CHAPTER 11
OSA Spire, Nine Hells
Mid January

Knight-Captain Edrahil and Lieutenant Faye watch quietly as the P.A.R.T.Y. dissolves in a sea of magical mist and emerald-green streamers. The world stands still for a moment, until Faye gently clears her throat.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course," the knight-captain says. "What's on your mind?"

"Are we really interested in working with... Lo'driel agents? I know he's your son and all, but they seem allied with the Glass Tyrant."

"I don't know, Faye," Edrahil says, letting out a soft sigh. "It's more complicated than you realize."

"I'm just saying, sir," the lieutenant presses. "This bard is friends with Choso. He helped bring him to power in the first place. What if... what if he's been playing us this whole time?"

"Then we will destroy him," Edrahil says firmly. "But until we have solid information regarding his allegiance, we must not judge, lest we become as blind as the Grand Marshall."

"But we could end up marching on the allied side of Lo'driel's banner, sir. If I understand the P.A.R.T.Y.'s plan correctly, that is."

"And if that course of action is just, what of it?"

If Lt. Faye has a response in mind, she keeps it to herself. Instead, she wraps an arm around the knight-captain's waist as they stand side by side in the newly captured spire.

"... it's a brave new world, isn't it, sir?"

"Not yet," Edrahil says, putting an arm around her shoulder far more casually than is proper for a commanding officer. Faye does nothing to object, instead betraying a soft smile. "But, Goddess willing, it will be."

Fey'driel

The P.A.R.T.Y. materializes beneath a solitary tree that rests atop a tall forested hill. Signs of life are everywhere, from birds and insects to woodland creatures scampering all around. A large, lush forest expands in all directions beneath the hill, while off to the west a brook burbles happily.

The sky is a perfect shade of Carolina blue, dotted with a handful of fluffy clouds that float about like heaps of cotton candy. If you strain your ears, you can almost hear the first faint notes of The William Tell Overture playing over the sun-soaked paradise. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RM7cQCC4sU).

Boreas's emerald eye glitters with an inner fire the likes of which you've never seen, a pupil of orange visible amid the faceted surface.

[Private to Boreas Highwind: An airy voice whispers into the corners of your mind. "At long last. Have you come to free me from my torment?"]

Lyriel looks troubled, though nothing obvious appears to be the matter.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: Your attempt to transport the P.A.R.T.Y. to Aeryis was redirected by a forceful shove from... somewhere beyond. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Sorry.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:01, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

An muffled-yet-still-irritating voice interrupts the tranquility with a question that seems to be coming from Maeve's leather satchel.

"Are they gone?"

"It's so beautiful!" Maeve exclaims.  She would rhapsodize further on the beauty of the Fey realm when she's interrupted by a less-than-lovely voice.

"Come on out, Gilbert, you're well away from the nasty, mean paladins," she says, coaxing her annoying friend from out of the bag.

[Yes, the imp's name is Gilbert.  It seems fitting.

Also, what the heck happened to my horse?  Presumably we left  him parked outside somewhere in Ikuabai.  If you wish to retroactively rule that we somehow brought him along, cool.  If not, I guess Wes will enjoy an inside tour of the local glue factory.]

Zuriel looks around in confustion as the PARTY finishes materializing. "This isn't Aeyris," he says, displaying an admirable command of the glaringly obvious. He turns to Lyriel, confused. "I thought we decided to head back to meet the wild elves?"

He starts in alarm as Gilbert emerges from the satchel, eyes flaring white in an increasingly common occurrence. "What's this?!" he says, more in surprise than hostility.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 4):

"Is that so?" Gilbert says, taking flight once more and flourishing in his renewed freedom. After a moment, he points squarely at Zuriel... specifically, his white-hued, fiery eyes. "Then explain THAT!"

A wry smile plays across Zuriel's lips. "She didn't say you were away from all paladins. Just the mean, nasty paladins. I am neither mean nor nasty."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:16, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

"Huh.  You're right," Maeve says, having noticed for the first time that they are decidedly not on Aeyris.  Wes [who has magically appeared] crops the preternaturally green grass with great content.

"Oh, this is Gilbert.  You remember Gilbert, don't you?" Maeve says as the imp perches on her shoulder.  "Gilbert ran afoul of some of your friends down in the tunnels and requested that we save him from capture and probable destruction.  In exchange for which Gilbert will be indebted to us, devil's word of honor."

Maeve looks at Gilbert meaningfully, running a finger along the edge of the guisarme.

"If he doesn't comply with that debt, Gilbert may quickly find himself wishing that he had."

[Intimidate: 27]

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 7):

"What are you implying?" Gilbert says defensively. "You think I can't make good on my part of the bargain? Is it because of my size?!"

"You saved my life, and you've earned my marker," He says, puffing up his chest and jabbing a thumb into it for emphasis. "You wanna cash in your chips, be my guest! What'll it take to settle the score?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:41, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

Lyriel likewise examines her surroundings, and appears more angry than confused or bewildered.

We were! she says indignantly. Something...pushed me! I felt it! It wasn't the ritual, I was meticulous. I used the same focus and keywords we've always used. I had the correct geo-spatial coordinates worked into the incanation. It shoudl have worked! Her eyes flare, and she seems to ignore the imp entirely, too focused on her rogue spell.

This is...unacceptable!

[OOC I left Stony with Rachel. I didn't think we could take him through the tunnels.]

"I wonder if it could have something to do with that," Maeve says, waving a hand at Boreas' eye, which is blazing in such a way that Maeve is amazed that he doesn't have an accompanying headache.

Boreas does nothing but take in the scenery for a few moments, overwhelmed as he is by the brilliant glow of his eye.  Shortly, it subsides to a low shimmer as he looks over to find Maeve bargaining with that same imp again.

I wonder... suppose this must be Fey'driel.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 11):

...wow...

Zuriel regards the imp, smile fading. "All joking aside, what do we plan to do with him? I'm sure you had a reason to save him. What did you have in mind?"