CHAPTER 07
On the Merchant's Path, 20 miles outside Medenbury, Astraena
Late October

Having saved Vendrinor from the horrors of Reverend Simon and his mysterious master, the P.A.R.T.Y. has spend the better part of a week escorting the village's survivors to Medenbury Junction, a major crossroads that serves as the intersection point for traffic traveling between Tris (west), Ikuabai (east), Telsid'Fas (northwest), and Hae'driel (southeast).

The sun hangs brightly at the apex of its trek across the heavens as the caravan approaches the first major waypoint of its journey to the capital.  Even now, 20 miles from Medenbury proper, there are signs of life.  Traffic has increased dramatically, and other roads can be seen weaving back and forth over the surrounding hillside as they, too, approach the junction.

The light forests surrounding the area are dotted with cottages, farmhouses, fields, lumber yards, and other signs of industry.  Though Medenbury is nothing compared to Ikuabai, Hae'driel, or Tris, it's much, much larger than Vendrinor -- tens of thousands of people live here, and while the day-over-day population fluxuates, it has been known to exceed 100,000 during busy traveling days.  In addition to being a bustling trade city, Medenbury is also home to one of the largest Imperial prison complexes on the continent.

A signpost helpfully depicts the obvious as the caravan heads ever onward:



At the current rate, the P.A.R.T.Y. will reach Medenbury by evening.  There are likely plenty of inns, hostels, brothels, and other amenities, should you wish to pursue them.  The caravan leaders have indicated that they will stop for the night in Medenbury, resupply, and continue onward toward Tris tomorrow.

[Crossroads]

Zuriel shifts in his saddle. He turns to the Sheriff. "Well Mathers, this is just about where we part ways. We'll see you lot get settled into the city, and then I'll accompany you to turn in your report to the Wardens."

To the party, he says, "Let's find an inn somewhere with proper baths. Not just buckets of hot water. And a hot meal wouldn't go amiss either. And a real bed..." the paladin trails off wistfully.

Agreed.  Wholeheartedly. Maeve says, the idea of creature comforts sounding very appealing.  If you're of a mind to go shopping though, I'd recommend saving your gold for the Ikuabai Bazaar.  It's bound to have a better selection all around.

Keef helpfully points out an establishment called "Medenbury Massage."  Maeve tactfully steers him away from it, pointing out that the actual services offered are probably not the ones advertised.

She then uses her guisarme to lift up the corner of the tarp covering the remarkably well-preserved corpse of Reverend Simon.  Maeve looks at the body with great distate.

Also. . . .what are we going to do about him?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:41, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

We try this again.

Lyriel takes a sip from the chalice of wisdom and then casts another spell fortifying her mind before seeing to the ritual.

[Simon save vs DC 19: 29]

Much like before, the green glow suffuses the body before quickly being snuffed out by the black aura. Lyriel screams in frustration, balling her hands into fists. Tassada damn you! Why isn't this working?!

Zuriel puts a soothing hand on Lyriel's shoulder, quickly removing the chalice from reach before Lyriel decides to throw it. "Don't worry about it Lyriel, it's fine. We can try again. He isn't going anywhere. We can either leave him with the Flame or Wardens to question, or bring him with us to Ikuabai. Though, I have no idea how legal that would be..."

He looks to Maeve questioningly.

Well, it's not illegal per se. But you'd need to acquire a permit to do so.  And to do that, you'd need to take care of some paperwork at customs and pay a hefty fee.  The usual bureaucratic red tape.

A little comfort would be nice.  Let's see what we can find in an inn.

He watches as the corpse once again rebuffs Lyriel's magic.

We can turn him in to the authorities, but I don't want to keep hauling a corpse around.  It attracts the wrong kind of attention.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 7):

A bazzar?  You mean, a BAZZAR bazzar?  Let's go!

In reply to Keef (msg # 8):

The P.A.R.T.Y. arrives in Medenbury without further incident.  Night is falling, and the caravan quickly makes for the nearest inn that can accommodate them: The Meandering Tigerlily.

Despite its pretentious name, the place looks to be about mid-range in terms of amenities and pricing.  The carts and horses are quickly stored in the stable, and in no time the villagers have made themselves at home in the Tigerlily's modest suites and lively common room.

There is a clearly defined area emblazoned with the word "Bath House", but the paladin is interrupted before he can explore the promising features that might hide within.

"The menfolk are heading off to buy supplies," Sheriff Mathers says.  "I'd like to meet you outside at dawn tomorrow, to file the paperwork with local authorities.  After that, we'll be on our way."

He smiles softly.

"Thank you for everything."

Maeve smiles and shakes hands with Mathers.

It was our duty and our pleasure to help.

She then goes to find Lyriel and Rachel and says, in a rare moment of feminine bonding:

Shall we see what amenities the bath house has to offer?

Zuriel likewise shakes hands with the sheriff. "Until tomorrow then. I actually have some quick resupplying to do of my own." He spins Shahara, and heads off towards the merchant district.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: Zuriel catches your arm before you head off with the girls. "I'd like to outfit Rachel with some more appropriate gear. She's more a fencer than warrior, and I think a rapier and buckler would suit her well. What do you think?"]

Lyriel grins and claps her hands together delightedly. Oh yes, let's! She grabs Rachel and sets off to the bathhouses with Maeve and a collection of scented soaps and towels.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Lyriel nods. "I think that's a good idea. Here, I have extra gold from the Vault." She counts out a generous pouch and hands it to Zuriel before skipping off to the bath house.]

Boreas heads for the markets in search of what this town has to offer.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 13):

Keef gathers up his books and a great quantity of papers and runs after Zuriel and Boreas.

Yes... resupply... I think I've found what I've been looking for but... I'll need some equipment ... some parts... some tools... some materials I think...  Keef holds up his notes for inspection, but neither Boreas nor Zuriel take them, knowing full well the boy's scribbles and diagrams will not shed any light on what Keef wants.

Anyhow...the problem, catch really... it's going to be expensive...

In reply to Keef (msg # 14):

Zuriel and Boreas head off toward the market, with Keef trailing behind them with a list of materials and equipment he'd like to find.  The women, deciding shopping to be less important than hygiene, opt to visit the bath house.

Team X,X

The bath house is well-appointed and gorgeous, containing areas to wash, areas to swim and play, areas to dry and change, and even several sauna-style rooms kept warm by steam and heated rocks.  The competing scents of dozens of different oils and soaps waft through the air, creating an almost intoxicating aroma.

After a bit of girl talk and a lot of scrubbing, they leave the bath house looking and feeling refreshed.  Finding the men still missing, it falls to Maeve, Lyriel, and Rachel to actually see about procuring rooms for the evening...

Team X,Y

The setting sun has left a number of stalls, shops, and tents unattended, but there are plenty of people still doing business.  Boreas quickly locates a promising shop filled with gloves and gauntlets, but balks at the rather high pricetags.  Zuriel keeps an eye out for clergy, but is unable to discern any obvious members of the Church.  Keef continues to rattle off the things he needs, pointing out various promising shops and tents and hoping one of his companions will indulge his curiosity.  One such shop is located next to a tent bristling with swords -- a fact that catches the paladin's eye.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:27, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

Zuriel waits for the boy to catch up before continuing. "What exactly are you researching, Keef?" he asks, walking into the sword tent.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

As the girls dress from their relaxing time in the baths, you notice something that you would not have had occasion to before, given that the P.A.R.T.Y is not exactly in the habit of stripping in front of each other.  While it would have ordinarily been covered up by her tunic, it is now apparent that Maeve has a long, thin white scar that extends from her collarbone down her chest, curving around the left breast before finally coming to a stop somewhere on the middle of the rib cage.

It looks almost as if a very inept fighter tried to stab the young woman in the heart or throat and missed horribly, or if a very talented fighter aimed for the same place and, at the last minute, opted for a less lethal blow.  It's difficult to tell.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 17):

Team X,Y

Zuriel heads into the sword shop and begins to browse the racks.  He eventually finds a good-looking rapier shoved into one of the barrels. The weapon is finely crafted, and priced to move at 400gp.

Zuriel extracts the rapier, holding it outstretched to test the weight and balance. He gives it a few practice swings admiringly. He turns to the shopkeeper. "This is a fine blade, though rather on the expensive side. Would you consider throwing in that buckler for the price?" He gestures to a solidly built buckler hanging on a rack. He smiles at the shopkeeper.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 17):

Keef looks down at his notes, for a moment perplexed at the question.

Oh.... right... well I'm researching a spell!  Armor!  I've done most of the reading and sketching out already

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 19):

After a bit of haggling, Zuriel is able to get the buckler thrown in for the same price.

Zuriel shakes hands with the shopkeep, slinging the buckler and rapier across his back. Giving up on finding members of the church at random, he makes to head back to the inn, along with Keef once he's finished his shopping.

"That sounds quite useful, Keef. What kind of materials do you think you'd need?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 22):

Keef lists a string of essentials, very little lf which makes much sense to Zuriel, or indeed to anyone.  The words 'diamond dust', 'candle', 'chalk', 'mica' stand out, but that's about it.

It's a lot I know, but all neccesary... I think, and should only cost maybe... three thousand! he concludes.

Zuriel coughs when he hears the cost. "That's...quite expensive. Not saying we can't do it, but let's wait until we get to Ikuabai. We are going to have a lot of expenses coming up that we will want to plan for. And some extra magic items to sell."

He tosses Keef a grin as they walk back to the Inn. "I agree, an armor spell would be very cool though!" The whole way back Keef chatters about this that and the other, with Zuriel trying to keep up but failing overwhelmingly to make any sense of they boy's narrative.

Upon returning to the Inn, Zuriel makes directly for the bathhouse. Finding a luxurious tub in the corner, he looks around sheepishly to see if anybody is watching before filling the tub with a bubbly scented soap and steaming hot water. He takes out the chalice of wisdom, willing a deep red wine to appear in the goblet. He strips and jumps into the tub, sinking into the water with a contented sigh until only his eyes and the top of his head remain above the mountains of bubbles.

Bliss...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:52, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

Maeve flushes as she notices Lyriel and Rachel examining the scar curiously, clearly refraining from asking about it only out of an attempt to be polite.  She's not ashamed of it, but it's not exactly attractive either, and Maeve is developing enough of a complex from being in the constant company of Lyriel's striking beauty and Rachel's fresh-faced farmgirl prettiness.

We should go see about rooms, she says, hastily donning her clothing.

On her way out the door, she notices that one of the baths is now occupied by Zuriel, nearly concealed under a mound of flower-scented bubbles and sipping contentedly from the chalice.

Oh Zuriel.  Thank you.  That's lifted my spirits to no end.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 25):

The serentiy of the bath is disturbed by a loud splash.

Zuriel looks down.  His gaze os met by the unblinking eyes of a large toad who seems to disapprove of the bubbles.

I did some calculationsKeef offers meekly as he pokes his mop of unruly hair into the bath house, I don't need EVERYTHING right now, with just a third of that I could continue my experiments for now...

Chubbs raises one brow, clearly finding humanoid nudity amusing.

Lyriel wraps herself in a fluffy towel and follows Maeve to the changing rooms. I don't mean to be rude, Maeve but...how did you get that scar? It looks like it's quite the tale.

As they leave the baths, Lyriel pauses to wave cheerfully to a woman in a nearby tub, dark hair the only thing visible in the mass of bubbles. Those bubbles look delightful... She swears to herself as her towel comes undone as she waves. She stoops to pick it up from her feet, readjusting the fabric around her figure. Strangely, when she looks back the woman's head is gone, vanished under the bubbles.

She hurries to catch up with Rachel and Maeve, eager to hear the story of the Easterner's scar. As they change and leave the bathhouse, Lyriel waves idly to Keef, who appears to be wandering in from shopping.

Odd...Keef is back. I wonder where Zuriel is.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Zuriel starts in shock as Maeve, Lyriel, and Rachel walk by his tub. Before he can say anything, Lyriel waves, somehow managing to dislodge her towel in the process. The paladin nobly attempts to avert his eyes,

[Will save = 14; Failure]

But somehow doesn't quite manage to turn away in time. He chokes and dives under the water, staying submerged until his lungs burn nearly as hotly as his face. He emerges, spluttering, in a daze, grateful to see he was once again alone. He finishes the rest of the wine in one gulp. Idly he waves to Chubbs as he is joined by the toad. The paladin upends the Chalice, providing the familiar a suitable golden throne.

Chubbs inspects the makeshift golden lily pad critically, before deciding that it will suffice. He hops on top, and gives a croak that clearly conveys that of all gilded lily pads he has graced, this one ranks six or seven.

Keef pokes his head in, but Zuriel isn't able to make sense of the boy's mile-a-minute chatter. "Yes yes, that's nice Keef. We'll see."

The paladin decides stay submerged until the dizziness passes.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

Oh. . . .this?  I don't know that it's much of a story, Lyriel.  I've had it since I was five.

Maeve's assertions that she obtained a wicked-looking weapon scar at the tender age of five seem to do nothing to put her companions at ease.  Quite the opposite.

Oh, no no! she hastens to assure them.  I wasn't stabbed or anything.  Well, that is to say, I *was* stabbed.  But it was all fine.

Her reassuring words are met with twin horrified expressions. Maeve thinks of how she can explain things with a bit more clarity.

As I briefly mentioned before we met you, Rachel, my father is the wielder of an exceedingly powerful weapon known as the Spear of the Sands.  Since I can first remember, father always referred to the Spear as a "friend of the family."  I never knew what that meant, but I did know that I was strictly forbidden from touching or playing with it.  No matter where father was stationed, the Spear always hung in a place of honor above our hearth.

Maeve smiles as she recalls herself as a small girl, brimming with curiosity over the mysterious weapon.

One day when I was five, Father was in his study taking with some of his men.  I was tired of playing war with my dolls and, seeing that nobody was around, decided to be exceedingly clever and touch the Spear.  Perhaps even take it down to look at.  So I dragged a chair over to the hearth, climbed on top of it, and reached for the Spear, standing on tiptoe to try and get it.

Well, what happened next was I guess pretty predictable.  I lost my balance just as I grabbed the Spear and toppled off the chair, taking the weapon down with me as I fell.  Its curved blade was facing toward me, and it caught me as I fell, slicing me a good cut from my collarbone to my ribs.  Oooooh, how mad Father was. . . .

Maeve shudders, not so much from the memory of the pain and blood but rather from the recollection of her father's obvious anger.  Lyriel and Rachel continue to look suitably horrified, and Maeve realizes that perhaps they have overlooked the central point of the tale.

But don't you see?  I should have been dead.  The healer who came to clean my wound said as much.  If I were any other person, I *would* have been dead.  The way the Spear was pointed, it should have gone straight through my heart.  Instead, it dealt me only a cut, which stopped bleeding rather quickly. Turns out that that's what Father meant by the Spear being a "friend of the family."  It recognizes its own.

Father told me after the healer had gone home that the Spear lashed out at me in warning, because I had mishandled it.  "A weapon like this, Maeve, deserves your respect.  If it doesn't have it, it will know and respond in kind.

Maeve slowly emerges from her memories.

It's been more than twenty years since that day. I haven't touched the Spear again.  Scared, I suppose

Boreas returns from the market empty-handed save for a small scroll tube, having decided to save his money for the bazaar in Ikuabai.  He takes a more spartan bath but savors it no less.

Better enjoy this, before I have to get 'in character.'  Thanks, Lyriel...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:52, Thu 30 Jan 2014.

That's a remarkable story Maeve, Lyriel says. A weapon with a mind of its own...good thing it's a friend! Still, did it have to maim you so?  That's a harsh lesson for a five year old. The self-conscious look on Maeve's face leads the cleric to believe that the Easterner misunderstood her intended meaning.

She smiles at Maeve. Still, all is well that ends well, yes? *I* think the scar gives you an exotic beauty. Like one of the warrior queens from the southern jungles! Ferocious, yet feminine. Lyriel looks over Maeve, and the Easterner can almost see the gears turning in the cleric's mind as she thinks of a suitable outfit. Sure enough, a fashion suggestion is immediately forthcoming. Well, obviously we can't show the whole thing, but perhaps have a bodice that leaves just a hint of the scar peaking out. Mysterious!

Lyriel sighs. You could turn the head of any man you wanted, if you just tried, Maeve. I wish you could see that. Perhaps with a different hairstyle, and some new clothes? The Highborn maiden looks up at Maeve hopefully.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:08, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

After a considerable while, Zuriel determines that his body is likely to become a prune if he stays any longer in the bath. He gets out, dressing quickly and entering the inn proper. He arrives in the common area to find the party, including Rachel and Oliver, just sitting down to dinner, presumably having procured rooms. He joins them, uncharacteristically silent, plopping down between Oliver and Maeve.

[private to Lyriel Vesper: Zuriel seems to avoid your gaze, though you catch him looking at you several times over the course of the meal. Each time your eyes meet, he drops his gaze, blushing violently.]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Oh.  Well, right. . . . thank you, Lyriel.  I'll think about it.

Maeve smiles wanly and then heads over to the common room of the tavern for supper.  The rest of the P.A.R.T.Y seems to still be occupied in the baths, so Maeve joins Rachel and Oliver at one of the tables; Lyriel looks for someone from whom to see about procuring rooms for the night.

Rachel and Oliver chatter happily about their day thus far; Maeve is quietly pensive, tracing a finger back and forth along her collarbone.

She's just being kind; it's ugly--no denying that. Still, I suppose that every warrior needs a scar with a story behind it.

I haven't thought of the Spear in a long time. . .I wonder what would happen if I tried to pick it up now?  I wonder. . . .

After a little while, Zuriel comes in and joins them, sliding in to a seat next to Maeve.  Seconds later, Keef joins them and throws himself into the seat next to Rachel, explaining to the young woman all about his plans for magic armor, whether she wants to hear it or not.

  The paladin's sudden appearance snaps Maeve out of her reverie and she favors him with a distracted smile, her hand still resting on her collarbone.

Oh, hello Zuriel.  Did you have a nice bath?  You must have stayed in there for a long time--you look awful flushed.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

"No, I mean...yes. It was uneventful. Er, relaxing. Yes! That one."

He clears his throat nervously, looking down at his plate and focusing on cutting his haunch of meet very deliberately.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 34):

...and the best part, well I guess A best part, is that the arcane matrix underlying the spell isn't totally transindoctrinated, not at all, but it STILL has a maintenance zenith that's comparable to a balanced incantation of the 2nd order, which means...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Mmmm, yes, you certainly did look like you were relaxing.  Tell me: did you leave any bubbles for the rest of the clientele?

Lyriel furrows her brow in confusion. Bubbles? There weren't any bubbles other than... Her green eyes dart over to Zuriel, noting with a shock a stray bubble in his...dark hair.

Her fork falls out of her hand and clatters to the table, and her face flushes furiously.

But then...he was...and the towel...

The table soon finds themselves with two highborn intently scrutinizing their food, as if everything in history of all creation depended on maintaining unbroken eye contact with their plates. If the cleric had looked up, she would have noticed Rachel struggling to contain her laughter, aquamarine eyes dancing with amusement.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Zuriel gets up from the table, coughing delicately, still seemingly unable to make eye contact. "Perhaps I'd better see to our rooms. Make sure they're...rooms."

He quickly departs, leaving a half-eaten dinner and the scent of lavender mixed with sandalwood behind. As he leaves a single bubble floats in the space he so recently occupied, floating over to rest on Lyriel's plate.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:42, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve loses her appetite, throwing up in her mouth just a little bit.

Boreas, feeling refreshed from his bath, steps across the hall to retrieve his clothing.  Zuriel, rushing down the hall, bumps into him, causing Boreas' towel to drop to the floor.

The huntsman looks up, eyes meeting Zuriel's amber ones for a moment.  He shrugs and steps into the dressing-room, leaving the paladin to his embarrassment.

Zuriel's eyes widen in shock at seeing the huntsman actually having taken a bath.

Miracles do happen...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 41):

Somehow, the realization that something is going on at the table other than what he was talking about reaches Keef.  He blinks and takes a long look at Lyriel, then Maeve, then the empty seat that was the paladin.

So.... gears are clearly grinding away, ... so... Zuriel doesn't have the money.... Maeve?  Keef opens one of his books to a series of diagrams showing what looks to be a hybred of squirrel and locomotive.

.... the materials... nothing dangerous I promise...well not REALLY dangerous... and all I really need is maybe 1,000 gp to get the work really going...

Keef, I swear by all that is good and right in this world, we will get you whatever you need for your research, Maeve says tiredly, willing to say anything to halt Keef's unending magic babble.  She really ought to have known better.

Oddly enough, Rachel appears to have been listening to Keef with great interest and even seems to have been following some of his "explanations."

Interesting.  The girl might indeed have the makings of a fine mage.  Taking her to Baldwin seems a better and better idea.

Zuriel's sudden absence now registers with Maeve.

All I did was tease him about the bubbles.  Surely that couldn't have been *that* embarrassing. . . .

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 43):

Keef beams and snaps his book shut.

Fantastic!  I'll make up a reduced list and we can go shopping tomorrow morning!

Keef leaps down from his chair, scoops up his notes and books and bounces off.

Keef, we should probably wait until we reach Ikuabai before-- Maeve begins to say.  But the lad is already gone.

I've made a huge mistake.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 45):

To say the night passes uneventfully would be a misnomer, given the assorted dramas that played out during the evening hours, but nothing disturbs the P.A.R.T.Y. once they settle into their rooms.

***

Zuriel stirs at dawn, keenly aware of his promise to accompany Sheriff Mathers to give his report.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:05, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 46):

Keef, wakes with Zuriel, but instead of going with the paladin he stands, Longshanks in one hand and book of notes under his arm, and waits patiently outside the door to Maeve's room.

In reply to Keef (msg # 47):

Maeve opens the door to find Keef and his entourage of toad and staff standing directly outside.  With a deep sigh, she wordlessly extends a hand for Keef's shopping list, curious to see exactly what he hopes to acquire.

She takes the list with her as she proceeds to the common room for breakfast, reading over it as she awaits the other members of the P.A.R.T.Y to arise and join them.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:02, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 48):

Mathers & Co.

The pair winds its way through the sleepy streets, observing an odd assortment of people along the say.  Here and there you see drunkards shambling home, more than a handful doing walks of shame.  Shopkeeps are stirring, too, as they rearrange their displays and restock the shelves in preparation for another busy day.

The pungent scent of autumn fruits fills the air from breakfast carts parked here and there, mostly patronized by civil servants as they begin the unenviable task of clearing the streets, repairing damaged lamps, removing garbage, and maintaining public buildings.

Before long, the pair arrives at the courthouse, a rather imposing building located in the city's northwest quad.  Interestingly, it isn't particularly close to the prison -- located to the north -- and it is staffed by a motley collection of civilian scribes/aides/journeymen and Imperial appointees.

A sleepy-eyed woman stands behind the receptionists desk as the Sheriff ambles in, greeting him with a monotone "Good morning. Please wait." and inviting him to take a seat.  There are plenty of spaces to wait, as you are the only ones there at such an hour.

After a good 15 minutes or so, during which the receptionist absently files her nails, she finally motions for the Sheriff and Zuriel to come forward.

"Warden Jessep will see you now.  Down the hall, second door on the right."

***

Warden Harvey Jessep was a proud man.  Low on the totem pole and assigned to the equivalent of traffic court, he kept his head held high as he dealt with such pressing concerns as parking tickets, impounded vehicles, and zoning disputes.

His desk is covered with paperwork, but somehow manages to look organized despite itself.  The man himself is a heavyset human in his 60s with thinning hair and thick, bushy eyebrows.  He stands from behind the desk when you enter and beckons you to have a seat across from him.

"Come in, come in," he says.  "And welcome!  What can Medenbury do for the Flame this fine day?"

Zuriel shakes his hand, greeting the Warden warmly with a smile. "Well met, Warden. I am Knight-Errant Zuriel Siléndril. Sheriff Mathers, formerly of Vendrinor, and myself are here to turn in the paperwork for a tragic incident that transpired last week." Zuriel hands over the documents, waiting for the Warden to parse through it.

What happened in Vendrinor is way above this man's pay grade...let's see how he handles it.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 50):

The Courthouse

Warden Jessep riffles through the paperwork, scowling in some places, gasping in others.  When he is finished, he dabs a handkerchief along his brow.

"This is real? A dark cleric murdered an entire village, right on our watch?"

He glances at the paladin and decides the question need not be verbally answered.

"Right then.  This is urgent, and you need to talk to Captain Rhys about it.  Problem is, he's not here right now.  We had an incident at the jail late last night, and most of our wardens have been deployed there to help with... containment."

He dabs his forehead again, looking nervous.

"It's closed to the general public, but I don't think the two of you count, given what you've been through.  Besides, you're a badge and a paladin."

Jessep stands and grabs a traveling cloak from its peg on the wall.  You can plainly see that the man wears no armor and carries no weapons, though he does scoop up the reports you brought him.

"Let's go."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

A prison outbreak? Containment? That sounds...serious. Zuriel shares a worried look with Mathers before tightening his sword belt and following the Warden out the door.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 52):

The Courthouse

Warden Jessep leads Mathers and Zuriel outside, where they begin the trek to the prison.  It takes a good 30 minutes, as the bustle of people continues to increase as the morning continues.

Eventually, you come to a cross-street that has had the northern junction barricaded by a sideways cart.  A quick glance down the horizontal, unblocked road shows that every intersection in sight is similarly barricaded to prevent travel north.

Jessep walks right past the barricade, saying aloud "Warden Jessep, two guests".  There is no visible reaction to this, but nothing prevents the group from traveling further, either.

Presently the prison itself looms into view, an enormous compound protected by three thick stone walls that form concentric rectangles along the facility.  Towers punctuate the perimeter, and guards are everywhere.  There is just a single gate, which now stands before you, and it seems to unlock in phases that require a different checkpoint for each of the three walls.

The prison itself is comprised of five three-story buildings, placed in an arc along the ten-story walls (and twelve-story towers).  "Holding cells," Jessep says, pointing at them.  "And the processing hall," he continues, motioning toward a sixth building, two stories tall, located in the center of the grounds.

It takes a while, but eventually the third and final portcullis is raised, and the trio finds itself standing at the edge of the prison's courtyard, which seems to have recently seen a little action.

The walls are swarming with Imperial crossbowmen, and the courtyard is dotted with arrows.  Blood and gore are splattered throughout the exercise yard, and two piles of bodies have been dragged off to the eastern side, hastily covered with dirty sheets.

The doors to the eastern-most building have been blown off their hinges, and two Wardens stand at rapt attention in the doorway. The four other holding cell buildings are surrounded by a shimmering bubble, which is maintained by four elven-looking figures clad in violet robes.  A fifth such figure stands near them, chatting with a gruff-looking Warden who is built like a tank, and seems to bark orders at anyone who strays within earshot.

It is toward this man that Jessep steers you, dabbling his brow with his handkerchief all the way.

Zuriel looks around at the aftermath of what must have been an extensive prison riot. What in the Nine Hells happened here?!

He waits until they are within earshot before hailing the massive figure barking orders. "Captain Rhys, I presume? Knight-Errant Zuriel Siléndril. The paladin gives a respectful salute as the captain turns to face him.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:08, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve finishes eating and realizes that Boreas and Lyriel have yet to awake.

I've heard of beauty sleep, but this is ridiculous.

Keef, this is very thorough, Maeve says, looking up from the list.  However: I would almost certainly wait until we reach Ikuabai before trying to find all this.  You'll find a much better selection and, depending on the merchant, possibly at a much better price than you would here.

Not to mention the boarded-up magic emporium, she says to herself thoughtfully, belatedly realizing that she said that aloud.  Keef's eyes light up with an absolutely delighted gleam.

Boreas climbs out of bed groggily, rubbing his eye.  He searches the PARTY's stock and puts on the straw hat, then heads out to market in search of an enchanter.

Good morning. Lyriel mumbles a subdued greeting as she passes Maeve and Keef in the hallway. Oddly, Lyriel seems more conservatively dressed than is usual for her, in a muted gray tunic and traveling pants. She sits down to a quick breakfast, buttering a slice of bread absently. Looking out of the window into the courtyard as she eats, she sees something that gives her pause before rushing out of the building.

Shortly thereafter, those still inside hear a rather irritated whinny from outside in the courtyard. Anybody looking out the window can see the cleric apparently attempting to engage Shahara in conversation, despite Zuriel being nowhere around.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 54):

The Prison

"No," the Captain says, the simple word apparently full of meaning for the women with whom he is speaking.

She glares at him and begins to protest, stopping short as Zuriel and the others trot fearlessly forward.

"Oh.  You've summoned the Flame," she says, putting her hands on her hips defiantly.  The gesture emphasizes her natural curves -- and they are ample, for she is stunningly beautiful. "You can't purge everything away, you know.  I want the rogues recaptured. Alive, as per our mutual treaty."

Rhys says nothing, choosing instead to favor her with a glare that could melt steel.

"Valerie, Magus Third Class, Inquisitor of the Twilight Order," the woman says, turning to Zuriel with a coy smile. "They'll be contained for another hour or so, then you can advance your men however you see fit.  Have fun, but don't break anything of mine."

She takes a step back and blows the Captain a mock kiss.

"When this is all said and done, Rhys, we're building a proper antimagic cell here.  Even if I have to petition the Imperial Assembly to get it done."

With that, Valerie returns to stand near the four similarly dressed elven casters.  After a brief exchange, all five invoke words of power and vanish.  The prismatic barriers flicker slightly, but continue to hold despite their absence.

Captain Rhys, for his part, looks as though he's doing his best to ignore Valerie's presence on the planet.  He acknowledges Zuriel with a crisp salute.

"Busy. What brings you?"

The Marketplace

Boreas has no trouble finding several different vendor purporting to be enchanters.  He browses their wares contentedly, whistling a tune he picked up along the way.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:49, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve and Boreas exchange a brief "good morning" wave as the woodsman heads out the door, bent on some errand or other.  About ten minutes later, Lyriel appears too, only to rush out the door as well after a meager breakfast.

Curious, Maeve looks out the window to see the cleric attempting to engage Shahara in conversation.

Best of luck with that

Bored and with her friends all occupied with other errands and tasks, Maeve heads out to the stables.  A few minutes later, she and Wes head out to see what Medenbury has of interest to offer this morning.

[OOC: not sure what Keef is up to, but he can come with me if he so desires]

Boreas interviews each purported enchanter, looking for one who is capable of enchanting a weapon that he provides.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 60):

The Marketplace

Two enchanters agree that this is something they can do, for a price, and each promises "extra good" services.

"Bringing a report of cult activity to the West. Warden Jessep though fit to elevate it to your attention. It's urgent, but not," he looks around quizzically, "As urgent as the situation here appears. What exactly is going on, Captain? Might I offer you my assistance?"

What's the Twilight Order doing here? And who was that sorceress?

After interviewing several enchanters, Boreas finds one capable of doing the job.  He requests 1,100 gold pieces to put a basic enchantment on Maeve's weapon.

Boreas passes his eyebeam over some of the man's wears.

These look good.  But another fellow said he would do it for 800.  Your work looks a bit better, so I'll tell you what.  900 gold pieces.

[Bluff 20]

Deal.  But you'll have to pick it up tomorrow morning.

Boreas nods.  </green>Let me get my friend.</green>

Concentrating, he sends a message to Maeve with the straw hat informing her where to meet him.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 63):

The Prison

"Subdued a jailbreak.  Partially.  Can't do more while the barriers stand." the Captain says, with a sort of curt terseness that appears to be his natural method of communicating. He motions to the various prison buildings, shrugs, then extends a hand to receive the file folder from Jessep. "What cult?"

The Marketplace

The enchanter waits patiently for Boreas to come to a decision.  Maeve (and Keef, presumably) are ambling around a good ten blocks away, idly browsing a variety of goods when they pause, interrupted by Boreas's message.

The Inn

Lyriel and Shahara continues to whinny and nicker at each other, much to the amusement of all who walk by the stable.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:03, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

"Ostensibly the Cult of the Damned. There was a necromancer cleric of Darilen masquerading as a country preacher in Vendrinor. Destroyed nearly the whole damn town before we could stop him. The survivors have abandoned the village to seek their fortunes elsewhere. It's all in the report. What's more concerning is that the cleric was in contact with some overseer in another land. I think the cleric's activities with the Cult of the Damned are only part of a larger plot."

Zuriel sees the Captain has little time to devote to such things. "This is extremely urgent, Captain, but I see you've also got pressing matters closer at hand. Perhaps I could help you resolve this situation here?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:07, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve is just debating whether or not to browse a stall that (ostensibly) claims to be selling coffee when she receives Boreas' sending.  Wondering what the woodsman could conceivably want with her, she winds her way through the market, Keef [presumably] in tow.  She finds Boreas a little while later outside of the indicated stall.

So, what's this about then?

This esteemed enchanter endeavors to enchant your ... weapon.  It'll cost us 900 gold, and he'll have to hold it overnight.  What do you say?

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 65):

The Prison

Captain Rhys raises an eyebrow at the report, glances at the pages far too rapidly to actually read anything, and hands it back to Jessep.

"Go summarize this."

Dismissed, Warden Jessep salutes and hurries away.  Rhys then turns Zuriel and Mathers.

"Block A has been... suppressed."

He nods toward the unshielded building and the pile of corpses nearby.

"Plus side? More capacity," he deadpans.  The man doesn't smile -- you're not sure he knows how -- but this is as close to a joke as you're likely to get.  "Some escaped into the other buildings. Order was here for... other reasons.  Offered to help.."

He walks over to the nearest barrier and taps it with his fist as though it were made of thick, solid glass.

"Some help," he smirks.  "Going in myself when they fade. Not risking my men, but you may join me. Might actually help."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:18, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 68):

Keef tags along with Maeve.

...not sure about that, but without components and reagents, I cannot continue my research until we get there...

Zuriel nods. What are we up against, Captain? If you'd like I can summon my companions to lend a hand as well. They can be discreet. Unless you'd prefer to keep this within law enforcement?" He looks at the Warden expectantly.

You're. . . .serious?  Maeve says, blindsided for a minute by the offer.  When Boreas makes no move to laugh it off as a joke, Maeve adds You *are* serious. . .  After another moment to take in the fact that her beloved polearm will now be protected and enhanced by magic, a broad grin spreads across her face.

Thank you! Maeve cries, flinging her arms around Boreas suddenly.  Thank you!  I won't forget this.  She releases the woodsman and impetuously hugs the enchanter as well. She then produces her guisarme and hands it over to the care of said enchanter, rattling off instructions and advice for its care and keeping, every bit as enthusiastic as Keef is on a near-constant basis.

it's no problem.  We need you at your best.

You're not sure, but Boreas might actually be blushing at the sudden, uncharacteristic display of affection.
He quickly turns to the merchant.

We'll be back in the morning with your fee.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 71):

The Marketplace

The enchanter looks as perplexed as Boreas, but sets the weapon carefully aside.

"I will take the finest care of it," he says confidently.  "You have my word, it will be ready on time.  Payment at pickup is fine. See you tomorrow!"

The Prison

"Murders, thieves, bullies, deserters," the captain rattles off.  "Couple rogue mages, special care there. Your companions..."

He glances at Sheriff Mathers, who stands off to one side nervously twirling his moustache.

"... would probably get hurt, get in the way, or both."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:50, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 73):

The Inn

Rachel and Oliver, having enjoyed a lavish breakfast on the room's tab and grown bored of Lyriel's undecipherable conversation, wander off into the marketplace in search of something to do.  This is a decision that is certain to end well for everyone involved.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:59, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Zuriel considers the dilemma. "You'll find my companions much more...seasoned...than Mathers. No offense to the good Sheriff. They won't get in the way, and we can particularly help with the rogue spell casters."

He focuses on his mental link with Shahara, quite clear despite the distances involved. Her voice echoes in his mind immediately, sounding exasperated. The *lady* - this word she says with distinct irony - Has been prattling on incessently. Somehow she learned how to speak Celestial. She is...persistent. I'll give her that much.

Zuriel sighs, unable to spare a thought towards the complicated animosity his horse had for Lyriel. Her name is Lyriel, Shahara. You're with her? Good. Bring her, I need you to gather everybody and bring them to the jail. There's a situation that needs our attention. I'm fine, just hurry. Try to be here in an hour."

This time, the petulance in Shahara's tone is unmistakable. I'm coming! But, the ma...Lyriel. The other horses are too slow and...oooooh. A long-suffering whinny comes over the bond clearly. I only do this for you, Zuriel.

***Back at the Inn***

Shahara stomps her foot in irritation, and her voice projects directly into Lyriel's mind. Zuriel needs us. Get...get on my back. Hurry. And don't think this means anything, mare! She snorts.

***At the Jail***

Zuriel turns back to the captain, having summoned his friends. "Why exactly were the Twilight Order here, Captain? I was under the impression that the Order and the Wardens rarely collaborate except to transfer magically inclined criminals to the Order's anti-magic cells?"

Maeve bids farewell to the enchanter, excited as a small child on the. . . night before the annual winter gift-giving festival, and her high spirits continue unabated for the rest of the morning as she, Keef, and Boreas continue to peruse the market.  [Assuming that Keef and Boreas have nothing better to do.]

As they browse, Maeve tries to get from Keef a straightforward list of what precisely he anticipates needing for his "research."  Try as she might, she was unable to make any sense of Keef's written notes.

Lyriel takes a moment to ensure their rooms were locked and their horses boarded before returning to the charger. She nearly squeals with delight as she clambers into Shahara's saddle. The others have gone into the market, I think. It should be on the way to the jail.

Shahara sets off at nearly a gallop, tearing through the streets at Lyriel's direction. Though Lyriel would have loved to continue speaking with the horse, her spell sadly fades en route, restricting their communication to whinnies and tugs on the reins. The horse looks rather relieved at this turn of events. Lyriel gives out a Hmph.

This conversation isn't over, Shahara. Not by a long shot.

After only a few wrong turns, the unlikely pair soon thunders into the market, where she attempts to locate her companions.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 77):

Lyriel is difficult to miss, mounted as she is on a thundering stallion in the early hours of morning.  She is able to located Boreas, Maeve, and Keef without much trouble, as they are simply browsing various shops for Keef's reagents.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:38, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Lyriel waves her companions over. Shahara says Zuriel wants our help at the jail. He's not in danger, I don't think. But he says to hurry.

Despite having found Boreas, Keef, and Maeve, Shahara continues to toss her head, spinning around as she looks for somebody else.

[private to DM: Shahara is looking for Rachel.]

Lyriel! Maeve says, her eyes widening in surprise as she sees Shahara consenting to bear the cleric on her back.  Is something wrong?

Lyriel shrugs, struggling to stay in the saddle as Shahara dashes around unpredictably. I don't know, Shahara just says to come quickly.

Maeve bodily hauls Keef up into the saddle behind her as Boreas quickly mounts up on the Droopy he took along to the market.

You heard the lady, let's go.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

We ride.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 84):

The Prison

"If it's all the same to you, I should be getting back," Sheriff Mathers says, extending a hand to Zuriel.  "We owe you a debt we'll never repay.  Look us up if you ever get to Tris."

The Marketplace

In short order, the P.A.R.T.Y. arrives at the prison, where they find Zuriel waiting for them with an armored hulk of man.  Sheriff Mathers is nowhere to be seen.

Upon arrival, Shahara comes to an abrupt stop, causing Lyriel to tumble from her back in a graceless heap, landing unceremoniously in a nearby puddle of mud with an audible squelching sound.

[Ride Check: 14 (fail)]
[Reflex: 7 (fail)]

The stallion doesn't seem to notice, and rushes immediately to Zuriel's side.

Rhys grunts at the sight of Lyriel tumbling from the horse for no apparent reason.

"Experienced, you said?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:07, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Zuriel clasps the Sheriff's hand before he departs. "You all take care of yourselves. Go with Tassada's grace"

There are several minutes of relative silence in the courtyard before the party comes charging in, and Lyriel winds up taking an unplanned mud bath.

Zuriel rushes over to Lyriel to help her up from the mud, shooting a nasty look at Shahara. His steed blinks back innocently. The poor cleric splutters, covered in dreck. Her hair is particularly unkempt, taking the brunt of the splatter.

"My horse can be...temperamental, Captain. I highly doubt Lyriel's riding experience is to blame." Shahara snorts in a way that clearly gives the impression of riotous laughter. Zuriel ignores her, making quick introductions and explaining the situation while Lyriel struggles frantically to put herself in some semblance of order.

"Well? The barrier is about to fade. Let's get to work."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve winces as Lyriel tumbles into a large, brackish puddle of mud.  Seeing the small giant standing next to Zuriel eyeing them dubiously, she decides that now is an appropriate time to show rank.

She dismounts and walks confidently up to the burly fellow.

Major Hassan of the Gaelian 5th Mounted, she says, producing a golden pin in the shape of an oak leaf.  My friend here says there's been some excitement this morning?

Lyriel yelps in surprise as Shahara bucks under her unexpectedly, sending the woman tumbling over the charger's rump and into a puddle of mud. The mud breaks her fall, but also deals her pride grievous wound, and she is dangerously close to tears as Zuriel helps her to her feet. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she feels the mud caked into her honey-blonde hair with growing horror. Oh gods, my hair. My clothes!

She looks over at Shahara, deeply wounded by the horse's betrayal. Her blush is only obscured by a think layer of mud on her face, which somehow just makes it worse.

She struggles to make herself presentable while fighting back sobs, a few tears spilling down her face, making tracks in the mud.

How could you?! In front of everybody...I just...want to curl into a little ball and disappear...

She tries to say something in her defense, but the only sound that comes out is more akin to a kitten being stepped on than speech.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:29, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Boreas stifles a chuckle, making an audible sniffing sound as though he smells something unpleasant.  He casts a sideways glance at Lyriel.

He approaches the garrison, taking his place next to Maeve.

Boreas Highwind.  Let me know if I can help.

While his companions introduce themselves to Captain Rhys, Zuriel takes the opportunity to pull Lyriel to the side. Offering her a spare rag from his pouch that looks rather like the charred remains of a former tabard, he gently helps her clear the worst of the mud from her face and hair. Seeing her nearly about to burst into tears, he pulls her in for a quick embrace, getting mud on himself in the process. "Shh, it's fine okay. You still look gorgeous. It would take more than a bit of dirt to obscure your beauty, Lyriel." He smiles at her, wiping away a tear gingerly with his thumb.

"Besides, from what I hear, mud is good for the complexion. Don't the nicest bath houses in Hae'driel offer mud treatments? If you think about it, you're just keeping up on your beauty while on the adventure!" He gives her a lopsided smile, hoping his humor will help her regain her composure.

From where she stands over by the party, Shahara makes a hacking sound as she regurgitates a bit of hay before swallowing it again.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:09, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 90):

"Captain Rhys, Imperial Warden and Chief Executive Officer of the Medenbury Corrections Facility," the man says, nodding as the P.A.R.T.Y. (by and large) introduces itself.  He raises an eyebrow at Maeve's introduction.

"Glad to have you, Major.  How's the General holding up?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

When Maeve thinks about it, she supposes that it isn't entirely strange that a relatively high-ranking soldier based in a town this close to one of the Sultanate's largest cities would be acquainted with her father.  Still, she feels a small frisson of excitement at his question.

Hale and hearty last I time I saw him, Sir, Maeve says to Captain Rhys.  Though I've been traveling for some time.  You might be better acquainted with his movements than I am  at the moment.

From behind her is a dull "thud."  Keef, having attempted to dismount from Wes himself is now hanging upside down, his foot caught in a stirrup.  The former carthorse is, for his part, contentedly cropping grass and ignoring the boy.  Maeve closes her eyes and asks the gods for patience.

As she untangles Keef from the reins, she continues speaking with the Captain.

I'm afraid that my favored weapon is in shop at the moment, she says.  But I do believe I can still be of assistance.  Maeve digs out the mace she carries; not her favorite weapon, but it will do in a pinch.

Lyriel, do you still have the mace we took off Simon?

She extends the mace wordlessly, still too distraught to speak.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 93):

"Good," the Captain replies, doing his damndest to ignore Keef and Lyriel every bit as much as he did Valerie.  "The situation is simple: jailbreak.  We're going to suppress it."

He balls his gauntleted hand into a fist, then turns to Zuriel.

"No mercy.  These are the dregs of the Empire.  Imprisonment was a privilege.  For these, it has been revoked. Are you ready?"

The barriers surrounding the buildings flicker once more, with the one for Compound B looking particularly fragile.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:21, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Yes.

Yes, Sir, Maeve says.

Zuriel nods, drawing his longsword. "Any other rules of engagement, Captain? Do we know if there are any other populations in the block than our targets to be concerned about? Trapped employees, Wardens, or prisoners not part of the escape attempt?"

Lyriel looks down at her feet, blushing. After the events of the previous night she couldn't be sure if Zuriel's 'obscured beauty' comment had more than one meaning.

Making one last effort to work the mud from her hair, she steps in line with the group.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 97):

"If they've locked themselves back up in their cells, leave them there. Otherwise..."

Captain Rhys doesn't bother to finish the sentence.

"Bringing your aide-de-camp along, Major?" he says, nodding dubiously toward Keef.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:16, Fri 31 Jan 2014.

Maeve looks over at Keef, who is now, thankfully, upright and beckons him over.

Not my aide-de-camp, Sir, but rather our valued traveling companion. Keef's youth belies his powerful magic. He has proven his worth against werewolves and the undead.  I do not think he'll let you down now.

Gods, at least I hope he won't. . . .

In reply to DM (msg # 99):

Keef more or less climbs up Maeve's strong arms to get himself untangled and out of the mud.

He pushes his pothelm back out of his face and grips the hilt of Flametongue tightly.

Where they go, I go!

In reply to Keef (msg # 101):

Rhys leads the group toward Cell Block B, arriving just as the shimmering shield around it fades into nothingness.

"First shield up, first shield down. We need to hurry to be in and out before the other ones start to fall."

He adjusts his armor and walks up to the doors, kicking them down without breaking stride and disappearing within.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:44, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

Maeve follows Rhys through the doors, her own mace in hand, the one taken from Reverend Simon tucked at her belt within easy reach.

Lyriel, stay close to me.  If this thing, she taps the black mace works as Keef says it does, I fully intend on getting hurt quite a bit.

Boreas flips up his eyepatch and his gem glints keenly.

Let's get down to business.

Lyriel stays near Maeve, re-imaging her dress glamor to become a full length cowled cloak, the deep hood occluding the top part of her head and leaving the rest of her face in shadow. Most importantly, it entirely obscured the hideous muddy mess her hair had become.

Content that her shame was at least covered if not erased, she feels very slightly better. Zuriel's kind words likewise went a long ways towards improving her frame of mind.

Stupid horse.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:46, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 105):

Keef gestures and makes some small incantations.  Tiny red sparkles flow over his body.

He skips forward in line quickly to tap Maeve on the shoulder.  Flickers of red lightening swirl and crackle over her body, fizzling into her muscles.

[Private to Maeve Hassan: Bull's STR on Maeve]

[Private to GM: Mage Armor]

In reply to Keef (msg # 106):

You rush into the building, which boasts a rather predictable layout: https://docs.google.com/spread...;usp=drive_web#gid=0

The grayed-out areas are out of your LOS until a door is opened.

Captain Rhys marches into the hallway, clearly surprised that all is quiet.  The room is 35x55x10, with a cross-shaped hallway and what appears to be four large rooms walled off on all sides.  Each room has exactly one thick metal door, all of which are closed.

There is a stairwell leading up on the western side of the room, and a stairwell leading down on the eastern side of the room.

"I'll make sure nobody makes a break for it," Rhys says at last, maneuvering himself to the main entrance and blocking it entirely with his body.  He extends an iron key to Zuriel.  "Master key. Let's get to work."

Zuriel accepts the key and uses it to enter the hallway. Presuming nothing else of interest, he leads the party to open the nearest door.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:54, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

Boreas follows Zuriel's lead.  Whenever he opens a door, Boreas readies himself to blast anything coming out that looks aggressive.

[OOC]Boreas will stand off to the side a bit so that enemies do not have line of sight to him.  If anyone comes into his line of sight doing something aggressive, he will blast them.[/OOC]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:02, Sat 01 Feb 2014.

Maeve follows Zuriel as well, her mace in hand.  She also will ready to attack any aggressors, albeit in a more clobber-y and less blast-y fashion.

Lyriel likewise draws her sword and follows the party in, readying herself to cut anybody who makes fun of her hair.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 111):

Keef, Longshanks across his back and Flametongue held menacingly, if not effectively, before him, stacks with Zuriel and Maeve and prepares to charge into the room.

In reply to Keef (msg # 112):

You open the first door on your right and charge in, where you are confronted by a simple-looking kitchen.  The cabinetry is open and smashed, and the cooking fire is roaring merrily.

The hacked and mutilated bodies of three or four people have been piled in the corner, and a wretched-smelling spit has been placed above the fire to cook.

Standing behind the counter is a corpulent man wearing a bloody apron and a dainty chef's hat.  He carries an enormous cleaver, slick with blood, and has a wild look in his eyes.

"Dinner time," he says, licking his lips.  "It's good to have more guests."

~~ Disposition ~~

You are one move action from him, and he from you.  I've updated the map accordingly: https://docs.google.com/spread...;usp=drive_web#gid=0

~~ Initiative ~~
Zuriel
Boreas
The Butcher
Keef
Maeve
Lyriel
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:15, Sun 02 Feb 2014.

Whatever Zuriel had expected to encounter in the room, the horrific sight that greeted them clearly wasn't it. The paladin springs into action, rushing forward to confront the butcher as his eyes take in the tactical situation.

[Disarm: 30 vs. 11 = Success]

Zuriel whips his sword around and under the crazed butcher's bloody cleaver, sending it arcing out of his hand.

I've got a bad feeling about this 'prison break'...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Sun 02 Feb 2014.

Boreas sidesteps over, gaining a clear view of the butcher and carnage just as the cleaver flies from his hand.  A beam of green energy coalesces and streaks from his eye, striking the man in the chest.

[Ranged Touch 18]
[Damage 11]

He staggers back, reeling from the blow but still standing.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Sun 02 Feb 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 115):

The cleaver clatters to the ground, causing the butcher to scoop up a short, stout paring knife from the countertop. Rearmed, he lunges at Zuriel.

[Attack: 13]

The attack misses, but the corpulent man merely chuckles.

"So many mouths to feed, and so precious little time to prepare."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:55, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 116):

....hor..... horrible creature!  Keef is shaking, not from fear but from something else, something more like rage.

He charges to Zuriel's side and swings wildly at the fat monster, but just barely misses (Attack 13).  Flametongue slams into the stone floor, throwing sparks.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Maeve moves up to the other side of the Butcher and takes a swing at him that misses as well.

[Attack 10]

Lyriel extends her hands towards the party, incarnating a few words.

[Casting: Bless]

An emerald aura suffuses the party, bolstering their efforts.

[Duration: 6 minutes]

Emboldened by Lyriel's magic, Zuriel makes two strikes in rapid succession.

[Attack: 20]

[Damage:10]

The first slashes across the Butcher's corpulent torso, drawing a gout of blood.

[Disarm: 16 vs. 6 = Success vs. Crit fail]

[OOC: are there extra Crit fail consequences for the butcher?]

The second attack is a forceful downwards parry that easily bats the second knife from the Butcher's grasp.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 120):

A loud BANG and a chorus of confused shouts echoes down the hallway, perhaps from one of the other rooms or even another floor.  The Butcher does not seem to acknowledge this one way or another.

~~ Round 2 ~~
Zuriel (already went this round)
Boreas
The Butcher (Damage: 21)
Keef
Maeve
Lyriel
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:04, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Boreas dashes into the room, firing a bolt at the butcher.  He ducks at the last moment, however, and the green energy splashes harmlessly against the far wall.

[Ranged Touch 11]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 122):

Having an entire knife block handy, the butcher calmly reaches for another serrated slicer and lunges toward Keef.

[Attack: 18]

The blow connects, dealing a surprising amount of damage due to the bulk behind the blow.

[Damage: 7]

He grins in triumph, revealing oddly sharp teeth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 123):

Keef reels from the blow.  His helmet slips over his eyes and he spins ineffectively with his sword out.  The Butcher dodges easily (Attack 5) and Zuriel is forced to duck and weave to avoid being hit himself.

[Private to GM: Flametongue's ability is a Ranged Touch Attack.  Is that made with the same attack mod as the sword or with my ranged attack level or my base attack ability?]

Maeve's next attack goes wild.  Happily, the second one lands true and hits with a satisfying meaty sound.

[Attack 1: 10]

[Attack 2: 14]

[Damage: 15]

The only thing you'll be eating is dirt, Butcher!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Lyriel holds back from the melee, rather unsure why it's taking her companions so long to dispatch such an untrained and deranged foe.

[Delay for the Butcher's move]

Zuriel launches another flurry of blows at the butcher, giving up on the futility of disarming a man with a knife block. The first attack takes a chunk out of his shoulder, and the other connects with his stomach but does little other than grazing some excess fat.

[Attacks: 30, 13]

[Damage: 6]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 127):

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 120):

The muffled thumps, bumps, and assorted commotion continues unabated from somewhere outside the room, but the Butcher continues to be as oblivious to this as the P.A.R.T.Y. seems to be.

~~ Round 3 ~~
Zuriel (already went this round)
Boreas
The Butcher (Damage: 42)
Keef (Damage: 7)
Maeve
Lyriel (holding from Round 2)
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:22, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Boreas skirts the edge of the room and, seeing an opening, fires a bolt of crackling green energy between Maeve and Zuriel.

[Ranged Touch 23]

It strikes the butcher in the head, sending him spinning before crumpling in a lifeless heap.

[Damage 19]

As soon as the butcher hits the floor, Zuriel is out in the hallway to determine the cause of the commotion.

[OOC: As soon as combat ends and we aren't turn restricted]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 130):

The Butcher gurgles and falls still, a creep smile still etched across his features.  The disgusting spit continues to bubble and spew retched odors over the fireplace, but the danger has passed.

~~ End Combat ~~

Zuriel immediately rushes out of the room, only to encounter a strange man pulling the southwestern door shut with a jaunty click.

The man is heavily tattooed and well-equipped for a prisoner, wearing a traveling pack and carrying all manner of other items that seem meticulously organized about his person. He glances over at the advancing paladin and smiles in a non-aggressive manner.

In reply to DM (msg # 131):

Maeve is out the door just behind Zuriel, not wanting to waste the benefit of her friends' spells by standing idly by.  She sees Zuriel nearing the strange fellow and waves her mace threateningly, the effect helped somewhat by the fact that it now has clotted hair and blood covering it.

Stand down, stranger, or I swear I will attack!

Zuriel holds, regarding the stranger suspiciously. "Identify yourself, sir. You've picked a terrible place for a stroll."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 133):

Common tongue? Where one group may have been an outlier, this second instance of that almost forgotten dialect would seem to confirm my initial suspicions.

Aeryis. I'm finally home.

Standing before you is a heavily tattooed man with a tall and slender frame (6'1 175- He's a wisp of a thing). A long black trenchcoat covers his frame ably, but of what you can see in terms of skin and body is covered in some sort of tattoo.

What the tattoos are or mean, you cannot say, but you would swear the color and shape seem to shift subtly across spectrums and the man's body as he stands in the hallway, suggesting an arcane fluidity that none but Keef are qualified to conceptualize or comprehend.

His head shaved bald, and his pupils an unusual white, a surprisingly easy and genuine smile crosses the man's heavily tattooed face. Though his age is unknown to all of you, it's quite clear from the lines on his face (those not done in ink) and his general demeanor that this is a well traveled, and well aged man.

Slinging his mace back on his shoulder in a sign of non-aggression, he takes a step forward, ties his coat (though not before exposing to the keen eyed a full breastplate underneath) and stops to greet the two armored emissaries.

"Who I am is largely irrelevant.

At least in the larger, cosmic sense of things. And even then, I guess it really depends who you ask.

Alas, who I am, is, I am sure, entirely relevant to all of you. And let me just say, I love that you asked me to stop and for some identification instead of getting all stabby. Love that. Obviously  talking to the good guys.

..Although (glancing toward the bloody mess of the butcher) your friend on the floor may feel differently.

Actually, my friends in the room back that way felt differently as well. But they were more of the 'disembowel first, ask questions later' kind of friends. Not the kind you want following you around, am I right?

Right. Back to me. And back to you. You! All of you. So so..unexpectedly human! It's just been a day of excitement, and regrettable consistency. I finally escape from the lava prisons outside of Incendiar City thanks to a rogue elemental, only to stumble into another four walled tomb of oppression- but no matter! There are no Ogre Taskmasters to be seen here, and I don't smell ANY burnt flesh. While, I do smell some burnt flesh, but not elemental singed burnt flesh. Just not hot off in here for that kind of smell. And let me tell you, it's a pretty distinct smell, to say nothing of the taste.

So I'm counting my blessings is what I'm doing, and I'm thanking the Gods above that you've let me talk this long without immediately striking me down.

[Sense Motive 26 (Natural 20)]

My name is Sazed. And depending on how you answer this next question, I could be the very best or very worst thing to ever happen to you.

In case you hadn't noticed, we seem to be in a very volatile situation, and while I've already expressed my own displeasure with being confined, I have no intention of leaving this place until order has been restored to the prison and control returned to the wardens.

Now, are you the sort who follow a hapless stranger around an Imperial Prison trying to quell a riot, or are you the sort who have more questions than you do  sense of adventure? Personally, I'm leaning toward adventure, and I hope you are too, because the guards are being overrun, and we have precious little time left to save the lives of the few good people trapped in here along with the riff raff.

..Wait. ..You're not here for me, are you?

How could they be? I've only just arrived. Still. One can never be too clever when combating the order.."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:00, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Boreas steps out halfway through Sazed's diatribe, watching patiently as the strange man punctuates every exclamation with a dramatic waving of his arms.

...Well met.  We happen to be here specifically to shut down the prison riot, so it seems our paths align.  We welcome the help, but be warned.  The last time we met a 'friendly' stranger, things didn't turn out so well for either of us.  But I have a feeling they'll turn out differently this time.  So let's take care of this.

Who?. . . .  .what?. . . . . . . .huh?  are Maeve's primary thoughts upon completion of the stranger's long-winded introduction.  A couple of things seem clear though: 1) he means them no harm and 2) he means action.

Both things suit her just fine.

Well met, Sazed.  I'm sure we can talk more later, but for now let's mop up this mess.  Maeve begins striding away about halfway through her sentence.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 136):

Brilliant! I much prefer working with people than working alone. And both are significantly preferable to working against people. Hate having to do that.

Focus. Prison riot.

It's your show ladies and gentlemen, where would you like me in the marching order?

Sazed bows and gestures grandiosely with his hand toward the next room

"Lead on"

Zuriel blinks at the sudden stranger's animated verbosity. Ignoring the obviously incorrect 'unexpectedly human' human comment for the time being, the paladin considers his words, sizing him up before nodding, accepting his overtures as genuine.

[Sense Motive: 25]

"I...well met Sazed. Much as I'd love to stay and chat, you mentioned innocent people being caught up in the riff raff, which concerns me greatly. I don't think the Wardens here care too much if the innocents are suppressed along with the guilty, as long is order is restored. Which means we don't have much time if we want to resolve this with a minimum of bloodshed. So my answer to your question must be uncharacteristically brief."

He considers the stranger a moment before flashing him a dazzling and genuinely warm smile. "Adventure - and specifically the intent to do good for people along the way - is the entire reason we're here. So let's get a move on!"

The paladin strides off with Maeve, opening whichever door is next.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:13, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 138):

Keef stares at the tattooed man while the others speak with him, cocking his head first to one side then the other.  With one finger he traces some of the tattoos in the air curiously.

When Zuriel starts moving Keef hefts his sword and hurries to keep up.

Chubbs, some small distance back from the P.A.R.T.Y. regards Sazed with beady eyes.  It's not that he's seen many people like Sazed, but that he's seen far more impressive people.

In reply to Keef (msg # 139):

Zuriel swings open the northwestern door, which appears to be some sort of common room. It contains a cold fireplace, a large table upon which playing cards have been strewn, and a number of chairs.

Three prisoners lay face-down in pools of blood, quite dead, and there is nothing alive to be seen.

"Nothing we can do for them. Next room."

What is going on here?

I am loving you big shiny ..Paladin I'm guessing. We'll work on a nickname until we do proper introductions. Big shiny it is for now.

The next room should be secured. I hit the 2 prisoners in there with a little bit of good sense after they were nowhere near as congenial in their salutations as you were.

Sazed chuckles to himself, remembering full well the scene of unconscious prisoners he has covered in books of law and religion. Libraries always make for the best armories.

Sazed takes note as the young squire runs by, assessing the staff and obvious signs of magic about him, including the apathetic toad.


He carries the gift, yet he seems not to know who I am. Have to keep a close eye on that one, as he may need even more protection from than the Order than I do.

Lyriel, for her part, reacts little to to the surprising appearance of the tattooed stranger other than to raise her hand in greeting and shrug the cowl a bit closer around her features. Her green eyes peer out of the shadows of her cloak.

He seems sincere enough, and Zuriel seems to think he means well...but it would be foolish to let our guards down.

Her hands raise to her hood again involuntarily, triple checking to make sure her messy hair was completely concealed. It simply wouldn't do for first impressions to be sullied by muck.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 142):

Ignoring the room Sazed indicated -- at least, for the present -- Zuriel opens the southeastern door.

This room is much like the previous one, a common room with cards, tables, and chairs. It contains four dead prisoners, face-down and bloody, and a fifth person who is very much alive.

She is a middle-aged woman with short, curly hair, and she is crouched over one of the bodies with her eyes opened wide.  She does not react to your entrance at all, and indeed appears mostly catatonic.  Only her uniform, which matches those of the other prisoners you've encountered, gives her away as a prisoner.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:35, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

"Of course, introductions! I apologize for my rudeness, Sazed. In my surprise I must have forgotten my manners. I am Zuriel Siléndril, and as you correctly guessed, I am a Paladin of Tassada. Though you can continue to call me big shiny if you must," he says with a laugh as he opens the fourth door on the hall. His smile fades as he regards the scene before him.

Despite seeing a prisoner crouched over four dead bodies, something gives him pause, keeping him from immediately attacking. "She's not evil..."

He approaches her slowly, cautious. "Excuse me...miss?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 145):

The woman doesn't blink, but mouths the same words over and over again at irregular intervals as she quakes in the corner.

"It's h-h-here... it's h-here..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 145):

She's clearly in shock.

Miss? Miss?

There's a big, shiny handsome man who would love to talk to you and understand what happened, but before we can do that, we need to know if you are hurt.

Can you tell us if you're hurt?

Give me a curse from the nine hells any day over matters of the head and heart.

Zuriel's voice is low and calm, and he speaks soothingly as he approaches her. "Who is here? What has happened? It's okay, we're here to help." He extends a hand to the prisoner.

[Diplomacy: 31]

This isn't a simple prison riot. Something very wrong has happened here.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 148):

The woman does not appear to be capable of saying more, merely mouthing inaudible words and quivering.

"Can we restrain her? She's obviously not trying to escape. She's probably more a danger to herself than others at this point."

He pauses. "Actually, let's just take her outside. The Captain's men can get her to the infirmary." He bends down to help the prisoner up with the intent of escorting her to the entrance.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:14, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Are you sure they will?  He seemed to want to exterminate everyone in here.

Zuriel narrows his eyes. "He won't exterminate a helpless woman. She wasn't engaged in the act of escaping when we found her..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 150):

I'm very interested in who or what this "It" is. It's not everyday an it kills 4 people and leaves the 5th one in audible shock.

..Well not everyday here, anyway.

If you don't mind asking new friends, what is it that brings you to this prison? Surely, your arrival here cannot be coincidence to the prison break. Mine however, surely is.

(listening to Boreas)

Do you perhaps have a healer amongst you? Perhaps we could stabilize her wounds and place her back in her cell? Surely the guards won't be murdering subdued and caged prisoners.. right?

In reply to Sazed (msg # 153):

That's a job for Lyriel here.  And he did say that they would leave any prisoners still in their cells alone.  Though I'm not sure how I feel about leaving her in here.

Zuriel shakes his head. "No good. There aren't any cells on this level, and with the Captain in the doorway no way get her to one without him seeing. Best plan is to just take her to him and tell the truth."

His amber eyes flicker a moment. "We just simply won't let him execute her."

The paladin stands up, helping the woman to her feet, and turns to regard Sazed. "Actually, our presence here is more or less coincidence as well. I was here on unrelated business, stumbling into what appeared to be a prison break. I offered our services to help subdue it."

The paladin shrugs. "This has the look of something else though. Not a prison riot...more like mass delirium."

Lyriel gazes at the prisoner intently. She isn't injured. At least, not physically. There's nothing I can do for her here. I think it's best to get her out as quickly as we can and keep moving to get to the bottom of this.

Maeve twitches restlessly, Keef and Lyriel's magic swirling through her and bolstering her.

I'd rather not leave her in a cell, but we can't very well take her with us while we clean out the rest of this place. And I'm afraid that needs to be our priority now.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Agreed.  The magic affecting us won't last long.  We should take advantage of it while it is functioning.

"Right, I'm literally just taking her up the hall. Won't be but a moment."

He hefts the dazed prisoner and makes for the entranceway.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 159):

Captain Rhys's enormous, armored frame blocks the doorway entirely.

"Where do you think you're taking this prisoner?"

"She needs medical attention, Captain. We didn't find her in the act of escaping or acting aggressive. On the contrary, she seems scared out of her mind. Something strange is going on here. Some of the prisoners are going insane. Hopefully this one here can tell us more about what's going on. If you could have one of your Wardens take her, we can continue handling the real threats in this building."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:06, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 161):

Rhys's expression is as stoic as it is unreadable.

"Sure."

He allows the woman to be left with him, after which you turn to continue your work.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:07, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Zuriel continues to explore the building with the party. "Up?"

Maeve nods.  Up.

The P.A.R.T.Y plus Sazed, presumably, continues up.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 164):

Up! Always better than down.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 165):

The P.A.R.T.Y. rushes up the first flight of stairs, where they are greeted to a standard cell block.  The entire space is devoted to tiny cells, all concealed behind stone walls and iron doors.  Each door comes equipped with eye-level bars and a sliding panel to allow guards to peer within, but all of these are slid shut.

There is screaming, babbling, shouting, pounding, and other such sounds coming from most of the cells -- indeed, it would be difficult to identify one from which something like that wasn't happening.

The stairs end here, though another flight of stairs leading upward can be found on the other side of the hall.

I recommend consulting the map to make better sense of your surroundings: https://docs.google.com/spread...;usp=drive_web#gid=5
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:26, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Maeve moves down the length of the hall toward the next stairwell at a quick jog, partially because there doesn't seem to be anything they can do to assist the prisoners, partially because the noise is truly disturbing. She pauses at bottom of the stairs at the far end of the hall to see if the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y is following.

Zuriel takes a moment to check to ensure each of the doors is actually locked before proceeding upwards again.

"We don't want any surprises sneaking around behind us."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 168):

Zuriel swings open the only unlocked cell door -- the most southwestern one -- and glances inside.

The cell is sturdily constructed of stone, with a three-inch window built into the western wall near the ceiling, further protected by two thick iron bars.  The cell itself contains a wooden kitchen-style chair, a bucket of excrement, a filthy pile of straw, and a single prisoner.

He appears to be an young man of about 20 summers, with a grizzled beard and disheveled appearance to suggests he's spent more than a few weeks behind bars.  He has a glazed expression in his eyes, and rocks silently back and forth on his (non-rocking) chair.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 168):

No surprises? Where's the fun in that!

So, Zuriel, where is it we're heading for? Did the Warden give you any information on  where the riot broke out, who might be in charge, or what sort of weaponry might be at their disposal? Did anyone unusual come to the prison today who might be involved or of note?

Think tactically lad, because if you're not a fan of surprises behind you, you're really not going to enjoy surprises in front of you.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

The paladin responds to Sazed before opening the door. "Surprises are fine, unless they are of the pointy improvised knife-in-the-kidney variety. Those I'm less fond of. And no, the Captain said little of what caused the riot, only that some rogue mages were involved. Maybe that's why the Twilight Order was here?" Zuriel shrugs. "At any rate, I have no idea what to expect, so we should be ready for anything."

Zuriel opens the door and looks at the prisoner with surprise. "What's going on here? How did your door get unlocked?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 171):

"Locks and keys and birds and bees," the prisoner says, jumping up onto his chair and rending his ragged shirt suddenly before going utterly still, tensing and listening to the stillness.  "Can't you hear their song?"

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Keef; Lyriel Vesper: This man appears to be under an enchantment.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:59, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

Zuriel looks unblinkingly into the eyes of madness before backing away slowly. "Oookay, why don't you just relax here and...rock back and forth a bit more." He closes the door quietly and locks it before making to join Maeve and head upwards.

"All I know, Sazed, is that something very strange is going on here. And I mean to find out what."

In reply to DM (msg # 172):

Did you say Twilight Order?

Ugh, I never have any luck! We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but suffice to say if the Order is here, and I'm here, this prison riot is anything but random.

It's never coincidence when the Order is involved.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 174):

The third floor is much like the second, except instead of individual stone cells and iron doors, there are four larger group prison cells with the traditional iron bars facing the hallway on either side.  Each pair of two rooms on the north and south walls are separated by what appears to be a wall of solid stone.

All four gate-like doors are ajar, for all the good it seems to have done the prisoners.  There are a good dozen men and women strewn about, all of them splattered with blood and cold to the touch -- dead.

Reference: https://docs.google.com/spread...;usp=drive_web#gid=6
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:13, Mon 03 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 175):

Locks and keys, find ye none, for we are here as one... that man isn't mad... well, maybe he his, but he's ALSO enchanted...
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:04, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Keef (msg # 176):

[Spellcraft 27]

Enchantment? Of course it's an enchantment! That's brilliant lad. It would explain the sudden onset violence from the prisoners, well, that's relative, but more violent than usual.

And it coincides perfectly with the arrival of the Order.

Nothing is ever a coincidence. We should prepare the worst. If your young friend is right, there's some powerful magic afoot.

..Is he usually right about such things?

Zuriel looks at Keef curiously. "Keef has good instincts, when he makes them known through his...enthusiasm. If he says enchantment is involved, I'll believe it."

The paladin turns back to Sazed. "You keep coming back to the Order. They...wouldn't do something like this. I don't know why they were here but, they protect the populace from the criminally inclined and magically gifted. Their leader, Valerie, mentioned something about wanting to install anti-magic cells. Could it be that in this case, it truly is a coincidence?"

The paladin surveys the destruction, troubled. Aunt Annalíena would never condone anything of this nature...Sazed must be mistaken.

Lyriel, paying attention to Keef with the rest of the party, realizes that the boy is hurt. Oh goodness, Keef! You're bleeding. Come here. I'm so sorry I didn't notice earlier, shame on me!

She descends on the boy, tsking, with a hand outstretched, surrounded by a nimbus of emerald energy. [Cure Light Wounds > Keef = healed to full]

As the energy washes over the young mage, healing his wounds, she smiles. He's so young, but he's doing so well...he'll be a proper hero yet. If only we could get him away from that accursed staff...

She frowns, then brushes away a smudge of dirt from his face. There we are. All better!

Maeve listens to the talk about "the Order" with a baffled expression.  You keep mentioning this Twilight Order.  I've heard of them, but. . .I'm not entirely sure as to their purpose.  She gives a brief "Magic: not really my area" shrug.

You can enlighten me while we walk.  I don't think that there's anything left for us to see here.

[OOC: If the Order is common knowledge, you can fill me in OOC and I'll edit this accordingly.]
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Lyriel speaks up. The Twilight Order is a guild of mages, wizards, and sorcerers. They are involved in a lot of things. She shrugs. I was actually enrolled in their Academy for a time, before my family called me to serve the Church in my brother's stead. The cleric's gaze grows distant for a moment before she snaps back to reality.

They are also responsible, at least in the Empire, for policing rogue wizards. Most criminals with magic ability serve their imprisonment in one of the Order's anti-magic holding cells.

Well if this is some kind of enchantment - and it looks like it is to me - and it coincides with the arrival of the Order, is it possible they arrived to deal with whatever was causing it?

Still, Sazed, you're right.  It does seem rather suspicious.

Boreas follows the group.

I wonder if our new friend can help us relieve Keef of the staff.  If we can trust him enough to tell him about it, that is.

Zuriel lets out a brief chuckle in response to Lyriel. "That can sometimes be a sticking point, actually. The Order doesn't always get along well with more mundane law enforcement. We've seen that today with the Wardens. They also butt heads with the Flame over jurisdiction rather frequently."

The paladin reflects back on the many, many family dinners in his childhood marred by bitter arguments between his aunt and his father about the role of the Flame and the Order in society, sparked by one current event of contention or another.

"That may possibly be due to our tendency to solve the problem of evil casters by repeatedly smiting them until they resemble reddish magical smears. The Order tends to take a more rehabilitating approach."

The image of Cassie's face floats to the front of his mind.

"In that regard I would tend to agree with them. We paladins can be...hasty when it comes to sorcery. Particularly necromancy. Though in *that* case, I feel...direct...intervention is almost always necessary."

Simon...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:27, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 183):

Keef straightens, allowing the power of Lyriel's blessings to flow over him.

Thank you... you're always protecting aren't you? Keef smiles at Lyriel as if he'd just realized something that had long eluded him.

The priestess laughs warmly with Keef. Well, to be honest you haven't needed all that much protecting. It's that one who has caused me the most headache. She gestures at Zuriel. But we can all use a bit of help now and then. And that's what I'm here for.

The priestess' countenance grows wistful for a moment. If only that was the sole reason I was here...

I guess the only thing to do now is investigate the basement...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:27, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 185):

The P.A.R.T.Y. makes its way down to the basement, which seems to consist of only a single sub-ground floor.  Three closed doors greet you at the bottom of the staircase, one to the north, one to the south, and one to the west.  All are closed and locked.

When you pass the first floor, you notice Captain Rhys is still there, but the woman is not.

Zuriel takes the master key and opens the door to the west.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 187):

That's certainly the story the Order tells on this plane, but having personally spent a somewhat extended period of time in their anti-magic cells in Astria, I have a somewhat different perspective.

For the Order, policing renegade mages is just a cover for their real goals- controlling magic throughout the nine realms. In this regard, they are only as dangerous as you would consider any other ill intentioned religion with millennia of magical artifacts and knowledge at their disposal.

So, somewhat.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 188):

The western door opens to reveal what was clearly once a storage room.  Barrels and boxes marked with symbols for food, medical supplies, clothing, soap, and other such goods line the walls, but more interesting by far is the circle of runes that have been carved into the center of the floor.

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Keef; Lyriel Vesper; Sazed: These runes are consistant with those you'd find in a summoning circle.]

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: The area feels... unholy, somehow.  As if the room itself has been tainted by an evil presence.]

The captain needs to be made aware of this, Maeve says, unable to make hide nor hair of the runes.  Sazed, Keef: are these a standard warding spell used to contain prisoners or is it something more sinister?

Maeve looks around to see if there is any sort of parchment and writing utensil that they can use to copy down the runes.

We should check those other doors as well.

Zuriel frowns, disturbed by Sazed's words. He makes to respond as they enter the basement, but the feeling of wrongness deepens exponentially as he crosses the threshold of the western chamber. He shudders, peering suspiciously at the inscribed circle of runes.

"Something foul has transpired here. Is this...is this a summoning circle?"

Lyriel blinks in surprise at Zuriel's guess. Actually, yes. That's exactly what they look like. Good eye, Zuriel. I'm impressed, normally you paladins don't know the first thing about the nature of magic. Just the nature of hitting things. She smiles to take the sting out of the jibe.

Zuriel's frown deepens, and the sense of unease prevents him from feeling any elation at Lyriel's praise. "I'd save your accolades about not hitting things, Lyriel. Whatever came through this portal was decidedly evil." He shudders. "I can feel it. Lets...move on. There are two more rooms here we haven't examined."

Zuriel turns to the northern room, unlocking it.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 193):

The northern room seems to be a more specific supply chamber, this one stocked with manacles, chains, gags, billy clubs, and restraints. Three men are crumpled on the floor here, bound together by several sets of iron.  None of these people are wearing prison uniforms.

As you approach, one of the three stirs, coughing weakly but unable to stand or indeed even look in your direction.

Zuriel rushes over, palm glowing whitely as he channels healing energy into the injured man.

[Lay on Hands]

"Sh, it's okay. You're safe. What is going on here?"

Maeve shudders at the scene in front of her.  The men are in as good of hands as any with Lyriel and Zuriel, so she moves to take the master key from Zuriel.

Let me check out this last door, and then I'll go and fetch Captain Rhys.  He needs to know what's going on here and these men need help.

Assuming Zuriel obliges, Maeve goes to open the last door on the basement level.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 196):

The Northern Room

The man coughs, but is unable to stand properly due to the weight of the other two men bound to him.  These others are, sadly, beyond your ability to heal, but the first man slowly seems to be recovering himself.

"It was... it was horrible," he whispers, looking up at the paladin with fear in his eyes.  "I didn't think such things were real.  It's like... a thing from your nightmares. The wailing, the screaming..."

The Southern Room

It's hard to see much in this room, as it is entirely sheathed in smoke and flame.  The heat alone is palpable from outside the door -- you can't imagine how hot it must be within the room itself.  Opening the door causes the smoke to billow into the basement, swirling swiftly into the western and northern rooms as well as filtering up the staircase.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Zuriel's heart begins to pound in his chest, accompanying a surge of adrenaline, though he doesn't know why precisely. "Tell me...what did you see?"

A growing sense of dread builds in the pit of Zuriel's stomach.

Maeve quickly closes the door and heads back to where her companions are still crouched around the injured man.

Fire.  It's nothing but fire in there.  If there's anything else, I can't make it out.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 198):

"It was enormous -- taller than any two men put together -- and had to weigh thousands of pounds.  Its dark skin mirrored the blackness of midnight, except for its angry purple eyes, which glowed like the midday sun."

The man shivers at the thought of it.

"We... we rushed into the basement after locking the prisoners back in their cells after the jailbreak.  Heard a sound, we thought.  And we were right!  One of those hells-cursed rogue mages was standing in the supply room."

He shudders again.

"He had... he had a cocksure grin on his face we couldn't wait to wipe off his ugly mug, but then the ground.  The runes.  There was a bright light, and then that horrible creature... that visage..."

The man pauses for a violent fit of coughing, then continues.

"The creature spoke some angry words at the mage, who barked angry words right back.  The thing laughed, twitched, and... the mage was... suppressed, as the Captain likes to say.  Then the world went crazy, maddening laughter and echoes all around.  Wailing and clatter erupted throughout the cell blocks -- like everyone lost their minds.  The runes flickered again, and it was... it was gone."

The man tugs at his manacles, noticing them for the first time, and holds them up toward you imploringly.

"I don't remember how I ended up here.  Can you help me up?"

He pauses, straining to see the fire Maeve mentioned from down the hall, and coughs as the smoke filters in.

"The... the record room!  Put those out!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:45, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Zuriel's amber eyes widen as he listens to the guard's description. It...can't be.

He rushes over to Maeve, trying to see what he can do to put the fires out.

[OOC, fight the fires if I can, try to extract records if not. If neither of those are possible, just unlock the guard.]

Boreas stares at the state of the guards, aghast.  As he raises his manacled hands, Boreas responds: Steel yourself, this will be jarring.

Chwalu haearn!

[OOC]Assuming the guards voluntarily fail their will saves.  Also assuming we don't get a weird sense motive from Zuriel or someone.[/OOC]

The manacles shake and burst into fragments, clattering to the floor.  The guards are dazed and angry for a moment before realizing their freedom.

Maeve helps Zuriel firefight to the best of her ability and with whatever useful resources they can scrounge up from the storage room.  When the fire is either extinguished/given up as a lost cause, she goes upstairs to find and report to Captain Rhys.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 203):

The Northern Room

Freed, the healed man rises to his feet (once the dazed feeling passes).

"Th...thank you."

The other men to whom he was shackled, however, do not move at all.

The Southern Room

The flames are beyond your ability to fight without magic or a bucket line, and anything within must be thoroughly incinerated by now.  Filled with compassion about this tragic situation, Maeve shrugs unapologetically and heads upstairs.

Upstairs

Captain Rhys listens to Maeve's report with rapt interest, nodding here and there as the details are presented.

"That explains a lot," he frowns.  "The question, then, is this: Where did it go, and if it's still here, how do we kill it?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:39, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

"To the former, I don't know. As for the latter, I have some ideas."

Zuriel turns to the rescued guard. "The language the mage and the creature spoke, did it sound anything like this?"

The paladin issues a string of harsh, guttural syllables that makes one's hair stand on end. "ήταν αυτοί που μιλούν αυτή τη γλώσσα?"

[Private to DM, Sazed: In Infernal: 'Were they speaking this language?']
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

"I... I don't know," the guard says, surprised by the harshness of the syllables.  "Maybe?"

He shrugs helplessly, causing Rhys to grunt in frustration.

"Why do I smell smoke?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:24, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Fire in the records room, Sir, Maeve says.  We tried to put out the blaze but it was already burning hotly by the time we made it down to the basement level.  There was nothing to be done.

It was, however, thankfully contained to that one room.  Which suggests to me that someone has a keen interest in having some sort of documentation destroyed.

"Well, first things first. Let's make sure the blaze is suppressed. These walls are stone, we should be able to just shut the door and let it burn itself out. I assume you had backup records?"

Rhys swears and turns to bark at someone out of sight.

"Fetch the fire brigade, quickly!"

He stomps out of the doorway a few steps, at which point a deafening crash drowns out all other senses.  The cause of this commotion becomes obvious the moment you rush out of the building: the shields around the other three buildings have faded, and the structures themselves have been reduced to rubble.

Standing in their place are three flaming craters, from which a series of nightmarish figures emerges.

The group consists of the following, who exit the crater in the order listed:


[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Every single one registers as evil.]

[Private to Boreas Highwind: All six appear to be protected by a layer of abjuration auras.]

[Private to Sazed: You recognize the bearded men as Barbazu and the comely women as Erinyes, all of which hail from the Nine Hells.  You know little about them beyond that and the fact that they're an ill-tempered, unfriendly lot.  The elves appear to be native to this plane, but it's hard to be sure.]

"The building stands," the blonde-haired mage states flatly once he gets within earshot of the P.A.R.T.Y.  "What did you do to Kedron?  Release him, or things could get ugly."

"Oh yes," Captain Rhys glowers, reaching for the heavy falchion at his side and signaling to the archers lining the walls.  "It certainly could."

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:36, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Barbazu and Erinyes, here in Aeryis? This prison has certainly become a hotspot for interplanar travel today.

Tell me foul beasts, what business does the nine hells have at this imperial prison, and who is this Kedron you seek?

And to be clear, you've assisted in the pillaging of an entire prison and destruction of 3 buildings. I'm not an expert, but I certainly think such wanton disregard for life qualifies as "ugly", but I'm willing to admit my analysis is inherently subjective.

(turning toward the party in a subdued tone)

"These are not the kind of people you invite over for dinner. We should be prepared to battle. The nine hells is not known for its negotiating prowess".

At the appearance of the red skinned creatures, Zuriel staggers backwards as if pummeled by a wave. His eyes burn with the evil aura as if gazing into acidic fumes. and he closes them, blinking back tears. A low, primal hiss emanates from his throat, and when he opens his eyes, they are burning white pits.

He levels his sword at the nearest devil, for that is what these creatures surely are. He speaks, and as he does so his tone is deep and ringing, echoing as unfamiliar words peal forth with the clarity of silver bells.

כך מופיע האויב העתיק. היכונו, שדים הרעים, כדי להטיל בחזרה לתהום הבוערת וממשם אתם זחלו.

Shahara rears and whinnies, nostrils flaring. The paladin mounts the charger, preparing to do battle. The very air hums with expectation as the paladin gazes down with eyes of light at the darkness. White energy crackles around Shahara, and golden barding armory her, burnished scale mail the same molten color as the mare's eyes.

[Casting Golden Barding]

[Private to DM, Sazed: Translation: Thus appears the ancient foe. Prepare, foul demons, to be cast back into the smouldering abyss from whence ye crawled.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Maeve takes a defensive stance next to Captain Rhys, the pair standing slightly behind Zuriel, who is (literally) blazing with righteous fury.  She switches to the magic black mace and is poised to fight if the situation goes south, which seems really quite likely.

Of all the days to get the guisarme enchanted, had to be this one.

Ready when you are, Captain.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:44, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Boreas palms the submission sphere, emerald eye blazing.

It sounds like you're looking to fight, Zuriel.  Those devils are summoned, so aim for the mages.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 213):

Keef steps up beside Maeve and the Captain, Flametongue held at the ready.  Though he seems unsure of what is going on, he's not in one bit unsure about protecting his companions, no matter who the threat may be.

The mages first?

Lyriel's eyes widen in horror as she watches the nightmarish creatures crawl from the ruins of the collapsed buildings. Devils? Here?!

Even more shocking, somehow, was Zuriel's response. Lyriel draws back slightly, unnerved as the paladin's eyes glow pure white. Never before had she seen a paladin react to evil so...viscerally. What...what is this?!

She doesn't have time to consider the paladin's reaction long, however, as the hellspawn begin to approach threateningly. She quickly incants a few words under her breath.

[Casting Magic Circle Against Evil: Target Self]

Emerald runes glow around the clerics feet, and a wind whips up as the spell sends a surge of energy cascading around her. The wind blasts Lyriel's hood back, and she stands ready to confront the hellish threat, entirely heedless now of the state of her hair.

Shahara tosses her head and somehow manages to neigh menacingly.

These must be the Ancient Foe...

Zuriel nods, turning his blazing gaze on the nearest devil. "We are prepared." Even though he speaks in the common tongue, the paladin's voice remains distorted, oddly deep and accompanied by a sonorous echoing ring.

Lyriel takes a half-step back from Zuriel, a bit frightened by his voice and visage. The emerald circle that surrounds her at a distance of about ten feet follows her, shimmering. Zuriel this isn't a joking matter, stop it. You're...you're scaring me. He makes no response, focused entirely on the evil confronting them. This isn't...this type of thing doesn't happen.

The priestess takes another look at Zuriel and shivers.

Knight-Captain Edrahil, what are you not telling your son?

She twists her signet ring nervously. [Casting Barkskin]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:35, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 216):

The blonde-haired mage takes an involuntary step backward at the rather colorful reaction his words seem to have had.

"Right then. I think we can assume Kedron is dead."

The black-haired mage nods with a scowl.

"Shall we?"

The various devils ready themselves, tensing for the command they know to be coming.  The blonde-haired mage obliges them, "להרוג את כולם"

[Private to Sazed; Zuriel Silendril: Infernal tongue: "Kill them all."]

They break into wicked grins and advance.

~~ Disposition ~~
The Barbazu stand 40 feet (one move action) from the P.A.R.T.Y., but the Erinyes stand 10 feet behind them, and the mages 10 feet back from the Erinyes.  This puts both the mages and the Erinyes out of range of a normal move action (exception: the mounted Zuriel).

There are at least a dozen crossbowmen lining the prison walls, looking down at the situation with a mixture of fear and devotion to their duty.

~~ Ongoing Effects ~~
Lyriel's Circle of Protection Against Evil (CoPAE) grants each member of the P.A.R.T.Y. (along with Shahara and Rhys) +2 AC vs Evil, +2 Saves vs Evil, immunity to possession, and a temporary ward against bodily contact by summoned creatures.  If you attack such a creature or attempt to make bodily contact with such a creature, that creature is no longer affected by the ward.

In addition, nongood summoned creatures cannot approach the area within 10 feet of where Lyriel stood when she cast the spell until it fades (unless they make a spell resistance check).

~~ Initiative ~~
Erinyes
Blonde-Haired Mage
Boreas
Keef
Lyriel
Barbazu
Black-Haired Mage
Sazed
Maeve
Captain Rhys
Zuriel
Imperial Crossbowmen

***

The battle is first joined by the lovely-yet-deadly Erinyes, who stretch their raven-black wings to take flight like a pair of terrible angels.  One appears to have elected the mounted paladin sheathed in righteous indignation as her primary concern -- and who could blame her? -- while the other's attention is drawn toward the mass of archers.

Though their bows are in their hands, they appear to have other tactics in mind, using their off-hand not to draw an arrow, but to summon a greasy mass of darkness to engulf their enemies.

[Casting: Unholy Blight]

A putrid blast of solid darkness erupts from the ground at Zuriel's feet, splattering the entire P.A.R.T.Y. with agonizing pain.

[Will Save -- Zuriel (15), Lyriel (23), Shahara (25), Keef (19), Maeve (11), Boreas (23), Sazed (24), Rhys (18)]

[Damage (Maeve, Rhys): 20]
[Damage (Lyriel, Keef, Boreas, Sazed): 10]
[Sickened 1: Zuriel, Maeve, Rhys]



The blast is unpleasant for everyone, but for Zuriel, it feels as though he has discovered a new threshold of pain.  Part of his very soul screams out as the energy sears him from head to foot, much more severely than when Simon's spell affected him just a short week ago.  His celestial steed fares similarly poorly.

[Damage (Zuriel): 39]
[Damage (Shahara): 19]

The second she-devil performs the same action, though at a different set of targets.

[Casting: Unholy Blight]

The second blast targets those gathered on the walls, instead, and in doing so, she utterly annihilates a noticeable swathe of Imperial crossbowmen.  The energy boils over their ranks indiscriminately, leaving them in shambles.

The blonde-haired mage laughs maniacally at the destruction and pain, raising a palm toward the parapets and uttering words of power.

[Casting: Flaming Sphere]

An orb of flame crashes into the wall and climbs upward, plowing into the rapidly scrambling archers as they scream for mercy from the gods who have abandoned them.

"Run, dogs!" the mage cackles.  "For all the good it'll do you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:15, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Boreas skirts around Lyriel, careful to stay within the circle of runes.

He lets the Submission Sphere fly, striking the black-haired mage in the chest as the bands wrap his feet and mouth.  He falls to the ground, writhing.

Something grabs a hold of you tightly.  Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly.

[Ranged Touch 20]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 219):

...and we shall protect our own...

Keef stands tall, doing his best to shrug off the pain of the dispersing blackness though it clearly pained him greatly.

He lowers his sword for a second and flicks a small red ball of energy from outstretched fingers.  This flits quickly and silently past his companions, past the monstrous Barbazu.

Between these demons and the mages, it stops for a split second, vibrating and crackling with pent-up energy before suddenly exploding into a violent burst of red and purple energy.  The nova expands to engulf both the mages and the Barbazu.

The demons ignore the flames, but they don't seem to agree with the mages very well (17 damage each).

[Private to GM: Fireball.  Mages failed reflex, didn't roll it for demons since they are immune to fire.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:21, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Lyriel's heart stops, and she utters a shriek of horror as she sees Zuriel buckle under the magical onslaught. She rushes to his side, heedless of the battle raging around her. Emerald energy whirls around her hands, and she channels it into the paladin, attempting to keep him upright.

[Summon Monster III > Cure Serious Wounds: 22]

She looks up at him, close to panic but relieved to see him alive. It's just like with Simon, why is all of this evil magic affecting him so strongly?!

Sazed, what *was* that?!

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 221):

The black-haired mage, still smouldering from the fireball that was unceremoniously lobbed his way, struggles uselessly against his bonds, unable to make much headway against their iron grip.

[Escape Artist: 16 (fail)]

He uses his free arms gesture at the nearby devil, but with his mouth gagged, he is unable to issue them any countermanding orders.

And that suits the battle-hungry devils just fine.

They look at each other for a moment, then charge toward the P.A.R.T.Y. with vigor.  Lyriel's shimmering barrier prevents one of them from advancing within ten feet of the P.A.R.T.Y., shooting up a shower of emerald sparks that stops one barbazu in his tracks.  He contents himself by pacing angrily 10 feet or so from the barrier, debating how to proceed.

The second devil, however, plows right through the barrier and attempts to skewer Lyriel at the edge of his weapon's range.

[Attack: 19]

The sawtoothed glaive clanks angrily against the cleric's armor, dealing no damage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:40, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 222):

That was, in my qualified estimation, a very pissed off lady devil who obviously does not look good in white. It warms my soul to know you accurately identified none of that- it just speaks well of your strength of character.

Take heart friends. There's something these devils and defilers did not consider prior to engaging us in this ill advised endeavor of hostility.

(Sazed pauses and draws his heavy mace. The mace, previously hidden beneath the coat, is ornately assembled and bears a striking resemblance to something resembling an orc skull at its head, but more square. A pulsing flame twists inside the obsidian hilt, giving the appearance of a stream of lava.)

I've got friends.

And while I may be rubbish sometimes, I'm a force to be reckoned with when I've got a few friends by my side.

Sazed rolls what whites of his eyes are visible back into his head, drawing his hands into himself and mumbling some sort of incantation.

Fleet of feet, brave of heart, to you unnatural haste I do impart.

Sazed bursts with energy, manifesting as a swirling green breeze which quickly extends itself to both Zuriel and Maeve, similarly surrounding them.

[Private to DM; Maeve Hassan; Zuriel Silendril: You are affected by the spell haste for the next 7 rounds. You also receive DR 5/Magic for one round.]

Sazed's eyes revert to their normal state, a clear focus on his face.

"I've not yet begun to fight!!"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:50, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Maeve marches up to the prone mage with grim intent. . . and her swing goes wild yet again.

[Attack 12]

If looks could kill though, the mage would be dead many times over.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 224):

Captain Rhys shifts his weight into an extremely... interesting position, one that carries his weapon, wielded two-handed, effortlessly into the nearby barbazu's exposed flesh, driving it deep.  He does, however, appear to be more exposed to counterattack than he should be.

[Attack: 22]
[Damage: 20 (after DR)]

He grunts in satisfaction, not the least bit surprised at the success of his tactic.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:36, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

Zuriel howls in pain and rage as the foul energy washes over him. He barely notices Lyriel's ministrations, focusing instead on the Barbazu standing before him. Letting out an echoing warcry, Zuriel and Shahara bear down on the devil in a furious whirlwind of righteous anger.

[Attacks: Devastating Smite, Smite, Standard = 22, 26, 26]

[Damage: 24, 16, 0]

[Attacks: 14, 27, 23]

[Damage: 4, 0]

Zuriel's eyes flash even more fearsomely as he deals three overwhelming blows to the devil, which screams in agony as the enraged paladin follows through. Holy light shines along the arc of the blade and through the devil's grievous wounds as Shahara likewise makes an attack, grinding the fiend under her hoof. With a red flash, the devil vanishes into a pile of sulfurous ash, leaving behind the whiff of brimstone.

"στην άβυσσο μαζί σας!" the paladin taunts in harsh ringing tones.

[Private to DM, Sazed: Infernal: To the Abyss with you!]

[OOC: Damage already accounting for DR where necessary.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Tue 04 Feb 2014.

The archers, thoroughly routed, still manage to get off a few pot shots at the winged devils, but the bolts do little good.

~~ Disposition ~~
The remaining barbazu stands 10 feet from the CoPAE, one move action from everyone in the P.A.R.T.Y.  The mages are 60 feet away from the P.A.R.T.Y. (two move actions), with the exception of Maeve, who is within 5 feet of the black-haired (Vanilla Iced) mage and within one move action of the blonde-haired mage.  Zuriel, who is mounted, could similarly reach the mages in one move action.  The pair of Erinyes are flying a good 50 feet in the air, roughly 50 lateral feet from the P.A.R.T.Y..

There are a handful of crossbowmen still lining the walls, but they are scattered, panicked, and (in some cases) actively on fire.

~~ Reminder: Ongoing Effects ~~
Lyriel's Circle of Protection Against Evil (CoPAE) grants each member of the P.A.R.T.Y. (along with Shahara and Rhys) +2 AC vs Evil, +2 Saves vs Evil, immunity to possession, and a temporary ward against bodily contact by summoned creatures.  If you attack such a creature or attempt to make bodily contact with such a creature, that creature is no longer affected by the ward.

In addition, nongood summoned creatures cannot approach the area within 10 feet of where Lyriel stood when she cast the spell until it fades (unless they make a spell resistance check).

~~ Initiative ~~
Erinyes
Blonde-Haired Mage (Damage: 17)
Boreas
Keef (Damage: 10)
Lyriel (Damage: 10)
Barbazu
Black-Haired Mage (Vanilla Iced, Damage: 17)
Sazed (Damage: 10)
Maeve (Damage: 20)
Captain Rhys (Damage: 20)
Zuriel (Damage: 17)
Shahara (Damage: 19)
Imperial Crossbowmen

***

The winged devils seem fixated on Zuriel, screaming at each other after he removes one of their allies from this plane of existence.

"שמיימי! כאן? להרוג אותו מהר, אחות!"

[Private to Sazed; Zuriel Silendril: A celestial?  Here? Kill it quickly, sister!]

The first draws back her bow to fire three arrows in lightning-fast succession.

[Rapid Shot: 33,22,25]

All three of the magically flaming arrows strike home, pelting Zuriel relentlessly.

[Damage: 9 + 2 fire, 11 + 2 fire, 11 + 1 fire = 35]

The paladin tries mightily to sustain the blows, but each shaft buries itself deeper into his reddening tabbard and through the tiny seams in his armor.  His endures the first, winces at the second, and goes limp by the third.  The valiant paladin sags in his saddle, wavers slightly, then crumples to the ground in an unmoving heap, blood streaming from his wounds. (-4 HP, bleeding out)

Seeing the primary target fall, the second devil takes aim at Maeve, who is standing closer to the mages than she'd like.

[Rapid Shot: 34,19,11]

Only one arrow is able to penetrate her staunch defenses, igniting as it strikes for additional damage.

[Damage: 11 + 1 fire = 12]

The blonde-haired mage flicks a finger, causing the flaming orb to continue its path through the remaining crossbowmen like a flaming steamroller from hell.

He then turns his attention toward Maeve, who appears to be ready to violently end the life of his companion.

[Casting: Lightning Bolt]

A flicker of sparks snaps into existence at his finger tips, and he points a finger at Maeve.  The warrior notices the sparks, however, and maneuvers to avoid the worst of the magic.

[Reflex: 19 (success)]
[Damage: 15]

The bolt continues for another 100 feet or so, blasting against the building the P.A.R.T.Y. recently explored with little effect.  The mage raises his voice and bellows in a harsh tone.

"Εδώ; Σκότωσε γρήγορα, αδερφή! לי!"

[Private to Sazed; Zuriel Silendril: The warrior! To me!]

The barbazu turns to nod his acknowledgement, but does not yet move.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:57, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Boreas swings around Lyriel, sidestepping his fallen comrade and firing a blast at the blond mage.  The emerald energy strikes him in the head, knocking him backwards.  He falls to the ground, lifeless.

[Ranged Touch 25]
[Damage 14]

As he moves, Boreas reaches inside his pouch and grabs his tanglefoot bag.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 228):

A brief, faint burst of energy surrounds the barbazu and one of the erinyes as the blonde mage's life drains from his body, and they shake their heads as if to clear them.  At the same moment, the ball of flame mowing down the Imperial crossbowmen winks out of existence.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:51, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 229):

Keef steps quickly to one side and makes an almost rude gesture holding up four fingers of one hand.  From each a tiny prick of red light darts out around the Barbazu and arcs around toward Maeve.

They zoom around her features and coverge on the black-haired mage.  Each one bores into his body and sizzles (15 damage).  The man screams in pain and then collapses, dead.

[Private to GM: Magic missile]

Keef then pulls a glowing plump blueberry from his pocket and jams it unceremoniously into Zuriel's mouth (recover 3HP/round for 10 rounds)

In reply to Keef (msg # 230):

The remaining erinyes experiences the same brief flicker of energy that the others did when the first mage died, and shakes her head as if waking up from a daze.

The amazingly juicy blueberry goes to work immediately, stabilizing the paladin's wounds.

Zuriel is now at -1 hp, stabilized.  The healing part will "tick" on Zuriel's initiative until it has "ticked" 10 more times.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:34, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Zuriel! The priestess utters another cry as the paladin tumbles from his saddle to collapse in a heap on the ground, motionless. An icy shock numbs her as a ringing fills her ears and a bitter metallic taste coats the back of her tongue. The taste of fear. She watches as the Erinyes cackle and flit around after dispatching Zuriel, only turning their attention to Maeve after the paladin fell, despite the Eastern warrior's threatening stance over the mage.

She stands rooted to her spot in horror, barely registering the blur of action when Boreas and Keef finish off each of the remaining rogue spell casters in rapid succession. When Keef pops the berry into Zuriel's mouth and she sees the paladin begin to stir, Lyriel's surge of relief is killed nearly immediately as her eyes drift involuntarily upward at the impending threat of the Erinyes.

Oh Goddess, if he wakes up now...they'll kill him outright!

The cleric explodes into action, rushing over to the paladin, shoving both Keef and the panicking Shahara out of the way. The throws herself down onto the motionless Zuriel, attempting to cover as much of her upper body as she can with her slight frame. She closes her eyes, focusing her divine strength inward. Emerald energy begins to crackle around her as the air fills with raw divine power.

[Sacred Boost: Cure spells maximized]

Don't wake up yet don't wake up yet DO NOT MOVE

She prays to Tassada that if Zuriel comes to his senses in his weakened state he won't do anything stupid.

[Ready Action to keep Zuriel down if needed]

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Ready action to kiss Zuriel to keep him from talking]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:44, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 232):

The barbazu strokes his beard absently, maneuvering his glaive upward to lean on it while he considers the spectacle before him.

""Έχω καλύτερα πράγματα να κάνω με το χρόνο μου. Ίσως το μεσημεριανό γεύμα..."

[Private to Sazed; Zuriel Silendril: I have better things to do with my time.  Maybe some lunch...]

With that he tips his weapon respectfully toward the erinyes in the sky, mutters arcane words beneath his breath, and vanishes in a blast of fire and sulfur.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:56, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 233):

A fiery Sazed stands his hammer on the ground, clasps his palms together, and extends his hands skyward.

A twisting ray of light leaps from his hands

[Casting Ray of Clumsiness]

but misses its mark

[Ranged Touch 12]

Sazed affixes his hands back around his hammer.

Come down from there and fight!
This message was last edited by the player at 16:40, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Maeve quickly assesses the situation and realizes that any attempts on her part to try and harm the dread winged creatures idly hovering above them would almost certainly be futile, even if she did have her guisarme with her.

Badly hurt and unwilling to provoke further offensive action from the she-devils, Maeve lets her mace drop and opts not to attack.

Instead, she crouches next to the dark-haired mage's body and sets about quickly and efficiently looting the corpse.  Recalling the great care with which Boreas and Keef had confiscated Simon's belongings, Maeve is careful to don her gloves before handling any items she happens to find.  As she begins her search, she casts a worried eye up at the erinyes, hoping that they will disregard Sazed's taunt as beneath them and teleport away as well.  They certainly seem haughty enough to do so.

And they have really terrific hair as well.  Lyriel must be so jealous.

She spares another worried glance for Zuriel, who is beginning to show signs of life, and prays to any deity that might happen to be listening.

Zuriel, I know it's going to be very, very hard for you, but *please*: don't speak!

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 235):

Captain Rhys grunts, shouldering his currently useless falchion.

"Stop clumping up, and volley!" he commands, pointing at the erinyes in the hopes that some crossbowmen are still tuned into the situation.  "And someone check on the blasted fire brigade!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:21, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Upon being unceremoniously stuffed into Zuriel's mouth, the berry immediately dissolved into a magical glow and begins slowly repairing the paladin's battered body. Zuriel stirs and his eyes slowly open, though they are once again their usual amber-gold. Looking up, he sees the world moving oddly slowly. Or at least, the part of the world he can see around Lyriel nearly smothering him. He looks up into her green eyes, extremely disoriented and confused, and very much in pain. He coughs weakly, and makes to speak. "Wha?"

[Lyriel's readied action executes]

Before he can speak, however, Lyriel kisses him fiercely, pressing her lips tightly against his and preventing him from saying anything at all.

His eyes widen in shock before closing again as she leans into the embrace, and suddenly the pain of his wounds are a very distant sensation indeed.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Maeve's eyebrows shoot up as she watches the two Highborn, for lack of a better term, make out.

Finally.  Thank the gods.  It's certainly keeping him quiet.  Well played, Lyriel.  Well played.

Perhaps as a lingering effect of the erinyes' blight or possibly as a result of the scene unfolding in front of her, Maeve throws up in her mouth.  But just a little bit.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 237):

The archers and crossbowmen scramble around, doing nothing of interest beyond tending to the wounded and trying to take cover from the horrible devils.

~~ Round 3 ~~
Erinyes
Blonde-Haired Mage (Dead)
Boreas
Keef (Damage: 10)
Lyriel (Damage: 10)
Black-Haired Mage (Vanilla Iced, Dead)
Sazed (Damage: 10)
Maeve (Damage: 47)
Captain Rhys (Damage: 20)
Zuriel (Damage: 46)
Shahara (Damage: 19)

The erinyses flit aimlessly above the walls, smiling at the devastation they have caused and the havoc that has been unleashed.

One chuckles, saying, "Έχουμε αρκετά στριμωγμένος μυρμήγκια. Ας δούμε αν υπάρχει κάτι πιο ενδιαφέρον να κάνουμε εδώ γύρω."

[Private to Sazed; Zuriel Silendril: We've squashed enough ants.  Let's see if there's anything more interesting to do around here.]

The other nods, and the pair fly off toward the north -- over the walls, away from the city, and (shortly) out of sight entirely.

~~ END COMBAT ~~

Captain Rhys springs into action, charging up the stairs toward the towers.

"MEDICS!" he bellows, sending the survivors scurrying in all directions.  "I need medics, the fire brigade, and a courier.  Now!"

Orders given, he stomps over to the central processing building -- the only structure yet untouched.

"We'll have to summon the Order back.  Damn them."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:57, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 240):

Maeve's search of the black-haired mage leaves her with little of value: a staff, a runic belt pouch, and an amulet.

Maeve finishes looting the mage's corpse and looks up to see Zuriel and Lyriel still having not yet moved from their embrace on the ground.  Rolling her eyes, she stands up, wincing at the pain of her injuries and walks over to the pair.  When they still fail to take notice of her presence, she gently prods them with a foot.

Good to see you alive and well, Big Shiny, Maeve says, rather liking Sazed's new nickname for Zuriel.  You had us worried there for a while. When you're, ah, quite finished with what you're doing, we could all certainly use some of your healing magic.

Having embarrassed the pair to her liking, Maeve hands off the mage's possessions to Boreas so that he can determine whether any of them are magical.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:02, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Boreas wipes the sweat from his brow, surveying the devastating scene.

It's a good thing those creatures left when they did...

He retrieves the Submission Sphere, then goes to search the other mage.

You had me worried there for a second, Shiny.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 242):

Aren't you all an exciting group of traveling companions?!

We've had a prison riot, infernal intercession, and a near death experience, to say nothing of that display of.. holy affection?

Is every day this much fun?

Lyriel holds the kiss longer than strictly necessary to keep the paladin from speaking. Upon hearing the Erinyes flap off, she sits back up, blushing furiously and attempting to look demure despite being currently straddling Zuriel. She closes her eyes, summoning every iota of strength and presses her hands against Zuriel's chest.

[Casting Maximized Cure Serious Wounds: 38]

The paladin is entirely sheathed in emerald energy tinged with lilac as divine healing surges into him. When the aura fades, his injuries are almost completely vanished. Lyriel, suddenly face to face with Shahara's molten gaze, stands up quickly, her face redder than Zuriel's ruined tabard.

Suddenly noticing everybody watching them, Lyriel turns quickly on her heels and rushes to the wall, hoping to provide aid to any crossbowmen left alive.

What *was* that that just happened? she muses to herself, shivering as she thinks of Zuriel's blazing white eyes and echoing voice. She tries pointedly to avoid thinking of anything else.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:06, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

As Maeve hands the first mage's possessions to Boreas, she looks at him askance for a moment.

What in the hells was that about a harpoon?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 243):

While the two elves are 'busy with healing magics', Chubbs hops over to them.  When they finally break off the kiss and Lyriel stands to leave, Chubbs raises one brow suggestively as if to say 'Do you take requests?'

When the devils leave, Keef dusts his hands and starts to wander about the prison yard, looking for something to do.

I'm not sure, must be something about the orb.  It just popped into my brain... like a poisonous mushroom.

Zuriel staggers to his feet, blinking. He looks around entirely bewildered at the devastation surrounding them.

"What...happened here?!" he splutters.

Shahara nuzzles his shoulder, nickering. Waves of relief flood across their mental bond.

You almost died. The devils filled you full of arrows...and you fell. I thought my heart was going to give out. The little colt and the priestess saved you...

The look Shahara gives the departing cleric is inscrutable. She shielded you from harm after you fell, with her own body... the mare continues, though her tone is as if she was merely thinking aloud. Zuriel feels her consternation and surprise.

"I was...what?! Devils? Shahara, what are you talking about?"

He looks around, alarmed, movements exaggerated in a blur from Sazed's magic. "WHAT is going on?"

Blurred images flash through his mind of fearsome fight and shadowy foes, but the memories are obscured, as if looking through a blinding white fog. The only things he remember clearly are coming to, injured, and then Lyriel's...ministrations. His face turns a deep scarlet.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 249):

You were the unfortunate recipient who validated the age old axiom- Bad guys do NOT like good guys. In my educated Arcane estimation, the harpy things smote you with some flaming/unholy death arrows. You took it well!

To be totally honest, they were actually referring to you as a Celestial. Probably has something to do with all the planar language you were speaking and the surges of divine, white energy. Demons are keen on context clues, you know.

Divine energy is somewhat anathema to them, and they're prone to react somewhat viciously to those foolish enough to shine against their darkness.

..It's also entirely possible they are as fascinated with shiny objects

(Sazed tilts his mace toward Zuriel's armor)

as I am, but that seems somewhat unlikely. But you can never rule it out without empirical evidence. That's my motto. ..

My motto likely needs some work.

..As for the kissing and divine healing, well, I'll leave that to you kids to discuss further.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:25, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Zuriel frowns. "I can't...remember. I think there was a battle but it's all hazy. What divine surges and planar languages were you talking about? I spoke Inf...I spoke to the guard in the jailhouse but I don't remember much past that."

Shahara looks at his remaining injuries with concern, but they seem to be closing themselves up as the powers of the berry run their course.

The last of the arrows falls out of his armor, and the paladins stoops to pick it up. The arrow is pure black, wicked and barbed. It feels wrong just holding it, and as he lets it go it disintegrates into black ash. I've never seen arrows like that before...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 251):

The normal story for you Master Zuriel, as I would imagine.

Boy sees unspeakable evil. Boy summons horse to ride into battle against unspeakable evil. Boy taunts unspeakable evil in unspeakable tongues, and charges to smite them with unspeakable good. Boy is smote by unspeakable evil and almost dies, but gets the girl in the end.

It was all very classical in that regard, if you ask me.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 252):

It DOES sound like a good story, Zuriel, Keef agrees.  Sir greenheart got the girl... maiden.

In reply to Keef (msg # 253):

It's interesting trying to picture the exact shade of red that Lyriel would be right now if she weren't over there helping the archers.

He smirks and glances over at Maeve, struggling with her own wounds.

Of course, some of us could use a little help too...

I'm fine, Maeve says, waving aside the concern although she neither looks nor feels fine.

She realizes then that, in all the excitement of the prison break, the appearance of the demons, and the subsequent battle, she has completely forgotten to introduce herself to Sazed.

I don't believe I've officially introduced myself, Sazed.  I am Maeve Hassan.  You'll forgive my manners, but, well. . . .we were all rather busy.

What about that fellow over there? she indicates toward the blond mage's corpse.  Anything of interest?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Zuriel smiles wanly. "It certainly sounds like an exciting story. Strange that I don't remember any of it. Well...I remember the ending well enough." He coughs and looks away.

"If devils were here though, actually here...this is grave news. The Flame needs to know right away. First things first though, we need to get things under control here." He looks around, attempting to triage wounds. He notices several crossbowmen limp against the rampart, and rushes over to help.

"We need to focus on the dying first, Boreas. Once we have stabilized the critically wounded we can work on the others."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 256):

I'm also somewhat concerned about the role the Order plays in all this. Rogue mages? Summoning Infernals? My arrival here at the same time?

There's no such thing as coincidence. The universe is far too smart for that.

(turning aside to Maeve)

Well met young warrior. While we just met, I have a funny feeling we're going to get along swimmingly. I'm all about anyone, man or woman, who has the practicality to loot a corpse instead of lamenting a foe they can't reach.

..To say nothing of your intimidating battle prowess

I suppose I see your point.  And to follow Maeve's lead, Sazed.  I'm Boreas.  Good to have you on our side.

You may be right about the Order, too.  I'm not that familiar with them, but this does not look like an ordinary prison break.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 258):

The blonde mage carries a similar runic belt pouch and amulet, but does not possess anything further of magical value.  He does, however, have 500 golden coins on his person.

There are roughly a dozen crossbowmen currently bleeding to death across the ramparts.  Twice that many are already dead, and only a scant few seem to be reasonably unscathed.  There is no sign that medics, a fire brigade, or a courier will be forthcoming in the near future.

Captain Rhys disappears inside the processing room.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:08, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Lyriel arrives at the top of the wall find a scene of utter carnage. She quickly identifies 10 crossbowmen barely alive but bleeding out. Tying her healer's apron on, she gets to work, staunching bleeding and tying off bleeding extremities. I'm rather glad I took the time to make this apron, but there's no way I can tend to all these injured...

A clinking sound approaches, and Lyriel looks up gratefully to find Zuriel arriving to help. The two of them set to work, Zuriel laying his hands on the fallen to heal them. They two work in silence, but for the groans of the injured.

After Lyriel is satisfied that the dying are stable, she grabs Zuriel and heads back down to the party.

She begins to channel healing into each of the injuries party.

[Casting heals: Keef = full, Sazed = full, Self = 2 damage remaining, Maeve = full, Shahara = full
This message was last edited by the player at 19:21, Wed 05 Feb 2014.

Interestingly, Shahara allows the cleric to approach without incident, and even whinnies gratefully at the cleric's healing magic. Zuriel reaches out a hand and gently heals the rest of Lyriel's injuries. [Lay on Hands: 2]

"Thank you," he says meaningfully. "You too, Keef. Shahara says I owe you both my life. I'll not forget it, nor, I think, will she."

He stretches, and follows Rhys into the main building, taking Lyriel with him by the hand. Shahara wanders over to Keef and nuzzles the boy's hair, nodding politely to Chubbs.

Once inside the building, Zuriel finds the Captain. "We have a lot to report, to both the Flame and the Order, it would seem. Devils on the loose...why exactly was the Order here in the first place, Captain?"

Here Captain, let me see to that. Lyriel gestures at Rhy's wounds. [Casting Maximized Cure Moderate Wounds: 28]

She sags somewhat, exhausts from the magnitude of energy channeled. Idly she takes the apron off and stows it in her pack. Her hair is a cause entirely forgotten.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 260):

Keef steps up to Sazed as he passes on his way to the parapets.

I'm Keef, he says quietly, just Keef now, just Keef. I'm very curious about you.

Keef turns to leave, then pauses and turns and looks up into the tattood man's eyes.  His youthful voice lowers and darkens.  If you hurt mine own, I will protect them...

Keef then smiles and skips off to help Lyriel tend to the wounded, pausing to chat with Shahara and give her head a pat.  Keef does his best to help, then follows her to meet with Zuriel and Rhys.

Chubbs hops after Zuriel, regarding the captain with beady and untrusting eyes.

Maeve smiles in relief as Lyriel's magic courses through her, healing the wounds sustained at the hands of the erinyes.  Said smile quickly fades away as she realizes that the fire is still burning merrily with no sign of anyone coming to stop it.

Maeve sticks two fingers in her mouth and lets out a shrill, piercing whistle--a useful trick she'd picked up some years before.

Every able-bodied person to me!  We need to contain this blaze before it gets out of hand.  Bring buckets, your helmets, I don't really care so long as it's watertight.  Step lively!

Boreas stows the mage's gear, except for the staff, which he hands to Lyriel, and the belt pouches, which he hands to Zuriel, and goes off to help Maeve fight the fires.

We'll sort this stuff out once the chaos is contained.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 264):

Thanks Lyriel, you really saved us!  And Zuriel, that slash! Keef does his best recreation of the attack that felled a demon, nearly chopping into a stone wall.

And the way that.... what?  Keef responds to Maeve's call and sprints back toward the fire to help.

In reply to Keef (msg # 266):

The Processing Room

Captain Rhys cracks the faintest hint of a smile as Lyriel restores him to perfect health, then nods to the cleric and paladin in turn.

"Thank you.  This would have gone worse if not for you lot."

He sighs, leaning heavily on a nearby desk.

"Order was here because I arrested three mages for causing trouble in the streets.  The Inquisitor objects to holding mages in ordinary cells, and came in person to tell me as much.  She won't be happy to hear they're dead."

He scratches his chin for a moment, then sighs.

"Still.  She mighta been right.  Since we're rebuilding the prison complex anyway, it makes sense to install a cell or two now.  Would have taken a lot of work and a lot of money before today, and all for no good reason."

Rhys glances at the destroyed buildings through a nearby window.

"We have one now."

Cell Block B

Maeve quickly organizes what soldiers she can into a makeshift bucket brigade, pumping the prison's main water pump furiously as water is passed in buckets, helmets, cups, boots, and other objects down a line of willing hands eager to extinguish the blaze.

It takes some doing, but the job is completed well before the fire brigade arrives -- with a handful of medics following close behind. All involved shower the P.A.R.T.Y. with gratitude for their help, and seem eager to repair, rebuild, and move on.

Boreas, a little winded but none the worse for wear, gathers with the PARTY once the work is complete.

I'm beginning to see what you mean, Sazed.  It's convenient how circumstances work out... the Order wanted magical cells built, and now it's happening.  Those mages would not have been outfitted with magical equipment like this...

He spreads out the loot gained from the casters.

...if they were prisoners with no outside help.  Rhys!  Do you recognize either of those two mages that we were fighting?  Were they inmates?

Lyriel speaks up. There has certainly been a great deal of excitement in this region of late. Perhaps we should summon the Order and the Flame? There's the matter that originally brought us as well...we kind of have a body to turn over to the authorities. The Priest of Darilen in our report, I preserved his remains for the Church to question.