Madness in Crawling Flesh IC

[Lateral]

The Ghallanda Enclave
http://orig14.deviantart.net/b4cc/f/2013/127/d/3/frostklirren___die_taverne_goldrausch_by_gaiasange l-d64fdnd.png

The rain beats steadily on the windows as you step inside the tavern. Despite the violent storm howling outside, the public house is packed with people— the people of Greentarn are no strangers to harsh weather, and House Ghallanda prides itself on offering safe, comfortable enclaves in even the most far-flung and hazardous ports. The halfling servers rush from table to table, maintaining the flow of libations and good cheer with practiced ease; the patrons, made up largely of the usual Lhazaarite mix of humans, gnomes, and khoravar, seem for the most part determined to enjoy the night.

A band has set up in one corner of the room, overlaying traditional Lhazaarite songs of the sea onto the sounds of bustle and chatter. Locals and sailors dance together in the center of the room, roaring along with such well-known and venerable shanties as "The Busty Longshoreman's Daughter" and "King Galifar's Mighty Broadsword." A few of the more 'culturally refined' patrons, obviously new to the region, seem incensed at these, to the amusement of several of the locals.

There are people from all walks of life scattered around the booths and tables. Wealthy traders wearing ostentatious clothing look around nervously, despite House Ghallanda's reputation for maintaining the security of its enclaves' patrons; soldiers and sailors wearing the livery of one Nation or another drink large mugs of cheap ale and glower menacingly at each other, while those wearing the colors of the Lhazaar princes laugh incessantly at their demeanor; and dockworkers and port dwellers, wearing no particular colors at all, simply try to get as drunk as they can.

A small group of changelings play face-games off in the corner, although it's anyone's guess as to how many are truly in the room, while a rather large and heavily inebriated orc attempts to negotiate her way past the bartender's cutoff. The bouncer, a tall, lean half-giant with a deceptively powerful physique, eyes her carefully, awaiting a signal from the unusually stern-faced halfling hostess to evict the unruly customer. Scattered around the room are a few representatives of various dragonmarked houses, conducting their own business; of particular note is a heavily armed, battle-scarred Deneith scion, sitting in a booth and flanked by several tough-looking mercenaries, negotiating with a particularly anxious merchant. Other patrons keep to the shadows and the corner booths, attempting to evade notice; these include one half-elf seated alone in an alcove booth, wearing a thick turquoise cloak that conceals everything above his nose. There are even a few Aereni ambassadors, immediately recognizable by their distinctive clothing and looks of haughty contempt.

The whole scene, taken together, paints an unusually convivial picture of the Lhazaarite people, so often considered as hazardous and inhospitable as the region itself. Merchants and pirates, sailors and brigands, diplomats and reprobates— bitter enemies at sea, drinking and fighting together ashore.

Welcome to Regalport.

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
-----
The thunk of heeled boots is lost among the din of the crowd as the wanderer enters with her companion. Sporting rain-soaked short-cropped purple locks and similarly painted lips, the woman shakes her cloak, wicking some of the rain away. She brushes off her deep purple tunic, a vestment that reaches halfway down her thigh, nearly to where the hemns of knee-length leather boots begin. She runs a hand through her hair, slicking it back, errantly brushing against the hilt of an elegantly embellished sword that speaks of a goodly smith, sheathed opposite another weapon whose hilt is obscured, clad in black silk. The svelte lass wears a smile upon her lip, glancing to her companion. "Good to be out of the rain." She surveys the interior of the tavern, seeking an empty table, or failing that a table with a few bare seats, and maneuvers to take a chair.

"What do you want to drink?" She turns bold crimson eyes to her companion's, "I feel like something warm. Mulled wine, maybe...."

[Sallera]

Although she holds a light waxed-paper umbrella, brightly decorated in floral patterns, over her head as though expecting the threatening clouds to return to their previous behaviour, the woman strolling down the street has no such worries in truth, given that she and the weather reached an agreement several years back. And while she didn't mind storms when she wasn't expected to be out in them, today was an important occasion, so she'd made certain to remind the clouds of that fact.

Yulie had thought that she and Rygar had a fairly nice arrangement, all told; granted, it mostly amounted to avoiding actively antagonizing each other's organizations, but among people of their calibre, that was practically a public statement of respect... for a certain definition of public. But while she was relatively sure from the background investigations she liked to perform on her petitioners that a couple of the men and women who'd visited her audience hall in the past had been at least remotely connected to the Prince, him calling on her personally was momentous enough for her to overlook the unpleasantness of having to visit his intermediary instead of one or the other coming to visit her, as would be proper. If he was risking the prospect, however unlikely, of being publicly linked to the Silver Tide, then he must truly have something surprising in mind. She did not take him for the sort to arrange something like this as a joke, nor did she think him foolish enough to attempt to entrap her, but this certainly didn't stop her full complement of discrete protections from being active just in case.

Folding the ornamental umbrella as she enters the enclave, she leaves it near the door, sending a mental prod at the wind and clouds informing them that they were free to resume their previous tantrum until the meeting finished. Here in the Ghallanda enclave, her vividly patterned robes don't stand out quite as much, and the collection of stones circling her head - including the one responsible for her apparent youth - are hidden from sight, as usual. She was quite fond of the cut of her clothing, the elegant, tight-fitting garments appearing far more restrictive to her movement than they actually were and enhancing her image as a lady of refinement. Here in the public house, refinement was unfortunately in short supply, and she scans the crowd quickly, looking for the Prince's agent - not that she had to look particularly hard, with that colour.

Approaching the alcove with an unhurried pace, she gives a slight nod to the man. "An interesting choice of colour, khoravar," she says with a small twitch of her lips, before taking a seat with the assured grace of someone who has no doubts whatsoever about their place. Her words would be enough to let the agent know she was here to meet him; if he couldn't figure that much out, he didn't deserve his job.

[Jeff the Green]

Just outside of the tavern's door a hole suddenly opens in the ground and a short, slight woman climbs up out of it. Arabella had flown in above the clouds, but on her way down she had become sodden, her hair plastered to her face and her rivulets running along the veins of her wings and down her back. Aside from being unpleasant, meeting her employer's factor in such a state simply would not do.

So an hour ago she pulled a thin black sheet out of her pack and rolled it part-way open. She climbed down five floors and filled the tub as she unlaced her leather and put them in her wardrobe to be dried, conditioned, and folded. She sank down into the bath and all thought melted into the steaming water.

Her tub kept the water hot, so she lay there for three quarters of an hour before climbing out. As she did the water in the tub—and on her—vanished and the tub itself folded up into the corner, leaving her clean, warm, and dry. She selected a dress from her wardrobe, pale pink with yellow embroidery, a utilitarian garment but still fetching on her. Appropriate for the occasion, Arabella thought. After arranging that she selected some of her more unobtrusive trinkets to put on earlobes, neck, and fingers and pulled on her boots. Reaching back behind her, she touches a large sapphire in a star cut set among the gold chasings, and her wings shimmer and disappear.

Now ground level again, Arabella kneels and folds up her pit, returning it to her messenger bag. Heels clicking on the cobblestones, she strides inside.

The inn is about what she had expected, the architecture the same as all Ghallanda public houses in this part of the world. She takes the scene in quickly. It's something she'd learned to do very quickly when working for Her Majesty in the war. The soldiers are soldiers. She had spent enough time among their like that she could probably predict exactly which of them would end up drunk and forcibly objected by the half-orc, which would try to pinch her bottom or grab her and try to make her sit on their lap (and would thus require preemptive "dissuasion"), and which were drinking less out of conviviality and more to silence the horrors they'd seen in the war. Gods knew Arabella had seen enough of it to send her to her cups some nights, and she hadn't actually done the fighting.

The Deneith is interesting, though Arabella can't say exactly what caught her eye about him. The Aereni bore her in the way that only nobility from another country can bore another noble.

She briefly considers whether she is being paranoid, but Tam hasn't made a move for a while now, and it's not like he would scruple to impersonate the pirate prince. This would be a less-than-ideal place to be ambushed by his cronies, and she's just put on a clean dress. So she murmurs something to the goggles pushed up onto her forehead and suddenly the room appears exactly as it is.

She breathes a small sigh of relief that the half-elf isn't in a magical disguise, though with that cloak it doesn't mean much. Tam liked hiring members of other races to ambush her because he thought it would be less obvious, but he might have decided to send someone from his own house this time. She notes with some approval that the wealthier patrons took the same precautions with glamered mail as she did.

And at the table... oh dear. A succubus. That alone would be cause for some alarm, but Arabella is fairly sure she recognizes this one. She feels a flush come to her face as she remembers in quite a great amount of detail the succubus she'd met (and considerably more) while on R&R in a small town north of Lathleer. She'd heard rumors that Razia "reformed", though of course one knew how likely that was. But there is a celestial skarn girl with her, like she had heard. Either way, she is staying far from that one. Encounters with past paramours are not Arabella's idea of a pleasant evening, nor do they tend to reflect well on one in front of employers.

Oh, and while she was trying to get her heart rate under control someone else has sat down next to the half-elf. A collaborator? Arabella thought she knew all the major architects and engineers, but it is possible, she supposes, that the young woman is an up-and-comer from House Cannith. Hopefully brighter than the last one.

Well, they can wait a minute longer. Arabella stops briefly at the bar to pick up a mug of strong cider, tasting it and nodding at its quality, before sliding into the booth next to the half-elf. She nods at the d'Cannith and introduces herself. "Arabella ir'Marinen. I do hope you two are here for the job with Prince Rygar, or I'll be quite embarrassed." The smile on her face, with just a hint of impudence at the corners, implies that she certainly will not.

[Sallera]

A second invitee? Well, that at least finally explained why Rygar wanted her here instead of sending his man to make the request directly. She supposed the slight could be forgiven, in that case; she certainly wouldn't have wanted multiple unknown individuals in her audience hall.

Which was not to say that the slight girl in front of her was entirely unknown. Arabella ir'Marinen's reputation preceded her, although the presence of an Aundairan engineer did absolutely nothing to explain what Rygar wanted, unless he had some major property acquisition in mind.

"My, this is a curious meeting," she replies, raising a hand to her mouth to partially cover a small smile. She'd considered not giving her name, but if the noble was well-connected enough to recognize it, she probably also had the sense to keep it quiet. Surely a former leader in war would have learned discretion, even if it weren't for her upbringing. "Yulie Varinen. What is the Continent's little butterfly doing so far east?"

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella's mouth opens in a silent "Oh" when Miss Varinen introduces herself. What does a crimelady have to do with engineering? She supposes that it could be for the legitimate side of Miss Varinen's business, but what materials Rygar couldn't procure without her help is something of a puzzle. Or perhaps Rygar needed these particular renovations kept secret; that would explain why they were meeting in the tavern. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd installed a passageway for some noble's mistress—it'd be interesting to try to add one to a ship this time. Designs begin racing through her head and an awkward silence stretches for a few seconds.

"Rather the same as what you're doing in this tavern, Yulie," she eventually replies, catching herself and offering the same smile as before. "Though when you can travel above the clouds 'far east' means Sarlona.

"So, are we all here, or are you expecting others?"

[Lix Lorn]

"Oh, I don't know." says Holly, with her customary cheer. "There's something about the feeling of rain against your skin that's just... mm. Glorious."
She flashes a grin around the bar - certainly, a young woman wearing not all that much will draw quite some attention, but she's fairly sure her powerful figure and sharp spines will keep it on the polite, enjoyable side of raunchy - if they're brave enough to go that far to someone with golden eyes and shimmering wings. At least the bandages on her chest are less prone to going translucent than cloth; she's been in trouble for public nudity before. Enlightening, but not enjoyable.
"And, mm... if there's anything new on there, I'll take that. Otherwise you know what I like."
She slips into the seat besides Razia, looking around with some interest. Mostly, her attention is drawn by the bawdy music and the dancing. She does like dancing. Do you think the other dancers would be able to not impale themselves on her spines..?

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
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Razia smiles, tipping her head ever-so-slightly to the side, basking in the smile, the bubbly personality of her companion. She picks up the carte du jour, scanning it, and it isn't long before she's waved down a barmaid, and called for a steaming mug of mulled wine, and a small glass of an exotic, imported anise-infused liquor. She offers a swat to the posterior of their server as she leaves. The tradition of drunken bar-goers everywhere, and often replied by slap in kind...but very few patrons had eyes like Razia's. Deep, red eyes that sparkle like cut rubies; eyes that seemed to be the only thing that mattered in a small universe, when weaker-willed mortals looked at them. She turns her attention to the rest of the bar, and those eyes widen just a little. She turns her attention to her lover, and nods over the celestial's shoulder. "Don't look now, but I think that's the one we're supposed to meet. The letter said turquoise, right?" Her posture slumps just a little. "They're talking to the ir'Marinen girl. Arabella. You remember? The one that..." she mulls the phrasing over in her head, and seems to decide better of it. "You don't think this could be a trap, do you? There's three...don't recognize the other one." Even with serious words though, the succubus-in-sheep's-clothing is at ease, playful. She rubs her foot affectionately against Holly's beneath the table.

[Sallera]

"Ah, but we wouldn't be sitting in a tavern there, darling." Yulie was quite fond of Riedran business, but they were as protective of their home as she was of hers - just on a rather grander scale. "So however little trouble mountains and oceans might cause you, this is, to a point, the edge of your world, is it not?"

"At the moment, I am expecting nothing in particular, save that our prospective employer has a surprise in store." Her smile comes more from her eyes than her mouth as she briefly flicks her gaze in the silent agent's direction. "One curious meeting has not yet qualified."

[Lateral]

The Corner Booth

A wry smile plays about the half-elf's lips as Yulie and Arabella take their seats, though he keeps his cloak over his face. "I'm afraid we're still waiting on a few more. It would be a shame if I had to waste the time of such illustrious guests by repeating myself."

[Jeff the Green]

"Ah, well. Nothing to do then but chat," Arabella says. She takes a drink from her mug. "And drink, of course."

She turns back to Yulie. "To answer your question, though, Yulie, I don't come this far east often. I had a couple contracts in Adar, but beyond that I haven't had cause to come out here. I'll be honest, I was surprised to receive Rygar's letter." She returns Yulie's smile. "But I'm certainly excited about it. I don't think I've ever done this particular sort of work before."

[Khosan]

Who sends a letter to a ghost? Kacper sighed. He hated taverns. Always a scene unless he took the precaution of borrowing a body or carefully explaining the situation. Adding to that was the sheer difference between his mood and that of the tavern's - he was better suited for a funeral home in more ways than one. But, maybe if he just...

Kacper stuck his head through the wall. Far enough to get a look, but not so far that anyone could really notice. At worst, someone might see three dark spots on the wall in the shape of a face but no more. What am I looking for again...Ah. Turquoise. He pulled back, his contact found. The spirit made his way around the outside of the tavern until he stood on the opposite side of the wall from the one he'd seen, then he simply entered, standing awkwardly in the middle of the table before setting himself down along side some of the others.

"I bid thee good evening," he nods to the few already there, his tone so deadpan and morose he may as well have wished them an infectious disease, "and pray thou shalt not make a fuss about my presence. I am here to meet this man and nothing more." He points, however oddly with his sheet-covered hands, towards the turquoise-cloaked man. "I hope this shall not be long. I am not for such...revelry, any more."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella jumps at Kacper's entrance, making a squeaking sound and spilling cider on her dress. Kacper? she thinks. Why in Aureon's name would Rygar hire him? This was becoming more and more peculiar. As a rule, ghosts are not useful helpers when one is building something. Terrorizing exes, yes. But they tend to be mediocre masons at best.

Still quite flustered and soaked with cider, she sticks out a hand to Kacper. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Kacper, I pre..." She suddenly realizes that she is offering to shake hands with a ghost. A ghost who doesn't even have hands. "Er.. yes. Ah, I'm Yulie and this is... no, wait. Let's start over." By this point Arabella has become redder than rhubarb. She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I'm Arabella ir'Marinen. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, but now I'm dreadfully confused about why we're all here. I thought Rygar wanted me to build something for him."

[Lix Lorn]

"Arabella, you say?" she raises an eyebrow. There's something interesting that Razia isn't saying here - and, honestly, that's far more interesting than the contents of the letter. "Should I recognise the name? All that's coming to mind is... well. More distinctive than anyone in this room, save me."

Holly returns the rubbing, ever bright, enjoying another sip of her drink, and then tilting the glass to see how it reacts to the light. She seems to enjoy this as much as the drink itself.
"And yes, it could be a trap. I almost hope it is. They're a great deal of fun. Time to go over and see, you think?"

[Mahrke]

-----
http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
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Not a trap... thinks the succubus as she watches a -ghost-, of all things, float through the wall. And not just any ghost. Kacper. The succubus had heard the name before, many times, actually, oft-spoken in ire amongst the Lords of Dust. After all, there were only so many cultists to go around, and an apathetic ghost stealing acolyte's that might've otherwise made useful demon thralls had given rise to...frustration. Frustration that tended to end with the broken spines and shredded flesh of lesser demons and mortal concubines. A brief frown flickers on Razia's lips, though whether its from Holly's question, or the sight of the spectre is anybody's guess. "A one night stand from before I met you. I don't know if she'll recognize me...I had brown hair when we met. Also I was a man. Regardless, I can't imagine it being a trap. Not with how she's reacted. No, it looks as if the letter sought more that just us. Let's greet our fellows." Razia snatches the goblet of hot wine as soon as it is set down, leaving a few gold pieces on the table in her wake, and offering a hand to her companion with a warm smile that shows off pearly whites.

The pair approach in a manner more befitting socialites...if only gear didn't so clearly accentuate a proficiency at combat. Razia holds her goblet like a goose-egg, stem slipping between digits. She swirls the burgundy liquid about, taking a sip before bowing her head. "Pardon the interruption, but I couldn't help but overhear. I believe we're to join you as companions in a mysterious endeavor." Her gaze, a smoldering and enthralling one that threatened to ensnare heart within deep crismon pools, flicks at first to Arabella, then Yulie, then to Kacper (meeting what passed for 'eyes', at least), and then finally to the turoqoise clad stranger. Her voice is polite, with the slightest hint of a lilt. "Razia Blackthorn, at your service."

[Jeff the Green]

No. Surely the gods don't have that perverse of a sense of humor. Arabella turns slowly and sees Razia. The color runs out of her face and her throat tightens, and then it comes back, leaving her radish-colored again. "I... well... oh dear." She reaches for what remains of her cider and brings it to her mouth, but her hands are shaking so badly that most of it ends up in her bodice.

Slowly she sinks down into the booth, nearly catatonic. "I think I would have preferred Tam," she whimpers. After a moment, she rises, walks several yards away, and breathes deeply seven or eight times. She waves her hand and the cider disappears from her dress and her face returns to a normal complexion.

Returning to the booth, she puts on her best professional smile. "Let's pretend the last half minute never happened, shall we?"

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
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Well...it wasn't wholly unexpected, being recognized. After all, not many folks just -walked around- with wards against having theirs souls sucked out by a demon. Razia doesn't display any of the flustered exterior that Arabella does though. She chuckles softly, shaking her head at the mess the girl makes of herself...and when she returns, throwing up that serious facade, choking down her embarrassment and self-consciousness only to replace it with a confidant and steeled greeting, Razia can't help but admire it. Still, the risk was there. The risk that someone so close -knew- who she was. "Of course." The paladin sets down her goblet, brushing fingers through still-damp purple locks. "Honestly, I didn't know we'd be working with others. I can't imagine what sort've task calls for the service of...well...the materially-challenged?" Her eyes flick to Kacper...but her thoughts are elsewhere.


"I found your intellect attractive the last time we met. I shouldn't be surprised that you've seen through me, I suppose..." The voice is soft, keeping that lilt even when there is no tangible sound behind her words. A pause follows, hesitance...then, "I owe you an apology. I've done things in my life I've found regret for. I'd seek your forgiveness with words, but for now, have mercy and keep my secret?"

[Jeff the Green]

"I can think of a couple," Arabella says, now all aplomb, "but none of those would require all of us. I assume there's someone else coming, too, or our Khoravar friend here would have said something. I suppose there's little to do but wait for them."

Despite her capacities, Arabella finds it difficult to say one thing while thinking another—one reason she never considered becoming a courtier—and so she waits to address Razia. She starts to sit down, but then notices that her seat is wet. She cleans it with the same cantrip and sits down.

"Well, thank you," Arabella replies, a missive that coincides with a catlike smile. "It's not often one is complimented by a succubus. Don't worry, I'll be quiet. I'd appreciate it if you did the same."

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
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Razia pulls up a chair, taking her own seat and angling herself towards her celestial companion, legs crossed, she takes a sip from her goblet. "A bustling taven. Lightning cracking the air in a raging storm outside. A hooded confidant. It's like something out of a novel, isn't it?"

"Of course. You'll find that succubi aren't so different from the refined nobility they try to prey on; we don't kiss and tell." Nevermind that she'd told of the 'kiss' mere moments ago. But did that really count? No secrets between lovers, after all...

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella sniffs. "A quite inferior one, I suppose. Why, it's a ghost story as well. Soon we'll have maidens throwing themselves at barrel-chested sky-pirates and an old crone will come in pronouncing doom."

Meanwhile, she continues her psychic chat with the demoness, enjoying the diversion of trying to weave two strands of thought together without mixing them up.

"You've clearly been dealing with a better class of paramours than I have." Arabella's thought comes across, with more than a hint of grumbling.

[Khosan]

Kacper narrows his eyes and mouth into slits, sizing the others up as much as he's showing his disdain for them in general, "Yes, well. Were I to presuppose our purpose based on only what I have seen, I would assume the young prince is assembling a harem." He says, very pointedly directing his view towards Razia. "Four women and a man for whom the deed is impossible. Quite the menagerie he's chosen as well. I shall look forward to curating it as much as I am able." He deflates, quite literally, flattening himself against his seat.

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
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"There are less expensive ways to find a night of thrill, I think. Holly and I don't come cheap." She glances at her compatriot with a spry smile, before she returns to the ghost, eyes lingering. So...unusual. More than just intangible...a shadow, cast upon the material, without depth, or substance.
Holding two conversations at once came easily to the succubus. She had centuries or practice silently ensnaring prey whilst 'keeping up appearances'. "Do I detect a wounded heart? Perhaps I just have high standards." Or, maybe succubi never had to worry about their lovers kissing and telling because corpses don't talk.

[Sallera]

A short laugh escapes Yulie before she manages to restrain it, covering her mouth again. "Oh, pardon me, Kacper, the tales about you never mentioned your wonderful sense of humour. I am Yulie Varinen." She includes the new arrivals in her introduction as well, not mentioning but certainly thinking that the little butterfly living up to her name had at least as much to do with her slip as the ancient ghost's manner. This certainly was a curious group, and the presence of a pair of knights-errant was not helping her predictions.

[Lix Lorn]

Holly willingly follows her partner to the table, giving her customary beaming smile to each of the other attendants, coloured with bemusement at Arabella - who she has not yet recognised and then amazement at Kacper.
"Curious. I never expected to meet the, ah. The truth behind the tales." she says to him, still smiling. "I look forward to what kind of endeavour you and I might both be wanted for. I can't imagine what it might be!" she says, quite truthfully. The prospect clearly excites her.

"...have you seen any barrel chested sky pirates?" says Holly to Arabella, idly. "I've not spent enough time on an airship to really appreciate them. They're amazing things."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella learned bawdy jokes from soldiers, so she knows the first rule is the same as the first rule of combat: if you see an opening, take it. The second rule is the same too: when under fire, change the circumstances of battle.

So she puts on a wide-eyed face of marvel to the winged skarn. "Oh, Holly, you absolutely must try it someday," she says in a voice of breathless rapture. "When you get on you're absolutely certain that such a large thing won't possibly work. But then when you lift off it's glorious and by the time you're fully underway it's the only thing in the world you can think about."

"More offended than anything," Arabella replies with the mental equivalent of a sniff. "My heart wasn't much involved. It was merely a shock to discover that a gentleman could be so ungentlemanly."

[Mahrke]

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http://i.imgur.com/dolBrTj.jpg
Razia Blackthorn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=812272)
-----
Razia snorts into her glass of mulled wine, stifling a bit of laughter. Another drink from her cup, and the woman is picking a piece of cinnamon from between her lips, suckling on it for a moment before setting it aside on the table. "One imagines we'll be working together if we've all been summoned..." She glances at the inscrutable turquoise-cloaked man, seeking the slightest hint of affirmation. Her eyes shift to Yulie and Kacper. "And what better way to bond than spirits. What do you drink? On me." A pause. "Do...ghosts drink?"

[Lateral]

The turquoise-clad man sits silently across the booth from you, arms crossed. You can see a slight frown of annoyance beneath his cowl, but he gives you a small, curt nod. "One more guest, and then we'll begin."

[Sallera]

"Oh, that would be an interesting drink indeed, to exist in both the physical and spiritual realms. Perhaps useful to others than spirits, as well," Yulie comments, not quite acknowledging the offer of one for herself. "Alas, our present spirit does not seem eager to assist in bonding, but I have an alchemist or two in my company that might have ideas..."

[stack]

Another man walks in, dressed in fine, if somewhat ostentatious uniform not matching that of any known military, including tricorne hat. His face is tanned and weathered from sun and wind. A quick look about the room lands on the gathering group, to which he give a nod before crossing the room to join. Quincy d'Cannith, at your service." He states formally, bowing and sweeping his hat theatrically before sitting. "This is the correct table, no?"

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella tilts her head at Quincy. "Huh," she says. "Speak of the Traveler."

[Sallera]

"Ah, so you are the last one." Yulie places a smooth chip of rounded glass in the centre of the table, laying one fingertip atop it. "Shall we take this discussion into a more private medium, then?" With this many illustrious figures in one place, she was reasonably sure that whatever was to be discussed would be something she'd prefer no chance of anyone later associating with her if she decided to turn down the offer, and quite frankly, she wasn't sure if half of these people had any idea of what security meant. As soon as she has everyone's attention, she sends a wordless invitation around the table, an ethereal pattern serving as a conduit for a silent forum.

Mindlink everyone together, unless someone has strong objections.

[Lateral]

The turquoise-cloaked man looks mildly surprised. He looks carefully at each of you for several seconds, before nodding his assent. <Very well. Now that everyone is here, we can begin.> He draws the cowl back, and you can finally see the top half of his face, distinctive largely due to heavy scarring across the forehead and left eye. <Prince Rygar sends his regards; unfortunately, he is unable to meet you in person, as he is still occupied with the matter of the Diresharks.>

<Now, about this job offer. We— that is to say, Prince Rygar and his cohorts— have received word of a Cult of the Dragon Below inhabiting a temple out in the ocean. Apparently, the location holds some kind of connection to the Plane of Chaos. Ordinarily, we wouldn't consider this to be our problem, but we believe that Prince Kel of Grey Tide principality may be supporting them. That changeling is... an enigma, and Prince Rygar feels that if he's involved, then it's worthy of our attention. Unfortunately, we have been unable to investigate further— it's situated far to the southeast, deep within the Grey Tide itself. We don't believe that Prince Kel knows that we've discovered it yet, and we'd like to keep it that way, which is why we need to hire... proxies, one might say. I'm sure you understand.>

The scarred half-elf looks about quickly, before reaching into his cloak and producing a small Siberys dragonshard attached to a metal stake. <This is a wayfarer's beacon. It's attuned to a member of House Tharashk whom we have on retainer. We want the six of you to travel to this temple, destroy the cult, and stake this device inside. Once it's activated, our fleet will be able to navigate through even the Grey Tide, and we'll have control of the place before Prince Kel can blink. Of course, you'll need to make your way there without the beacon's assistance, but I'm led to believe that the usual maritime dangers won't be a problem for Mr. d'Cannith.>

<The pay is thirty thousand Galifars, each, or the equivalent in service in kind. Any questions?>

The Diresharks are one of the smaller principalities in the area. They're centered in southern Questor, about three hundred miles away (five days by warship, about a day by Quincy's airship).
The Diresharks' leader, Prince Kolberkon, is very ambitious, despite the small size of his principality. He's been trying to increase his influence in a bid to surpass Prince Rygar; the 'matter of the Diresharks' to which he's referring is pretty much just Rygar and a chunk of his fleet spending some time at Port Verge to try to discourage that notion.
The Grey Tide is a principality composed largely of changelings, centered in Lastpoint to the south. Not much is known about them or their fleet; it's certain that they have at least four ships, but nobody knows for sure how large their fleet truly is.
Their leader, Prince Kel, is as much of an enigma as the principality itself. Supposedly he's been around for thirteen hundred years, which means that it's either a line of leaders keeping the same name, or it's the same changeling made somehow immortal. (There are plenty of ways that could've been done, of course.)
The Grey Tide is a region of near-constant fog and vicious storms located east of Lastpoint. Nobody knows just how large it really is, but most ships that go in there never come back.
There are many theories about just what the Grey Tide is, exactly, but no one knows for sure. The most prominent idea is that the entire thing is a manifest zone to Dolurrh, but nobody who has tried to check has come back.

[Jeff the Green]

<Why us?> Arabella asks bluntly. <Mr. d'Cannith is obviously meant to get us there, and I'm sure Miss Blackthorn and Miss Holly are up for removing cults wherever they can be found, but why ask me, or Yulie, or Kacper? I mean, a suicidal ghost? An engineer? A merchant? We aren't exactly the first people that would occur to me to hire.>

[Mahrke]

Razia tips her head a bit, and takes a slow draught from her cup, draining the remainder, and grins at the newcomer...truly he looked like he could've jumped right out of that novel. "Ahoy! Sit, sit...." She pushes herself back on the legs of her chair, catching herself on the underside of the table with her knees such that she is 'reclined'. She captures the waist of a passing barmaid, and looks up at her upside down. "Where have you been all my life! Go tell the barman to make us six Cannith Powderkegs. If he doesn't know what that is, just tell him to make a guess of it." She reaches into the pocket of her tunic, and fishes out a trio of sparkly platinum pieces, offering them open-palmed to the waitress, all the while carrying on a second conversation in her head.

"This -is- quite the group you've assembled. And while thrashing a cult is a merry time, I don't know how suited I am to swimming about in the middle of an ocean. Much less one infested with dire sharks. Scary."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella taps the barmaid on the shoulder politely as she passes. "Just cider for me, thank you. Powderkegs are a bit much for me at the moment."

[Sallera]

Yulie lets a little of her amusement filter through the link. <Patience, little butterfly. I deal in many things, not all of them physical.> Her own role in this, at least, is clear enough (although she might admit to being as curious as Arabella about Kacper's); Rygar apparently suspected her warding talents, and for providing security and information for an expeditionary force... thirty thousand wasn't that far off what she'd have asked, given that it was in unknown waters. Of course, he probably didn't know all of the limitations she worked under, but that was merely the nature of patterns worn into the self - they tended to gravitate to affecting one's self.

<Keeping our visit undetected by Prince Kel is a given, but what about the nature of his connection? Are you offering a bounty for information uncovered along those lines, or merely interested in denying him the site?>

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella quirks an eyebrow in Yulie's direction. The crimelady leaped from one subject to the next too quickly. Is that why Rygar's contracted her? No one knows a great deal about her. Maybe I was wrong in assuming she was merely secretive.

[Lateral]

The scarred man shrugs. <An excellent question, Ms. ir'Marinen. In your case, we felt that it was important to include somebody with architectural experience. This temple is supposed to be rather peculiar, and very old, so we're not entirely sure if it's even stable. Simply put, there aren't exactly a lot of architects who also possess the particular skillset necessary for this endeavor.> He turns to Yulie. <Ms. Varinen, I'm sure you've already surmised our intentions, but it may go a bit further than the usual arrangements if this expedition is successful. If all goes according to plan, we'll be setting up a long-term presence on that spot, and we'll need to contract for supplies. Prince Rygar trusts the security of your company more than most.>

<And, of course, Kacper the ghost. I'll admit, we weren't entirely sure that you would even come. In any case, our motivations for including you are twofold. First, we know of no one who has been around quite as long as you have. This temple is supposed to be ancient, to the point where it doesn't resemble any structures that we have been able to uncover; the hope was that you might have seen something similar at some point over the last thousand years. Of course, Prince Rygar has very little interest in such things, but he knows of several organizations that may be interested if the origin of this site can be identified.>

<Our other reason was rather more, ah, morbid. The Grey Tide is a dangerous place, and if anything should happen on the way there or back... well, ordinary divination tends to be highly unreliable in that area. To put it bluntly, you can't die, which makes you our insurance.>

<As for your question, Ms. Varinen, we know very little about what Prince Kel wants with the place. If you do happen to uncover any further information regarding his intentions, we'll buy it from you at the usual rate, but as of right now, denying him the location is top priority, and securing it for our own use is second.>

Meanwhile, the serving girl takes one look at Razia's smile and faints. The hostess comes over and gives you all a stern glare, but quickly brings the barmaid to her feet and takes her over to the kitchen. As they leave, you can hear the barmaid mumbling.
"Sovereign Host, I'd like to... her blouse and... right on top of... with the good brandy casks... take those beautiful cheeks in my hands and... right on until the cows come home, by Arawai!"

[Lix Lorn]

"Hon, please, no breaking the barmaids." says Holly, glancing at her companion with a grin.

<So, I presume myself and Razia are there as muscle? I fear in company this illustrious, we can't offer much else. Though, I suppose major cults do need quite the expert muscle to deal with thoroughly.> She adds her own smile, not as overpowering as Razia's, but no less bright. Every word she thinks seems to sing with curiosity.

[stack]

<Not a mortal storm I have met yet that I couldn't sweet talk, at least for a time. Not that waves are an issue when you travel in style. Mystery, intrigue, and a chance of terrible death? Sounds like fun. I'm in. When do we start?> Quincy leans back and puts his hands behind his head.

[Lateral]

The half-elf nods to Holly. <We don't expect that there will be too much trouble with the cult, but there are so many unknown risks involved that we felt it was best to be safe.>

[Jeff the Green]

Oh gods, an enthusiast, Arabella thinks with distaste. She knew a great many number of young men and women with that attitude in the war. Emphasis on knew.

<I suppose that's a reasonable motivation to bring me on,> Arabella allows when the half-elf 'speaks'. <And, I'll note, a ruthless attempt to play on my professional curiosity. Well, it worked. Assuming that the others are willing to play their roles, I'm in.>

[Sallera]

Safe to the tune of an additional sixty thousand. Rygar certainly wasn't as sanguine about their prospects as his agent wanted them to believe. All the same, that wasn't going to stop Yulie from accepting the contract, at this point. Good pay with the prospect of more, she probably wouldn't have to get her hands too dirty if everyone else accepted, and... well, she couldn't deny that the prospect of working with figures of similar stature to her own was intriguing. She had been the tallest tree in the forest for quite some time, and enjoyed it greatly, but travelling alongside someone more puissant than Sara or Verin could be enlightening. And the suggestion that Quincy had an 'agreement' with the weather similar to her own... well, that was rare indeed.

<The Prince knows me well.> Yulie smiles slightly, although this time it is less amused and more appraising. <I will accept the contract, and look forward to said continued work.>

[Mahrke]

Razia looks at her celestial companion, shrugging. "Too much?" Gaze returns to the barmaid, a cordial smile returned, before she pulls herself, and her chair, back upright. "Probably too much. I hope she doesn't forget the drinks. Do you think we'll have time to meet her after she gets off work?" Her attention drifts to Yulie, meeting the slender and regal woman's gaze. "So, where do you hail from? And do they have powderkegs there? You -must- try one."

As per usual, her raucous, pointless verbal communication is accompanied with altogether different thoughts. "I'll be honest, I don't like swinging my blade around willy-nilly at the behest of shadowy aristocrats...but cultists are rarely good news, and it seems as if there might not even be a fight. But...I'll happily protect a few scholars for thirty-thousand. Can buy a -lot- of powderkegs with that."

[Sallera]

Yulie raises a delicate eyebrow. "Oh, I wouldn't say must, darling. People might think you were up to something. But to answer your question, I live here in Regalport, as it happens."

[Jeff the Green]

"People might think she was up to something regardless," Arabella says archly. "You do have that look, Razia."

[Mahrke]

Razia gestures in innocence, hands to the side, palms upturned. "What? I just like to have a little fun. And fun is even moreso when you get to share it with others. Besides, I'm a paladin." She jerks a thumb towards the dove-wing hilt visible above her right shoulder. "See the sword? Means I'm trustworthy."

[Lix Lorn]

Holly, halfway through a mouthful of drink, has either a coughing fit or a laughing fit. It's hard to tell which.

[Mahrke]

Razia pats Holly's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "The anise a little strong for you?"

"-Someone- is aiming for a night in leather cuffs with that sass." Razia taunts with cheery thought.

[Lix Lorn]

"Yes, that's it. I knew I could trust you to know." she says, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Is that a threat, or a promise?" she teases back.

[stack]

Quincy lifts an eyebrow at Razia. "Yes, I've never met anyone who carried a sword that wasn't the epitome of honor and forthrightness," he quips.

[Khosan]

Kacper locks eyes with Yulie, "I had no intention of making a jest. I assure you, it was simply an observation."

"And no, I cannot drink. Or eat." He clasps his mitten-like hands on the table and sighs, while the rest of his body ripples with annoyance. "I must thank thee for the reminder of that fact."

When the barmaid comes around, Kacper briefly ducks back into the seat. Not that it's strictly necessary with all of her attention on Razia, but better in a wall than in a panic.

<I do have some redeeming qualities, Madgirl. As the man said - I am immortal. I've also quite mastered the manipulation of the forces of life and death, have spent centuries perfecting my statecraft, spellcraft and many others.. I am more than the stories paint me as. Though I do wish for my own death, it is not as if I mope about and beg peasants to stab me.>

[Mahrke]

"-Holy- sword. Blessed with the power to dispatch without harm, and fend evil from good. I should know, dipped the thing in angel's blood myself." She gives a pointy smile. "That last part was a joke. Maybe."

"When do you want us to being our search for his place? Immediately? Tomorrow?" The thought comes, intrusive, muddled with the sound of -real- speech.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella stares at Kacper primly. Even sitting down she manages to look down her nose at him—and she's a at least a half foot shorter than anyone else at the table. <I should hope not,> she says acidly. <Peasants rarely have weapons with sufficient metaphysical heft to do you any damage. I'd hate to be working with a moronic ghost.>

[Lateral]

<As soon as possible, preferably. Unfortunately, I can only give you an approximate location, but with your combined talents I'm sure you'll be able to find the temple inside of a week.>

The half-elf sighs. <If there are no further questions, I suggest you be on your way. The longer we draw out this meeting, the more likely it is that Prince Kel's agents will take notice. I note three in this room, but they don't seem to be paying us much attention. I'd prefer to keep it that way.>

[stack]

<Then we should depart presently, but not together. I fear bringing in our conveyance may attract attention. We should stagger our departure a few minutes apart and rendezvous shortly I suspect. I will be easy enough to see coming.> Quincy winks, stands, stretches, and begins to turn for the door.

[Mahrke]

<I agree. Holly and I will leave last. Distractions from silent conversation aside...I -do- want that drink...and that barmaid.> The purple-haired paladin glances over her shoulder as she thinks, and a hand glides idly to Holly's neck beside her, stroking affectionately at the celestial's locks as she leans back in her chair. "I love taverns. Don't you?" She looks at her companion. "Always so many different sights and sounds and people. Give me a tavern on the bad side of town over a fancy gala any day of the week."

<Stay a while, won't you? I have fond memories, even if they were from another life. I know Holly would love to get to know you.> The succubi's thought possess a happy, joyful warmth. An emotive color that might be an expression of something real, or just the deception of someone that has mastered telepathy over centuries.

[Sallera]

Yulie nods, telling the weather to clear up again in the back of her mind. <Take it to the docks, we will meet you there individually,> Yulie sends as Quincy is on his way out. <No need to bring more attention here. I have some business to handle before we depart, so I will be half an hour or so.>

Keeping an eye on the weather, Yulie pockets the bit of glass as soon as the rain stops, collecting her umbrella and strolling casually back to the warehouse.

"Boris, my dear, I have a new project for you," she calls as she spots one of her junior alchemists. "I heard a wonderful idea today, and I'd like you to make it a reality. We need a drink, preferably alcoholic and taste is a factor, that exists simultaneously in the physical and spiritual realms. Get advice from Farik if you need it, or just drag him off of drug refining if this turns out to be long term, the market's doing fine. Tasha! We're going on a trip, pack a bag and meet me here in a quarter hour."

The familiar tingle of her wards acknowledging her presence greets Yulie as she moves into her own chambers, collecting everything else she'll need for a long term job. This includes unfolding an extradimensional space and ordering a pair of ornately dressed and winged skeletons inside to join their somewhat less refined brother, as well as putting together a few bags of gemstones. The business, on the other hand, needs much less care; a word to her two general managers that she'll be stepping out for a week, and the business will run itself just fine. They know well enough by now what sort of emergencies justify spending company funds on Sivis services to contact her when she's missing.

Heading for the docks, she doubts she'll have to look far; a non-Lyrandar airship is the sort of thing that stands out.

[Khosan]

"Fascinating. Thou art truly bothered by it." Kacper starts to sink back through the wall he came from, looking slightly bemused. "I shall meet thee at the ship. This should prove to be a very interesting trip, if nothing else."

[stack]

Quincy is already on board before anyone else arrives, leaning casually against the mainmast. Those nautically inclined will note the curiously arranged sails on the sides of the ship, swept back and furled as she sits quietly at dock. The observant will also note that she is not tied down and that there is absolutely no sign of any crew. He greats each as they arrive. "Welcome aboard Sylph! Plenty of cabins so make yourself at home. Journey won't take but a day, but things may las longer on the other end. Mind your manners, she's a Lady." He pats the mast. A lady that will dump me overboard at 10,000 feet if I don't give her the pleasure of surprising the newcomers.

[Lateral]

By the time you all arrive at Regalport's extensive docks, the storm has relented slightly— the occasional peal of thunder still echoes in the night sky, but the rain has all but stopped, even without the aid of Yulie's magic. Even at this late hour, longshoremen and sailors work by lamplight, loading and unloading the ships berthed at the wharves. Of the dozen or so ships currently at port, only a couple fly the blue-green flag of Prince Rygar's Seadragons; most of the fleet is off at sea, either accompanying the Prince in Direshark territory or attending to his various seafaring endeavors.

Sylph sits by a small pier just a bit off from the main docks.

[Mahrke]

Razia arrives walking a bit...squirrely. Her mirthful laughter is left to fly free on the night air as she arrives with Holly and Arabella at the Sylph. "Airships. You know..." She drops her voice a bit. "Dunno why we never thought of this. We had like...a majilion years and all we invented were nipple rings." She dips to the right, slinging an arm over the inventor's shoulders, and smiling drunkenly. "Which are pretty great, but come on," she says more loudly. "Airships! Can't travel in more style than that." The purple-haired palading whacks the flat of her hand against the door frame of the great ship, and struts inside, stumbling for a step. "Whoa...okay, maybe four was too many...maybe -someone- should've had their drinks, eh?" She eyes Arabella, pulling her closer, and ensnaring Holly with her other, to bring the trio closer into a hug as she shouts into the interior of the vessel. "Eh! Any other...stuck-up puritans aboard? When do we shove off...and where's our room?" Another giggle, and she leans affectionately upon Holly, whispering something in her ear. She tips her gaze back towards Arabella and winks. "You can join us too...if ye wanna," she chimes suggestively, her voice low, though no longer a whisper.

"Leather cuffs're a promise..." She says, voice giddy and drunk.

[Sallera]

Yulie eyes the ship appreciatively as she approaches with a sharply dressed but otherwise nondescript young woman a few apparent years her senior. Quincy was well known for his airship, but a non-elemental vessel was still quite a novelty, and it cut an impressive profile. Certainly a ship she could be a satisfied passenger on.

Of course, this wasn't a pleasure cruise, and she had a job to do. The smooth glass chip appears in her hand again as she addresses the captain through the still-active link. <Hello again, Quincy. Are there any existing passwords I should know about, or do you have other methods of identifying unwanted passengers?>

[stack]

To Razia: "We shall depart as soon as we are all gathered. As for accommodations, I have the main cabin, the rest can be found below deck and are free for the taking" He gestures back toward a door that presumably leads below.

<Haven't had need of passwords. You will find the crew is small enough that anyone uninvited tends to be noticed> A smile can be felt through the mental link.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella visibly tenses up as Razia puts her arm around her—godsdamned succubi with their godsdamned succubus pheromones—and then when Razia makes her... proposition, flushes a deep red. She delicately extricates herself from the demoness's grasp before declining. "I'll have to decline, as... tempting as your offer is." From Arabella's tone it's clear that she's not actually tempted. Much. "I'd like to get some work done in preparation for our delving."

Arabella takes another of the deep breaths that are starting to become something of a trademark. "Actually, if I might borrow your swords, I think I can build something that will make your strikes a bit surer," she says, her voice steadying. "Maybe something to improve the balance. Or something like the scrywire spider. A beetle perhaps..." Arabella's voice trails off, but her eyes dart back and forth, chasing phantom designs of future apparatuses.

[Mahrke]

Razia look disappointed at the rejection of her offer. "Mmph...you need to loosen up, y'know? Yer wound up tighter than yer inventions." Razia's raucous laughter seemed to indicated she thinks her joke is a real knee slapper. "Ahh....well...the swords." She clears her throat, becoming more serious. "I...you can play with this one." She puts hand to hilt, and draws forth the gleaming, cold longblade, bring it out in front of her. "Be careful with it...dun' want you breaking it." She flips the blade in hand with what can only be described as the 'opposite of careful', catching it by the blade. Razia seems surprised when blood blooms from her palm, canting her head. "It's uh...cold iron..." She smiles, bringing her crimson eyes to Arabella's as she offers the now-bloodied hand-and-a-half sword, pommel first, to the inventor.

[Khosan]

Kacper follows shortly after Razia, listless and ashamed to be in close proximity with her, "I pray thou shalt be more dignified in our future ventures. Should I die from the shame of merely being associated with thee, I pray I come back so I do not suffer the indignity of it."

He sighs, floating around this new environment to get a feel for it. "I do hope the walls are thick. I shudder at the thought of what horrors I might hear."

[Jeff the Green]

"You're welcome to share my quarters," Arabella offers Kacper. "Portable holes insulate against sound quite well."

She takes the blade from Razia, marveling at its balance. Still, there was work that could be done to make it better. She pulls a white handkerchief out of a pocket and cleans the blade before slipping it into her bag.

[Lix Lorn]

"Razia, hon, let her flee if she likes." says Holly, happily - completely missing the insult in her words. "I can keep you quite distracted enough." she adds, emphasizing her words with a carefully aimed pinch. "And please, master phantom, she is quite capable of maintaining decorum when she NEEDS to. It can just be hard to persuade her that she neeeeds to." she giggles. She may have had less to drink, but she lacks the tolerance of her partner. "And.. and... this is a VERY nice ship! It's all. Pretty and. Uncluttered!" she looks around, eyes wide and excited. Her wings flutter faintly.

[Lateral]

You can all hear a light chuckle echoing out from somewhere beneath where you stand.

"Why, thank you, dear. It can be a struggle to keep myself clean, but it's certainly worth the effort." The voice is deep, powerful, and unmistakably feminine, but it echoes in a very strange way, as if it comes from every direction at once.

[Mahrke]

Razia stops mid-stride at the sound of...god?...booms around her. Stop is perhaps a chartiable word, though, intimating at something more measured and intentional The demoness-in-disguise trips over her own foot and careens into a wall, catching herself from a nasty fall with outstretched palm. She pushes herself away, though a red hand-print remains upon the otherwise clean interior of the ship. "Uh..." She looks at Holly, dumbfounded for a moment. "That...wasn't the -ship-, right?" Another pause, and she looks at the floor. "You...don't talk. Right?"

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella laughs merrily at Razia. "Yes, yes I'm quite sure it is," she tells the succubus.

"Sylph, I presume?" she says, staring at the deck. "I'm quite pleased to meet you. I've wanted to make your acquaintance for some time."

[stack]

"Awh, she will be disappointing you already knew. But we expected you to be well informed." Quincy gives Arabella a nod while keeping his smile at the others' reactions from growing too large. "It never grows old, you know."

Those that venture to claim cabins find them well appointed, with bare wood of several species of plank size in the walls and floor that staggers those familiar with traditional lumber harvesting. Indeed, the reliefs depicting the various realms, scenes of forests, sea, and sky, appear almost shaded in the grain, beyond merely being carved. Even the most discerning eye will not find a single tool mark. Beyond that, they are furnished with equally exquisite chairs, beds, real beds, not minuscule bunks, that seem to grow form the deck, as well as elegant writing desks and spacious storage trunks.

[Khosan]

"Of course it's not the-" He stutters to a stop as Arabella laughs.

"It is." Kacper's face travels upwards as he lets loose a pained groan. "Why must thou make such vexations? Is not a flying ship enough?"

[stack]

"Now, that is not way to speak to a lady. Especially one that will be carrying us for the foreseeable future. I recommend being polite." Quincy replies, still half-smiling.

[Lateral]

Sylph laughs again. "Of course I don't talk! Why, whoever heard of a talking airship? What an absurd notion."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, dear. I have so been looking forward to your arrival; it will certainly be nice to have such a skilled mechanic on board. Bless his heart, but Quincy is no shipwright."

When Quincy interjects, Sylph lets out a low grumble, and the floor shakes just a bit. "Oh, fuff. Quincy, let them say what they please. I do so enjoy these first meetings, the reactions are always priceless."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella smiles benignly at Quincy. "I think we shall get on famously, Sylph."

[Lix Lorn]

Holly shrugs to Razia, and tries to help her up, only to all but forget her when Sylph confirms it.
"Oh, this is truly astonishing! How long have you... well, how old are you, I should say? How were you... is it a personal question to ask how you were... born? Is flying your way like... well, you wouldn't know, would you... oh, I have so many questions..." she babbles, while looking in all directions. "...firstly, for example, where do I look when I'm talking to you?"

[Lateral]

"...You know, I've never really thought about it. I can see the six of you perfectly well, so... I suppose... just look at the bow?"

[Mahrke]

"A talking ship..." There is a pause. "Way better than nipple rings." The statuesque human shakes her head, and makes her way further down, seeking to secure quarters for the pair. Though the sentience of their ride was curious, she didn't have the head for it right now...and thus, Razia flops down unceremoniously upon a bed after casting aside cloak, sheathed sword, and boots. She looks up at the wooden ceiling of the quarter. "Huh...did she say she could see us?" She frowns. "Hey...uh...ship! She calls into the lonely room. "Can you see me now?" Silently, she hoped not. Besides the awkwardness of having a faceless, ever-present peeping tom watching over her bedroom activities, Razia very much valued stretching her wings in private...having to wear the facade of a human for the entirety of their journey promise to be...cumbersome.

[Sallera]

"Oh my, that does answer my question before I asked it. A ship's spirit rarely has such power." Yulie seems oddly unshaken by the revelation, although not from having known beforehand; rather, as though the idea of animate spirits inhabiting objects were customary. Flipping the bead in her hand over, she extends a private invitation to the ship's spirit.

<Sylph, my dear, your captain's confidence in your abilities is reassuring, but I would know more details before I consider my job complete. What senses do you have available to perceive those aboard, and are they omnipresent? I am, at the moment, still inclined to ward against spies, but if you can be certain that one could not possibly board without your notice, it may be unnecessary. And further, do you have agency to act in the internal spaces, or shape parts of the vessel individually?>

[Lateral]

"Ah, no," Sylph calls from a location distinctly outside, "I can't see within the cabins. Can you see inside of your stomach?"

<I can see my surroundings and my exterior with senses approximately comparable to a human's. Really, I think any hostile boarder would have about as much trouble climbing on without being noticed as would an insect trying to crawl down your throat. Still, I can't see inside the cabins, and Quincy isn't capable of warding them against teleportation, so feel free to take your precautions.>

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella looks towards Sylph's bow. "I suppose I could rig something up to do that, actually," she says pensively. "Oh, magic could do it, certainly, but that's cheating. I could probably rig up a periscope, but that'd be frightfully uncomfortable. A rubber sheath maybe..." Arabella's musing fades away as she considers the question, thoroughly absorbed in what was surely a rhetorical question.

[stack]

Once everyone is settled in, Quincy checks in to warn them of their impending departure. "Sylph my girl, I believe it is time, if you care to do the honors?"

[Lix Lorn]

"Well." says Holly, with importance, striding over to the bow, and giving an elaborate bow. "I have so many questions..."

She's not joking. She will likely be there for... well. If Sylph doesn't get bored of answering them, quite some length into the night.

[Khosan]

"I will not address a pile of sticks with anything resembling a polite demeanor, if I address it at all." Kacper's face whips down to its normal location, the tops of his eyes and the bottom of his mouth flattening out and making him look quite angry. "I have staved off madness for over a thousand years and I am not about to indulge in thine own. It is a ship. It is a thing. I shall treat it as such." He folds his arms, upturns his 'nose' and floats below deck.

[Mahrke]

With Holly distracted, sleep calls to Razia and the paladin heeds. After her lengthy conversation, the celestial would find Razia splayed upon bed, arms and legs at odd angles that seems to consume all available space upon the luxurious sleeping appointment. The typical penalty for allowing Razia to fall asleep on her own; demons were greedy, even while unconscious. Her attire is no longer the clothing of an adventure; instead, she is adorned in spartan silk pajamas, with boots set by the door, sheathed sword propped into one of the boots, and cloak draped over the whole affair. In the corner of the room, a small candle has burned down in a candlestick, a white cloth painted with blood folded nearby; remnants of Razia's mystic night-time ritual.

[Jeff the Green]

Despite the comfort of the cabins, Arabella sleeps a few scant hours. With her bedroll under the mattress it's more than enough, and before midnight she's spread out her enveloping pit and descended into her workshop where she spends the night machining gears, hammering metal, and firing porcelain.

[stack]

Quincy keeps watch from the prow, enjoying the wind as he ponders the task ahead, then retires to his spacious quarters.

[Lateral]

"Hmmph. Well. Your loss, then. I'm an excellent conversationalist."

At Quincy's urging, Sylph lifts herself gently up into the air, and floats about a hundred feet up from the harbor. "I hope you're all ready to move," she says excitedly, "because we are out of here." With that, she accelerates quickly and rockets off eastward, nearly knocking you all flat in the process.


The trip is long, but uneventful— between Quincy and Yulie, you have no trouble keeping the mist and storms at bay, and Razia's item-aided sight allows you to bypass any unusual dangers. After about a week of searching, you finally spot the temple— a tiny white speck in the distance, only barely distinguishable from the blue skies and seas around it.

[Sallera]

<Just the interior, then? That makes things simpler, thank you. If you have any surfaces you can manipulate freely, I will place wards on them you can bring into direct contact with an intruder on the outside.> Flipping the stone upright again, Yulie addresses everyone except Rygar's agent; her employee she could inform later. <The password to enter outer doors, once I finish the wards, will be Genius Loci. For inner doors, Summer Frost. Bypassing a section of floor marked with a small, symmetrical ink blotch will be Present Time. Do try to check your surroundings and cover your mouth before speaking a password; foolishness will break a ward as fast as spells.>

Yulie gives Quincy an enigmatic smile. "It seems you will get some additional benefits from accepting the contract. For my part, I look forward to seeing the next time you 'sweet talk' one of the storms in our path."



"Sylph, darling, let's not get any closer for now." Yulie's voice has an almost liquid quality, muffled by the constant fog, as she responds to the lookout's first sighting of the temple.

"I don't suppose I could borrow that mist eye of yours, Razia? Projecting my senses is rather difficult if I don't know where I'm supposed to put them."

Yulie can comfortably craft four wards a day while maintaining her daily buff routine and an emergency reserve of pp, so six days of travel should be more than enough for her to complete the warding scheme to her satisfaction.

Any door or hatch connecting outside to inside gets a Disintegrate glyph.
Doors within the inner section get, roughly at random, Dominates with the second creature type augment and the second duration augment (these ones Overchanneled out of necessity) or sonic Blast Glyphs (it's not much damage, but they have the advantage of being loud when they go off).
Random patches of floor get Dispels.
Her own cabin gets a Psionic Lock on the door in addition to the standard wards, of course; she'll pick the most centrally located cabin.

Come temple day, she'll throw a whole barrage of Clairvoyant Senses at the temple from miles out if she can borrow the fog-ignoring item to know where she's putting them, using the earlier ones to better target the later ones. In addition to layout and enemies, she'll try to locate any apparent authority figure(s). Say 30pp worth of scrying, as an initial commitment (unless, of course, something blocks or otherwise interferes with the first few), since each individual scry won't be able to see that far in the fog.

[Mahrke]

Razia is...well, while some would play steadfast and dutiful lookouts, orderly and fastidious, Razia -relaxes-. The layabout is up top in the crows nest, and has set up her own little refuge. A cup of constantly-steaming 'tea' that she never drinks (though often smells) is upon a makeshift table. A rich, black wood guitar is snug across her lag as she reclines in what can only be describes as a hammock, with her head poking over the side of the nest. She's been strumming all evening, playing jaunty little variations until she's sighted the temple on the horizon.

"See? Told you I was paying attention," she taunts, tossing down the newly-minted headband to the elegant and orderly soul that seems a polar opposite to the succubus in disguise. She sticks her tongue out for good measure, and goes back to inhaling tea fumes and playing the guitar. "I thought we were having Madgirl do the scouting. Where is she, anyway? Probably still cooped up in her little shop."

Her 'tea' is a drug called Vodare. An addictive substance that is toxic if ingested, but instills a sense of confidence and euphoria if the vapors are inhaled.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella is not, in fact, in her workshop. After spending several days in the cramped space she felt the need to fly—after all, if one is going to almost kill yourself installing wings on your back, ought not one use them? This morning she'd flown nearly straight up, above the clouds, past the point where she could no longer breathe and had to hold her breath, until the sky was no longer blue but a brilliant black with only the Ring of Siberys for light. There she could marvel at the Ring, the emptiness beyond. She could even see the curvature of Eberron itself. It was glorious.

But eventually she had to leave. The thin air was hard to fly in, and though she could hold her breath for a great deal longer, that didn't mean it was comfortable.

So as Razia speaks her name she is in fact about two hundred feet above the demoness, plummeting toward the ship. She alights on top of the mast, sitting cross-legged. "Yoo hoo!" she calls down to Razia. "I'm right here, silly." She giggles a bit; the plummet has made her a bit giddy.

[Sallera]

"If possible, I would prefer to learn the major details before we send in anyone vulnerable to attack. Our little butterfly is still physical, however stealthy; projection does not share that weakness," Yulie informed the lounging paladin, before being interrupted by the diving girl in question.

[Jeff the Green]

"I certainly have no objection to scrying beforehand," Arabella says. "Normally I'd do it myself, but Yulie is considerably better about it than me." She drops down to Razia's "crow's nest" and takes a brief sniff of her tea. She wrinkles her nose. "Why doesn't that surprise me. I suppose you're not likely to suffer the side-effects, at least."

[Mahrke]

Razia startles at the sudden appearance of the butterfly, moving to hop up but tangling herself in her little hammock. It spins round and the succubus is hanging upside down, bracing herself on the crow's nest with a palm. She slowly extricates herself, and manages not to tip over her makeshift table in the process. She lays back down with guitar...playing it cool. Yeah. "Getting the freshest air possible, then?" Razia calls up, silently wishing she could stretch her own wings. She picks out a jaunty tune as she looks up at the mechanical butterfly above her. "I do like the idea of using magic before bodies."

[stack]

"Staying at a safe distance and divining sounds wise to me as well. Let me know if you would like the clouds altered."

[Sallera]

Yulie hums as she projects her senses across the gap between the ship and the temple, a task that encounters more resistance than she would expect for a blank expanse. "Well, they are not complete amateurs, but their initial wards leave something to be desired. Curious decorations; I have seen few of those creatures before. One open entrance at the top, over a hundred feet wide at the base, and it continues down into the water. A few boarded up entrances on the lower level. Three of the cult guard the top."

Focusing once more, she shifts her viewpoint to a more precisely targeted location, peering down into the interior.

Yeah, we'll throw a couple more out there. One at the top, just above the entrance to get a good view inside. One more after that just inside one of the boarded tunnels to see if there are any obvious traps or guards at those entrances.
CL: [roll0]
CL: [roll1]
If they fail, up to two retries:
CL: [roll2]
CL: [roll3]

Had initially intended to make use of Remote Viewing, but then realized I have nothing worth casting through it until next level.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella giggles at Razia's reaction to her sudden appearance. "Really, Razia, you should be more observant," she teases her. She drops her voice to a whisper and smirks at the Succubus. "How on Eberron—or Mabar—did you last so many centuries?"

She jumps down to the deck. "I can't speak for Yulie, but I'd prefer a good cloud cover when I pay our cultists a visit," she tells Quincy. "I appreciate the information, but some things you need to be there to see. And it's hard to observe them if they can see me"

[Sallera]

"Well, there is a great deal of very ugly statuary inside to conceal you, as well as another fourteen of the cult. One apparent leader in red, bones on the altar; nothing unusual there, at least." Yulie shows a faint smile. "And access to the water below. I wonder what they might be keeping down there, aside from the obvious?"

Onnne more, roughly ten feet below the wooden cover, in the water. Rather not be surprised by an Aboleth if we can avoid it. (Of course, if there were an Aboleth, I could hardly trust my eyes, but eh.)

[Mahrke]

"Hey, I wasn't told to observe an adorable clockwork butterfly hybrid. I was told to observe a temple, and I did. A hundred miles away. Through fog. In the middle of a vast, featureless ocean. I think I deserve some adulation." She riffs her guitar a bit, and sets it down to leans against the side of the crows nest. She crosses her legs, knee over knee, and -relaxes- in her hammock, grabbing cup of 'tea' and wafting a bit of steaming vapor towards her face with a pleasant sigh. One eye opens to Arabella, a smirk painted on the paladin's lips.

<You've found me out. I'm an inept, vulnerable, non-threatening succubus that you can get close to without worry.> Razia makes the mental equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.

[Sallera]

"Nothing visible, at least, which means little. I would advise testing their responses carefully on your approach; if they have one ward, they likely have others, and presence alarms can be dreadfully annoying to avoid."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella nods to Yulie. "Thank you for the forewarning," she says sincerely. "I'm not exactly new to this, but it's good to know that they will have wards rather than wonder whether they do."



After a couple hours of waiting, Arabella fetches the headband she'd made from Razia. She pulls out her hairpin, allowing her black hair to fall in loose curls to her mid-back, then binds it back with the headband. She casts a quick spell, causing her eyes to briefly glow blue, and then darts off.

Shortly before reaching the temple she veers into a steep climb. Better to approach from above; humans tend not to watch above them. She scans carefully for signs of magic wards before coming down on them from above.

She has arcane sight. Also trapfinding, if it's relevant.

[Jeff the Green]

Sensing no wards, Arabella darts down behind the columns. She sizes up her opponents. It's a knack she learned fairly early in her military career, and one that has saved her life before.

As it turns out, the caution is hardly necessary. She could probably take out these three herself, if need-be, but Razia would probably be miffed if she stole her entertainment. Instead, she reports back to Yulie. <The three cultists you saw outside are barely worth our effort. I'm fairly sure that one of them can cast spells of the first grade. I'm going in the pit to look at the others.>

Not waiting for Yulie's response, she does a curious bit of footwork, spins her cloak about her, and seems to vanish into the mist. She zips past the guards and quickly hides behind a statue and begins sizing up the cultists inside. She ticks them off in her mind, particularly the leader at his altar. <The cultists inside are about the same quality. The leader has some significant casting ability, but that's it.>

Just before she leaves, Arabella hovers for a moment at the ceiling. She murmurs a command to her goggles to reveal true nature of those inside, to something of an anticlimax. She does the same little dance once more and flies up and out of the gazebo into the mist.

<I'm out and on my way back,> she relays to Yulie. <I'll give a full briefing when I'm back.>

Only a few minutes later she touches down on the deck of the ship.

[Sallera]

Yulie greets Arabella with a gentle wave as she comes out of the mist, not quite smiling. "Welcome back, darling. It does rather sound as though Rygar's excess of caution was just that, doesn't it? I do hope we can learn some interesting secrets from these apparent amateurs."

[stack]

Quincy waits patiently as the spells are cast. "Let me know if you want more than clouds. Could just blow the place down, lighting through the roof, drop some holes in the ceiling. Wards do little to stop a tornado, most of the time."

[Sallera]

"While that is undoubtedly true, our employer does have plans to claim the location," Yulie says with a hint of reproval. "And it is much more difficult to coax answers from a mangled corpse than a living cultist."

[Mahrke]

Razia opens an eye from above. "A handful of religious types, minding their business in a temple. By all account none of them can pose a threat to us, excepting perhaps the 'high priest'. There is no need for bloodsh-" She yawns, stretching. "-ed. We can knock them out hand-to-hand. No lightning. No fireballs. No recklessly decapitating people like you're on some kind of jihad for the Silver Flame."

[stack]

"Yes, employers never want me to do things the easy way."

[Jeff the Green]

"Give me a minute and I'll show you the layout," Arabella says. She reaches into her satchel and pulls out a jug from which she pours a great deal of sand onto the deck. She puts a hand over it and a model of the gazebo rises up from it. "The three guards are here. One can cast spells of the first-grade—the one with the dagger." Then she changes the model to the nonagonal inside. "Fourteen in here. There are seven more that can cast first-grade spells and six with none. The casters have daggers, the others spears. The leader in the red robe can cast fourth-grade spells.

"The one unknown is the shack here," she says, indicating it. "I didn't think I'd be able to get in without being detected, so I didn't. Yulie, we might not be remiss if we scry there. It's probably an overabundance of caution, but..."

[stack]

"I could do snow too. Nice snow drifts to keep them from escaping." Quincy tosses in, half joking. Subtlety isn't exactly in his repertoire, as is becoming apparent.

[Khosan]

Kacper rises from the floor. Not through the floor, mind, just from it. He'd spent the better part of the morning practicing being a rug out of boredom. It takes him a moment longer to reconfigure his face and put it back where it belongs.

"So," he starts with a sigh, "wouldst thou prefer I take the high priest? If no bloodshed is thine wish, I can make them welcome thee with open arms. Would barely even require any exertion on my part - I'm quite adept at taking the bodies of the living for my own."

[Mahrke]

Razia pulls herself up from her hammock...begrudgingly. It was nice, relaxing in the stiff breeze, far out amongst the clouds. She slips her guitar beneath her cloak, and slings the cupful of 'tea' over the side of the ship, before jumping down. She lands on the deck with a painful-sounding 'thunk', and rises to her full stature, canting her head at Arabella's sand sculpture, before her gaze comes to Kacper. "This sounds like a good plan. If your possession fails, we can rush in and knock out the alcolytes and priest forthwith. Now, the question of approach. Wings, or teleportation?"

[Jeff the Green]

"Wings, for me," Arabella says. "I have some short-range teleportation, but my long-range options are somewhat inaccurate."

[Mahrke]

"Wings it is. Who here -cannot- fly? Holly will carry me over, I know Kacper can...float. Arabella, can you carry anyone or are those things a little too delicate? We can drop off on the exterior, put any sentries to sleep, and leave leading the cult to the ghost most suited for the job." She jerks her head in Kaceper's direction, folding arms over her chest.

[Sallera]

Yulie raises an eyebrow, but prepares to project her senses once more. "I suppose it cannot be any uglier than those statues, but you are fortunate I do not project my sense of smell."

"I can create a pair of wings if needed, although the pattern is not one I prefer. It is rather inelegant."

Yulie just assumed that was a privy, but for the sake of thoroughness, one more scry.

I'm pretty sure there's a winged elf or somesuch somewhere for Alter Selfing into?

[stack]

"I can fly myself for short distances if needs be. Warping all at once keeps us together though."

[Lateral]

Quincy's magic quickly whips up a storm, and you all fly in under cloud cover. The guards posted outside don't seem to have noticed you yet.

You guys get a surprise round. Go right ahead.

Map map map map map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1FSKj9gTBS2R9-hwm7EvFpM16nNvvTNKoGD_Y-6Uv-tQ/pubhtml?gid=0&single=true)

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella doesn't particularly like the few seconds before battle. Anxiety quivers through her nerves, coupled with dread. Worst, though was the giddiness, an eager anticipation for the battle. You are an engineer, godsdammit. You are not a warrior. Her reminder to herself doesn't help.

Soon enough, though, she sees the guards. "Well, hello boys," she says with a wolfish smile on her face. She begins the incantation, using the wind to hide her words, and just another thunderclap sounds. This one, however, detonates right in the middle of the triangle of guards.

"Your turn, girls," she tells Holly and Razia. A shrill giggle may have escaped her lips, but if so it's covered by the weather enough to give her plausible deniability. Thank goodness.

Standard: Cast great thunderclap. DC 29 Reflex or prone, Fortitude or deafened 1 mintute, Will or stunned 1 round.

[Mahrke]

Razia look different, post-preparation. Most notably, she sports a second pair of arms beneath her first. Hair, no longer a short-cropped mop of purple, whips in the wind. Cherry-red locks are long enough to reach to her butt, and give her a wild, intimidating appearance in the harsh weather. The grasp of her top pair of arms releases from Holly's grasp, and she's lands with a forward roll, lower pair grasping the hilt of her blessed sword. She grins, viciously, and dashes forward with a speed for suited for arrows in flight. Her gleaming blade flashes three times in the howling gale as she pirouettes by each of the cultists and slides to a halt at the end, spinning her sword in an elaborate routing as they crumple to the ground. She sheathes it upon her back, and turns to her companions, giving a low, sweeping bow, eyes flicking upwards between whipping locks as she flashes a superior grin.



Weird Immediate Action during Initiative: Nerveskitter (+5 initiative)


ACTION TRIGGER: Use an action point for [roll0] bonus on the first die roll of 2-6.

Attack on S2: Mercy at [roll1] (+2 against humans) for [roll2] + [roll3] nonlethal damage, with [roll4] additional damage against evil targets and [roll5] additional damage against humans.

Attack on S1: Mercy at [roll6] (+2 against humans) for [roll7] + [roll8] nonlethal damage, with [roll9] additional damage against evil targets and [roll10] additional damage against humans.

Attack on C1: Mercy at [roll11] (+2 against humans) for [roll12] + [roll13] nonlethal damage, with [roll14] additional damage against evil targets and [roll15] additional damage against humans.



Haste: +1 Attack/AC/Ref, one extra attack on a full attack, +30 enhancement to speed.
Weapon Augmentation (Bane): +2d6+2 damage v. humans, +2 attack v. humans.

[Lateral]

Arabella's spell knocks all of the cultists to the ground, and Razia is able to knock them all out in one hit.

Congratulations. You knocked out a bunch of level 3 adepts and warriors.

[Khosan]

"Ah. Three men battered and on death's door. Truly, thou art merciful and have set us on the right path toward a bloodless incursion into their temple." Kacper drifts towards the depths of the temple.

"If thou willst give me but a moment, I shall gather the remaining men. I do not believe it will be much trouble."

Kacper cast Greater Invisibility on himself as he descends into the temple.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella flutters over to Razia. "Half of me wants to find a way to send that ghost to his eternal rest," she mutters, "and the other wants to make sure no one else ever can."

[Mahrke]

"You're just jealous because you wish you were dead darling." She taunts at the retreating ghost, blowing him a kiss with one open palm whilst the other are planted sassily on her hips. The succubus shrugs at Arabella, and four arms hold themselves aloft in a shrug, "Can you blame him for being bitter? Can't drink, can get high, can't have sex, can't enjoy food. I'd want to die too." She laughs into the wind, eyes fiery and alive, waiting six seconds, before she claps Arabella on the shoulder, exclaiming "Let's have fun!" and rushes forward, toward the edge of the pit leading to the temple interior.

[Jeff the Green]

"Oh, for pity's sake," Arabella mutters, pinching between her eyes. She waves her other hand, and Razia stops jerkily and is spun in a circle. "You are a moron, Razia," she murmurs to the succubus.

You suddenly feel a 30 lb. force yanking your right nipple ring to the right and back.

[Mahrke]

Razia...-squeaks-... as she does a quick about face, a hand darting to the leather covering her right breast. "Ow ow! I thought you weren't into that stuff!" She hisses, one of the hands waving for Arabella to stop. "You saw how quickly I took those guys out! They'll be no problem down there. Naptime in two shakes of a lamb's tail. I promise!" She twirls her sword with the remaning two hands behind her to emphasize the point.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella releases most of the tension on Razia's jewelry, maintaining just enough to make the point that her spell hasn't ended. "There was a plan for a reason, you idiot," she whispers vehemently. "We do not know for certain that those inside will be as weak. Their ritual doesn't seem to be meaningful and their like almost never is meaningful, but without seeing it in its entirety I can't be sure. And I can't see through walls. For all we know they worship a godsdamned spectral lurker and it's hiding in the wall behind the altar waiting for a sacrifice.

"The point is, you do not break rank when you're fighting with a group. Understand? As aggravating as you can be, I'd rather you not be eaten."

[Khosan]

Kacper rolls his eyes, as much as he can roll what he calls his eyes, as bits and pieces of the argument above drift down to him. It was only a few words, but it was enough to annoy him. Not that that was much of an accomplishment. Most of his existence now was spent being annoyed at some thing or another. Everything found a way to crawl under his sheet nowadays.

He shook his head of the thoughts as he descended into the main chamber. There is the priest, he starts to glide toward the man, let us see if you are truly prepared to lead your men, shall we?

Kacper moves to E14, then uses his Malevolence ability on the leader. DC33 Will save to resist.

[Mahrke]

"..." The succubus tips her head away, avoiding the gaze of the artificer like a chastised child. Behind her, arms stop their sword twirling and hold the blade stoicly. A hand moves forth to rest on Arabella's hip, "Sorry..."

<It's easy sometimes for me to be little reckless. Moreso when I'm...well...what's the saying? If you stare into the void too long it stares back?> The physical Razia bites her lip. <Besides...I'm a demon. If someone is going to take a blade, or a tentacle, or -anything-, it should be me. I don't get hurt. Not really. You do.>

Razia's eyes flicker to the limp body of the nearest unconscious cultist, and she sighs softly. "Stupid cultists...how do you get roped into stuff like this anyway? There's not even power on the other side of this nonsense."

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella blushes a little. Stupid succubi and their stupid succubus pheromones. "Thank you," she whispers back.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be ready for my part of the plan." With a curious little twirling dance she vanishes into the darkness of the cavern.

Hiding at D20.

[Sallera]

Folding massive white wings as she alights atop the temple in the aftermath of the brief ambush, Yulie - or the empty patch of air her voice currently emanates from - shifts with a rustling of cloth and feathers barely audible over the wind. "Efficient. Let us hope the rest goes as smoothly, and then I will find us some answers."

Okay, finally got around to properly listing all of Yulie's commonly active spells in her statblock. To which have been added, for this excursion, Vigor, Invisibility, and Alter Self (to an Avariel, just so she can fly down here). Yulie being Yulie, she'll have shaped the new form's features to resemble her own as closely as possible... giant wings aside.

[Mahrke]

"Well, I'm not going to be able to take out the ones inside quite as quickly. Lot of ground to cover." The succubus spins her blade in one hand, thirsty for battle. Or, more accurately, thirsty to -show off-. She swishes her blade in the air as she waits, humming. Her eyes flicker towards the invisible paragon of elegance. "I like your wings, by the way. You should wear them more often."

Cast Improvisation

[Sallera]

"I imagine you would," comes the dry reply. "They share your subtlety. In addition to being heavy, clumsy, gathering dust, and making it difficult to enter ordinary buildings, of course." Stepping lightly over to the gazebo, Yulie peers invisibly down to see how Kacper's recruitment is proceeding.

[Khosan]

I bid thee greetings, priest. Kacper takes a moment to adjust to the new body, allowing it to go entirely limp as he begins his plan. No doubt, thou art perplexed by my coming. I will not stay long, worry not. I am only here at the behest of others. I hold no ill will towards thee or thine flock. Their shared body collapses in front of the altar.

A few moments pass as Kacper waits for the two nearby cultists to check on their fallen leader. As soon as they do, Kacper's new eyes snap open and he grabs them each by the shoulder, "Brethren!" He shouts as he pulls himself up into a sitting position with the assistance of his newly acquired guards, "Something truly wonderous has happened! I have been visited by our great lord in the deeps!" He raises his arms as he addresses the crowd, "I have much to tell you! Gather round, for I have seen the truth that our lord wishes the world to see!"

[roll0]

[Lateral]

When the 'cult leader' collapses, the cultists immediately stop pacing, and simultaneous looks of shock and concern cross their faces. The two nearest quickly come to the aid of their leader, but as soon as he starts speaking, their looks of concern become looks of confusion. The larger of the two, a short, stout man with a thick orange beard, looks at the other and says, "Ba hori ulertzen?" The other, a tall woman with a long scar across her chin, shakes her head. "Hizkuntzak in zuen mintzo uste dut. Da ikuspegi bat izatera zuen? Agian errituala azkenik lanean ari da!"

They're speaking Riedran. The short one said, "Did you understand that?" The scarred one said, "I think he's speaking in tongues. Do you think he had a revelation? Maybe the ritual is finally working!"

[Jeff the Green]

Well, crap. Does Kacper speak Riedran? Arabella doesn't think he does. And apparently these cultists didn't speak the common tongue. At least they bought it for now—ironically, they were half right.

<Kacper, they're speaking Riedran,> she tells the ghost. <They think the priest is having a visitation and is speaking in tongues. When you want to actually reach them, tell me what you want to say and I'll translate.>

[Lix Lorn]

"They are beautiful." Holly agrees with Razia. "I wish mine were quite so unique."
"And if you can tell me how you got her to stop before running into trouble, it's a useful skill I could get." she adds, with a teasing glance at the succubus.

[stack]

The fight over before he can do anything but maintain a fog, Quincy touches down and keeps ready. This group has a thing or two to learn about teamwork, but they are stronger than any you've met in a long while. Need them all to stay pointed in the right direction and not roast each other's noses off. Too bad I never had a crew, I might have learned something about teamwork. Ah well, no time like the present.

[Khosan]

The Kacper-Priest stares for a moment, internally flabberghasted, externally passing it off as a sudden realization that he's speaking 'tongues.' <Riedran?! The peasant language?! How are they not even passingly familiar with the common tongue? It has been the standard for over a thousand years!> His harrumphing echoes through the mindlink, <Fine, fine. I will use their boorish tongue as undignified as it may be. Tell me then, how should I procede? Shall I tell them of thine coming and our grand purpose? Or shall I simply distract them with one of my endless tales, for which I shall require a more long-term interpreter?> The priest stands up and strokes his chin thoughtfully, <Whilst thou consider that, tell me how I might say that their god has contacted me and that while it has been mere moments for them it has been a 'lifetime' for me. That should give me time to think and excuse any linguistic errors I may make.>

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella is sorely tempted to feed the ghost words that would grossly interfere with his inflated self-worth, but decides that for the mission's sake she ought not to. Nonetheless, she finds it hard not to phrase it in the most embarrassing way she can. <All right,> she tells the ghost, <repeat this while I think: "Gure jainkoak sartu da niretzat eta gehiagoko eta bete me ezagutza odola! gloriosa Ekitaldian nahi uneak bezala zirudien, baina lortu bizitzako bat izan zen niretzat.">

As Kacper repeats her words through the priest's mouth, Arabella confers with her allies above. <Slight snag. Turns out our cultists are Riedran and don't speak the common tongue, and of course our resident melancholic ghost doesn't speak Riedran. Do we take the risk of having him introduce us now, or should I feed him tales to bore them to tears so we don't even need to surprise them?>

Google translate hates Basque. It's supposed to be "Our god has penetrated me over and over and filled me with the ichor of knowledge! The glorious act seemed like moments to you, but it was a lifetime for me."

[Mahrke]

<What is our end-game here? Leading a little cult in the middle of the sea? Where does this deception take us?> The succubus dares to peer over the edge of the drop that leads down, into the temple. <If he can get them to all...cluster up, I could knock them all out. I'm not a fan of lying to them more than we need to, though. We don't even know if they're...well...-evil-. For all we know, we're evicting peaceful, if weird, monks.> She takes a step back, and combs her fingers through the ridiculous mane of cherry-red hair she sports. <The one I'd really like to sit down and talk with is the high priest.>

[stack]

<Getting them out of the way is a good start. Confusion is easy, so that can be plan B.> Quincy thinks to the others with a mental shrug.

[Khosan]

Kacper dutifully repeats the 'utter nonsense,' as he calls it, that Arabella feeds him. <Very well. I shall call for a congregation and we can end this quickly. Now tell me how I might order them to do so.> The high priest raises his arms and gestures for all who can see him to come near while Arabella quickly translates. His voice booms throughout the hall, commanding all the cultists in broken Riedran to come and gather round.

[Jeff the Green]

<That'd be "Zatoz, zatoz eta gure Jainkoaren jakinduria zurrunak partekatu egingo dut!"> Arabella instructs the ghost.


<Alright, everyone,> she tells the rest of the rather curious assemblage above her while the ghost prepares the cultists. <Kacper is bringing them closer to the leader. I think it's about time to dance.>

"Come, come closer to me and I will share our god's sticky wisdom!"

[Lateral]

The cultists look at each other uncomfortably, but they hesitantly gather around their leader. You can hear them muttering to each other.

"Esan besterik ez zuen 'jakinduria zurrunak?'"
"Edo jainkoaren inspirazioa da, edo zuen nik galdu."
"Edozeinek dago beste hemen... deseroso?"
"Hau da oraindik ere Dar Ilash baino hobea.

"Did he just say 'sticky wisdom?'"
"Either it's divine inspiration, or he's lost it."
"Is anyone else here... uncomfortable?"
"This is still better than Dar Ilash."

[Jeff the Green]

<Everyone's around the cult leader,> Arabella reports. <Come on in.>

[Mahrke]

<Yay!> The mental reply is short, and concisely circumscribes Razia's feeling about this part of the plan. She jumps, a bunny hop, off the edge of the precipe...and disappears in a puff of purple smoke about halfway down her fall. She reappears, standing casually with sword in hand, beside one of the cultists nearest the altar. She gingerly taps the black-robed man on his shoulder. "Hey. Really sorry about this, buddy."

She's a flash. Like jagged, red lightning she arcs through the cultists. Steel sings, glinting pale white light. A blink misses it, leaving the cherry-haired paladin standing at the other end. She spins on her heel, turning towards the two lonely remaining cultists, and takes a deep bow, her waist-length mane brushing the floor as her eyes flick up to meet theirs, a predatory, pointy smile worn.



Preface: Stupid preview post...



Moving from D12 to D16, tracing the eastern "wall" of cultists.

S6: Mercy attack of [roll0] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll1] + [roll2] damage + [roll3] versus Humans and [roll4] versus evil.
C7: Mercy attack of [roll5] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll6] + [roll7] damage + [roll8] versus Humans and [roll9] versus evil.
C3: Mercy attack of [roll10] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll11] + [roll12] damage + [roll13] versus Humans and [roll14] versus evil.
C1: Mercy attack of [roll15] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll16] + [roll17] damage + [roll18] versus Humans and [roll19] versus evil.
C6: Mercy attack of [roll20] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll21] + [roll22] damage + [roll23] versus Humans and [roll24] versus evil.
S2: Mercy attack of [roll25] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll26] + [roll27] damage + [roll28] versus Humans and [roll29] versus evil.
C2: Mercy attack of [roll30] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll31] + [roll32] damage + [roll33] versus Humans and [roll34] versus evil.
S4: Mercy attack of [roll35] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll36] + [roll37] damage + [roll38] versus Humans and [roll39] versus evil.
S1: Mercy attack of [roll40] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll41] + [roll42] damage + [roll43] versus Humans and [roll44] versus evil.
C5: Mercy attack of [roll45] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll46] + [roll47] damage + [roll48] versus Humans and [roll49] versus evil.
C4: Mercy attack of [roll50] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll51] + [roll52] damage + [roll53] versus Humans and [roll54] versus evil.
S5: Mercy attack of [roll55] (+2 v. Humans) for [roll56] + [roll57] damage + [roll58] versus Humans and [roll59] versus evil.

[Sallera]

"Hm. She does know how to apply herself when necessary." Peering down at the last standing cultists, Yulie presses a thumbnail into her palm, drawing one of them temporarily into the pattern that sends her servants - the bonds all the stronger for their ephemerality.

Endowed Dominate on S3 with 1 extra pp, DC24.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella notes that Razia is nearly as efficient as she has claimed to be, but there are still two left standing. Well. One of those she can deal with now, without even hitting them. She steps out from behind the column and calls to the nearest cultist. "Beno, orduan," she says casually. "Badirudi laguna ezker batak ez izan berri izorratuta abominationea jainko bat deitu by duzula. Duzu inoiz bada desmuntatu aurretik? Besterik ez naiz teknika berri bat probatu azkura."

It translates to "Well, then. Seems that you have one friend left that hasn't just been ****ed by the abomination you call a god. Have you ever been disassembled before? I'm just itching to try out a new technique."

Intimidate: [roll0] (DC 10+HD+Wisdom). On success, he cowers for one round and then is shaken for one round plus one round for every 5 I beat the DC.

[stack]

Quincy floats down as well, ready to inconvenience anyone that tries to resist. "Please, put up a fight."ready a hostile lift, will DC 26 or be levitated, on anyone that tries to attack or cast a spell, moving them 70 ft up and into a solid object using them as a bludgeon if there is only one standing, otherwise slamming him into another enemy if there are more than one standing

attack if needed [roll0]
damage [roll1] to both creatures (or creature and object)

target gets a new save each round

[Lateral]

Holly dives downwards and unleashes a flurry of spine strikes at the cowering foe, taking care not to seriously injure the cultist.

There's only one enemy left, he's basically helpless from fear, Holly can pounce for multiple attacks, and she'll hit on a 2 even with the penalty for nonlethal damage. I'm sure that she'd probably be spouting some kind of witticism, but that's what players are for.

[Lateral]

You knock out all of the cultists (with the exception of the cult leader and the one cultist dominated by Yulie) in under six seconds. Soon, the last cultist stumbles out of the shack clutching his pants, and is quickly smashed against one of the nearby statues by Quincy. He doesn't get up, but he's still breathing.

GOOD COMBAT YOU GUYS

NICE JOB

[Jeff the Green]

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Arabella says cheerfully. She steps up toward the altar, stepping over the downed cultists. "What have you found rummaging around in that skull there, Kacper?"

[Mahrke]

Razia makes a show of shaking her head, sending long red locks dancing as she strides proudly over to join the artificer, nearer to the controlled priest. She lays her blade over her shoulder, -oozing- heroic cockiness. "Three gold says these guys were just a bunch of crazy peasants and our benefactor is just using us to grab some real estate."

[stack]

Quincy shrugs. "One way or another there is more going on here than a bunch of trivial cultists. Let's have a look around and see what turns up, after we secure this lot. Guess we could tie them up, or I could make a cell for them."

[Sallera]

"Our employer's intentions hardly matter either way; we have intact sources of information and a chance at a bonus." Yulie says as she glides down from the hole in the ceiling, circling around the entire room in the process to make certain no one is watching from afar. Folding the wings back into her normal form as she lands, she tugs at the link to her temporary servant, reinforcing it with a channel for more specific orders. "Let me know once you're finished with that priest's body, dear. If he has any secrets left by then, I'll take them from him directly."

In the meantime, she had the minion's viewpoint. <Quite an interesting temple, isn't this? However did your little group here find it?>

Mindlink the minion so it can understand her; Yulie's only got Comprehend Languages, not Tongues. If this interrogation triggers an opposed Cha check, [roll0]

[Lateral]

<You... you're in my head! You're a psychic! I'll n-never tell you anything, Inspired scum!> His tone is defiant, but his 'voice' clearly betrays his fright. If you didn't have total control over his motor functions, he'd be trembling right now.

[Mahrke]

"We'd need a lot of rope to tie them up. I think a cell would be more appropriate. More comfotable, anyway. Someone is going to need to guard them if we intend on investigating more of this place." The paladin flicks her sword into the air, grabbing it with a pair of hands on the other side, and twirling it into its sheath.

[Khosan]

"Not a thing. This insipid mongrel has been babbling away in here, but I can neither understand nor bother reciting what he has." Kacper languidly flops the priest's body down on the altar. "I do so despise this stage of a possession. If thou couldst bind these hands, I would much appreciate the opportunity to leave this shell as soon as possible."

"And before thou asketh: Nay. Eating, drinking and whatnot in this body would give me no pleasure. No more than it giveth thou pleasure to watch someone thou knowest not eat, drink and be merry." He dramatically puts the back of a hand to his forehead. "Rankles mine spirit, to be quite honest. Moreso than merely watching thee eat thine fill."

[Jeff the Green]

"Have you tried torturing them instead?" Arabella asks tartly. "Perhaps that would be less rankling." Nonetheless, she accedes to the ghost's request. Taking the same earthenware jug from her pack she pours it onto the altar. "Keep his forearms lax, if you would." She then shapes the sand into bindings fit exactly to the cultist's measure.

I dunno what Escape Artist DC a 42 Craft check gets me, but I bet it's higher than the 35 for masterwork manacles, particularly when they don't actually need moving parts.

[Sallera]

Yulie casts a suggestion of faint amusement across the link, mirroring the expression on her face. <Inspired? One of their little runaways, are you? Such a secretive lot; I wonder what you could tell me about Riedra? They are some of my best customers, after all. Or do you think they'd be interested in purchasing you?>

Pretty much no difference, mechanically or fluffily, between a Cha check and an Intimidate check at this point (which reminds me, I forgot the Circlet of Persuasion last time): [roll0]

[Khosan]

"And what, praytell, would that accomplish?" Kacper says as he abruptly rises from the body of the high priest. "Starve a man of food and water for a thousand years and ask him if listening to the cries of the tormented does anything to sate his desires." He places his now ghostly hands on his now ghostly 'hips,' taking a seat on an invisible perch behind the altar. "Not that I have not made the attempt. I simply found it not to my liking."

[Mahrke]

"Torture doesn't do anything for you, eh? Crazy...you know the old saying. Once you go rack, you never go back." The paladin meanders over to the lesser cultist, currently dominated, and waves a hand in front of his eyes. "You've got this one good. Domination?" She frowns. "Not a big fan...can we get him back in his own head soon?"

[Lateral]

<You c-can't trick me, monster. You can hide your form, but I know what you are. I will not speak our secrets to you!> As he 'speaks,' you can tell that his fear is being overtaken by anger; by the end, he's practically spitting his words. Or at least, he would be, if he had use of his mouth.

[stack]

Once everyone is ready and the prisoners placed, Quincy closes his eyes for a moment and chants softly. As he does, a silvery web springs up ver the prisoners. The result is a spacious dome, with a number of wooden benches and tables. The outer shell is patterned after weaving vines and branches, including decorative birds and nests (is that a lady bug on that one?) wrought in such a way that no gap is actually large enough to get a hand through.

It is also composed of pure diamond.

create gargantuan object, spell point to make it last hrs/ level. CL is 17 with staff, so it will last a good long time. craft sculpture [roll0] just for the sake of artistry

I assume they aren't attempting reflex saves to escape since they are mostly unconscious.

[Sallera]

Yulie trails a finger over the structure appraisingly, finding herself not needing to feign distraction from Razia's request. "My, you have good taste, Quincy. Quite an appreciable distraction from its ugly contents."

<Well, it matters little either way. I quite understand if you dislike the 'leader' who dragged you out into the middle of the ocean to throw away your lives. Dislike him enough that you'd rather I ripped the answers from his head rather than hearing them from you, that is. For now, as you were, but don't bother trying to escape or harm anyone - including yourself.> The last is delivered with the iron will of a command, a much simpler matter to enforce than the delicate operations of secrets.

"They're only Riedran runaways," she replies to Razia eventually, although she waves a dismissive hand at the now-trapped servant anyway, granting him the ability to move freely again within the confines of Quincy's cage. "But the task I had intended him for was rendered unnecessary. Their high priest may certainly be more, however. Do any of you care to play with him before I unearth his deeper secrets?"

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella gives an appreciative whistle at Quincy's creation. "That is not something I could manage," she murmurs. "At least not readily. Quite impressive, really."

She beetles her brow at Yulie. "Really, that's all you could get from him?" she asks. "Even the lowliest cultists at least know an epithet for their god.

"You don't mind if I speak with him while you, ah, interrogate the leader, do you?"

[Sallera]

"They are Riedran, dear," Yulie replies as though it were a perfectly valid explanation. "And this one is convinced that I am one of their former masters, so between terror and anger, is saying little. I could get more from him, but I have no interest in wasting the effort on a throwaway piece. If you wish a turn, then by all means, proceed."

[Jeff the Green]

"Ah, I can see why they might believe that," Arabella says. "He's probably quite stupid, and you did use psionics."

She goes over to the diamond cage and raps on the cage. "Duzu. Ergel. Begira nazazu," she commands the Riedran. "Ez begiratu nahi inspiratuta atsegin dugu? Nire begiak kolorez aldatzen me piss duzun bezala off nabaritu duzu? Ba, izan ere, ez naiz positiboki txikigarria aldean ugazaba ohia den ahaztu egiten duzu? Agian zure arbasoak ez ziren aukeratuak hazten yak garunak gorotzez izan dutelako.

"Orain. Bistan psikikoa ez dira hitz egiteko aukera iritsi. Hori ona da. Ordez hau egin ahal izango dugu modu dibertigarrian. nire galdera erantzun beharko duzu. Beraz zintzotasunez egin ahal izango duzu. beraz, berehala egin beharko duzu. Ez baduzu, edo niri gezurra saiatu baduzu, jainkoak lagundu dit, egingo Quincy malko behera kaiola hau daukat eta pertsonalki naiz han eta erauzi zure pankreako sudur bidez. Ez psikiko beharrezkoak." She shows her teeth in a wolfish smile. "Bat sinple batekin hasiko dugu. Zer ziren hemen gurtza duzu, eta zer zen Garatzenek hori?"

"You. Moron. Look at me."

"Do we look like Inspired to you? Have you noticed my eyes changing color as you piss me off? Did you overlook the fact that I'm positively lilliputian compared to your former masters? Perhaps your ancestors weren't chosen to become one because they had yak dung for brains.

"Now. Clearly psionics aren't going to get you to talk. Good. We can do this the fun way instead. You will answer my questions. You will do so truthfully. You will do so immediately. If you don't, or if you try to lie to me, I will have Quincy tear down this cage and I will personally come in there and rip out your pancreas through your nostrils. No psionics needed."

"We'll start with a simple one. What were you worshipping here, and what was that rite?"

I'll just take 10 on Intimidate for 36.

[Mahrke]

Razia shakes her head, folding a pair of arms across her chest, just below her bust. A frown creases her lips, and the second pair of arms pulls her hair back into a ponytail. "This doesn't feel right...mind-control, threats...we haven't even tried talking to them." Her piercing eyes drift across the unconscious cultists. "I can't even feel good about knocking them out. It feels like pushing a kid into the mud and stealing his lollipop."

[Jeff the Green]

<Oh, hush,> Arabella tells Razia. <Nobody's actually going to hurt him. Do you have any idea how big of a pain it would be to design a tool to remove a pancreas through the nose? Entirely separate organ system.>

<Besides, once Kacper entered their leader we became stuck. I should have thought of it before hand, but any hocus-pocus would have been seen as proof that we're Inspired. Especially possession. Beating the guy's brains in with words is the gentlest way to get information we have at the moment.>

[Mahrke]

Razia shrugs her shoulders, and begins to pace the exterior of the giant, diamond dome. Tracing her fingers along the surface, walking with high steps.



<A decade ago I threatened to disembowel a man's daughter in front of him unless he cast a spell on my behalf. Motivations not withstanding, this place has painted a similar picture. Domination, threats, bodies, disregard for life...are we sure I'm the only demon here?>

[Jeff the Green]

<Fairly sure, yes,> Arabella replies with the psychic equivalent of a stuck-out tongue. <You're the only one that has a second form visible.>

[Mahrke]

<Do you have true seeing on right now? Peeping tom...> She teases.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella rolls her eyes.

<Not at the moment. You would not believe how hard it is to manage that on a permanent basis. I found a reference to a way to do it in an old codex, but the recipe just didn't work.>

[Lateral]

The cultist looks suitably cowed by Arabella's verbal lashings, and begins swiftly relating his life story.

"Ezin izan dugu gurtzen libreki etxera. Inspiratu kontrol Pyrine, baina berea faltsua bide bat da. Gure liderra, jainko zaharraren hitza ikusi zuen, inspiratuta etorri aurretik hasita. leku hau agerian zioten, gehien antzinako izu sakona jainkoa tenplua izan zela esan zuen. Agerian digu zuen bere irensle handia ikuskera, guztiak izan dugu haren aitzinean partekatutako."

"Garatzenek hori zela gure lider ikuskariak ekartzeko mundura, bere gorputzaren bidez. Beraz, hain luze aritu gara... Espero nuen azkenik ginen..."

We couldn't worship freely back home. The Inspired control Pyrine, but theirs is a false path. Our leader, he saw the word of the old gods, from before the Inspired came. He said they revealed this place to him, that it was the most ancient temple of the dread god of the deep. He revealed to us his visions of the great devourer, we have all shared in his sight.

That rite was supposed to bring our leader's visions into the world, through his body. We worked for so, so long... I had hoped we were finally...


That whole "great devourer" thing sounds an awful lot like worship of the Dark Six. Their rites don't really resemble any of the more common sects of Devourer worship (mostly Droaamite, Q'barran, or sahuagin in origin), though.
Like I said before, their rituals are distinctly Cult of the Dragon Below-ish. Cults of the Dragon Below based around worship of the Dark Six, particularly the Devourer, are not unheard of— indeed, they often manifest as prophetic delusions, since actual contact with any of the Sovereign Host or associated deities is unheard of.
There's actually a decent bit of evidence indicating that worship of the Sovereign Host (and, by extension, the Dark Six) originated in Sarlona— the Pyrine region in eastern Riedra, specifically. It's been extinct there for at least a thousand years, though.
There's also a fair bit of theological and archaeological evidence for the idea that some of the Dark Six actually predate worship of the Sovereign Host in its current form. This isn't particularly well-known, especially since churches of the Sovereign Host work pretty hard to suppress this sort of information, but worship of entities bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Devourer is attested in some of the earliest known sources.
The religion of the kuo-toa, as I mentioned before, centers around worship of aboleths and primordial beings. One of those primordial beings has also been linked to the Devourer. Sort of hard to state anything conclusively, but the survivors talk a lot about a "ancient lord of the deep," who represents the fury of the ocean itself. Notably, the sahuagin, whose civilization eclipsed the kuo-toa's a few thousand years ago, worship the Devourer in pretty much the modern form, but in much the same way as human sailors do (albeit with less secrecy)— out of fear for their safety, since he is believed to have power over the storms and seas (in human traditions) and the ocean depths (in seadwelling traditions).

[Jeff the Green]

"Huh," Arabella remarks aloud. "Not standard Dragon Below stuff after all. Their leader supposedly showed them visions of a 'great devourer', and the rite was supposed to 'bring his visions into the world'.

"I'm not sure if any of you are familiar with this, but the Dark Six were probably worshiped before the Sovereign Host, and there's a good chance both came from Sarlona. The religion's supposed to be extinct there, but we may have stumbled across the only remnant."

[stack]

Quincy responds to Arabella, "If its worth doing, its worth doing well, right?"

"Threats and interrogation have never been my department. If there is something bigger going on, we need to know, but...well, mind magic never felt right to me." He shrugs and let's matters continue.

[Sallera]

"The ancient spirit of the depths, yes. If it truly did draw their leader to this place through visions, that would actually be quite interesting, but we know who our employer suspects. Most spirits are not quite so active about attracting worshipers."

Drawing nearer the bound high priest, Yulie sinks gracefully to the floor, kneeling straight-backed and affixing a veil of wispy scarlet silk over her face. Opening her eyes to a world tinged in reminders of the other, she allows the resemblances to guide her along the path to where the man's memories lie. <Show me how you learned of this place.>

Mind Probe time. Endowed, so Will DC25.

[Lix Lorn]

"There are references to the Devourer in some truly ancient texts." says Holly, unsurprised. "I read them at the monastery. I've never encountered this 'ancient lord of the deep', though. Sounds interesting."

[Lateral]

You ride the cult leader's memories through to the day he first learned about this temple.

I'm deep within the vagrants' warrens, sitting in front of a pool of water just off of the main tunnels. Five years ago, in this very spot, the old gods first revealed themselves to me. Since then, I've gathered followers, and we've set about preparing for our holy pilgrimage, as per their commands. Today, I know, they will bestow upon me my final vision: the location of our objective itself.

It happens again. My vision grows dark, and soon I am immersed in the inky blackness of a starless, moonless, Ringless night. Five stars appear above me, one after the other. The first is orange, and burns with rage. The second is yellow, and laughs at me with its lurid glare. The third is red, and gathers all within its enormous bulk. The fourth is blacker than even the darkness itself, and my eyes strain to see through its infinite depths. The fifth is blue-white and brilliant, outshining all the others, its light washing away all that lies before it.

They instill in me my mission. They show me images of this great temple, once the center of their worship, now dilapidated and worn down by countless centuries. They show me its location, deep within the mists of the Grey Tide, half a world away. They tell me to gather my people and flee this conquered land, that they would make our next step clear once we arrived.

Then, once again for the final time, I wake up.

[Sallera]

Now that was fascinating indeed; perhaps the ancient spirits were genuinely becoming active in the world. It did raise the question of why Rygar had suspected Kel's involvement, however, if all of the cultists were Riedran runaways. Perhaps visitors or transportation. Pulling back from the deeper secrets the man held, she delves into more mundane memories instead. <By what means did you get here? Has anyone not part of your original group come here since?>

Knowledge: Religion on who the five stars might represent: [roll0]

Two more questions, retry as necessary if any Will saves succeed. Use a third on getting details if the answer to the second is yes.

[Lateral]

The journey was long and arduous. We traveled for many weeks, hiding ourselves from the Inspired dogs, until we finally reached the coast; there, I could see that our god had provided for us a great vessel with which to relay ourselves to our holy target. Those few sailors on board proved to be no match for the powers granted to us by the old gods.

I navigated our way to this spot with my magic, and the fog itself seemed to open up before us, clearing our path. The Great Beast himself was with us, for although our ship sank within sight of the temple, we were able to swim here on the placid seas which He had prepared for us. Since then, we have been alone, and I have meditated every day in hope of receiving another vision...

I'm sure you realize this, but that whole story is highly improbable. It is what he remembers, though.
While Yulie is probing the cult leader's mind, you feel Sylph contacting you over the ring. <Quincy? You guys might want to hurry up and get out of there. I'm seeing multiple figures inbound— they're underwater, they're fast, and they're big.>

[stack]

Quincy's eye go distant for a second before he starts moving rapidly. "Drop it and move people, we have incoming. Big and underwater. I would wager we don't want to be on the ground when they get here." He starts floating back towards his ship.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella's eyes dart back and forth as she evaluates possibilities. After a couple seconds she shouts to Quincy. "Wait! Give me one second." She whips a black cloth out of her pocket. "We need to take the cultists, and in any case Razia can get us there much faster. Remove the cage, please."

[stack]

Quincy gives the lovely cage a brief, sad glance, then shrugs and waves a hand, causing it to disintegrate into millions of fragments before evaporating completely into the ether.

[Jeff the Green]

Moving with blurring quickness, Arabella rolls the cloth out underneath some of the cultists, then whips it underneath the rest. They tumble down, some onto stone floor, some onto couches, and others onto a stone hearth.

"Right," Arabella says in a commanding tone that brooks no dissent. "Everyone in, except you, Razia. Just pick up the edge and fold it up."

[Mahrke]

Razia, standing arms folded over her bust, back leaned against the diamond half-dome whilst companions interrogate the cultists, falls back into an elegant cartwheel when it disappears, long cherry-red locks dancing across the floor. She comes to her feet with a grin. She threads her fingers together, and straightens arms in front of her, palms facing outwards in a cocky little knuckle-crack, hucking cultists into the pit, grasping them by ankles and throwing them in like bowling pins. Not gentle, perhaps...but efficient. "So, anybody here like fishing? So relaxing."

[Lateral]

When Arabella and Razia move over to the cultists, the leader's face contorts into a wicked grin.

"Ez dut uste. Gurekin ez dira leku hau bizirik utzi. Piztia handia, utzizkidazu zure indarra!" He closes his eyes for a second, and a massive fireball erupts beneath him, engulfing the entire party as well as all of the unconscious cultists.

I think not. None of us are leaving this place alive. Great beast, lend me your strength!
DC 16 to halve [roll0] fire damage.

[Lix Lorn]

"Bit dull, in-" begins Holly in playful banter, before she feels the crystalising of magic around them. She turns, a golden list, engulfing her hand, and disrupts the forming magic with a sweeping motion - or, at least, that's the idea.

[roll0]

[stack]

Quincy reaches out and attempts to quell the budding magic before it cascades into the full spell.counterspell [roll0] for 1 sp as an immediate

[Lateral]

The cult leader's spell fizzles, and he lets out a string of words that sound horribly profane, even to those of you who don't understand Riedran.

They're even more horribly profane than they sound.

[Sallera]

Yulie pauses with fourth and fifth fingers crossed, a half-completed warding gesture rendered unnecessary by the twin spell-breaking attempts, and with a huff of breath, resumes her winged form instead, then fades to invisibility. "Do make sure you keep two or three of the lesser ones alive. The priest was either skillfully manipulated, by mortal or spiritual hands, or was under the effects of mind-altering drugs. I will need to check the memories of the others to determine which." Lifting off, she begins a swift spiral upward; whatever was on its way, she wanted to see how it acted when it arrived, but maintaining a safe distance was still wise.

[Khosan]

"Must we? Art thou certain these 'big and underwater' creatures are not simply fish? Whales, perha-" Kacper posits just before the high priest interrupts. The ghost shoots a glare and once again begins to enter the high priest's body, "Rude. Since thou canst not be trusted on thine own, I shall have to take it back."

"Well," he begins again, clearing his throat, "If this one is throwing a tantrum, perhaps we should be leaving."

Kacper possesses the High Priest again, same DC as before to resist.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella looks up at Yulie and huffs at her intransigence. "Okay," she says, "what about the rest of you?"

[stack]

Quincy rolls his eyes as the spell fizzles. "Cultists."

[Khosan]

"As I am unable to move as I normally do inside this wretched little body, I must join thee." Kacper jumps down into the pit with the others, landing with all the grace of someone who hasn't had to jump anywhere in centuries, bogged down with extra weight. Which is to say, flat on his face.

Prying himself off the floor, Kacper coughs and re-situates himself on to his back. "We need only this one to speak, correct? I think I should take his eyes for that little spell he tried to send our way. Mayhaps a hand."

[Mahrke]

Razia picks up the corner of Arabella's workshop. Leaving the barest opportunity to hop in for any straggler, before she sweeps it off the ground. She whips the extraplanar cloth about in a flourish, and bows, disappearing in a puff of smoke. When she arrives on deck, she tosses the cloth out with a grin, pitching it once more into the deep, scaffolded pit. She winks at Arabella, and sets her eyes upon the remaining three cultists still stranded atop the temple. Poof. Fragrant purple smoke lingers where Razia used to be. A moment later, she arrives back, though this time there is no smoke. Instead, a pulse of red magic and a corona of runic symbols heralds the arrival of the paladin, kneeling beside three bodies. She rises, dusting off her hands. "Cultists safe. Now, I'll ask again. Who wants to go fishing?" She flashes a pointed smile.

[Lateral]

Now that you're all out of the water, you can see the approaching figures. You can't make out any details under the rough water, but Sylph was right— they're big, and they are fast.

Big as in Gargantuan, fast as in 150 foot swim speed.

[Mahrke]

Razia moves to the edge of the boat, looking over the side at the massive shadows beneath the waves. The corners of her mouth tip down into a frown.

<Is...can I kill them? It's alright, isn't it?> There is doubt in her thoughts...as there is whenever an -urge- from her old life blossoms. In this case, bloodthirst. The opportunity to 'let loose'. <Am I a bad person if I do?>

[Lix Lorn]

Holly leaps out of the pit with an expression of distaste, returning to Razia's side. She shoots a glare at Kacper.
"Let's not be maiming anyone outside of actual combat, thank you very much."

<...it's fine after they try to kill us. You can't strike to kill before then.>

[Mahrke]

Razia nods grimly. The arms on her left side move to settle upon either of Holly's shoulders, giving a soft, assuring squeeze. Others move to grasp at the hilt of her blade, drawing forth the shimmering cold-steel, and anchoring the tip into the wood at the edge of Sylph. "Maybe...then...we retreat. Move away from the waves. Talk to these cultists. I should think they won't be overjoyed to know their leader tried to kill them all."

[Jeff the Green]

"Particularly not in my foyer, thank you," Arabella tells Kacper primly as she leaps out to join Razia and Holly. She glances at the figures swimming toward them. "I wish we could see them better. It'd be nice to know if they're, well, flying fish. If they're water-bound, just going up might be our best bet."

[stack]

Quincy pops out of the hole. "Sylph my girl, I think it is time we put some distance between the fish and us. Up and away, best speed if you please." As soon as he is done, he checks the fog between them and the newcomers, increasing it if needed.will use wearer to make it foggier between us and them if the existing dog in the area is too light

[Lateral]

"Heh. Aye-aye, captain." Sylph speeds off to the west, and you're quickly hidden in the fog.

After a few seconds, the dark figures arrive at the temple. They surface, and start climbing up the side of the temple.

Now that they're out of the water, you can see them much more clearly. Not that you'd want to. The creatures are vaguely fishlike, but they're far larger than any mere fish. They ooze with a greenish slime, which coats the exterior of the temple as they climb up. Each one has four tentacles that seem to be attached normally, but they all have various other appendages (wings, arms, legs, and more tentacles) in strange places, as if some nightmarish surgeon had just sewn them on, giving no thought to proper anatomical structure. Their skin also appears in patchwork— most of it is blue, and is secreting the aforementioned ooze, but there are green and red patches stretching in seemingly random places along each one's body, and chitinous growths cover much of their sides, jutting out from behind their gills. Roll one of each knowledge to ID.

[Mahrke]

Razia ***** an eyebrow as she looks out into the dense, all-obscuring fog. She sticks out her tongue. "Bleh...those are -not- the kind of fish I want to reel in. Take a look, love." She folds fingers under her headband, peeling it off her head, tossing her mane of incarnadine a bit as she offers it to Holly. Once taken, Razia brings a hand to her chin. "They look like they've been...cobbled together. Bits and pieces of trolls, demons, rocs, renders...who knows what else. So...yeah, -flying fish-. At least, the one with wings." She nudges her celestial companion with an elbow. "Let her Lady Encyclopedia take a look after you're done."

[stack]

"Flying? Should I brew a storm now or wait to see if the notice us? Takes a few seconds to get a good one going."

[Lix Lorn]

"Yikes." says Holly, looking through the goggles. "As a general rule, things with that many limbs and tentacles aren't friendly. Well, maybe friendly, but I think that was a fluke. Bell?" she says, passing them onto the inventor. "Any thoughts?"

[roll0] Arcana
[roll1] Dungeoneering
[roll2] Local
[roll3] Nature
[roll4] Planes
[roll5] Religion

[Jeff the Green]

"First thought: not flying fish," Arabella remarks. "Flying aboleths. Very, very large aboleths. With patches of trollskin and demonskin, roc wings, and giant octopus tentacles. Probably the skin gives them regenerative properties and energy resistance. Maybe some other abilities, but I'd need to think about it. Definitely not friendly. Things Khyber spat out rarely are."

She passes off the headband to Quincy. "I don't think you need to worry about making the fog any thicker" she tells the captain. "Even if they could see us, those roc wings aren't strong enough to let them catch us. Less than five and a half leagues per hour in short bursts."

For reference, that's half what Sylph can maintain indefinitely.

[Lix Lorn]

"Aboleths was my thinking too. Why Khyber, though? I was always told they were made by the Daelkyr, like everything else that weird." Holly says, curious, looking at Arabella.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella shakes her head. "Most people are," she says, a slight condescending tone tinting her voice. "But no. They're much more ancient than the Daelkyr war. They're... odd. Not made of metaphysical evil like the demons that were spawned by the Dragon Below, but still virtually irredeemable. They ruled the seas during the Age of Demons, but then hid when the dragons revolted. And these... they're antediluvian. Profoundly ancient. I can't be sure just how old they are, but it wouldn't surprise me if they were around for the revolt."

Now that the first shock of seeing such ancient creatures has worn off, Arabella seems profoundly shaken; her skin is pale and a hint of a tremor crawls down her arm.

[stack]

"Arabella is right, though few know that much. A fellow scholar in truth. While I would love to make a pot of tea and chat about esoterica, the immediate question of what to do seems more pressing at present. We can outrun them, but our contract would, I think, remain largely unfilled if such things where in possession of the area."

[Mahrke]

The demoness leans over the edge of the ship, peering into the dense fog. Razia is a practiced liar. Emotion shows only when she wants it to...but to the keenest of eyes or the closest of hearts she can be seen as fragile. The slightest change in posture. The wavering corners of her smile. The way her eyes flicker away from Arabella. The subject of demons is one where the succubus is possessed of a fragility. But she keeps a smiling. Keeps eyes cast into the swirilng, grey mists, moving thoughts away from metaphysical evil. Banishing the nagging idea that escaping her sins was a futile endeavor.

She tries vainly to resolve the shadows figures of the aboleth's through the fog...but for naught. She had to admit, the little headband Arabella had cobbled together from cloth, magic, and sweat in a mere couple days had proven quite invaluable, and only now does the succubus-in-sheep's-clothing realize how much more lovely the world was without encroaching, sight-obscuring mist ruining the view. "They're intelligent then. We can talk to them?" Ah, parlay. With an aboleth. Such is the nexus of idealism and overconfidence.

[Khosan]

Kacper continues to lie on the floor of Arabella's pit with the other cultists. While the others discuss the much more pressing matters of the ancient and powerful beasts below, Kacper considers the much more personal matter of when he'll be leaving the high priest's body. Again.

"I would not suppose that with these oh-so-important discoveries that thou art all privy to," he shouts into the air, "That we no longer require the knowledge of these cultists? Might we rid ourselves of their kind? I do not think I would even need to do anything but leave this one's body - he seemed quite content to do the rest of them in for us."

[Mahrke]

Razia glances in the direction of Arabella's extraplanar abode. "Paladin! Do I need to get a banner? Oh, no...a pennant! And a little squire to carry it around. Maybe one with bright golden curls, and a youthful heart longing for adventure. He'd be cocksure at first, but adventuring life is tough. Not all cherries and roses on the road. But he'd learn, grow. Endure hardship." Razia begins to approach Kacper. "After some time, he'd find himself at the precipice of mortality. In danger. He'd find his courage there. Best his foe. But hand would be stayed from killing blow. Why? Because in those long years on the road he'd learned. Compassion. Empathy. Valor. -Mercy-." Razia arrives at the precipice, folding arms over her chest with a smile down at the possessed cult-leader. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is the cabalist is helpless. That means no killing. And no, giving him control of his body back and letting him fireball his followers is not 'Plan B'. I could knock him out if you're growing tired of your mortal coil." Extra pair of arms twirls her sword behind back, before laying it flat in palm.

[Jeff the Green]

"Besides," Arabella adds in a pained tone, "those couches are flammable, and I like that chintz pattern."

[Lateral]

Almost immediately after Arabella mentions her couches, the cult leader explodes in a burst of shrapnel, killing the rest of the cultists along with him.

Everyone in the portable hole takes [roll0] bludgeoning and slashing damage. There's a reflex save to reduce damage, but it doesn't matter because they're all dead. Obviously the explosion doesn't hurt Kacper, but Arabella's couches are ruined.

[Mahrke]

OR DOES IT?!

The magic is reflexive. No words. No gestures. Barely a thought. A sharp exhalation. Somewhere beyond the pale, Nashnilee thrills, drawn closer to the mortal coil for a moment as a sphere of force springs up around the cult leader. It is an act born not from cool, calculating tactic, but from the desire to protect and save. The cultists were not, perhaps, innocent. But they do not deserve death. The explosion is contained, a roiling globe of flame and meat about five feet in diameter. Razia staggers backwards. Her shout one of rage. "MURDERER! WRETCHED GHOST!" She grips her sword, bringing it up before her, seething.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella leaps back from the explosion and swears. At first she, like Razia, is about to blame Kacper for ruining her carpet, but then she notices a few things. There wasn't any magic, at least as far as she could tell. The pattern of the pulping isn't consistent with a spell anyway. The sound resembled a demonstration she'd seen of a Sarlonan demolition device. She'd never had cause to use them herself, but the sound was distinctive. The man's clothes had been hanging strangely. And... what in the name of all that is holy is a piece of a darktentacle doing in the mess?

It takes a beat for her to put it together.

"Stop, Razia!" she calls. "It wasn't Kacper. He had explosives underneath his clothes. And I think a tentacle grafted on that he used to activate them; they're on a time delay."

[stack]

"I would think our misanthropic ghost would have noticed extra limbs hanging about, but I suppose he may be unaccustomed to such observations. Perhaps someone should check the others for explosives while the rest of us decide how to deal with the abominations coming toward us." Quincy adds flatly.

[Khosan]

A very confused Kacper sits up, confused not only by the explosion but the spell blocking any further...boom as well. "Well. That was a first." He shrugs and casually exits Arabella's now partially-ruined quarters.

He stops just in front of Razia and locks eyes with her, "Go ahead, paladin. Strike me down. I take full responsibility for his death and express no deep regret for his passing. Please deliver unto me thine righteous punishment." His mouth turns up into something almost like a smile, "I welcome it."

[Jeff the Green]

"Yes, well," Arabella says to Quincy, "he also failed to notice forty pounds of explosives strapped to his body.

"I can't guarantee that it was a graft, but it's the best explanation I have."

Meanwhile, at a mental command from their mistress two tiny constructs wrought like anthropomorphized dragonflies zip up into the foyer from the floor below and begin slicing through the fastenings on the cultists' clothes with steak knives.

[Lateral]

None of the other cultists appear to have explosives strapped to their bodies, but they all have similar tentacles under their robes, although they don't seem to be secreting toxins like the cult leader.

You can still see the aboleths off in the distance. They appear to be climbing up the sides of the temple.
The aboleths are climbing up the temple's exterior. A couple of them look over in your direction, although with their strange anatomy it's difficult to tell whether they can actually see you, but they don't deviate from their task.

Pretty soon, though, you receive a telepathic message, and the sheer magnitude of the 'voice' behind it leaves little doubt as to its source.

<DO NOT INTERFERE.>

[Mahrke]

Razia grits her teeth. Rage. Bloodlust. Sadism. All well up within her like so many unwanted memories as she faces down a ghost that could sate none of it. She swings her swords violently through the insubstantial avatar of apathy, and sheathes it. "You almost ended more than a dozen innocent lives because of your apathy and insolence. Find a way to care, ghost. Because if you don't. If you drench your silly little sheet with more innocent blood? I -will- find a way to make your existence worse." She Hops down, a frown creasing her lips as she lands in Arabella's pit. Eyes move from the pile of...well...cultist chowder, to the remaining members of his church. She held no love from the dead man. Hardly innocent...a murderer. But these others? They could be naught but peasant, led astray. "Grafts... And those aboleths looked like they'd been cobbled together from bits and pieces. A puppet-master lurks in the shadows, pulling strings of meager human and monstrous aberration alike, methinks."

[Lateral]

"Hey, the aboleths are climbing the temple." Quincy hands the goz mask off to Arabella.

[Sallera]

Keeping her distance as she glides in a lazy circle, Yulie is not entirely surprised when the amphibious monstrosities become aware of her presence; she had never seen or heard of them before, but that they had power was clear. Still, she had, as always, multiple methods of escape at her disposal, and the spiritual realm twisted into a labyrinth around her to delay more esoteric methods of approach. <I have no plans to,> she casts back at the source of the voice. True enough; most of her previous plans had been discarded with the arrival of these patchwork creatures, and she would make none until she knew more. <This temple is dedicated to the ancient spirit of the depths, is it not? I have had many dealings with spirits, and it intrigues me; does it belong to you, or are you merely its custodians?>

[Lateral]

Off in the distance, you hear a faint, low-pitched buzzing, coming from the direction of the temple.
The aboleths ignore your response, and continue climbing. They quickly reach the top, position themselves at six of the gazebo's nine corners, and begin to emit a deep, loud buzzing tone.

[stack]

"Whatever that sounds is, I would wager it isn't good. Someone going to try taking, we exit stage left, or do we just jump straight to fighting? Sylph, hold a bit outside of spell range if you please. "

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella slips the headband back on. "They've reached the top of the temple," she says. "And I still can't see Yulie." She chews on one lip as she peers at the temple. "I think I'm going to have to go take a look again."

Without waiting for discussion, she jumps overboard and begins diving toward the aboleths. When she comes close enough that the fog can't completely cover her movement, she slows her descent. She spots Yulie and flits over to her while she examines the aboleths.

<What are you still doing down here?> Arabella asks Yulie as she approaches. <Actually, no, that can wait. What are they doing down here?>

Since she's diving, she'll get to 100 ft. with one round of running (160 ft * 4 * 2 = 1280 ft.)

Taking 10, Arabella will spot Yulie at about 50 ft.

Her Sense Motive modifier is 22. Taking 10 on Stealth yields 56, 36 while she still has full concealment (from running).

[Sallera]

<Attempting to obtain an answer to the latter question, to answer the former,> Yulie sends back, refraining from a raised eyebrow if only because there isn't much of a point to it when invisible. <Unfortunately, they are not interested in conversing, and warned me only not to interfere. Further queries have gone unanswered.>

Knowledge (religion): [roll0] - is that some kind of ritual, or a more mundane call?

[Khosan]

"Very noble." Kacper sighs, his 'smile' fading once more into nothing, "I assure thee, Paladin, innocent blood will be spilled regardless of whether I care or not. If it is a question of how much, then it truly matters not. My choices have led to the deaths of enough innocents that a thousand more would amount only to a drop in an ocean as vast as the one below us." His arms emerge from the remnants of his body as he starts to clean himself up and reform himself, "I am merely stating fact - I take no pride in this, nor do I consider it regretful any longer. But if thou thinkest I should suffer for the losses that will come, that I may not prevent - I invite thee to try. My existence can be made no worse. Even if it could, thou art still mortal. Thou shalt pass and I will continue on as I have for the past millennia." He floats over to the edge of the boat to look down upon the fog with the others, "Or thou wilt bring an end to me, which I would consider to be a gift."

"Now then," the fully reformed spirit shakes a dusty layer of ectoplasm off, "What in the hells is an aboleth?"

[Mahrke]

"There is a difference between death you can't do anything about, and loss wholly within your power to stop. The stories were right about you." The paladin seethes, disappearing and reappearing in a puff of fragrant purple, now standing upon the deck to look out into the bleak fog, her features grim. "An aboleth is one of those things Arabella thinks is too much for me to handle. Tch." She blows a wisp of cherry-red hair away from her features, hands clasping the railing upon the deck rigidly as she tries to quell the urges inside that begged of her to seek bloody vengeance. Such urges were often illogical; after all, there was little in the way of sadism to be sated with the suicidal, bloodless sheet.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella steals another glance at the aboleths. <Yes, well, I doubt we could interfere with whatever they're doing. I doubt we could make much of a dent in the hide of one of them, much less all six.>

[Sallera]

<Somewhat problematic for our task, given that we have not yet placed the beacon, and I doubt our employer desires already-claimed territory. Know you their nature, little butterfly?> Yulie watches the humming creatures and the surrounding ocean carefully, attempting to see what might answer the call. <I have not met their like before.>

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella hovers in place, following Yulie's circle with her eyes. <They're aboleths, ancient spawn of Khyber and rulers of the deep in the Age of Demons,> she repllies. <They have some added features, though. The wings aren't normal, nor is the trollskin, demonskin, or the stronger tentacles.>

<The buzzing isn't magical or anything,> Arabella informs her colleagues with a definite sense of relief. <Unfortunately, they might be calling more of their ilk instead. Alternatively they're just claiming territory.>

[Mahrke]

<Are we sure they aren't...friendly? They haven't attacked you two yet, right?> Razia squints out into the fog. <Also, who took my headband. This fog is really ruining the view>

[Jeff the Green]

<You were busy,> Arabella tells Razia, only slightly dismissive. <Besides, I fly faster and quieter than you. But there is a very large gap between "friendly" and "currently trying to kill us". They are most certainly not our chums.>

She looks around, noting the position of the aboleths as well as how far away Sylph has gotten. <I'd like to make a recommendation. Let's plant the beacon, inform our employer, and leave. There's nothing we can do about them at the moment, and our contract didn't say anything about destroying beings man was not meant to know.>

[stack]

<Fills the contract I suppose. Need to give them a heads up about what we found though.>

[Sallera]

Yulie hums an affirmative, although no one is close enough to hear it. <Well, as interesting as this is, I suppose I can get at least some of the information I need from those Riedrans. I would prefer to know more about these aboleths and what they intend here, but I admit obtaining said information would be troublesome. However, if we are to leave them in place, whoever plants the beacon must be very certain to hide it somewhere they will not locate and remove it.>

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella nods toward Yulie. <I can manage that.>

Moving carefully, she slips past the aboleths into the temple. She finds a quiet corner and pulls a pale blue crystal out of a pouch on her belt. She touches it to her right earring with one hand, and with the other weaves the two gems together with etheric strands, leeching the crystal's power into the gem hanging from her ear. In a minute's time the crystal shard's radiance fades and she drops it to the ground. She repeats this process with her other earring and a blood-red garnet before pulling out the beacon. With some effort, she stabs its stake into the stone at the base of the altar, and then activates her right earing, drawing the stone of the floor up and over the beacon, making it as smooth as possible.

Satisfied that the beacon is active and well-hidden, she zips out of the gazebo again and rejoins Yulie. <It's in place and active,> she reports to her colleagues. <I think it's time we're under way.>

Before leaving, she activates her other earring, sending a message to Prince Rygar. "From ir'Marinen: Fulfilled contract. Placed beacon, retrieved cultists. One enemy fatality. Cultists summoned extremely powerful aboleths. Aboleths occupy temple. Likely beyond our capacity. Instructions requested."

Cloak dance to get in and out, assuming I have to get within 10 ft of them. Taking 10 on Stealth is 56.

Spell-storing item twice: stone shape from trapsmith (2*3*5 = 30 GP) and sending from cleric (4*7*5 = 140 GP).

[Lateral]

The aboleths don't seem to spot Arabella as she slips in and out of the temple, and the beacon begins to glow when you activate it within the stone. Your sending to Prince Rygar goes through, and after a brief delay you receive his reply:

"Remove beacon, return to Regalport immediately. Contract is fake, recruiter was an impostor. Identity unknown. Must consolidate information, will negotiate new contract upon return."

By the time you get back out of the temple, you can see three more dark figures approaching, approximately the same size and speed as the other aboleths.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella only barely keeps herself from screaming an impolite word. <Kacper, I need you here now!>

She follows the pale ghost's form and meets it a few hundred feet from the aboleths. Her eyes are wide enough to show white all the way around and her lips are drawn into a straight pale line <We have a problem,> she tells Kacper, her mental voice crisp. <Can you possess me and just, well, ride me without controlling my actions?>

[Khosan]

Kacper perks up, "It appears I am needed. Fare thee well." He nods curtly to the others still on board and promptly plummets through the ship without bothering to go over the side.

Though blinded by the fog, Arabella manages to find him. He tilts his head, <An unusual request, to be sure. None have requested my skills in such a specific manner. I can manage as much. Relax thineself.> Kacper places a ghostly hand on Arabella's shoulder, quickly merging into her body through the point of contact.

<My, my, but isn't it fascinating in here? Knowest thou, I don't believe I would have been able to manage this, had thou not allowed it.>

<Feel free to take that as a compliment. Thine mind is significantly more formidable than most.>

[Jeff the Green]

<I know,> Arabella replies to Kacper. She takes a breath and begins her descent into the temple again. <Now, we have to remove the beacon. I'll explain why later. But I encased it in stone and I don't think spending the time to get it out or risking the noise is a wise idea right now. If you can just reach through the stone and get it, we can be on our way.>

Barely a second after Arabella finishes telling Kacper this she touches down at the base of the altar. <It's there, where the stone is deformed. I didn't really have time to sculpt it cleanly.>

[Khosan]

<Very well.> A ghostly hand stretches out of Arabella's own and into the deformed stone, rummaging around for the beacon. It doesn't take long for the beacon to find its way out and into Arabella's out-stretched hand and for Kacper to once again make himself comfortable inside Arabella's body.

[Jeff the Green]

Arabella returns the beacon to her haversack before flying up out of the gazebo, past the Aboleths, and back to Sylph. On the way she calls Yulie, informing her that she probably wants to return to Sylph as well.

Once aboard, she allows Kacper to debark and addresses her companions. <We've been had,> she says furiously. She strips off the headband and passes it to Razia. Her own hair is horribly tangled by the wind and she begins trying to straighten it. <The half-elf we met was not sent by Prince Rygar. I'm not even certain he sent the invitations; he couldn't relay much information. I've removed the beacon at his request, and he wants us to return to Regalport and meet with him.>

[stack]

<Any chance the communication was intercepted? Probably not. I do hate these intrigues. Guess we should have asked more questions earlier.> Quincy thinks back.

[Sallera]

<My, how uncharacteristically careless of me.> Although her mental tone is light, Yulie is in truth nearly as irritated as Arabella. This was why she preferred to make customers come to her. Really, without the opportunity to do a background check, she ought to have been more invasive in ensuring the legitimacy of the contract. Well, unless the little butterfly was mistaken, she now had a khorovar to kill.

<Very well, let us return. Getting information from the cultists will be put on hold while I investigate this matter.> Swiftly making her way back to the ship, Yulie immediately sequesters herself in her quarters, calling to mind every detail she could remember of their contact. Scrying was always a gamble, but she had power to spare and more than enough motivation.

Endowed Remote Viewing the khorovar contact, DC24 Will, no save bonus.

[Mahrke]

"This is exactly why we should've spent more time in the tavern. Never trust anyone that won't drink with you." The paladin throws her hands up, and begins back, towards Arabella's pit. "Blood on our hands and nothing to show for it." She hops down into the pit, and finds the cultist dominated by Yulie. She snaps her fingers in front of the man's eyes, a pair of hands grasping him by the shoulders. <Release the cultist. I want to do what we should've done from the beginning. Talk.>

[Jeff the Green]

<First,> Arabella informs Razia, waving her hand at the now barely-clothed cultists, <you are going to help me get them out of my foyer. I need to study my books, and I can't do that when I have unsecured prisoners asleep three floors above me.>