The Burden Of Fire

[Hartwig]

As you step into the room, the first thing you notice is the young red-haired man sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. At first his eyes are glazed over, but as he acknowledges your presence, he begans to speak in a calm voice. "You may not have seen me much around this area, but it is under my protection that you can be here. I engineered many tunnels under the city and, though you did not know it, planned your escape. You are welcome here, and will be fed and sheltered. You can trust me fully. But I do have a few minor jobs I would appreciate help in. I cannot be in two places at once, or at least not for a while, so I need your assistance. There are multiple jobs, but as you know, there is no such thing as a free lunch. You must do one of them. Do you accept?" The question hangs in the air.

[Cuthalion]

Charrok looks around. He sighs, as he nods to the man.
Where are we again? I thought we were going to a bar. Guys?

[Fates]

Claudius smirks, looking up to the man at the desk inquisitively.

Right. While we appreciate your hospitality, good sir, I'm not entirely sure we owe you anything. I can assure you that my escape was orchestrated by none other than myself and my companions, none of which, it seems to me, are you. You ask me, we could find perfectly good shelter most anywhere, and I'm not inclined to play pawn for you without a proper incentive. If you wish for my help, and for the help of our company, we'll need a damn better explanation than that, and some payment to boot.

He then gives an amused look to Charrok. We've just escaped slavery, and you think we'll be gallivanting off to an inn? We'll be dragged back to that hellhole quicker'n you can think, which, incidentally, could also be said of a turtle's pace. Still, you have a point. The gnome whirls back toward their greeter. Before you presume to ask anything of me, I'll need a good rest, and a gallon or three of gin.

[boldfont]

Bastion stares down his new "host". After the hell that was slavery he has little to offer in terms of conversation. He certainly doesn't feel like bargaining.

What? his mouth says.
What the hell? his brain thinks.

[Cuthalion]

Charrok looks sideways at the man.
I just need to know one thing. Are you going to force us to stay here? You seem to assume we're beggars, with no way to support ourselves.

[Hartwig]

"I apologize. Go and rest yourselves, and we can talk later. And no, I will not force you to stay, though I can give you easier access to food than you could get somewhere else." He pauses for a short moment. ""And about bars, both of you are equally mistaken. Many people have made it out here, so there is a "bar" of sorts. We do have a life." Mirgon stands up and begins to escort you to your rooms for the night.

[Cuthalion]

Stay yourself. The gin?

[boldfont]

Stay yourself. The gin?

At the second mention of gin Bastions mouth fills with saliva.
My friend has a point. Escaping slavery is thirsty work. I could use a drink and gin will do nicely. You speak of favors? Get us some gin and you've got a friend that'll owe you something.

Bastion wet his lips. How long had it been since he had the proper comforts of life?

[Hartwig]

Once you go out this house, turn yourselves toward the mountain and go about 1/8 of a mile. It has been enchanted to not be seen from anywhere farther away. You shouldn't need this now, but in case you forget later, take this. He draws out a map on a piece of blank parchment and gives it to Bastion.

[Fates]

Claudius snatches the paper, his little arm snapping out like a whip. I'll keep this, thank you very much. He looks around to the others. Right. Let's be on our way, then. I swear, if there's no booze when we get there, someone'll be in a lot of pain. The puffed-up gnome whirls his cloak ostentatiously as he strides out into the woods and off to the location indicated on the map.


Touch attack to take the paper.
[roll0]

[Cuthalion]

Charrok follows, grinning at the small one's antics.

[Hartwig]

You follow the directions, and after waking for about 15 minutes (the sand slows your pace) a small house suddenly appears on the horizon. Walking to it and into it, you find a bustling room filled with many very unique people, each with some out-of proportion body part. One short large-eyed woman steps up to and asks, "I haven't seen you before. What do you want?"

[Fates]

Claudius nudges Charrok playfully, murmuring. Even uglier than you, now that's a sight. Clearing his throat, he speaks louder. We're travelers, nothing more, seeking shelter after a long and painful journey. A frustratingly enigmatic man at a desk sent us here. What was his name? Merdor? Myrdo? Minrod? Melvin? At any rate, we've been promised food, shelter, and enough hard drinks to drown in. I don't suppose one of you handsome fellows could fix us up with some accommodations?


Move silently check to avoid my little jape being heard by anyone but the group:
[roll0]

Diplomacy check: [roll1]

[boldfont]

Bastion smiles warmly at the sight of drink and the bustle of a tavern. The twisted firms of the patrons concern him. Was it something is the water? And if it was, what about the beer? Gin! Gin sounded like a wise choice. Gin strong enough to kill any disease that might be floating around here. something is out of proportion in each one of them... Bastion scans the room for the out of proportion breasts.

What would you boys say he asks Claudius and Charrok, to a game of dice? Loser buys the first round.

Is there music? When you say bustling, do you mean full of people? Good cheer? What is the feel of this place?

[Cuthalion]

Charrok mutters back, "I think it was more like 'Nimrod' or something. And thanks, but no thanks." He looks at Bastion. They're supposed to provide us with drink, we don't have to pay.

Agreed with boldfont, also, should I roll for Move Silently?

[boldfont]

He looks at Bastion. They're supposed to provide us with drink, we don't have to pay.


Oh yeah! Bastion replies. He scratches his head. He realized that he may have given the impression that he actually agreed to do something in exchange for free beer. Perish the thought. What he actually meant was that he wanted a drink before he would even listen. Whatever! That was future Bastion's problem now.

Well then, we ought to take advantage of this. And we can lose our money to each other! I bet you 50gp that I can eat whatever you can fit on one plate. Hmm? We drink, and tomorrow we see about some work. Yes?

[Cuthalion]

I thought this was just a side thing and the guy himself, whatever his name was, was going to give us work. Either way, let's get out of here soon, it doesn't seem.... wholesome.
If Move Silently,
[roll0] minus demerits for it not being a class skill.

[boldfont]

I thought this was just a side thing and the guy himself, whatever his name was, was going to give us work. Either way, let's get out of here soon, it doesn't seem.... wholesome.
If Move Silently,
[roll0] minus demerits for it not being a class skill.

Ah! Come on Charrok! If we drink all night things will seen wholesome enough to you in a few hours. :smallwink:

[Cuthalion]

What do you think, Elia?

[Fates]

Claudius laughs, clapping Bastion on the shoulder (as best he can). Fifty gold, ha! Sounds like this gnome'll be sporting a new pair o' shoes tomorrow! You're on.

Heedless of his more cautious comrades, he wanders further into the place, searching for a large plate. When he finds one, the gnome turns his back to the others, and pulls a dozen crossbow bolts from the small quiver that hangs on his chest, and sets them all down on it. Slyly, he mutters a few words of power under his breath, and on the plate there now appears to be an enormous leg of lamb.

Grinning widely, he bows, and with a little flourish of the hand, offers Bastion the plate. Here. The largest piece-a-meat I could find.




Bluff check (opposed by Bastion's sense motive): [roll0]

Casting Silent Image on the crossbow bolts to make them seem to be a leg of lamb, and then casting Prestidigitation, altering the texture and smell to that of mutton, but making it taste like pig feces.

Upon picking up the crossbow bolts, he must make a will save to disbelieve the illusion, and notice that it does not feel like a leg of lamb, but in fact is a bunch of crossbow bolts. (Save DC 16)

If he fails, he'll instead swallow the bolts, which will taste like pig crap and presumably hurt a lot.

['Neath the Moon]

I don't think that self-inebriation is the most appropriate course of action given our current circumstance. This entire situation seems less than legitimate; I would prefer to remain alert. Not that I expect the likes of them, Elia says, glaring disapprovingly at Claudius and Bastion, to heed my advice, sage though I hope it is. Following this, she pulls up her red silken hood, travel-stained and worn, and seats herself cautiously as close to the exit as possible.

I've changed her speech-color to "Indigo" as opposed to bold & italic plum. It seems easier, both to see and to type.

[boldfont]

Bastion watches every bit of that silver haired fox walk away from him after receiving his rebuke. He gestures his index finger towards Claudius in that universal fashion that means "just a second" or "I'll be right back".

He chases after his elf companion and pulls out a chair for her (and him beside her).

Now just hang on there moon eyes! I hope you didn't get the wrong impression about me... Err.. Us. We're just looking to have a bit of fun. Ya know? Slavery wasn't exactly a blast. You... You are really beautiful. Did anyone ever tell you that Moon eyes? Come on... Just one drink and a game of chance or two. Unwind. Hmm?

He turns to his impish friend. I'll tell you what. New bet! That last bet was... "Immature". he smiles at Elia as he says this. I'll bet you 100 gold that I can get a kiss from our elf friend here by the end of the night.

Bastion always was a lucky dog. He would have eaten the bolt and likely died, but fate had other plans.

['Neath the Moon]

Very well, One-Eye, I'll have a single drink. However, I'm not quite sure we're out of the fire just yet. I'd rather you two didn't pass out drunk, just to be dragged off in your gin-induced slumber by your old owners. Turning to whoever serves the drinks around here, Elia requests a cup of something elven. Searching through her things, she produces a small leather bag, from which she draws a pair of glass dice with gold and silver inlay. Each has eight sides, one each of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, black, and white. Do you know the game of Spectral Command? It is a test of will and focus. On their own, these dice roll as you will them; a minor enchantment. Red and black, She rolls the dice, and one comes up red, the other black. The game comes from when two people try to control the dice at once. One person announces their color choices and then rolls; meanwhile the other tries to change their result. On color right is one point, both is three. First to thirteen wins. You can go first.*

*It's opposed will saves. If the person rolling wins, both colors are right. If the roller loses by 5 or less, one color is right. If the roller loses by more than 5, both colors are wrong. Being a cleric, she's pretty confident she'll win. Here's her roll: [roll0]

[Fates]

Claudius almost laughs aloud. A kiss from an elf? You'd sooner get one from Charrok. I'll take your bet.

He pulls up a high chair, and sits down, looking in, waiting for the two players to announce their colours.

[Cuthalion]

Charrok adresses the woman. A half-pint of gin, please. He walks over and stands behind Elia. I'm glad I've.... earned your confidence in my self-restraint. Oh, and I'm backing her. He places ten golden coins on the table by Elia.

[boldfont]

Bastion grins foolishly.
She's not so uptight after all! I like where this is going. You're going to lose this bet Claudius. She's into me; I can tell. If fact, maybe I can win both bets at once. What do you say Moon Eyes? If I beat you, can I get a kiss?

Bastion scoops up the dice tosses them on the table. He wants to wins so badly!

I call blue.

[roll0]

[boldfont]

The dice flop flaccidly on Red and Black again.

Gods damn it all! Three points for you? Okay... you go.

He looks around, frustrated already.

Where's my damn gin?!?

[roll0]

[Cuthalion]

I think asking might be an easier way than assuming that lady knows what you're talking about. I don't think you told her what you really wanted, anyways.

['Neath the Moon]

I'll take your bet, but if you lose you have to kiss Claudius. Green and orange, Elia says, and casts down the dice.

[roll0]

['Neath the Moon]

The dice land on double blue. Well, tied three-to-three.

[roll0]

[boldfont]

Claudius? Bastion exclaims. He grins and gives Claudius a coy wink. It's going to be a lucky night for one of us buddy.

Bastion gives a perverted nudge nudge and wink wink to Charrok. Oh she knows what I'm talkin' about buddy! But I gotta earn it. There's no thrill in love or gambling if you can't lose.

Let's go with double green.

[roll0]

[boldfont]

At the sight of double green Bastion lets out a cheer.

Hells yeah! Moon Eyes, I think your will is starting to wane in the presence of my handsome face.

[roll0]

[Cuthalion]

Charrok walks over and pokes the mutton. Hmm...
[roll0]
EDIT: He grins.

['Neath the Moon]

Elia bends her will against the kinetic forces of the universe, disrupting gravity's pull on the enchanted dice to cause them to shift towards Violet and white.

[roll0]

['Neath the Moon]

However those dice land, they certainly won't land on violet and white. My concentration is at a less-than-optimal state at the present time. Mayhap the liquors of my people will help me to focus. She requests a second elven beverage.

Next three:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[boldfont]

Bastion knocks back his gin and orders another to keep pace with his opponent. He is filled with that feeling of warmth and life that he gets when he is on a roll. Nothing can stop him now...


[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[boldfont]

The rolls go back and forth for some time, and luck is indeed with Bastion. The scores reach 10 to 4, and it is Bastions roll...

At the sight of Violet and Green Bastion leaps out of his chair and cheers. Green and Violet! I've never seen such pretty colours!

He slams back his drink in victory.

That's 13 to 4 if I can still count right. I win.

He looks at Elia with both lust and skepticism. He half expects this to be some kind of trick. Slavery has not dulled his libido, but it has made him cynical.

['Neath the Moon]

Yes, I suppose in this matter you were more determined. A pity, though. Claudius so wanted it. The gold, that is. Well, if we're going to do this, it'll be on my terms. She steps up to him, grabs him by the back of the head, and kisses him forcefully. As she pulls away, she mutters, Try anything and I will geld you.

[Fates]

Claudius laughs heartily, taking a long swig of his own drink. I'll admit, I've never seen such an unlikely win. Still, I suppose we all knew he had it in him. He downs the cup. At firrsht, I was all thinking "Oh, I should have taken that bet! She'll crusshhim and I'll be a hundred gold the richer!" but I guess sommat in me wash allike "no way, big C!" So I...I...I dinnit. I dinnit takeyer...bahaha! The intoxicated gnome burst into laughter at his own fib, hoping Bastion's lust and drunkenness, as well as his own natural charm, will allow the human to fall for the obvious lie.


Bluff check: [roll0]
What's this? It would appear that Claudius has purchased some property on Natural Twenty avenue! Good luck making THAT sense motive check, Bastion!

[boldfont]

The force of the kiss surprised him, to say the least. Bastion fell back into his chair and had what had to be the stupidest looking bewildered smirk the world had ever seen. Meanwhile the little imp Claudius was yammering something about how he was glad he didn't take the hundred gold bet. Bastion could have sworn Claudius did accept the bet, but...

Your roll is impossible to beat. Brat. :smallwink:

...who cares! He was the big winner tonight. No question. He downed his third (perhaps fourth?) glass of gin and said with all sincerity I'm rich enough already.

Yes sir! Nothing could touch him tonight. Ole Bastion was on top of the world.

I'm famished. Hand some of that mutton over here, would ya Claudius?

Sense Motive [roll0]
Will Save [roll1]

[boldfont]

Before he even touches it, Bastion knows something is up. Claudius looks like he just lit a flaming pile of troll dung in front of someone's castle. He reexamines the mutton with his eyes. Squinting, he hunkers down to tables level and take a loooooong hard look at the alleged "mutton".

...


And then he sees it.

He smashes the platter to the floor and draws his Scimitar, pounding the handle on the table. His face is cherry red from the blood rushing to his head and the intense anger he feels towards the treacherous gnome before him.

Why you spineless little pimple of a gnome! What are you trying to do, kill me?!? Give me one good reason I shouldn't make you eat that on all fours like a DOG!

[Fates]

Claudius looks startled, then slowly stands gets up from his stool.. Oh, fer...bloody humanshh, can' even takea joke.

He turns away and waves his hand dismissively, muttering calmly. You're drunk, Bastion. Go to sleep.


I cast Sleep on Bastion, who must make a will save (DC 16) or, you know, fall asleep.

[boldfont]

Bastion hears the word sleep echoing in his head.

He yawns.

Tha- AAAaaaauuuggghhhhhnnnn - that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. maybe i will...

And then dramatically slumps back into his chair one last time, fast asleep.

[Fates]

Claudius suddenly seems much more sober. We don't have much time; soon enough he'll be up again and after me. You there! He yells out to a bartender with enlarged arms, and snaps his fingers, Our friend has passed out, and needs to be carried to bed- quickly, if you would be so kind...

After that is over and done with, Claudius enters Bastion's room, takes his scimitar and kukri and gingerly places them outside the door, and, as quickly as possible, ties his limbs to the corners of the bedpost. He sits down on a nearby chair, and begins plucking at his lute, waiting for his irate companion to wake up.


The spell lasts two minutes. Assuming it takes about a minute to put Bastion in bed, I should have enough time to do all that I listed above.

Use rope checks:

Right arm: [roll]1d20+4[roll]
Left arm: [roll]1d20+4[roll]
Right leg: [roll]1d20+4[roll]
Left leg: [roll]1d20+4[roll]

[Fates]

Forgot the end-slashes.

Right arm: [roll0]
Left arm: [roll1]
Right leg: [roll2]
Left leg: [roll3]

[Cuthalion]

Charrok sighs. He was hoping for a nice quiet evening with some gin. Unfortunately, the evening had not been quiet, and he lost ten gold pieces. He walks over to the plate shards on the floor, casts Mending, and hands the plate to the barkeep. Which way are our bedrooms, ma'am?

[boldfont]

The spell wears off and Basion suddenly becomes alert. He sttempts to sit up, as people are often in the habit of doing after a bad dream.

He can't.

His limbs have been tied to the bed posts by some twisted gnome.

His eyes find the tiny pointy eared devil sitting on the nearby chair. His ears hear the taunting melody. His anger returns.

How the...? YOU LIITLE TURD ON LEGS! UNTIE ME AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!!!

[Fates]

Claudius stops playing, and looks Bastion in the face. The usual humour is gone from his eyes. You know full well that I will not. You'd have skewered me in a matter of moments if I hadn't dealt with you as I did.

Standing up, he frowns darkly. You're drunk, you fool. Do you really think I would allow you to die, for a practical joke and a silly bet? Think, would you, human, before judging me so. Three months as a slave have taught me the value of having friends I can trust.

He walks forward, and softly whispers into Bastion's ear. And if you should ever feel the need to threaten me again, remember well; that little sleeping charm is the least of my power. Your mind is not so well-protected a you might think. I could make you a different person, if I wanted, one who would obey me without question, but I don't, because I consider you a friend.

He steps back, and rubs his hands together. Now, are you going to calm down and let me untie you, or are you going to keep raving like a madman?

[boldfont]

Bastion knows he is drunk. He also knows of Claudius' unique brand of morality and has accepted him as a friend anyways. But friends in the chains of slavery are hard to come by. You take what you can get. He wonders briefly if their friendship will survive freedom. He finds the gnome's counter-threat arrogant, but he knows that it is not to be taken lightly. Still, Bastion can't keep his ego from reassuring him that the dirty gnome got lucky. If he hadn't been drunk, or if he had struck first and threatened later... things would have been different, he tells himself. As he finds some solace in these private thoughts.

Then he laughs.

A "shank" of mutton. Huh huh...

You're a piece of work Claudius. You know that? Agghh

He flops his head back in drunken frustration. He hates losing. Then he says something sensible.

Untie me. And I'll apologize if you will. We're friends and I won't let another of your stupid jokes get in the way of that. I'm - I'm drunk. heh heh. And I should know better than to make a bet with you.

...

Do you ever feel lost? Like you don't know what to do with your life?
No, of course not. It's just...

I've been in chains so long, and so much of my life has been about trying to free myself of those chains... now that I'm free I-

Never mind. I should - I should to to sleep. Mind using that charm on me one last time after you untie me? In the morning we can go see that ginger twit, and maybe he can inject some purpose into our lives.

[Fates]

Claudius laughs, and unties the knots. To be frank, I don't let those thoughts get to me. Try to find things in life you can enjoy, you know? He laughs again, louder. Gods, I'm drunk too. Sorry about the damned joke, I'm not always one for forethought, y'know. Here; sleep well, my friend.

He hums a little lullaby, and weaves his magic again. The ranger falls back to sleep, and the little man returns to the main foyer. Stroking his beard, he climbs onto a barstool, and begins toying with his lute again. He sings softly.


Soft and sweet as butter'n cream,
And calm as an April day;
Like some fey creature, come from a dream
To steal me heart away...


The gnome laughs again at his own silly melody, and swaggers off to bed.

['Neath the Moon]

As this is going on, Elia heads to her own room. Her exact actions will vary slightly depending on the room's details, but in essence they are:
- Pull curtains over any windows
- Lock the door, leaving the key in the lock so she will hear if someone tries to open it. (Picking or inserting another key will cause this one to fall, alerting her.)
- She keeps her sword, sheathed, close at hand.

She is still not convinced that this whole thing is legitimate.

Assuming nothing happens in the night to awaken her, she rises just before dawn to find a stream or forest clearing in which to pray. (Yes, she may pray in the stream.)

[Hartwig]

Your room is spartan: inside is only one soft bed, a desk, an empty cupboard, and a unshaded window. It does seem perfectly clean, though. Nothing happens in the night, and, after searching for a while, you find a cold stream flowing down from the mountains surrounded by fir trees. Assuming you meditate there, once you are done, the sky begins to darken. Clouds form overhead, and in only a few minutes, it begins to drizzle.
________________________________________________

You hear 2 knocks at the door.

The first is for Elia.
The second is for Claudius and Bastion.

[Fates]

Ignore what I previously had here, didn't see the knocking part.


The little gnome opens the door, groaning. Listen, you twit, I've got a headache right now that could run a dragon through and grind its bones to dust. What do you want?

['Neath the Moon]

Elia draws her sword, steps about ten feet away from the door, and says, Come in. (She didn't lock the door after returning.)

I guess I was still outside.

[Cuthalion]

Charrok finishes his trance, heads to the main room, gets some breakfast if he can, and sits down in a dark corner, waiting.

[boldfont]

Somewhere in the recesses of Bastion's mind her hears the knocking on somebody's door.

Mmmm? Numummmnmnn.. Come in...

And then he promptly falls back to sleep to his favorite dream of beautiful naked women that bathe him in beer and gold.

[Hartwig]

Elia is still outside, and it's raining hard.
_________
Whrn you open the door you see a skinny dwarf with red hair and a black beard.
"An important visitor us coming tonight, and we have no room for him. Would you be willing to consolidate your rooms??"

['Neath the Moon]

Elia returns to the inn, sopping wet from the pouring rain. Her thin red cloak is soaked through, but her robes of wool and leather repelled the worst of it. Resolving to acquire more practical clothing soon, she heads to her room.

[Fates]

Elia is still outside, and it's raining hard.
_________
Whrn you open the door you see a skinny dwarf with red hair and a black beard.
"An important visitor us coming tonight, and we have no room for him. Would you be willing to consolidate your rooms??"

Claudius growls. So that's 'ow it is then, innit? Some 'ospitality y'ave 'ere. Fine 'en, take me room, we'll be departin' soon, I 'spect. He shoves past the dwarf, and enters the main foyer.

OI! ONE OF YOU MUTANT BUGGERS GET ME SOME BLOODY COFFEE!

[boldfont]

Bastion groans It's the middle of the night! Who's yelling? Nuuuhghhh... The Dwarf can sleep with me. No funny business.

[Hartwig]

Elia:
As you walk into the room, you feel a strange presence approach you. The air feels somewhat colder, and it becomes hard to walk.

Claudius:
The servant dashes away, afraid. In the distance he yells: "Don't hurt me. I'm only the messenger. You don't want to be in my place."
Elia, make a sense motive check and a knowledge(arcana) check.

['Neath the Moon]

If she has time, Elia draws her sword and prepares to defend herself.

Sense motive: [roll0] Knowledge (arcana) is untrained, but I'll roll anyway: [roll1]

[Hartwig]

You can tell something intends to harm you. It doesn't speak and you can't see it, but your back suddenly begins to hurt, and you find it difficult to move.
Init, fort check. You took 2 points of damage.

['Neath the Moon]

Initiative: [roll0] Fortitude save: [roll1]

[Hartwig]

The coldness coelesces into a dark and heavy, but indistinct form. It is in the shape a tall thin humanoid, and carries a spear that looks like it is made of black smoke.
You won initiative.

['Neath the Moon]

Elia shouts, in Elvish, Stars protect me! and holds out her holy symbol* in her left hand. From her right hand trail a thousand miniature stars. She makes a pushing motion towards the dark shape, and the tiny points of light move out to encase her in a starry orb. While so doing, Elia begins walking away backwards, keeping her eyes on the shadow.

Taking a 5-foot step back, casting sanctuary,** and readying an action to move away if it manages to attack her.

*A little black glass orb with minute silver inlay representing the celestial globe of stars or whatever. It works as a tiny star-map, basically. The connecting-piece to the chain is at the North Star, if such a thing exists in this world.

**Anyone who tries to attack her in the next two rounds must make a DC 15 will save or be unable to.

[Hartwig]

Startled by the glowing orb of light around you, the shadow steps back, shoots a black glob of of darkness at your feet and dissappears into the air.

Everyone else: you hear Elia shout from next door. A few seconds later, the temperature of all the rooms drops quickly. Some yelps of astonishment are heard from your other neighbors.

[Fates]

Claudius groans. Bloody hell...I'm not in the mood for this. So saying, he takes out his crossbow and draws the string.

[boldfont]

Bastion falls out of bed in a stupor. He finds his rapier and kukri next to him. He rises and readies the weapon.

Wah? What the? Why's it so bloody cold? Elia! He rushes to her rescue hoping to see some action and save the day heroically.

[Hartwig]

You find Elia standing fearfully in the center of the room, but nothing can be seen and gere the temperature is warmer. There still seem sto be a strange feeling to the room though.
___________

The room becomes warmer and the yelling stops.
Spot Cheek to Elia and Bastion.