticks, and get any rumours from the barman, the butler covers that role)


You have heard the call, you know the apocalypse is nigh...but that's about it, you know nothing more, so the first order of business would be to find out more. Knowledge checks, asking pertinent questions of both the butler, and anyone else on other planes are possible good starting points.

Be aware that the general population of most planes have the sense that the end is coming, they are not going to be welcoming of the four entities that they believe usher in the end, you may find resistance from many of the common people. Equally just as much as you are fighting those that are causing the end of the world. There are other parties of heroes abroad, that believe they are doing the same thing...and you will be assumed to be part of the problem, not the cure.

So go save the multi-verse....if you can!

[Ajadea]

A rush of blue and she was there.

Knowledge, unbidden and cold, streamed through her mind. There was a clarity in her thoughts, as ghosts of ghosts strode through the hall, as she floated to the center of the hall to await the arrival of the others. How many others had heard this call, in their time, as she did now? How many others, how many fragments of these four unchanging forces had ridden out to halt the passing of the universe, that they may not be trapped, without identity and purpose, in the lingering corpse of a universe that had never been? Death could not be evaded, only forestalled, and she found a touch of irony in the fact that in the end, she too had something she wished to, had to, save at all costs.

But Death was the end of Life, and Life was a bit difficult to have without a Universe to have it in. In a looming hall, Makaira floats, cloak rippling in a non-existent wind. She is waiting.

[Keynub]

Dead leaves flew through the portal into the room, announcing the arrival of Corion.

He knew why he was to come back here; as the call brought him to his knees, he had the vision of the whole of creation stretching, shrinking, and devolving into nothingness. He had prolonged his life, fighting his disease for all of his short existence, and if the world came to an end right now, it would have been for nothing. He still had to spread his vision. For the world to be filled with disease, there needed to be a world to begin with; and if he was to be the herald of a new, plague-ridden era, he first had to take a part in its salvation. He had seen and understood it all in a fraction of a second, and stepped through the door without a moment's thought.

He was temporarily blinded by the blue light; when he opened his eyes, the conference room surrounded him, only attended by the pale figure of an intangible woman.

"Makaira. We haven't met in a while; though I suspect, for you, it must have felt just as long as the blink of an eye."

[Amoren]

War stepped forth from his battlefield, garbed in the familiar light armor and pair of blades he had worn since he first manifested on this demi-plane, complete with the familiar arcane spells which rippled and thummed across his form. War's armor, the dark, seething image of translucent full plate which pulsed with the drumming beat of war. For a moment his strong figure stepped out of the portal, every bit of imposing stature he could summon as he strode towards the conference room... Only to stammer at the last few steps as his hand came to his chair of the central table, the effects of his summons still affecting his body. After all, the call of an entire universe fighting for existence, struggling for survival, was a mighty call to the aspect of War and Conflict.

The lupine creature's eyes briefly scanned across the room, seeing with his arcane and keen sight as he appraised his two companions, quickly appraising them as he usually did whenever he saw them in the past – memories, ancient memories, of his life as a general stirring in his mind. He had given that look to many a man when he still lived on Toril.

“So,” the wolf finally spoke as his muscles clenched, shaking off the last effects of the Call so that he could once more stand on those digitigrade legs. “It seems like we've finally been called together to perform our duty.”

[raspberrybadger]

As the portal opens, a thought comes unbidden, unwanted, that there is something above and beyond the horsemen which she should really understand, but doesn't. She pushes that thought aside with the ease of long practice, and steps into her home away from home. As she does, she sheds her mortal guise, and becomes again Mishpatili, angel of light, archon of humility, one of the Horsemen.

Looking around she sees the other three already here, as it is supposed to be. Her mind snapping into her current role as if it has always been this way, she says ""What do we know? Or, if we are not that far yet, whose mind has the information we need?" In a softer voice leavened with just a hint of irony, she adds "For me, that usually amounts to the same thing in the end."

With that, she waits to see what the others will add, while the back of her mind tries to find a good starting point.

ooc:
Planes likely to have competent diviners or scholars,
Knowlege Planes: [roll0]

Roughly what happened the last time a crisis like this was averted, Knowledge History: [roll1]

How people figured out what was going on last time,
Knowledge History: [roll2]

[Amoren]

The Highlord gave a small, toothy grin at the familiar apparition of Madness, taking the form of an angel. In some perverse way, it played to his satisfaction of having 'two' of the good celestial as horseman. Still, he soon silenced his grin and opened his arms in a wide shrug. "As far as I'm aware, nothing. I was going to suggest we either start with asking what our... friend in the other room has gathered in his contact with the mortal planes. As well as offer my recommendation to rip any creature from the planes here to... kindly... interrogate."


Likewise making some rolls. Arcane to try and figure out, at least from a magical perspective, how the Apocalypse is being accomplished (or anything else that check might bring relevant), and planes to figure out key locations that might figure into its design.

Arcane: [roll0]
Planes: [roll1]

[Ajadea]

Makaira inclines her head. "Corion. Frevor. Mishpatili." Her voice is hollow and thin, unlike the ringing tones of her companions, and sounds as though she is speaking from very far off. Which is probably true, in some sort of metaphysical or interplanar way. "These happenings of course cannot be ignored, no matter how simple-minded the individual." The most recent raven pauses in his aimless scratching of the table's engravings to shoot a glare at Makaira. "But perhaps we might give the enchanters and diviners of the mortal world a moment to find what they are looking for before we ask them what they have seen?" she comments in an amused tone.

"In the meantime, one might consider asking a more direct source." From somewhere in the depths of her shimmering black robe, she pulls out a thin ebony tube. "One of the deities, perhaps. I'm sure one of them might know something about what is occurring now, if not the cause of this... disturbance."


Knowledge: The Planes [roll0] Based on planar arrangements, where are the major effects of the apocalypse going to be felt first?
Knowledge: History [roll1] What happened last time something of this nature occurred?
Lore [roll2] What is supposed to happen, this time?

[Keynub]

"I am afraid I cannot help you in this task. You have been in this universe for so much longer than I have, there is nothing I could know that you wouldn't already be aware of, save for the customs and the lore of my own people. I will trust your judgment."

[FyreByrd]

@Madness:

Knowledge Checks results:

You search your knowledge and memory, trying to recall where you have heard of highly skilled diviners, and you seem to recall that there is a secretive guild of scholars dedicated to the end of the world in the City of Naish, on the plane of Tar'elsha. You also remember hearing a rumour of some form of mystical Oracle. There are many other diviners, and similar accross the planes, however these two are the most useful sources, that you know of.

While you don't know much about what happened the last time the multi-verse was in this sort of danger, you do remember hearing that a party of unlikely heroes banded together to fight something called Pandorym, meeting this entity in a climatic battle, that decimated the plane of Farsh, their battleground, leaving it a lifeless, dangerous husk.



@War:

Knowledge Results:
You can remember nothing that particularly guides you in anyway to pinpoint, either where or what the apocalypse shall be. However your knowledge of magic suggests that either there would have to be something completely alien to the planes themselves, as even a God could not destroy the multiverse, or an incredibly powerful mage, or group of mages must be responsible. The only way you know of being able to destroy the multi-verse would be to somehow destroy the linkages that hold the planes in place, disrupting the very fabric of creation.



@Death:


Knowledge check results:
After searching your remarkable memory, and store of knowledge you cannot identify a likely place where the first effects would be seen of the apocalypse, however you do know that as the Horsemen, you are likely to be among the first to know...this gives you a headstart...but who knows how long a headstart.

You memory prompts you to remember that nearly 4000 years ago, a psionic being of utter annilihation called Pandorym was released from a planar prison by a fool called Lucather. A party of unlikely heroes, warned by their church that the evil was awakening set forth to foil the plot. After a long and difficult quest finding out all the information needed to destroy the being, the party met the beast on the plane of Farsh. After the climactic battle both the party and Pandorym were destroyed, ripping apart the plane in it's death throes.

You have no real knowledge over what may happen in this apocalypse...all you do know is that it is unlikely that it will take the same form as the last.




ooc:

I'm not going to say whether or not communing with a God will work, if you wish to try it you may...even if it does not work, you may get further information from the attempt.

if you do not recognise some of the Planes names, that is because they are homebrew! A simple Know(The Planes) check can tell you more info about any particular plane you hear about (some are important...others not so much)

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili turns to each speaker in turn, allowing a look of distaste and disbelief to colour her features when Fiulfr speaks of torture (or so she takes him), respectful attention when Makaira speaks, and the merest lifting of the eyebrows when Corion speaks. With the others having spoken, she lowers her head and replies to Makaira in a soft voice:

"I think you have the right of it. However, contacting any of the divine will, I think, need to be your work - I can only contact those I have seen before, though I can do that from anywhere.

If that avails not though, we may wish to use our head start to begin work on the plane of Tar'elsha. The scholars there, in the city of Naish, may be able to help, but if we don't wish to approach them directly, then we would need to convince others to act for us - and that may take as much time as our head start. The need to act through intermediaries applies doubly, I fear, if we were to seek the Oracle."

[Amoren]

"We could give the scroll a try, at worst it'll only take a bit of our time... But a thought also occurs to me," the warrior spoke, nodding towards Mishpatili as she spoke. "It seems to me the most likely way for the Apocalypse to occur will be by severing the connections and balances between the planes. If that's the case, the Spire - and specifically Sigil would be a likely place for this to occur. However, this is only a thought on my part - and I'll also be able to enlist the aide of any creature I summon to hopefully investigate that area while we turn our attention elsewhere, hopefully to more evidence backed ends."

[Ajadea]

"The last time an event of this magnitude occurred, an entire plane was destroyed. Things of a similar nature may occur once more," Makaira muses. "Particularly if your hypothesis is correct, Frevor."

She removes the scroll from its casing and unrolls it in front of her, exposing sigils and glyphs written meticulously in silver-flecked black ink. "If you have any questions you wish to ask the gods, tell me now what they are. I have no doubt they are occupied with the terror of their followers, but it should not be a hardship for one of them to spare a few moments for us."

Makaira lifts her head, looking into the distance. She begins to chant the words of the spell. "Qeigief terng naq fzay urnezvar ioipe naq yvstra..." Under her translucent fingers, you can see the ink fading away, leaving only blank pages behind.


Casting commune.
No, seriously. If you have any questions to ask the big guys, ask them now.
The words are about 60% ROT13, with the rest being the actual letters in the sentence I fed into the cypher program.

[Keynub]

"And who exactly is it you are contacting?" Corion says, a skeptical look on his face. "Regardless, it would be of use to know whether the scholars Mishpatili mentioned know of our existence, or our purpose, if we are to go and meet them. But I doubt your queries will be heard, let alone answered."


Don't you choose the deity contacted by Commune, since you don't have a patron deity yourself?

[Ajadea]

Makaira does not cease chanting her spell, but she does take a moment to glance at Corion and shake her head ever so slightly. She then returns her full attention to the scroll in front of her and the magic within it.


A cleric of no particular deity contacts a philosophically allied deity.

So probably Wee Jas or whatever the setting's equivalent is. There might be more than one deity that shares Makaira's basic belief that death is natural and should not be needlessly prolonged, in which case it's more or less a crapshoot between any of them.

And of course, given the impending end of the multiverse, it's entirely possible that she could end up calling upon anyone, just because magic related to the gods might be working a little oddly right now. This latter reason would be why Makaira isn't sure who she'll be getting - she doesn't know how the gods are being affected by the apocalypse.

[Amoren]

"I have no particular questions to ask," the spell-knight responded, his frame idly leaning against the chair once again while his arms crossed over his chest. His eldritch eyes staring intently as she cast her spell from the scroll, paying attention to how the magic was weaved just in case anything unusual showed itself.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili was going to let Makaira run this, it being her spell and all, but it looks like she'll have to come up with the questions. This really is not her preferred way of doing things, but it could be important, so she asks what to her are the obvious questions, saying "With the understanding that it's up to your discretion if these still make sense...", then trails off briefly before continuing with the questions:

"Do you know what is causing the impending end of the planes?"

"Are you able and willing to help us in the matter of the impending end?"

"Do the scholars of Naish on Tar'elsha have the information we need to stop the impending end?"

"Does the Oracle have the information we need about the impending end?"

"If that's a yes, 'What plane is the Oracle on?', if we can ask that."

"Would investigating Sigil tell us what we need to know to stop the impending end?"

"If it's allowed, 'What's the name of the most important plane to investigate to stop the impending end?'"

"Will the impending end be caused by the release of some thinking being?"

"Will the impending end be caused by the release of some unthinking being?"

"Will the impending end be caused by the work of mortal spellcasters?"

[FyreByrd]

As the spell nears completion, a greyish cloud of mist appears at the southern end of the conference hall. Spots of bluish-grey light flicker in and out of the mist, before gradually fading. The mist itself doesn't seem to dissapate, rather in fades into the background as something steps through.

The figure that steps through the mist, is slightly translucent, obviously not really there at all, yet still it's very presence dominates the room. It's tall around 12 foot high, and broad accross the shoulder. It's mighty frame is a dark rusty red colour, and is pitted with scars, and marks of battle. you estimate it must weigh over 4000lb yet still it has a large pair of batwings, that could not possibly allow it to fly based only on the laws of physics. It's imposing head leers at you, and it is a leer, it's small orange eyes focusing on Makaira, it's twin horns pointing directly at the elven Ghost.

ooc:
I'm going to answer the questions posed by Madness





"Do you know what is causing the impending end of the planes?"


"Yes" the beast replies, in a seemingly quite bored voice.



"Are you able and willing to help us in the matter of the impending end?"


"No!" it replies, a broad smile on it's face.



"Do the scholars of Naish on Tar'elsha have the information we need to stop the impending end?"


The beast looks a little surprised for a moment as if you've mentioned something it hadn't thought of, "Yes," he eventually replies, then continues, "But not for long...", it's casual cleaning of one of it's long claws leaves you with no question what is likely to happen to the scholars soon.



"Does the Oracle have the information we need about the impending end?"


"Unsure", the beast replies.



"If that's a yes, 'What plane is the Oracle on?', if we can ask that."


ooc:
That's a non-legal question, however the oracle is such a widely held belief, that the butler, or anyone of a reasonable intellect (or even a decent know(the planes) check) would be able to tell you that



"Would investigating Sigil tell us what we need to know to stop the impending end?"


"No", the beast replies, obviously becoming bored with this game now.


"If it's allowed, 'What's the name of the most important plane to investigate to stop the impending end?'"


"Unsure." the beast replies.



"Will the impending end be caused by the release of some thinking being?"


"In part." the beast replies, a wide grin on his face.



"Will the impending end be caused by the release of some unthinking being?"


"In part." the beast says again, the grin growing even wider.



"Will the impending end be caused by the work of mortal spellcasters?"


The beasts seems to choke for a moment, until you realise that the hoarse coughing is actually a laugh, "In part." he replies once he has recovered.


@All

You all sense fairly strongly, that this is neither Wee Jas, or one of her surrogates, in fact you are fairly sure this is a beast from the Abyss...something is very wrong here.


ooc:
The beast hasn't left yet, just in case you wish to ask another question or so

[Amoren]

Frevor seemed to frown as the creature answered the questions asked of it, eventually prompting him to walk forward, a hand idly resting on the hilt of one of his swords. "Ask if it, or a force under its command, would be responsible for the time limit on reaching the scholars."

[Keynub]

Upon the apparition of the creature, Corion instinctively takes a step backwards. He listens intently to the dialogue, and when the beast is done, asks :
"Are the scholars of Naish in immediate and grave danger?"
Having an afterthought, he specifies : "Assume 'immediate' means 'within the next hour'."


Obviously, the beast shouldn't answer to anyone but Makaira, but Corion doesn't know that.

[Ajadea]

The spell makes a connection with the outer planes. There is a slightest hint of unfamiliarity, and then the fiend steps through. "You don't look like one a' them gods she talks to," Thanatos croaks out in passable Elven. Makaira barely notices the activity of her raven and silently allows Mishpatili to ask the questions. One might suspect she is slightly thrown off-guard by the appearance of the fiend. "Did you seek to intercept this spell?" she asks. If not, then the planes were already becoming grievously misaligned....


Borrowing from one of my other games - Palatino Linotype = Elven language. Or Thanatos, seeing as Elven is the only language he speaks.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili keeps quiet, fully immersed in the mask of a benevolent and confident angel. Unbidden, a thought arises, That might have been..., but long practice allows her to edit the self condemnation into a judgement on someone else, a strong hint of irony flavouring her inner voice: ...an overreach on their part. In their pride, they think none can stop them. Boast to an angel, it does. A good beginning for an end.

Her face stays calm, but inside she's eager to hear if anything else useful can be wrung from this thing, and then to begin the work of unravelling the pride of these...whatever they are.

[FyreByrd]

"Ask if it, or a force under its command, would be responsible for the time limit on reaching the scholars."

The beast grins widely, showing it's impressive range of teeth, "Friends of a friend" he states enigmatically.



"Are the scholars of Naish in immediate and grave danger?"
Having an afterthought, he specifies : "Assume 'immediate' means 'within the next hour'."

"Danger...but not immediate." the beast replies.




"Did you seek to intercept this spell?"


"No" the beast replies..."I'm Wee Jas Now!" the emphasis it places on the word now is obviously pertinent.

With that last comment the hideous creature steps back into mist, disappearing from sight.

[raspberrybadger]

As the thing continues, Mishpatili rides the exultation of seeing a true foe beginning to fall to pride.

When the thing is gone, she delicately adjusts her wings, and says "That thing may not know, but I can now continue that conversation any time we want. I imagine focusing on it would be a mistake though, unless someone has some insight as to it's nature and how that exposes their whole operation.

Instead, we may need to hasten to Naish. Since the real opposition already knows our interest, and time is important, that means abandoning the plan to ask the scholars only by proxies. Though, if we happen to pass any well educated civilians, I'm certainly tasking them with a mission from an angel to find out what we need from the scholars. So - how do we protect more or less helpless scholars from an extra-planar expedition arranged on short notice?"

Exuding confidence and total certainty, she turns to Frevor - he's War after all. Ask her to change a mind, ask Pestilence to change the physical world, ask Death to change reality itself, but ask War to make a battle go differently than it's supposed to. Somewhat to show her determination, but mostly because she'll need the protection, she manifests Inertial Armor.

Surging for +4 to be able to augment up to a 15 pp Inertial armor, Manifester Level 16, 11 pp spent unless she fails the 20% enervation chance, then it's 23. (20 or less on 1d100)
[roll0]

[Keynub]

Once the beast gone, Corion hesitates as he hears the succubus' words. The forces at play here are far beyond all he had ever heard of. Despite his lack of a proper education, he knows of some of the more popular gods. The Stern Lady is not only a deity, but one of grand influence even among the immortals, and taking her place would require an incredible amount of power, or an unequaled talent at deception. He knew that this enterprise would be challenging, but he hadn't yet realized its full extent; his anxiety is clearly showing, his blood flows faster, visible underneath the skin of his face.

When the fallen angel is finished, he starts talking : "Do --". His words are cut by a loud bout of cough, that persists, uninterrupted, for half a minute.
"Do we really need to save the scholars?", he says when he has finally recovered."I do not think we need them alive, as long as we get to them before that creature, or its allies, does. Staying there when we have all the information we need from them would surely be a waste of time, and diminish our chances of stopping the events that are taking place as we speak.
However, I agree that we should hurry to Naish; we have some time to prepare ourselves, but it would be best not to rely too much on it. The beast impersonated a deity; it would not surprise me to learn that it tricked us."

[Amoren]

"It's also revealed more than that," he replied to the angel in relation to the creature. "I know that its strength was not very much above our own, at least from what arcane powers it could manifest. However, if it is true that it has taken the place of Wee Jas, it should also be receiving the faith and power of all her followers. Under such a circumstance, it should have been capable of much more... Except if that collective will was being siphoned somewhere else. It could be possible they intend to use the worship of the mortal masses as a means to whatever end they desire."

He then turned towards Corion, "It's short sighted to abandon what may be a useful ally, or at least a useful source of information. We don't know what the Scholars might be able to contribute later on, what insights they may gleam as more information is revealed. If we can, we should protect them. The best way I can think of doing so is to bring them back here to our domain and bound some protection to them. Perhaps a few archons would be compliant if we ask nicely to help us out, as well as some sort of alarm to warn us if this space is intruded."

"Regardless, we should make haste towards the scholars. I recommend whoever needs time to prepare should do so immediately, and those who don't should talk to the our bound service gentleman to gain what information he knows. We shouldn't squander the lead we have."

[Ajadea]

"I will speak to our servant. One of you should prepare to transport the four of us to Naish at once," Makaira says, not so much standing as raising her elevation to slightly above head height and letting her robes billow out to give the illusion of proper legs. The effect is slightly disconcerting, made more so by the fact she doesn't appear to care in the slightest how unnatural the movements look. "We will bring the scholars of Naish here, I believe. I will prepare wardings on the morrow to ensure their safety, and ours, as best I can. Nowhere else can we trust that they will be truly safe."

Makaira disappears just outside the doorway, pulling herself into the ethereal. There is a moment of blindness as her eyes pass through the door, then she reforms on the other side. "What is occurring, where is it occurring, who has been affected, and how could this have come about?" she says, trusting in the abilities of the being in front of her to parse the small flood of questions.

[Keynub]

Corion shrugs. "If this is what you all deem best, then we shall help the book hoarders, although I still think we have too little time to waste it so. However, we should not be overconfident in the safety of this plane; we invited the demon in, he will be able to find his way back."
He rises, and moves towards the exit of the conference room. "I will be ready in a minute."


Preparing spells for the day through deforestation.

[FyreByrd]

The being that Makaira stands in front of looks out of place in the heavily gothic, and obviously fantastical surroundings of the demi-plane. He appears to be a human, of middingly to old years, with a neat, but faded suit, and thin spectacles. He is heavily balding, and gives the impression of having been a tax collector in a former life. He seems to come with the demi-plane, being as much part of it, as the air, and the buildings, and is known only and always, just, as the Butler.

The Butler bows gently as Makaira enters, not in any type of servitude, more the respect between two beings. His face pulls into a gentle frown as the questions are fired in, but he answers as best he can. "I know no more about the specifics of the current situation than you do my dear." he says, in his slightly frail, "granddad" voice, "For all four of you to be summoned back to the demi-plane at once suggests a major event, an apocalypse even, but as to details I can discern nothing except this." he pauses for a second, as if judging what to say next, "My contacts in the planes are worried, very worried. There are signs in the heavens, and nothing seems to be going as it should do." he waits a moment, as if discerning whether his next comment is relevant or not, then he continues to say, "It also seems that accross the planes, magic is falling under more and more suspicion, even in those planes that welcome and respect it's use. More and more people are turning to the divine for guidance." He trails off into silence.

ooc:

Because I'm nice...and also I've kind of backed my way into a hole, ALL four of you still can use your plane shift sla(pla) still today, and we'll call the summoning back to the demi-plane a plot device.

This is the last time I'll do this though...as it was my mistake :smallbiggrin:

[Ajadea]

Makaira does not exhale sharply, because she doesn't breathe at all. But she seems to hold some sort of stiffness in her ethereal frame that was not there before. "All magic has fallen under suspicion? Regardless of its source? Or the arcane alone?" she asks. That was worrying, and could make matters difficult... more difficult... for them. And I'm not sure which answer would be worse... regardless of whether Wee Jas has been deposed or simply changed somehow, the gods have already been affected, perhaps more greatly than the rest of the planes. For a mortal spellcaster to attempt to draw any power at all from such a tumultuous location...

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili follows Makaira. She doesn't think the butler likely to be useful, and considers herself to be correct in that when he speaks. On the other hand, Makaira is worth listening to - if reality is being bent, Death is the most likely to comprehend what is being done, and what path to fly.

Letting Makaira puzzle out the larger realities, Mishpatili considers with herself the more immediate problem, what may happen upon their plane shift: Ambush. Arrow bent at random, or a jaguar lying in wait - but not likely well familiar with the terrain. More likely, enemies unheedingly attacking the defenceless. Flight is far slower than the blink of an eye, but safer. So if I need the speed, protection may be vital. Better energy spent now than time then. But, the risk of subtlety unseen - worth it for now. The true sight is tiring. That can wait until need shows itself - even if that be too late.

When Corion has readied his power, she draws once again on the tumult of millennia of emotion to put pure power into her blood so that attacks directly injuring her must first blast through the emotional vigor. Her last protection is one she had to study for, and she need not do more than concentrate; now she draws on the future to protect her rather than the past, though only the merest wisps of the future. Only long practice keeps her as sane as she always is when the inchoate strands of possibility rush into her mind.

Manifesting Vigor with 1 pp spent, +4 surge. 25 temp hp, 16 min duration. 20% chance of enervation, 20 or less on [roll0]

Manifesting Precognition with 1 pp spent, no surge. 2 hour duration.

Seconds later, she's ready, and says somewhat formally, facing Frevor "I am prepared. Will you transport us?"

[Amoren]

"I can," he replied, standing where he was as they all went about their business. The dweomers he had conjured forth still crackled and vibrated with magic along his form as strongly as they had when they were first conjured forth in the morning. "It might be a good idea to bring our mounts, however. We don't know what might be waiting for us on that plane."

[Keynub]

Corion enters the building again. His constant coughing seems to be gone, and his breathing is more regular; the various diseases he carries are kept at bay for now.
"One last thing before we go : we should take precautions in order to enter unnoticed. There is no doubt that our new enemies know of our number and appearance; but if they see only two of us, and these two do not match our descriptions, we might go unnoticed. If I may suggest, Mishpatili, you should borrow a more common form, at least until we are sure that no one expects our arrival."
He then turns towards Frevor :"Will you be able to alter your appearance, High Lord? If so, you should try to hide your... unique features. As for our mounts, they will surely expose us, unless you know of something that would hide them as well."
"I must resort to a more... faulty trick. I will need one of you to conceal me somewhere in their baggage. Keep in mind that I will need to breathe. Let me out when we are exposed, or out of view."

He then closes his eyes. Suddenly, his limbs and his body become shorter and thinner, his head shrinks, his clothes meld with his skin and he takes on a greyish colour. After a few seconds, in his place, there is only the skeleton of a small lizard, moving as though it were alive.

Using Undead Wild Shape to take the form of a skeletal lizard. Tiny size, and that's about all that's worth mentioning. Corion can't talk for now, but Mishpatili can relay his thoughts via telepathy, if the need arises.
Lasts for 7 hours or until dismissed.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili blinks when Frevor mentions her mount, but then listens to Corion. Then, she replies to Frevor: "My horse more than doubles my speed, but I can be most anywhere in the blink of an eye if teleportation is not blocked. You others would be left behind though. It may prove possible for me to find some workable local transportation. When I leave my mount, I can of course choose to look human, or simply slip into ethereal to not be seen. Shall I get my Pegasus then?"

[Amoren]

"Hmmm, I suppose it would depend on which strategy we go with. I'm capable of disguising my features for a time, but it wouldn't conceal the magicks which I possess. Still, it might cause less panic amongst the locals if I do so," he spoke, scratching his chin with a clawed digit as he thought amongst their options. "Leaving our mounts would help cause less commotion as well, which would allow us to hopefully reach the scholars faster. If everyone feels comfortable with it, we can leave them behind this mission and try to move forward under disguise."

[FyreByrd]

The Butler replies to Makaira, "Sorry my Dear, I wasn't clear, I meant to say arcane magics are under suspicion."

[Ajadea]

Makaira nods. "Thank you," she says, drifting off even before she finishes. She reappears next to the others. "Frevor, be cautious. It seems that the laypeople have turned to blaming the arcane, which they cannot understand, for the current happenings. And all of you, keep your eyes open, for the mortals have not yet begun to consider the changes that have taken place in the godly realms. Even if they are followers of gods you thought you knew or trusted, it is all too likely that the being receiving their prayers is not the one they thought..." The accidental summoning of the demon claiming to be Wee Jas is clearly still weighing on her mind.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili respectfully nods to Makaira. She mostly lets Death deal with the divine, but it would be wise to keep her eyes open as instructed.

Now, however, it is time to proceed with haste. She replies to Frevor, saying "I shall leave my mount behind then. We take only mounts that can stay hidden enough while coming with, and we go."

[Amoren]

"I'll take my familiar... My mount, then. It knows how to hide itself, and being intelligent, would be better prepared to keep itself hidden while we do our business. We should also be in empathic contact, so we'll know if the other is in trouble." The Highlord spoke as he turned towards the stable, his long lupine tail giving just the slightest of flicks in anticipation. "Not to mention I'm most likely to be the rider, given the means of transportation and disguises you three have at your disposal, it would be best to utilize the mount I'm most familiar with."

"Make your last preparations and meet me in the Stable. Once everyone is there, we're off to the City of Naish." He then makes one final pause as he reaches the doorway, turning back to the three. "Do remember my services are also available if anyone needs their dweomers extended. We don't know what's on the other side of the portal, we should be prepared to walk into the abyss itself if worse comes to worse."

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili says "Then I had best wait to transform until we arrive. If they lie in wait for us as we arrive, they will know the meaning of Madness."

Then, she walks confidently into the stable.

[Keynub]

The lizard skeleton crawls into the stable, its empty orbits staring insistently at the wolfman as it tries its best to follow him.

[Ajadea]

Makaira drifts into the stable, and with a smooth gesture lifts the skeletal lizard into a saddlebag.


Telekinesis. I think I can manage to lift Corion in lizard form pretty easily.

[Amoren]

Frevor walks forward into the stables, briefly glancing across the other three mounts that belonged to his companions, before finally approaching the familiar draconic visage of his familiar. The large creature gave a brief snort of smoke as the wolf approached, its wings flicked outwards then down to provide room for its Master to rest within the saddle along its back. Over the next few moments he talked to the creature, filling it in on the situation, their destination, and finally what it should do once they arrive on the other plane - assuming there wasn't any hostilities.

With that done, he finally rest a hand across the beast's neck, just as his visage warped and twisted, his appearance changing into a rather athletic and imposing human, but not too unusual beyond the still glimmering lines of magical force around his person. With his other hand he reached out to one of his associates, and from there, let them form a circle with their arms finally connecting back to the half-dragon warhorse, before finally calling upon the power within him to throw them across the planes.

Planeshift Accuracy Roll, here we go!
[roll0]

[FyreByrd]

The familiar deep azure blue of planar travel surrounds you for a moment, it's tendrils sliding around your bodies, then just as soon as it starts it stops, and with a quick blink you examine your surrounds.

You appear to be in the foothills of a large rolling plain. Towards the south and west, the terrain grows ever more hilly, and eventually the hills break into larger slopes, and then again into mountains. Towards the north and east, the plain extends, it doesn't look the most fertile of plains, being more akin to the steppe, as opposed to a flood plain. There are a few trees scattered here and there, but very little other cover, and you can see no creatures or other entities at all currently.

While it is a clear and sunny day, there is a bite in the air, as if it were a cold, fresh, early winter morning.

[raspberrybadger]

Mortals live their lives so limited by the horizon. An angel, not so. Mishpatili looks around to see if she can spot any immediate threats, then if there are none, teleports straight up into the sky so she can see the city, and the lay of the land in general. Oh, how she's missed this. It's been worth the sacrifice to see justice done though.

[FyreByrd]

Madness appears high in the sky, from this height, you gain a much better persepective of the lie of the land. As she slowly pivots to the four main compass directions she sees the following.

To the north: the steppe plain seems to extend as far as the eye can see, however the further north you look, the more the plain seems domesticated, and the contours of the landscape change, instead of wild scrubland, there seems to be more planned farms, and the similar. You can also see tell-tale smudges that appear to be small settlements. On the far north-north-eastern horizon you see a larger smudge that is almost certainly a large settlement, a city or metropolis.

To the east: The plain extends in this direction also, however there are few to none settlements, the land appears much wilder this way, and there are also more of the small outcroppings of trees.

To the south the land is broken and hilly, and in the not to far distance the terrain rises to mountains. You see a few small settlements this way, but nothing of any size.

To the west: while the land is still broken and hilly, it doesn't rise to mountains, until much further away, small clumps of trees, and larger groups, almost forests, are much more evident in this direction.

[raspberrybadger]

From this distance at least, nothing she hasn't seen time and time again. Still, it's been nice to have this kind of perspective again, looking down from above.

She teleports back and reports to Frevor almost as if she'd not been gone, adopting a formal tone:

"No sign of invaders from other planes, at least not visible from the heavens. Some settlement off in the hills, but that's the wrong direction. The only major city is amidst fields and the like in the plains that way."

Her body language remains formal, expressing both her expectation that the group will immediately depart, and her intent to follow Frevor.

[Amoren]

"We should make sure that's the city we want before we expend resources making a move of such order on an assumption. Mishpatili, can you teleport your way to the city to the North and make sure it is the one we desire? It might also be prudent to take a more... subtle form until we meet the enemy on the field of battle."

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili replies as she transforms "They have scholars there, yes? Then in that form I shall go."

The form she chooses is that of a short blonde woman, attractive enough, but mousy and a little distracted looking. It's the guise of hundreds of female scholars the planes over, if a little prettier than usual.

A moment later she is gone. She aims a few miles away from the city so she can see more clearly where to go. This part is so freeing. Wherever she needs to be, whatever she needs to be, to get the job done. If there's an obvious place where she can appear without attracting and ask questions within a minute, that's where she'll go.

[FyreByrd]

Mishpatili arrives just outside, a small farming community. There are a couple of houses next to some small fields. There are a couple of people working the fields nearby, but they don't seem to have noticed you yet.

Just to the north, maybe a mile, maybe two away is a large walled city. It looks well secured from attack, but otherwise you notice little else about it, other than that there seems to be a large hill that rises above the walls in the north-western quarter of the city, with a strange shaped building upon it.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili takes in the scene at a glance. Ordinary mortals. It takes her a moment to shift into the form of an older woman, bent over just a little but still spry enough, with grey streaking her hair. As she changes, her mind changes too, assuming the role of a talkative old woman. Seconds later, she's teleporting behind the people working in the fields. If there's a bush or tree or hedge or the like to appear by, so much the better. A slight hill to walk out from behind would be even better. If she can't spot one of those, she figures a path would be more natural seeming. As long as no-one notices the obvious teleportation, in which case she may have to encourage them a little.

She calls out to the people as if she'd walked here, a fountain of words: "Hello the house! On my way to Naish just over there, I am. Wondring if someone'd tell a soul the news here, before I go in. Never been here before - anyone tell me the best way to go in, how it goes? Or what that there is on the hill in the city there. Never seen the like, no have I."

With that she trails off, as if the fountain is spent, to let people get a word in edgewise.

[FyreByrd]

A couple of the country folk turn to look at this strange old lady that has appeared walking along the long path south. They obviously aren't the height of wit or intelligence, in fact compared to Mishpatili they could probably be best described as cattle, slow but content.

" 'ere Nar, there be an older lookin' fer the news." one slowly points out to another.

The other, the aforementioned Nar, replies, " 'Ee that there be. What be hap'enin'?"

The taller of the two, the one who first spoke, scratches unconciously, "Well me potatoes ain't be growin' so well this year?" he says after a long troubled silence.

The one called Nar, flicks him over the head with his shovel, something that seems to cause far less damage then you'd think, " 'Ee gurt thic'ead." he shouts. Then turning to Mishpatili he tries a half-bow, unsure whether you are his social better or not, and says, "The way we go in to Naish is through the gate there." he replies, pointing helpfully at the large gate a couple of miles down the road, as if you needed to be told what a gate was. "I don't know what be hap'enin' in the city but I'm sure someone may'hap tell 'ee" Nar trails off.

THe taller one, picks himself up from the dirt where he'd landed, "She asked 'bout the 'ill as well Nar?" he points out, then flinches away as Nar threatens with the shovel again.

Nar shrugs, "It be the 'ill, there be a buildin' on top but I 'aven't been to the city in near twenty seasons, and 'ave never been to the 'ill."

They both continue to look at you, as if waiting for your response.

ooc:
The worrying thing is, I know not only people who speak like this, but who have not travelled much more than 20miles in their life! Takes all sorts...:smallwink:

[raspberrybadger]

When she hears the word Naish, Mishpatili thinks At least I got what I came for.

She quickly realizes that's all she's getting. These people seem humble enough. Time to leave on a positive note.

Fortunately, they stop talking pretty quickly, at which point she replies "I just know that humble and gracious people will receive their reward from the heavens. I'll be off now - I Suggest you get back to work right away without looking any more at me." The man with the shovel, now that she thinks of it, may deserve a little more. She continues: "And you don't need to be hitting people with a shovel young man. I Suggest that you get back to work right away without the shovel, and without looking at me."

As soon as they turn away, she teleports back to the group.

Suggestion SLA, not quickened, DC 28

[FyreByrd]

The two workers look at the old lady quizzically, or at least they would if they could master that sort of impression, then with a slightly detached, almost switched off look on their faces as they turn back to their field. The taller one resumes pulling at his potatoes, and Nar drops his shovel, and seemingly quite happily, bends down and begins grubbing in the dirt with his hands, neither they, nor any of the rest of the group bother looking at Mishpatili as she teleports away, reappearing back with the rest of the party in the low hills.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili doesn't give the workers another thought, releasing her old woman form to become once again an angel in appearance as well as fact. She reports in a matter of fact voice "The city is indeed Naish. The fields just outside look safe enough to appear in suddenly, so long as we're not right by the gate. I imagine anyone who objects can be convinced otherwise."

[Amoren]

"Good work," the Highlord says with a small nod towards the 'angel', his hand softly stroking along the scaled skin of his mount. "Hop onto Aryte's back and hold on, I'm going to get him flying in the air before teleporting so we don't suddenly plummet on arrival."

Holding a hand out towards the Mishpatili, she helps her onto the back of the steed if she desires. After everyone is aboard the horse, or some other method that'll easily keep them together in the middle of flight, digs his heals into Aryte's sides - causing him to stretch his black, leathered wings out far as it dashes forward, gaining speed before leaping up and catching the air under its wings. He takes a few moments for the beast to get some speed, before finally speaking the words to teleport them 150 miles to the north, two miles up. And, assuming he can clearly see the metrapolis from that destination, he'll speak the words again to bring them closer to the ground neare the fields.


Since he can currently see both places he's teleporting, it should be Studied Carefully.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[raspberrybadger]

Upon seeing their destination reached, Mishpatili instantly transforms back into her mousy scholar form. Immediately, her mind begins constructing details:

A little introverted, really studious.
A little downtrodden by most male scholars, but really the competent one. Would open up like a flower if someone took her seriously, and be confident and exited.
Scholar of the planes and of psionic time space manipulation.
Sort of repressed, would like to have fun if she knew how.
Likes fugues, and grapes, and oak trees.
They'll love me, fall over themselves to be helpful. Who knows, they might get to help save the world.

Outside the persona of her scholar, Mishpatili opens communications with the others mentally, just in case they need to say anything:

Shall we proceed? Time comes, I can speak as is needful, just suggest the word like this.

[FyreByrd]

You arrive a few miles outside the city walls, in what looks suspiciously like a cabbage field. There are only a couple of farmers close by, but they're in other fields and seem not to notice your arrival.

ooc:

Bold italic is fine for telepathy, you're about 4 miles due south of the city gate.

[Ajadea]

There is a shift and a feeling of blue. The moment the spell ends, Makaira's already insubstantial form evaporates into the air and to untrained eyes, it might seem that just two humans, one male, one female, and one beast had appeared on the hill.

Now returned fully to the aether, Death looks like an elven woman, garbed in robes. There is little that could be considered strange about her in this realm, except for the fact she stands here, and not on the other side of the veil. She watches the foggy shapes of the disguised horsemen. We should not tarry any longer. Let us go.


Turning off manifestation. Just in case.

[Amoren]

"Agreed," Frevor nodded towards the ethereal creature, taking a moment to retrieve the skeletal visage of their fourth companion and othering it a place within his light armor - out of sight yet easy to slip out at a moments notice.

Once the lizard was free from his familiar's packs, he would pat the draconic creature's back and once again speak to it in that strange speech, giving it instructions to keep to the skies and out of sight if it can, finding a place that was easy to conceal itself only for when it was tired. With that, he gave it another pat and turned away, leaving it to fly into the skies once more. "So, my lady," he turns towards Madness' new visage of a scholar, "Your humble bodyguard is here to ensure your protection."

[raspberrybadger]

Clever. Gives me an excuse to do the talking. A shame we have to walk, but War thinks it best to go in mortal guise, and it would hardly be the height of wisdom to be the goose that thinks she needs not follow the flock in winter. Still, perhaps we will meet someone who will offer a ride to a lady. It would hardly serve our purposes if our enemies can strike before we arrive.

Both the urgency of her mission here and the lack of wings chafe at her, so her walk towards the city stops just short of a jog. She keeps her eyes out for obvious extraplanar invasion and for a horse or two she might be able to borrow. As she walks, she can't help but remember other times she's had to channel the power given to her to directly fight some arrogant evil. Not the details - the memory of being indispensable, of having to take up the call to bring madness to ruin.

In that frame of mind, she asks What do we do if they invade while we are still out here? Do we reveal ourselves? Do we bring them here, or do I go there and hold the line? Would we know if they invaded?

I'm thinking we can move at 4 or 5 miles an hour on foot for less than an hour.

[Keynub]

Untrained as he is in the way of telepathy, Corion's mental sentences are short, poorly constructed, and - if such a thing is possible in unspoken sentences - he seems to stammer. He thanks Frevor when he is moved, and answers to Mishpatili :
No concern about invaders. The way is short. Maybe. I cannot see.
We have an hour. Maybe more. Probably enough. The other told us so. But he can lie. Maybe. They appear, drop me, and we fight. Priority is scholars staying alive. Hiding is not more important. We hurry there now.

[Amoren]

We'll make our way there with as much speed as we can without arousing suspicion, if we have to fight our way through the people of this town it might slow us down further than if we went for the most direct path. Not to mention Mishpatili's disguise will help us get directions to the scholars rather than having us search. Frevor, not an experienced telepath, but knowledgeable enough in its workings, manages more complex thoughts by taking the time for his surface thoughts to linger and allow Madness to convey them. If an attack occurs we may as well make for them at full speed - the populace will hopefully be too busy with the attack to deal with us.

[Keynub]

Yes. But we entered. They could too. Attacks can come from inside. Probably will.
Corion tries his best to conceal his form into Frevor's pocket.


Hide check, if needed : [roll0]

[Ajadea]

If an attack occurs, I believe it would be most prudent for me to remain 'disguised', as it were, and take a more direct route. Makaira's mental voice is more present, less distant, than her manifested one. If she has trouble with the telepathy, it does not show. I however agree with Corion. The first priority is to keep these scholars alive. As the apocalypse progresses, they are likely to be able to glean even more knowledge from the events occurring, and that will be invaluable.

[FyreByrd]

You approach the gate to the city, arriving a scant forty minutes after you plane shifted. It seems access to the city is free, as there are a number of other people either entering or leaving. Nothing seems to be unduly bothering the populace, however there are three guards in view, standing at various approximations of attention, all holding large halberds.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili decides to walk right in as if she knows what she's doing. The gate isn't a good place to attract attention. Normally she'd just ask people who looked like scholars or professionals, but this guild might be hiding. Come to think of it, that could still work, just coming at it from the edges. New plan: look for likely scholars, lawyers, or the like, start running Detect Thoughts, adopt an innocent eager expression, and say to them "Excuse me, could you help me? We've had a portent, and we need to ask someone learned about it. Could you tell me the fastest way?" Make sure to keep this body energetic when speaking, then leave the lips parted and her whole frame expectant. Then see what they say, and what they think.

[FyreByrd]

The slightly elderly human that Mishpatili chooses to stop is fairly obviously a lawyer, you can tell the fact that he looks like he wants to charge you just for talking to him in the streets.

"You can't trust in Portents Madam." He starts off in a high minded tone. "Trust in the rule of law, and the beauty and majesty of civilisation." He sees Mishpatili's expression, and continues slightly more fervently, "Harumph, nevertheless there are some that believe in portents, in the building on the hill that overlooks the city." he idnicates the hill you saw earlier. "However they tend to be quite fussy about who they let in to talk with them." he opinions, some of his haughtiness returning.

[raspberrybadger]

If she had a moment, she'd think of something quick and appropriate for the lawyer. But the worlds might not have a moment, and her attention is needed elsewhere.

I say we just walk up there. Do we tell them what is to happen directly? Indirectly? Or just play scholar? We can wait to make up our minds until we see what things are like up there.

While conveying that to the horsemen, Mishpatili walks at a brisk pace up the hill.

[Amoren]

The disguised lupinal follows closely behind her, keeping stride close enough that it was obvious he was assigned to the fair, eager lady - while making a point to avoid running into any of the locals least his illusion be revealed. Our best bet is to decide based on what you can gleam from their minds, Madness. We can always give them the full debriefing once they're safely kept in our realm.

[raspberrybadger]

At least if we are waiting to get in, we will be right there in case of attack. I imagine any survivors would feel the irony of being scholars of the end saved by the, well, us, they tried to keep out. Unless anyone has more ideas, we just make haste to get there and find out just how motivated they are to keep us out.

[FyreByrd]

The hill is neither steep, nor large, and it takes hardly anytime to reach it, then climb it. As you pass through the city, most of the inhabitants don't look twice at you, everything is the picture, of a calm day, that is just like any other day.

As you reach the top of the hill, you see the building more clearly. It is a strange, multi-domed structure, that has no windows, or similar in it's structure. The walls are made of thick, sand coloured stone, quite different to the granite, structures of the main city. It looks to be some kind of cross between a temple, and a civic building.

There is a large door, that seems to be the only obvious entrance, outside the door, are two guards, both dressed in slightly smarter, better cared for uniforms than the city guards seemed to be. They look at you wish suspicion, obviously not used to visitors up here.

[raspberrybadger]

Mindful of Corion's warning and her own premonitions of ambush, before she makes her final approach Mishpatili renews her Vigor. Since improvising as she goes based on detect thoughts is what she wanted to do anyway, she follows Frevor's advice, and begins running Detect Thoughts again.

Preparations made, she approaches the guards rather closely and says breathlessly "Excuse me, I need to speak with the scholars here."

1 pp and +4 surge on Vigor again for 25 temp hp, duration 16 min, enervation on 1-20 [roll0]

I think it's too early to roll diplomacy or bluff or anything, but I can if needed.

[FyreByrd]

One of the guards looks at the other, and gives a long slow wink to his compatriot "You need to do you?" a smirk on his face, "Well I need a new wife, 200 gold pieces and to have a better job than this! Which one of us should get what we need first?"

"What my partner is trying to say," the second one replies, "Albeit in a oafish kind of way, is that you don't need to see the scholars, you want to see them, and the answer is the same answer we give anyone, pay the price, and you can go in, don't pay the price, or act in anyway untoward towards the scholars, and we'll kick you out!"

"Yeah!" his rather moronic colleague retorts.

@Madness:

You detect that the first speaker has a lower than average intelligence, whereas the second speaker is a little higher than average...although neither is particularly unintelligent, or super intelligent.



ooc:
Just a note, remember we are using the Giant's rules for diplomacy, found here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9606632&postcount=2)

[raspberrybadger]

An image of sending these fools to go volunteer scrubbing the floor of an orphanage appears unbidden in her mind, but Mishpatili gives her head a tiny shake and pushes that aside. There is too much at stake. Might as well try to be reasonable. While the extra moronic one is adding his monosyllabic bit, she tosses a quick query to the group: If negotiation breaks down, shall I make up their minds for them?

She then adopts the pose of an impatient scholar, crosses her arms over her chest, lets a hint of cute disappointment color her face, and says "Look, I have information the scholars need. If they don't get it, everyone in this city may die. That includes you. So yes, they need to hear this. You need them to hear this. You don't want to make me unhappy do you? You don't want to make the scholars unhappy do you? You don't want to die horribly do you?"


Bluff if necessary to get them to believe this, despite it being more or less true: [roll0]. She's not threatening them personally, but if it's relevant to making a threat convincing, she's got intimidate at +33 too.

Hopefully that pushes the diplomacy DC in the favorable direction.

Diplomacy to see if they can be persuaded: [roll1]

[Keynub]

Corion suddenly realizes the obvious flaw in the plan. The guards are very likely to search both incomers, and should they feel Frevor's fur doing so, his disguise will be exposed. In addition to the obvious magical traces. He warns his comrades of his concern, using again very short and poor sentences.

In addition, he prepares to hide with more foolproof means should the guards begin searching Frevor.


Corion prepares an action to use his Greater Invisibility SLA on himself, should the guards begin searching Frevor, more precisely the pocket in which he rests. Duration is 12 rounds, so that may not be enough, but it's better than nothing.

[FyreByrd]

The guards glance at each other, the glance is one seen throughout the planes, and it is roughly translated as this. "I'm not paid enough to deal with this, it should be my Boss that has to deal with this."

They stand aside, and open the large doors, that provide access. Once inside you see a fairly understated room, with a few pillars, providing support for the high domed ceiling. Standing inside is a wizened old humanoid. Who smiles faintly at you.

"Good day, seekers of knowledge are welcome here." he says, in a cracking voice, "I will conduct you to the audience chamber, and one of the brothers will come and meet with you. There are a few other guests here at the moment, so you may have to wait a while until they are seen."

He pauses, and looks at you closely, "Are you ready to proceed?" he asks.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili was all ready with ways to creatively elicit cooperation without breaking the guards' ability to help defend the place. Too much. But, the decided to be reasonable. This way is really better for everyone.

With the coming of someone with more authority, Mishpatili slips more fully into the persona of a meek scholar. She adopts the pose of a student reciting an answer and tries to add a touch of cute eagerness while saying "I do seek knowledge here, and I am ready to proceed. I also bear warning of a threat from beyond this plane - the brothers must hear it, and quickly. I will go where you bid me."

Having said that, she shifts mentally back to her angel persona to speak with the others: Do we defend or evacuate? I don't know if there's time to evacuate, what with persuasion, organization, and bringing things. Either way, what do we need?

[Keynub]

Transportation is limited. How many are there? We might not take them all. Twenty-one is the limit. I think.
We can, we transport. We cannot, we stay. Find a defensible place. Few ways in. Means of retreating.
First, inform them. Convince them. The hardest step.

[Ajadea]

How many are there that are important? That have the ability to scry for the signs? Take them to our stronghold, I should think, and leave the rest to their fates. Cruel though it may sound, we can hardly afford to wait here for our answers when the entire cosmos is endangered.

[raspberrybadger]

Do they have to take the entrances to cause harm? I could teleport in, or walk through the walls. Some things might be able to damage the whole building from outside.

But if we leave, we need a way to decide who is important to all the worlds. If we leave it to them, we get the arrogant, not the skilled scholars.

[FyreByrd]

The elderly man, walks you through the corridor, and into an even bigger chamber. This chamber is about forty feet square, and the domed ceiling rises a good fifty feet at it's highest point. The dome is supported by 4 five foot square pillars, that are made of the same unadorned sandstone, as the rest of the walls, floor, and dome. There are a few chairs spotted about here and there in the room, but no other furniture. The elderly man bows and exits behind you saying, "I will call for one of the brothers to come and meet with you."

There are four other occupants in the room, and they stand opposite you, the first is a stoutly built dwarf, wearing incredibly large, heavy armour, and holding lightly as if it's no weight at all, a giant greataxe. He is totally bald, but has a large luxurious tan beard. Next to him, hovering around twenty foot up in the air on giant bat wings, is a strange female humanoid, tall and muscular, but with strange green scaly skin. Flanking these two on either side firstly is a tall human, with a bored expression on his face, his clothes are a multi-coloured jumble of clashing colour, and secondly is a strange...almost toad like being, with dark red coarse hide.

As the old man speaks and exits, the dwarf glances round at you, turning away almost immediately, then quick as a flash he turns back, and looks hard at you once more. Then in one moment he plants himself, taking half a step back and bringing his greataxe to bear. "A Succubi!" He curses, looking straight at you. His companions all draw weapons, and make ready to fight as he continues, "Evil walks abroad my friends, and we are the cure!"

ooc:

Initiative and a map will appear in the OOC thread shortly, please remember that I'm rolling initiative, and that once we're in combat, can you please only post IC when it's your turn, just to try and make this as smooth as possible!

[Amoren]

Dwarf and human are spellcasters, both seem to have True Sight. Winged guy is dragonborn, toad a Neraphin - Outsider, can fool you into thinking he's not advancing when he is. Can be banished. War's mind quickly thought to his compatriots as he drew his swords, taking a step forward in front of Mishpatili to defend her. The arcane magic on his blades briefly surged back to full strength as he took up the defensive posture, briefly speaking the brief words of power to strengthen his eyes even further. Should try to handle peacefully, we need the scholars to trust us. Slaughtering them won't help that.

"Hold, friends," he spoke, briefly considering dismissing his illusion to reveal his form, and hope the one who recognized the succubus would recognize the form of a Guardinal, even one that had the obvious wear of bloody battles around his frame - but then realized such a gesture meant little with their eyes seeing through his glamor. "This person is not what you think! In spite of the trappings of her race, she has sought to improve herself and become more than she is. She is not your enemy, and has even pledged herself to the cause of the higher planes! And besides which, we shouldn't fight in the middle of the scholars building, there's too much that could be damaged and lost with an idle blow or spell!

Casting Extended True Sight, using Incantrix to apply the metamagic, DC 39 to do so is impossible for Frevor to fail. He then takes a five foot step to place him in front of Madness' square.

Meanwhile, Frevor's diplomacy and/or bluff checks - although what he says can probably be considered true enough.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Keynub]

You may have studied the planes, but you don't even know basic grammar. Succubi is the plural, fool. Corion opens his mouth, forgetting for one second his inability to speak. Another idiot who judges on appearance alone, so quick to judge and condemn. It sickens him.
He climbs up Frevor's pocket, peeking his head out of it just enough to have the offenders in his line of sight, and prepares to attack - but as he hears Frevor's words, he lets out a mental sigh. Obviously, he's right, and attacking would be the wrong move ; nevertheless, he takes the time to memorize their faces. They will suffer for this, sooner or later.


Climbing, if necessary : taking 10 for 21.
Hiding : [roll0]. I assume the pocket provides Corion with cover.

Corion readies an action to cast Stinking Cloud (spell-like ability) centered on the enemy, should any of them move towards the Horsemen, begin casting a spell, or attacking with a ranged weapon.

[FyreByrd]

The Dwarf clutches his axe tighter, but doesn't make any further aggressive move, "You say you are not our enemy? Who are you, and why do you come to this place at this time?"

ooc:

OK as you're fairly dead set on not taking them up on their offer of combat, they're willing to talk to you...so post IC freely again, should hostilities be reassumed I'll re-roll initiative and we'll start again...at the moment they're not going to attack, but you may have to talk fast to keep it that way.

[Keynub]

Corion lets himself fall into the pocket, feeling a slight disappointment. The fool's time has not come yet, it seems. He concentrates for a moment and utters mentally two sentences.

Should reveal ourselves entirely? They may have access to lie detection.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili drops her human form and folds her wings behind her again, holding herself upright now that she is no longer a downtrodden scholar. She speaks with the fervor of total conviction: "A herald. Come to warn you. You hold the possibility of warning the worlds. But only if you survive to give that warning. Not an hour ago, those who you could warn against learned that you might yet stop them by giving warning. They will seek to end you before you can comprehend the threat to all worlds. If you would perform your role and warn the worlds just what comes, you must first heed my warning. You must first survive. You have a choice. You may prepare to fight, knowing that if you lose, none will know the true treat except by the nature of the pawns used in your destruction. Or you may flee - we can offer a way out. This choice, and this warning, is given to you."

First priority: getting them to flee with us. Diplomacy [roll0] to get them to agree to that.
Failing that, Diplomacy [roll1] to agree to stand and fight with us. If needed despite this being the truth (except perhaps shading the truth a bit on the herald thing, but she totally believes that herself, and it's sort of true in a a way), Bluff [roll2]

[FyreByrd]

The Dwarf narrows his eyes, obviously still not totally trusting Mishpatili. "My name," he says sternly, "Is Bel'Agion, War-priest of Clangeddin Truesilver." he gestures to each of his companions in turn, firstly the tall human, "My companions, Casimir Dverin," to the hovering scaly female, "Indryani Colunga," and finally to the toad like creature, "And a new addition to our party Serafin."

He takes a step forward, "You say you are a herald, one who would warn the worlds, well I too am a herald, the End is near!" he growls the last words, ominously. "My God spoke to me, a great evil, an evil that could end existence as we know it has arrived, and I have been chosen to stop it!" he sounds a little pompous, but you can tell there's steel behind his manner.

The tall human, that he named Casimir speaks for the first time, "Might it not be wise my friend, if we declare a truce, if only for a moment, as it appears that we have concerns over similar things." he looks at Mishpatili, "Information would be useful to both of us, I believe, and I would rather know why I am fleeing, before I flee!"

ooc:
See npc's can have a bit of creative misunderstanding too!

[Ajadea]

That his god spoke to him brings me little comfort. It could well be that Clangeddin has been as warped as Wee Jas. There is no harm in making further allies, but we should be wary. The religious do not like to doubt their gods or the powers vested in them by those entities, but given the circumstances, both are untrustworthy at best.

The scholar has not returned yet... it should not take so long. I believe it might be wise for me to temporarily leave you, so that I may see the scholars for myself. For all we know, they might be under attack now.

[Amoren]

It might be for the best, especially before they focus their attention to see you. It might prove useful to warn the cleric of the threats faced by his God, but first we should ask what information they have on the matter of the apocalypse. If they were sent to warn or stop us, then its possible their God is already under their influence and he is unaware of such. If so, we should play that to our advantage and try to manipulate him until he either fit to accept the truth, or we can leave their graces.

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili feels fully justified in that her words elicited useful information. She intends to do still better. No need to tell them everything then. Time to find out whether they will help or hurt.

"Mishpatili", she says clearly but demurely, bowing slightly with the grace of thousands of years of practice.

"You ask why flee? A doom is declared, fixed and unchanging. If the scholars here die, the end of all worlds draws nigh. If you stay here doing nothing, your own end draws nigh. The easiest way out is to flee - but you are offered a choice. You can seek to know why, to fight those who have arranged the end."

ooc: sorry this took so long. It kept not wanting to write itself. And yes, Mishpatili is fully in the role of herald, speaking truth as she sees it and doing good for these people as she sees it from within that role. Of course, that doesn't mean she won't need to make a bluff check. If needed,

Bluff [roll0]
I think this is part of that same diplomacy attempt, just interpreting what she means by her proposal of flee or fight.

[FyreByrd]

It appears as if the dwarf, would like to reply, but before he manages to, the elderly man, once more enters the room, if he notices, or understands the hostility in the air he certainly doesn't comment on it. "One of my brothers has declared that he will see you now." he glances back and forth between the two groups, "All of you." he continues.

He beckons to you, and then files out of the doorway into another room.

ooc:

@raspberrybadger: no worries, I was going to give you until (well now!) to see if you wanted to post, before moving things on!

I'm on vacation this week (from monday pm through to thursday pm), so probably won't get a chance to post. However I should be able to post again on Friday! Just making sure you have advanced notice, in case I don't get to post again before I go!

[Ajadea]

Makaira follows the scholar. She takes the most direct route she can, in and out of walls of fog. The trick was, she had found, forgetting about barriers. The difference was sight, not mobility. Part of her wondered if she had been seen, but the rest of her decided it didn't really matter.

[raspberrybadger]

This isn't good. Madness half-expects the cleric types to attack the scholar at the first sign of opportunity, and keeps herself mentally prepared to confuse them at the first sign of an attack. Fully aware that this isn't the only possibility, the back of her mind is already constructing a justification for if they don't attack - something between her preparedness and her diplomacy preventing an attack.

Her planned guise as a scholar to the scholars is useless now, so she goes to this scholar in her own form, still fully wrapped in the role of herald.

Meanwhile, there's time to confer: We'll just have to wait to find out what he would have said. Shall I continue with the scholar as I have with these cleric types?

[Amoren]

It appears that they're aware of our nature. It might be prudent to let them speak first. However, I'll leave the diplomacy in your hands. He thought as he eventually sheathed his weapons once again in their hilts, giving the other party a small nod as they made their way towards the scholars.

[FyreByrd]

The elderly man leads you into another high vaulted room, similar to the one you were just in. The major difference in this room, is that instead of sand coloured blocks of stone for walls, you cannot see the walls, because of the masses upon masses of bookshelves covering them. You conservatively estimate that there are hundeds of thousands of books and tomes in this room, and the air is slightly dry and dusty, like any library. The elderly man bows you into the room, then leaves again.

As you glance about the room, you notice the other party of beings have followed in after you, and take up, uneasy standing position near the door. In the centre of this room is a lectern, a large ornately ornamented table with a heavy book place upon it. In one of the corners of the room, you also notice and overstuffed armchair, with an ancient human draped across it, who appears to be dozing.

A younger, much younger male human, approaches the lectern, he's wearing a dark blue robe, like the elderly man who showed you in, and the ancient man in the chair. He looks up you and clears his throat, a little nervously you think. "I am brother Hralun," he starts with, "You come to our order with questions." he pauses, and you get the feeling that these words have come from his lips many times, that this is the way they deal with all inquiries here. "Our order is committed to the study of the END." the capitals drop into place perfectly, "And so any question that you ask must be of the END." he squares his shoulders importantly, and taking hold of the huge leather bound book, he opens it, "Thus before we hear your questions, I will read of the Book of the END." He starts to speak in a low sonorous voice, reciting from the book in front of him.



Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

The first, is in death, and absence of life. Ancient rejection feeds ancient hunger. Dead will not be dead, and life will not be life. Corpses stalk the land, and terror comes in their wake.

The end is nigh, and the name of this end is Atropas, however this is not The END. Atropas falls, the first is done.

Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

The Second is in fallen demons and slithering foes. Heresies and venom follow in it's wake. The plague covers the land, and all that can be seen writhes in hatred.

The end is nigh and the name of this end is Sertrous, however this is not The END. Sertrous falls, the second is done.

Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

The Third is in disease, and the perversion of the clean. The sky grows dim, and plague fills the air. Corruption tears through the heart, and soul until hope of restoration is gone.

The end is nigh and the name of this end is Ragnorra, however this is not The END. Ragnorra falls, the third is done.

Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

The fourth is in storm, and in flood. The skies rage, and the earth shakes. Lightening flashes, and snow blinds. Boulder hail falls, tearing the ground asunder. Refuges fall, and the waters rise.

The end is nigh, and the name of this end is Zargon, however this is not The END. Zargon falls, the Fourth is done.

Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

The fifth is in wave, and inundation. The seas boil, and rivers break. Sea beasts roar, and islands sink. Tempests howl, and maelstroms break.

The end is nigh, and the name of this end is Leviathan, however this is not The END. Leviathan falls, the fifth is done.

The sixth is in prison breaks, and evil awakened. Magics fail and heavenly signs appear. The planes weaken, and the destruction abounds. Fear is heavy on the heart, and blood is in the mouth.

The end is nigh, and the name of this end is Pandorym, however this is not The END. Pandorym falls, the sixth is done.

Six times the sky shall fall, six times the planes will shake, six times the end will come. Six times fear will rise, six time hope shall wither, six times the end will come. Six times the trumpet shall sound, six times havoc will wreak, six times the end will come. Six time the light shall fade, six times the dark shall rule, six times the end will come.

Time will pass, nations will rise, nations will fall, the lore of the end shall fade, and be lost to but the chosen, yet The END has not yet come. Then the seventh shall be.

The seventh is in power and in pride. Unholy alliance, and deals with death. Gods who are, will be not, and those that are not will be Gods. Prisons shall be opened, that were best kept closed. The tower under the city shall shake, and break, and the seventh shall be free. Worlds will fall, moorings shall break.

The END is nigh, and the name of The END is Armageddon. All shall fall, all shall end, life ceases, and nothing remains. The only hope lies in the chosen, and the four. The chosen have the knowledge, the four have the power, and the chosen shall know the four by their names...



He stops reading, and bows his head for a moment in silence, then he says, "Ask your questions."

ooc:

Bumper IC post as reward for waiting for me to get back off holiday!

[Ajadea]

Six ends, and the final one brought about through trying to fix the rest. Very well, but where have I heard...

The sudden, resounding lack of mental static is as disturbing as any silence.

Words tumble out of her mind at alarming speed. Ignore the first six. They've happened. Pandorym was awakened thousands of years ago. The seventh alone is our apocalypse.
GODS WHO ARE, WILL BE NOT, AND THOSE THAT ARE NOT WILL BE GODS
Wee Jas is gone, an imposter in her place. This is not unique. Will not be unique. Chosen and four... We're the four. We have the power. Which means we need to find that tower. Now.

[Keynub]

Obviously. But we should not rush. Lest we cause what we try to prevent. Corion pauses for a moment, searching his words. Forget not the scholars. You wanted to protect them.

We should ask them. First about the chosen. Who they are.
About the prisons. What they hold. Where they are.
About the tower. And the city. What they are named. Why they are important. Where they are.
Where we are, too. Rather, when we are. What has happened. What is happening. What is yet to happen. We know it has begun, not how advanced it is.

Corion hesitates, unsure of what his next thought is worth, but formulates it nevertheless. Makaira. They talk of deals with death. I believe it does not concern you. But we should not neglect possible leads. Do you know something about this?

[Amoren]

The Cage! War's mind lingers upon the words of the scholar, the barest hint of recognition in his words creeping over his face. Sigil, which stands on top of Spire. The parallels between their words and Sigil is remarkable... his words came again, his hand briefly rising up to strike his chin to see if he could recall any other city that better matched the description.

His gaze does, however, turn towards Mish, Starting our questions with who are the Chosen seems to be the best choice to start with, however. It might make our converses easier if they trust us fully.


Knowledge: Arcane, then The Planes
[roll0]
[roll]1d20+25[roll]

[Ajadea]

I have made no deals, but that does not mean deals cannot be made nevertheless. I do not oversee all deaths personally, any more than you forge every plague, Corion.

Makaira's form ripples in the Ethereal Plane, and she eyes the youth through veils of mist. He is young for such a seemingly important role.

Shall I manifest myself? I do not wish to cause strife, but as is, we appear to be but three. The dwarf and his followers may yet delude themselves into believing that it is they who have the power to defeat what lurks in that tower.

Given the circumstances one, or more than one, of the seers here may be the chosen. Then revealing ourselves to be the four spoken of in prophecy might make them more amenable to escape.

[raspberrybadger]

For once, I think we should be direct. Then, among my questions, I can simply ask 'do you know my name?', and lay out both the threat to the scholars and to the worlds. What I need to know is what information we truly need of the scholars. Asking a good question will be the surest way of persuading them to come to safety.

As for these others, it may not hurt to have them believing they can help. So long as we control what they do, they could prove a useful test of what opposition there is.

[Keynub]

Warn me if you manifest. I will reveal myself if you do. We should ask to do so privately. The dwarf could react poorly.

Mishpatili. Maybe we should omit the way we learnt of the danger. The scholars are in peril because of us. They might resent it. I would.

[raspberrybadger]

The others have spoken to her, but it remains to her to speak in turn. It is time to reveal ourselves. Appreciating the irony of a Herald bidden to ask questions, she draws herself up with her wings folded behind her and asks in a voice ringing with gravity,

"My questions are all of the End. Do you know my name? And the names of those standing with me? Did you know that 'those who are not' have decreed your destruction? Do the chosen know that the day of this destruction is this day? Are the chosen willing to accept the protection of the four, offered this day? What is the first task the chosen have for the four when the day comes, for it has? On all these, does the End... hang."

With a note of awful finality, Mishpatili stands eyes blazing, ready for anything, ready for everything to hang in the balance.

If necessary, diplomacy to convince the scholars to accept protection as we offer it (might require War's fuller explanation of what we're offering). This time, with the offer more likely to be made to the right people :smallsmile: [roll0]

[FyreByrd]

The younger man, raises his eyes, staring deeply into Mishpatili's face. He opens his mouth, as if about to answer, but the Dwarf, Bel'Agion speaks before he can, "We are the four, my God warned me that we should no longer trust anything after his words, that the Gods would be silenced. We are the four!"

The man glances at the dwarf and his companions, then back to your party.
"We are the chosen, our role is to identify, and assist the Four in their fight against the End." He glances at Mishpatili, "You say the end is nigh, and that destruction is writ, that may be However we will not flee, nor hide, nor shall we cower until the Four are known."

"The Four's names are written in the Book of the End, however all that seek to take on that mantle must be identified. Not by their common name, nor their personality. It is only the truename, of the language of reality that we are interested in. And only the chosen will know of that." He looks at the dwarf, "You and your companions seek to be identified as the Four?" Bel'Agion nods his reply. Then he turns to you, "And what of you, although I only see two, would you seek to be identified as the Four?"

[Keynub]

So they know our names. Or rather our titles. Not our appearances.
Makaira. Shall we?

Without waiting for an answer, Corion swiftly crawls up Frevor's pocket and jumps to the floor. His skeletal shape expands, and takes on the grey-blue color of his skin. Soon, the shape of a humanoid, but certainly not that of a human, stands beside Frevor, facing the scholar. He begins speaking shortly after.

"We should hurry, so we will comply. We are indeed the Four. My given name is Corion of the Sleeping Wolf. This is not the name you have for me, and I will not say this name aloud as long as we are not alone." He briefly takes a look at Bel'Agion.
"Nor should you use it if you wish to address me. These names obviously hold power, and they should be known of the Chosen and the Four alone, if at all possible."

Back to natural form.

[raspberrybadger]

To give her name, Mishpatili reaches out mentally to the scholars, the young and the ancient, for as they say, this is a secret. With the painful wrench of loss and uncovering what had been buried for millenia, the words come: My true name, before they named me Madness, was Shoshanah. And there are, indeed, four of us. Did you expect Pestilence to walk only in human form? Or Death to be alive at all? I will let War speak for himself.

Mishpatili considers deflecting the dwarf and company with words, or inflicting madness on them straight away, as seems increasingly likely to necessary, but she decides instead to put the scholars to the test. Time enough to drive this arrogant dwarf mad if it comes to it. As it is, it seems more fitting to allow his pride to lead to his downfall, then to cut him off just yet.

[Ajadea]

Yes.

Makaira steps, and comes into being, letting the veil of the ethereal fall away. She draws herself to her full height and past, allowing her shadow-black robes and gleaming scythe to vouch for her identity "We are the four you seek. I am Makaira, and that is my true name, though it is not the one you know. Speak of me as I am, not by my title - such things hold power, and I would not have it be shared lightly, nor freely." She glances at Bel'Agion and holds there, listening.


Casting Detect thoughts, then Manifesting

[Amoren]

The simple dweomer around Frevor's form dissolves at a brief will from his mind, revealing his true athletic, lupine frame, while simultaneously touching the briefest of arcane magick to the dweomers that flowed along his body - prompting the insubstantial shield and armor to flair with magic. His hands drew the familiar swords at his side, their blades gleaming with power - while his glowing blue eyes leveled on the scholars. I am the Horseman of War, The Highlord Frevor Liulfr who commanded the mighty armies of Netherul on the plane of Toril. You should know of me not only by my name, but by my actions.

He then turned his attention towards the party behind him, his longsword pointed particularly towards the dwarf. These four have been led by your enemies, the Heralds of the Apocalypse. As your words, "Gods who are, will not be" have stated, those who will wrought the End have taken the mantle of the Gods and now use their clergy and the donated 'will' of their faithful followers as tools in the end!"

[FyreByrd]

“Heheheheh,” the dry sound fills the air of the dusty room, and it is a moment before you can realise that it's coming from the ancient humanoid in the chair. He slowly unfolds himself from his place of repose, chuckling dryly all the time. As he stands and moves towards his rheumy eyes, flick back and forth between you all. “Heheheheh,” he chuckles again, then draws himself up, somewhat painfully, “I am the horseman of War!” he bellows out in a great voice, that belies his earlier dry chuckling. He turns to look at Bel'Agion and his party, then speaks again, “Please Sir, We are the four sir, thank-you Sir!” he spits on the ground, then casts his eyes at you all, no longer tired, but bright, and direct, “I am Seluzar, and I am the Abbot of this refuge, and your words, whether spoken, or whispered into ears...” he looks directly at Mishpatili as he says this, “...Are as wind on the breeze!” He shakes his head, “I am this, I am that, don't speak to me hear, speak to me there. Don't reveal my secret identity. Trust us, don't trust them.” he spits again.”You seek to be identified as the four, but instead of the path of the humble, instead of the path of the seeker of wisdom, you cry out your petty thoughts, as the bleatings of lambs.” He strides to the book on the lectern, “This is the Book of The End, this is Truth, this is Reality, this will say if you are the Four or not!” He waves at the smirking acolyte that had previously read from the book, “Even this neophyte can see that your posturing is worthless. I am the Abbot of the End, Seluzar, and I, and only I know your names as written in the language of Reality. Only I can speak your name, so that we may see what the Book of the End tells us your fate will be.” he draws himself up imperiously. “And I will say it where and how I like.”

He moves, quickly now, standing before Bel'Agion, who takes a nervous step back. Then reaching his hand out, Seluzar rests it on his forehead. Closing his eyes he speaks “abnu amēl”, then he moves to the tall human that was referred to as Casimir, and repeats the gesture, “amēlānu”. The hovering reptilian female lowers herself so he can perform the same service saying, “ḫūd libbi”. Finally he moves to the toad like creature, “katmu” he says. Then turns and points at the Acolyte, “What place have they in the Book of the End?”

The Acolyte leafs through pages for a moment then comes to the right place and he reads:
“...And so in the time of the end, shall many rise up, and many be cast down. Yet echoing throughout history is the tale of the man of stone, abnu amēl. The forces of darkness shall crash upon his walls, yet he will not be moved, redoubt, a strong fortress in the time of the END...” he searches a little more then reads: “Deathless is the one whom doesn't fear death, light his touch, but heavy his sacrifice will be, the end of amēlānu, the Gentle Man, feeds the time of the END...” he falls silent, and just the turning of the pages sounds in the room, as he finds a new place. “Cloaked in shadow, none shall no. Light or Dark he must choose, to help or hinder, he must decide. Yet the decision is his, and not his, for one shall come that will make katmu, The Hidden One's decision for him...” And then finally, “The time of the END is a time of sadness, of fear, and death, yet the Joy of Heart, ḫūd libbi, exists to bring light into the dark places, to drive away fear, and conquer the power of death itself....”

As the acolyte falls silent Seluzar points at the four, “Your purpose is written in the Book of the End. You are not the Four, yet you all have a part to play. Seek wisdom, and do what you are destined to do.” then he turns, ignoring them, and moves towards your party.

It is Makaira he steps to first, and although you do not feel the touch of his hand upon you, a shudder runs through your body as he speaks, “mūtu”. Moving to Mishpatili, his hand un-selfconciously placed on her forehead. His skin is dry and rough, cracked with age, yet his voice is strong as he speaks, “šēhūtu”. Frevor is next, and although his brow is far above where his hand should be able to reach, Frevor still feels his touch, “dappānu” Finally Corion is approached, and the ancient Abbot proclaims him to be “murṣu”

Taking a step away, and sighing as if exhausted, he gestures to the Acolyte, who flicks the pages of the book. He obviously finds the right place, but before he speaks he begins to tremble. “Speak Boy!” the Abbot commands.

Slowly, hesitantly the acolyte speaks “The END is nigh, and the name of The END is Armageddon. All shall fall, all shall end, life ceases, and nothing remains. The only hope lies in the chosen, and the four. The chosen have the knowledge, the four have the power, and the chosen shall know the four by their names. In that time, that time of wrath, and fear, a presence shall stalk the earth. A reign of terror the like of which has not been seen upon the land. The earth shall quake at their coming, and nations will flee. dappānu will sweep the land, destruction and slaughter in his wake. murṣu shall infect all to an extent that many shall beg for oblivion but will not find it. šēhūtu will consume all thought and reason. And finally when all hope is dead, mūtu shall collect your souls. These are the Four, and in them is hope...”

The Abbot, to his credit, doesn't seem shocked, or even repentant of his earlier harsh words. Instead he merely turns and bows gently, “I am Seluzar, Abbot of the End, and it is my life-work to assist you in fighting Armageddon.”

@Death

Detect Thoughts:
As you monitor the Dwarfs thoughts, throughout the time that the Abbot, and Acolyte are speaking, you firstly notice that he is deeply suspicious, most probably of your group. He is also very tense, ready to fight at a moments notice.

However as the Abbot proclaims you and your companions to be the Four. His suspicion fades, he obviously trusts the word of this Abbot.


ooc:

Not particularly interesting notes based on ancient languages and prophecy, don't bother reading unless interested!

So I'm kind of (but not really, but a little bit, but not a lot...etc) borrowing bit from some of the ideas behind the Truenamer, not the implementation, but at least the fluff behind it. If you think of the Abbot as a fairly high level truenamer, you're not far from the truth.

As I was planning this game, I wanted to see if I could make use of prophetic writings, as part of it. So spent a considerable time writing a prophecy of the End(and the END!) I'll freely admit, I stole some David Eddings ideas (in the Belgariad, and the Mallorean, there are a number of prophecies that deal with "key" figures that participate in the story. These are referred to as descriptive names (Like the Guide, or the Dreadful Bear) ) and added in a number of characters to the prophecies with both a descriptive name (The Joy of Heart), and a "truename" (ḫūd libbi).

As for language, the truename's are in a transliterated form of Akkadian (Akkadian is the language that a lot of people still call Assyrian, or Babylonian, Akkadian studies is the (now) correct name for the studies of the Ancient Near East, and covers at the very least the period of the Assyrians, and Babylonians (and dependent on your definition and there are a number, it can cover much more than that). They're fairly close direct translation of the descriptive name, but as Akkadian is written in Cuniform (think runes and you're not far off!) I'm sure there's a little lost in the translation to more readable characters (plus I think the forum has done something screwy to the letters when I copy/pasted it in)

Anyway you can expect Akkadian to crop up a number of times, but mostly I'll give an english translation (seeing as far as I'm aware in-universe at the moment Seluzar's the only one that'd know what it meant!)

You can now return to your regularly scheduled programming...


Just to note, the Abbot wasn't being insulting for any other reason than that his life work, and (literally) hundreds of other Abbots life works have been to prepare the Book of the End, and identify the Four when they arrive. The chances of a group of four ACTUALLY being the Four is fairly small, no matter how strange they look!

[Amoren]

Frevor's attention turned primarily towards the scholars before him, although he kept one eye focused on the group to their side - just in case they attempted once more to force their commands from an impostor god. "It is an Assistance that we'll need in the fights to come. But first we must bring you to somewhere safe - the forces of Armageddon have already opened their hand, and there's no telling what else they may be sending if that bid fails. How quickly can the members of your order gather the lore they need for the trials ahead to leave with us?"

[raspberrybadger]

Madness tracks well enough with what is being said, though she's not entirely convinced this person is entirely sane. Still, he's dealt with far, far worse to get information far less important. She locks onto one word as being most significant - presence. She can make nothing of it for now, so she lets it filter down into her unconscious. Perhaps Makaira can make something of it, or a scholar will interpret it. Meanwhile, the young acolyte's other reading presents a more pressing problem.

Just what should be the fate of these other fated four? Shall I help them decide their way? Or should we not take the risk that their choice may be theirs, and decisive some way?

[Ajadea]

They hold faith in this abbot, and believe his words. Commanding them outright may be too risky, but they may well follow our recommendations.

Makaira does not seem in the least bit shocked by the abbot's anger, nor is she apologetic at her assumptions. She knows her purpose. "With your consent, Abbot Seluzar, we would bring the members of your oracle to our hall. No being can pass into them without our consent."

[Keynub]

As the Abbot utters his snide comments, Corion frowns, and feels the blood rushing to his head. "The path of the humble"? You are the one who needs to be taught humility, you arrogant fool.

By the time the old man finishes, though, he has calmed down. Having nothing to add, all he does is nod as Frevor and Makaira speak.

[FyreByrd]

The Abbot for the first time, looks uncertain, and Bel'Agion takes this opportunity to step forward, he nods curtly towards you then says to the Abbot, "There is much I still do not know, however my God told me to seek you, and to learn at your feet Lord Abbot, so that I will do, and my companions also." he takes a beat, "I still fear these," he gestures at you, "But I fear my own ignorance more, if you will have me, we will go where you go." His companions nod their agreement.

@Death & War ONLY

You notice that the toad like creature doesn't seem quite as confident in his agreement as the others do.


Seluzar nods, "The path of wisdom is always the right path." he states, some of his former arrogance returning in his voice, before he turns back to you, "I do not doubt that if the Four have arrived, then the forces of Armaggeddon await us, and already move against us. I am the Abbot, and meaning no disrespect to any of my brothers I am the only one trained in the full lore of the End. If you believe you have a sanctuary safe from harm, I shall travel with you." he looks around the room. "As for what I need, I will take him." he points at the acolyte, who pales, "And we must take the Book of the End." he glances around the book strewn walls, "And as many of the...."

He's cut of by a long loud bubbling scream from the previous room. before you can react to think what the scream is, the door bursts off it's hinges and the elderly man who led you into the library's broken body flies through the space where the door once was. The sickening crunch as his already dead form slams into the shelving makes you wince. All in the room turn towards the door, as two horrific shapes step through. One you recognise as being similar, probably the same species as the one who spoke for Wee Jas. The other you do not recognise immediately. But it is just as tall as the first, although not as massive and wreathed in flame. The Acolyte has time for one scream, and the Abbot time to utter, "The forces of the End."


ooc:

Know: the planes as a free action (roll in ooc thread) may give you some more info about what you're facing.
Initiative, and map etc will be in OOC shortly!

[Amoren]

The magical words are already at his lips as he turns around towards the noise, his swords already bared and ready as he assumed a defensive posture in front of the two scholars - just as the magic sunk into place. The wolf's visage then started to blink in and out, popping between this and the ethereal, while his mind spoke out to his companions, while his emotions called his mount forth from the skies to return to his side. Pit Fiend and Balor, almost. Either something is wrong with the arcane lore I know or they've been changed. Our priority is to defend the scholars and the book, if need be we should take them and shift back to our plane.


Spellcraft roll to persist Greater Blinking (because why not) DC 51 [roll0] He's then moving four squares to the East. Also using his empathic link to call his familiar, although it'll likely take a while from wherever the draconic horse was hiding in the skies.

[FyreByrd]

ooc:

Uber post upcoming, usually I'd post the rolls here, but because I'm taking about four entities turns, I'll post them in my die rolling thread and link them...don't want to take the risk of screwing up all the dice rolls in the post!



The first beast roars it's defiance at the room, then with a complicated gesture of it's hands, a fireball ripples accross the room, exploding next to the lecturn with a devastating explosive concussion (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14846307&postcount=5).

WAR takes 15 fire damage


Then it opens it's eyes wide, and rather dramatically flings a claw towards the lectern once more, suddenly, it appears as if the Acolyte, Bel'Agion, Madness, Casimir, Serafin, Indrayani, (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14846335&postcount=6) and the abbott (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14846353&postcount=7) are all frozen in place and cannot move.

Madness is paralyzed as per mass hold monster


The second beast, doesn't hesitate but moves forward to engage War in melee battle. The beast carries a huge longsword that it sweeps at War, however the blade just bounces off War's armour (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14846368&postcount=8).

You can see the concentration clear on the face of both Serafin and Bel'Agion as they attempt to throw the compulsion to remain absolutely still off themselves, but neither of them manage to do so.

ooc:


Apologies for the linky links, like I say, in less busy combat I'll put the rolls in post.

I won't update the map unless you really want me to. The only people who have moved so far are War (to J,12) and the Balor(the one just to the left of the map as you look at it) to I,13; I,14; J,13;J,14)



It IS MADNESS TURN

[raspberrybadger]

Madness can't move, but the mind is not hindered by the body. It is time to unleash insanity on these things. She reaches out to all the insanity in all the realms she's known, and focuses it into the mind of the demon.

Expending focus for greater power penetration and +3 surge, manifesting Cerebral Phantasm augmented to 15, spending 12 pp.

Caster level check vs SR, [roll]1d20+25

DC 34 wil save or be dazed for [roll0] rounds, mind filled with all kinds of crazy.

15% chance of enervation, 15 or less on [roll1]

[FyreByrd]

The Large demon in the middle of the room that so recently attempted to attack War, suddenly clutches his head (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14853605&postcount=10) with both claws, only narrowly missing chopping his own head off. He roars in agony, seemingly unaware of what's happening.

Missed his save by 1!


The pain is writ large on faces as around the room people struggle to throw (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14853616&postcount=11) off the domination of the Devil's spell.

All three failed their check


IT IS DEATH's TURN

[Ajadea]

Makaira snatches up fleeting ideas and synthesizes them into a functional whole. Mishpatili, return to our plane at once. Frevor, Corion, retrieve the dwarf and his allies. I will deal with the abbot and his servant myself.

She rushes towards the pedestal, stopping when she reaches the center of the room. There she lays one hand upon the book dangling from her belt and speaks, her ethereal tones grasping 'round hearts like iron bands. "BEHOLD, FOR THE HORSEMEN RIDE, BEARING DARKNESS AGAINST DARKNESS, AND END TO THOSE WHO WOULD BRING THE END."


Moving to J9 and casting Recitation.

[Keynub]

"Let's go."

Corion's left hand reaches for the withered flower hanging from his neck, as he voices an incantation and gestures towards the spellcasting fiend with his right hand. A cloud of yellow mist suddenly bursts into existence at his position, hiding the demon from everyone in the room.

"This should hinder him, but I'm afraid it will not last long. Frevor, follow me!", he says as he rushes towards the dwarf, circumventing the sword-wielding beast.

Casting Acid Fog, 20-foot radius centered on the probably-a-Pit-Fiend. Speed reduced to 5 feet, no 5-foot steps, no visibility beyond 5 feet while in the fog, plus negligible acid damage every round, starting now. Take 2d6.

Moving to M12.

[FyreByrd]

Casimir's eyes are focused on the beast near the lectern, suddenly without warning, a crackling stream of energy flies from him embedding itself into the Demon.

Check to Overcome SR(28) [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] Sonic damage. Ref Save for half(DC: 25) [roll2]


The crackling energy then arcs onwards hitting the beast through the acidic fog near the door.

This beast takes half the damage from above:
Check to Overcome SR(32) [roll3]
Ref Save for half again(DC: 25) [roll4]


However it appears that neither beast seems particularly affected by the energy

IT IS WAR'S TURN

ooc:

Ugh!

[Amoren]

Frevor turns to glance towards his companions, taking a moment to consider the situation... Before ultimately agreeing with Death's plan. We can't risk the scholars. We need to get them to safety. With that said, he quickly tries to duck underneath the Balor's confused motions as he heads towards the dwarf, sheathing his shortsword so that he can grasp the dwarf's paralyzed arm, while the other remains pointed to defend against the demon and devils if they escape their conditions to approach.

Tumble Check to avoid AoO [roll0]
He's then with holding his standard action to sheath his longsword and takes Corrion's hand once they're ready to bug out.

[FyreByrd]

One of the aggressive beasts is still on it's needs, roaring in a mixture of pain, agony, and confusion. The other is hidden by a mass of green boiling fog, however suddenly your attention is taken as it, or at least something like it, reappears directly behind the Acolyte.



Pit fiend greater teleport to J,5;J,6; K,5;K,6

Balor still dazed

Bel'Agion/Seraphin failed their save (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14871974&postcount=12)



IT IS MADNESS' TURN

[raspberrybadger]

Mishpatili doesn't at all like fleeing, but since she can't guarantee making the devil 'safe' before it can cause real harm, she accepts the escape plan, and plane shifts home.

[FyreByrd]

The battlefield is constantly changing with people disappearing, and in some cases, reappearing in different locations. However a fair proportion of the combatents are still frozen in place (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14885627&postcount=13), and cannot move.

IT IS DEATH's TURN

ooc:


oops I thought (I've no idea why) that it was Corion's turn straight after Mish, so didn't post yesterday...serves me right for trying to remember init order instead of looking!

[Ajadea]

Makaira whirls around, barely pausing when the fiend appears in front of her. Behind her, Mishpatili disappears with a pop. She grabs the book, the acolyte, and the wizened old abbot in a pair of sweeping movements, cautious to avoid draining them. And she pulls the two Chosen and the Book of the End into the spaces between and beyond, a faint smirk on her translucent features.


Concentration check to plane shift out defensively. Not rolling, since I cannot fail - it's a DC 22 check (15+level of SLA(7)), and I have a +21 Concentration modifier.

[Keynub]

"Mage! We're going! Stay where you are!" shouts Corion as he positions himself at the center of Frevor and the dwarf's companions. Stretching as much as he can, his hand snatches Casimir's wrist while his tentacles, previously concealed in his cloak, reach out and secure themselves to the toad-man and to the draconic creature. He finally takes Frevor by the hand, and transports them across the planes.

Moving to O13 and shifting, bringing Bel'Agion, Frevor, Casimir, Indrayani and Seraph along. Next stop : Home!

[FyreByrd]

ooc:

OK so we're out of combat, so post whenever/however you like!



It takes a few moments to re-orient yourselves as you once more appear back in your demi-plane's conference room. This time however there are many more entities here than before.

As the various spells that were in place wear off, the newcomers look around, a mixture of curiosity, fear, and surprise on their face. However the only one to speak is the reptilian looking lady, "Nice place you've got here?" she comments to Frevor with a slight smirk.

ooc:

There'll be an OOC post going up shortly to clarify a few things here and there.

[Ajadea]

Makaira sets the Book of the End down on the table carefully. "This is our hall, though I am afraid there is little enough here. However, for the time being, it is safe." She hesitates slightly. The customs of hospitality were not ones she had much occasion to use in life, let alone in her duties as Death. "I suppose you should make yourselves comfortable. I do not anticipate you will have occasion to leave soon."

She considers making a request, then decides to waits for the abbot to unfreeze before asking him. "With your permission, Abbot Seluzar, I would attempt to read your Book of the End. I believe I have some spells that would assist with that, and any information that can be gathered would be invaluable for targeting my scrying spells."


How's the food situation? Since we're just imported some living beings and all.

[Keynub]

"It isn't safe for any of you to travel out of this demiplane. I urge all of you to stay here when possible. If there is anything you need, our friend can help you." He points towards the entrance of the Butler's room. After a slight hesitation, he walks through the door.
"Hello, friend. We're going to need to accommodate six more people, as well as feed them. Do you think you could get some tents, at least as a temporary solution? Or maybe something more elaborate, if you have suggestions?"

[Amoren]

"It serves," the lupine replied towards the reptile, finally sheathing the two magical blades he wore around his hip. "Once everyone's settles, we need to find out as much information as you have on what we're fighting. After we've recovered enough strength, I and someone else will retreat back to your world to bring back my mount, who will hopefully have some more answers on how they're attacking the city."

[FyreByrd]

ooc:

As to food/similar, the Butler has the ability to mold the demi-plane however you want him to, all it takes is a little time, so if you wish him to create a new suite of guest rooms, or a library, or whatever all you have to do is ask...

...within reason :smallbiggrin:



The Butler bows gracefully to Corion, "I will arrange some tenting for your guests immediately, am I to assume they will be with us long term, would you wish more...permanent accommodation for them?"

As this is going on the Abbott shakes his head at Makaira, "You may try mūtu," he responds, "But it is unlikely that you will succeed, there is no harm in the attempt however." He shrugs, "Should you wish knowledge of the END, however it would be easier, and quicker to consult the young man." he waves at the Acolyte, "He has been reading the book of the END since he was a few weeks old."

[Keynub]

Corion nods. "Individual rooms would be great, thank you. As well as what our guests could ask of you. As long as they do not abuse your hospitality, of course." He takes a quick glance over his shoulder, then lowers his voice. "Make an exception for the Abbot. He deserves to be kicked off his pedestal. Please do not grant any favors to this arrogant buffoon, though I doubt not he will ask them of you."

Having finished, he hesitates for a few seconds, then asks : "Do not think we underappreciate your assistance; I am grateful, and I think the others are too. I am curious, though. Why exactly is it that you are helping us?"

[FyreByrd]

The Butler smiles at Corion, slightly mysteriously, "I will make no special accomodations for the Abbot at your wishes." he replies and then takes a breath before answering your question. "Why do you spread disease and plague, it is your nature, your purpose. Why do I assist, it is my nature, my purpose."

[Keynub]

Corion lets out a dry chuckle. "So we both are puppets of destiny. Not that I am complaining, of course."
Another slight pause follows. Then, he asks : "So, what do you know about Sigil? Anything of note, that could be linked to the recent events?"

[FyreByrd]

The Butler shrugs, "I spent much time in Sigil, as a younger...man." he meticulously straightens his coat, "An interesting place that you could spend many, many lifetimes learning about and only really scratch the surface. As to recent events, I know little about what has happened in Sigil for many years, however I believe I have a few contacts there still should you wish to speak to someone who may know more."