CHAPTER 13
Tris, Aestrenia
Early November

The P.A.R.T.Y. (plus Cassie, Rachel, Oliver, Karl, the Marquise, Choso, and Sir Culley) finds itself seated in Tyrant Morachiga Choso's temporary chambers in Tris, with emotions running high and many questions left to be answered.

"And you say that this shadowy... thing... appeared where Saul's corpse was suspended in the sky?" Morachiga says, arching an eyebrow. "I've never heard of such a thing. But whatever it is, we can assume it has a different agenda than Saul once had. My agents have not reported any word from Kazul's cathedral that would indicate that the high priest has returned there -- or, indeed, that there is a high priest at all. Lesser Serpentsworn are converging upon the temple en masse for the traditional selection process."

He sighs.

"I hope to move fast enough to stave off any real contention from that direction. The Church of Kazul has suffered a mighty defeat, and the public will not be anxious to have them in command of the government any time soon."

Baldwin's notes lay scattered upon the table in front of them, and the Tyrant folds his hands on top of the nearest pile.

"Do you remember anything else about that fight, before the explosion? Did Saul say or do anything else that you found curious?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

"Well, first things first, we need to return this lot to Krall territory," Maeve says, looking out the window at the menagerie stationed outside.  She is pleased that so many of the beasts survived the conflict.  "Perhaps we could arrange for some of the Sylvan to provide an escort."

Sekhmet spies her rider and chirrup-purrs noisily.  Maeve gives Boreas a look that can best be interpreted as "can I keep it?"

Regarding Saul, Maeve frowns thoughtfully.

"Well yes actually," she says, briefly rehashing Saul's cryptic comments about the "end times" and the Draconic Benediction.  "Though I'm not sure what that could have meant.  Not really my area."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

The comments play into what we already know about OSA and the Vora cult.  Boreas scratches his beard as he thinks for a moment.  We have to find out exactly what's going on there.  You all should see what Baldwin found out with his analyzers.

Boreas hands over the findings.

You all may be able to shed some light on things.

"It was ominous, to say the least," Zuriel agrees, letting out a sigh. He rubs his side, still aching from the ordeal on the Awe. He and Finwe were found soon after the explosion, half-drowned and nearly dead. Each was quickly extracted to his respective Order's field hospital, where the best of rejuvantive magics quickly brought them back from the brink. Ma'or's priestesses in particular seemed rather effective at the healing arts, even more so than they were under Tassada.

Still, Zuriel imagined it would be a while before he was feeling fully hale once more. Zuriel had no memory of the explosion. His mind drew a blank, as it had when he thought on that first fight with the Erinyes. Images of fire, water, acid, darkness, and a deep, deep dread appeared whenever he closed his eyes. Shivering, he draws his cloak closer around him and takes a long sip of tea.

"The bigger question is...what now?" he asks. Zuriel nods at Choso. "You certainly have your work cut out for you. The rest of us..."

He looks around at the PARTY. "We still have no idea what is causing the instability. We know the OSA are up to no good, but Mah'mout was dismissive of their ability to actually do anything. Furthermore, without their tower on Fey'driel, they are one plane short of their goal. Two, if Choso can deal with the Aeyris tower once he's regained control."

For the first time in nearly two years, Zuriel lacked a clear, specific goal. The continent was saved. What happened next? After a moment's consideration, he continues, speaking slowly.

"I think that, for now...if the world is threatened by growing darkness, we can help balance that out by nurturing the light. I have a Church to help lead...and now, thanks in large part to you, Lord Tyrant, we now have a home. Ultimately, Ma'or must be reborn, though I do not yet know how. I intend to begin by growing her Church as best as I am able."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:37, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 4):

"Did you not promise to take me to Gaelia after this ordeal was over? There are answers hidden beneath the sands."

The voice seems to be heard only by the immediate P.A.R.T.Y. members, but it is clear nonetheless.

In reply to The Everstaff (msg # 5):

The tyrant glances over the notes, raises an eyebrow, and beckons the Marquise and Sir Culley over.

"These are... complex. It will take some time to study them fully, but it looks like almost every faith is losing strength rather rapidly."

He eyes the serpentine symbol on the table.

"What do you think recent events did to Kazul's numbers?"

Zuriel furrows his brow. "Kazul only ever utilized one mirrored spell, as we discussed before. Yet clearly Saul was capable of so much more. I'd imagine that until a new High Priest is chosen, his number would be zero. At least, that would be my guess, based on what we discussed with...Baldwin."

In the frenzy of activity, the death of the bard still hadn't quite sunk in for Zuriel. He lowers his voice, speaking almost as if to himself. "So much knowledge, so much lore...lost. Whatever else Baldwin of Blakehaven was...he was a hero..."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

In reply to Morachiga Choso (msg # 6):

Keef nods solemnly.

He... he was the best of us... he whispers in the first words you've heard from the boy in days.

Keef turns Longshank over in gloved hands.

Yes, we DID promise.  So with... he looks off into the distance. With Baldwin... with us... with me... and us not able to keep him safe... I guess that's the most important thing... keeping our word and protecting the family we have left.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

"That is true," Maeve says slowly, not entirely keen on aiding the Everstaff, but a promise is a promise.  "I know that you will be very busy establishing the Church of Ma'or, so I won't ask you to accompany me.  But if it's acceptable to everyone, I've been away from home for too long.  I should return to Gaelia, at least for a while."

"Incidentally Keef, did I ever mention that Gaelia is home to prides of wild lions?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:06, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

Lyriel nods. Once you figure out where this temple is, I'm sure we can help. But for the short term at least, I'm needed here.

The priestess exchanges quick looks with Cassie and Rachel. Today, at least, we have plans of the most dire and pressing nature. No merchant shall be safe from us! Lyriel grins, and is rewarded with a small smile from Rachel. The first she'd seen since before the battle.

Poor girl. She's already lost so much, and now Baldwin... Lyriel resolved to do her best to cheer her up. A day out on the town is just what they needed.

And then...the real work begins. Lyriel's face is outwardly a cheerful mask, but inside, her spirit burns. Eldric...you will have your Justice.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:06, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 10):

"You'll find it much easier to get around once you join the Order," the Marquise says, nodding toward Keef. "You'll need to pass the entrance exam, of course, but I have no doubt you'll do well. Afterward, if you'd like, we can pay a visit to Blakehaven. I have it on good authority that there will be a dedication ceremony to a modest memorial being erected there in the near future, in addition to the one that will surely be built here in Tris when the time comes to memorialize the fallen properly."

She turns her attention to the figures.

"I'd like to make a copy of these, if you don't mind, in order to compare the values to the fluctuations in planar strength and stability we've documented over the same time period in the Observatory."

Assuming there are no objections, she begins to copy the notes at a rapid pace. Morachiga sits back and rubs his eyes wearily.

"What I can't determine is the urgency of all this. You seem ready to take the next year off, maybe tend toward your personal lives -- something I hardly fault you for. Are we risking having these Vorites complete their plan beneath our noses in the interim? How would we know if we were?"

"We would be aware of any major planar shifts, of course," Sir Culley interjects. "But by then it might be too late. We need a way to keep tabs on this cult. Do you have any unburned bridges with the organization that might be willing to pass along information -- for free or at a price?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Tue 18 Nov 2014.

"Mah'mout." Zuriel responds immediately. "He was dismissive of their ability to substantively threaten a single plane, much less all of them, but should they make any major moves, he has a vested interest in not dying. He is no Vorite. We remain on cordial terms with him."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

Restless, Maeve strolls over to the window once again and sees that Sekhmet is now messily disemboweling something that may at one point have been a pig.  She beams with the same pride that a mother might bestow upon a toddler learning a new word.  Wes and Shahara, grazing near the griffon, eye the beast with prim disdain, clearly unimpressed by Sekhmet's table manners.  The two horses draw close to one another, conferring about the superiority of equines.

"It wouldn't be a holiday exactly," Maeve says, turning back to Choso.  "I won't deny that I'd like to return home just for the sake of being home, especially now that it's getting cold in Aestrenna. And to see my father again.  But I also view this as a chance to gather, and maybe spread, information.  You'll note that the East has been remarkably silent through this whole affair.  That's our custom, but maybe the time has come to rouse Gaelia."

"Not to mention Darris said something about OSA targeting the Ghosts. I'd like to look into that and hopefully put a stop to it."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

Maeve, who was that minotaur you were friends with in OSA?  Not exactly a high-level mover and shaker, but he could be of some help nonetheless.  And King Prak is still working with them, as far as we know.

He pauses to consider his options for travel.

As for our next steps, I'll accompany the Sylvan back to Fey'driel while you return the menagerie - except, of course, for Sekhmet - to my family.  We'll meet in Ikuabai and set off east together.

"Likewise with rebuilding the Church of Ma'or. Obviously it's a personal goal of mine, but, the heavens are currently out of balance with the Hells. If the divine entities ultimately serve as counterweights, than revitalizing one in the heavens will help restore balance, and may at least slow down the planar distortion."

Zuriel furrows his brow. "The Vorites said as much, even. That concentrating energy in the heavens would help slow it down, but that the heavens wanted to strike instead at the infernal upwelling."

"Kurr.  His name was Kurr," Maeve says.  "Given the choice between aiding me and remaining loyal to OSA, I don't know which he'd pick.  He was a slave, but he seemed content enough in his position.  Still, I did make him a promise that I'd release him if he wished it."

Maeve listens to Boreas' proposed travel plans and nods, approving of them.

"Very well, I'll return the animals to your sister and we'll meet in Ikuabai.  Keef, do you want to travel with me or would you prefer to stay here and study for your exam?  As the Marquise says, I'm sure it would be no issue for you to port to Ikuabai to join us when you're done."

Maeve hopes that the lord of the manor will once again be absent when she drops off the animals.  While she got on like a house on fire with the charming and kind Kat Krall, she rather doubts that the imposing Lord Euros Krall will be as welcoming.

"I'll make preparations to leave straight away once we're properly provisioned. A little shopping might well be in order," she says, with a nod and a small smile at Lyriel.

Lyriel beams at Maeve, delighted to include her in the expedition, though the priestess harbored doubts that Maeve's definition of 'shopping' included much of what Lyriel had planned.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 17):

Keef scrunches his face in thought.

I... yes I should finish with my entrance requirements he says looking hopefully at the Marquis.  He then holds Longshank out at arms length.

But I won't abandon you... everyone deserves to go home... some day. 

Very gently, but more as one would handle a newborn or kitten than something delicate, Keef hands Longshank to Maeve.

I will finish my exams and then meet you... to help Longhank find his home and... maybe to say goodbye to another good friend.

In reply to Keef (msg # 18):

Maeve is already wondering if there's a raw meat vendor from whom she can buy some bloody steaks for Sekhmet--in the spirit of grossing Lyriel out--when Longshank is thrust into her hands.  She nearly  yelps but contains herself.

"But Keef, I'm not going to Gaelia straight away.  I need to return these animals to their home.  And Boreas needs to take the Sylvan back to Fey'driel. As you so rightly said, everyone deserves to go home.  Once I've done that, then we'll make preparations to go east."

Before Keef can protest, he finds the Everstaff thrust back at him.

"It shouldn't take long, perhaps a month or so.  Until then, keep Longshank with you.  You understand him best.  I would feel much better knowing that he is protecting you while we're away.  And he can help you prepare for your exam too; he is very wise after all."

Not to mention that I really, really don't want to be saddled with the thing.

For Keef's benefit more than the Everstaff's, Maeve looks intently at the staff, feeling rather stupid for doing so, and says "But I promise that when we're done with that task, we'll take you across the sea."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 19):

It takes Maeve a moment to realize that the Marquise de Pellinore's eyes have been riveted to her for a few minutes. When the conversation lulls somewhat, she clears her throat for attention.

"What did you say about the Ghosts, Major?"

In reply to DM (msg # 20):

Maeve shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than that. Darris merely said something about targeting the Ghosts.  It wasn't much more than a passing comment, really.  Over a year ago."

"Is. . . .is that bad?"

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 21):

"Not inherently," the Marquise says, rapping her fingers on the table absently. "But it does explain a few things."

She seems to notice the curious looks around her and smiles.

"Forgive me, I sometimes forget that our areas of expertise have so little overlap. As you know, the Order is a larger organization that contains several factions that coexist within a framework of good-natured rivalry not so different from those found among competing disciplines in academia."

"Each faction favors certain schools, with overlaps viewed in terms of discovering new and interesting combinations. In addition, each faction also watches over a specific geopolitical region to prevent widespread magical destruction. We are more or less agreed that blasting apart armies, homes, and territories with powerful magics is universally bad for everyone, and that battles are better fought without it on either side."

She takes a sip from a nearby cup of water before continuing.

"The factions should sound familiar to you:
- the Inquisitors watch over the Empire in general and Aestrenia in particular
- the Pellinore watches over the Dominion in general and Drynn in particular
- OSA used to watch over Kordica, but so little attention was needed that they tended to focus intensely on R&D instead
- the Ghosts watch over the Sultanate in general and Gaelia in particular

Of these, the OSA recently became radicalized and cut ties with the Order. The Ghosts also saw fit to go their separate way, but agreed to continue their custodianship of the East nonetheless."

"We traded regular correspondence for years, but that all stopped not long before this war started. I chalked it up to the Ghosts being preoccupied with other matters, or perhaps to an abundance of caution in terms of providing true neutrality throughout the conflict. With the war over, I'd hoped our communications might resume..."

She trails off and shakes her head.

"But now I'm beginning to wonder if the silence stems from something on the sinister side of things. I will need to confer with the Inquisitors and look into the matter more closely. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

"As if freeing Mah'mout wasn't already enough of a headache, he might now be implicated in destabilizing the Ghosts?" The Marquise's mouth hardens into a fine line. "We may need to do something about Darris, and see if the OSA can be salvaged once it's under new management."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:23, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

It seems OSA is going after other branches of the Order then.  I'd keep an eye on the Pellinore, too.  We'll definitely need to deal with Darris, but we have some loose ends to tie up in Fey'driel and Gaelia first.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 23):

The Marquise nods.

"There's probably no rush," she says. "I was merely giving myself an action item. We can discuss it further in the future, once your more pressing needs have been attended to."

In reply to DM (msg # 24):

"Is there anything else to discuss at the moment? It sounds like there's a lot on our collective plate, but I have every faith in our ability to achieve what must be done."

Maeve has nothing further that she wishes to discuss, and begins making ready to herd a large group of magical beasts north.

If Cassie has no pressing business in Fey'driel, Maeve will ask the druid to accompany her to Krall lands to help keep the manticores and griffons in order. For all her efforts to become better friends with Cassie, Maeve swears that she sees Lyriel shoot her a grateful look when she makes the request.

She will also ask one of the casters--probably Lyriel, since the General has seen her in a Sending before and knows her as a friend--to Send to her father; something along the lines of "will be in Gaelia soon; where are you?  Let's do lunch."

But first, shopping.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:16, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

Boreas will take time to meet with his Sylvan army and will procure the assistance of the Marquise in getting them back to Fey'driel.  But first, he will ask for a volunteer to serve as the Sylvan ambassador to the Empire.

But as Maeve said, before any planeshifting business, shopping!  Boreas will take his own trip to use some of the cash from his adventures.

Also, he distributes $2,000 to each of the PARTY members.  It's loot he was carrying for Sazed, but it can be put to better use right now.  The PARTY can pay him back when all this is over.

Boreas also gives his Spidersilk Bracers and Ring of the Ram to Rachel and Oliver, to use as they see fit.

[OOC]Maeve, I went ahead and pulled your IOU out of the 6,000 you were due from Baldwin's estate.  You should have 4,850 gp left from that.[/OOC]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:35, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

Zuriel clears his throat. "Actually, I was hoping we might be able to borrow your expertise in Lo'driel, Cassie. It would be helpful to get a druid's perspective on the altered land, and continue the work that Lord Choso oversaw in removing the blight."

The paladin shoots a glance over to the Marquise. "Were you involved in that as well? I imagine that task will fall to the Empire now, but your research into the problem would be helpful."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 28):

"Remove is a strong word. Contained would work better," the Marquise explains. "I will not have time to look into that until I've investigated this business with the OSA and the Ghosts. Perhaps the druids will have better luck than we did -- it is profoundly complicated magic."

In reply to DM (msg # 29):

Cassie raises an eyebrow at Zuriel, then turns to the dire panther sleeping at her feet.

"What's that, Fluffums?" Cassie asks in a jaunty tone full of playful sarcasm. "You say you'd rather slink around a damp, murky mire than accompany a flying menagerie of fascinating magical creatures across the entire continent, likely learning much about yourself and about others along the way?"

She pauses for half a second, then deadpans the followup response.

"No, you didn't say that, because nobody ever would."

Cassie leans back in her chair and jerks a thumb toward Maeve.

"Sorry, sweetie, but it I think we'll stick with the Major this time around. Your city's existing farmland is sufficient, and we have greater concerns at the moment."

She grins at Maeve.

"Concerns that have powerful wings and active appetites."

"I'll be happy to take a closer look afterward, though. The blight seems fascinating to me, if not to my faithful companion."

Fluffums, being asleep, doesn't dignify this with a response. If such things warranted his attention in the least -- which they don't -- Chubbs would be proud.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

"Excellent," Maeve says, grinning back.  "I for one will be glad of the company."

With it having been decided that Cassie will accompany her to return the Krall animals and unable to do anything about various other pressing issues, at least for the time being, Maeve sees no reason to delay the inevitable shopping trip.  She tries to be a good sport about it, for Lyriel's sake.  She really does.  But as the trip drags on with no end in sight, Maeve finds her attention drawn more and more from brightly colored dresses to numerous other items.

By the time she's done, Maeve has acquired a number of small, neatly wrapped parcels, the contents of which are unknown.

[Really doubt I'll have enough to pick up a +4 CON item since I was sitting pretty much on broke before I got $ from dead Baldwin (thanks Baldwin!).  So I'll pick up a few other things instead.]

[Private to DM: [Since we skipped the Aeryis equivalent of Christmas last year and since it's highly unlikely that we'll all be together for it this year, Maeve decides to purchase a small item for each member of the PARTY, plus I guess Cassie.

• for Zuriel, a small sack of best-quality Gaelian coffee beans
• for Lyriel, a lovely elegantly-painted amethyst porcelain tea cup to replace her not-nearly-as-pretty travel cup.
• for Boreas, a bird whistle
• for Keef, a small carved lion purchased from a vendor who sells splendidly carved animal figurines
• for Cassie, an herb-gathering pouch

 ]

"But the swamps are so...fetid...this time of year! And the ambiance of rotting vegetation, not to mention baleful druidic magic...just delightful!" Zuriel replies with a wry grin. "I suppose if you're sure you want to miss out on all that...it's not going anywhere. More of a long-term project anyhow. I think our priority will be building the cathedral and port, realistically speaking."

Zuriel turns to Choso. "Once the church has been established, I fully intend to dispatch representatives around the world. Aid, relief, healing, that sort of thing. But they can also be tasked with serving as additional eyes and ears, in case the OSA has something afoot. We'll tell them what types of things to look for."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:20, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

Lyriel manages to not be smug even a little about Cassie opting to go with Maeve, and turns her attentions instead to the upcoming shopping trip.

She dispatches a few Sendings to make reservations at several charming little tea cafes to serve as breaks in between the shopping boutiques. She even found one that she had on good authority carried genuine imported Gaelian coffee and drinking chocolate.

Though the majority of the boutiques on the streets they intended to visit were admittedly things of limited interest to Maeve, Lyriel made certain to include a couple of well-appointed armories on the agenda, including one specializing in aesthetically pleasing but eminently functional battle dress. The goal being, of course, to look totally badass. And also well put-together. For both Maeve and Lt. Faye's sake.

The expedition - for she planned it with no less meticulousness than one would plan a daring ascent of some mighty mountain - culminated in the private dining room of the Flickering Lantern. The Lantern was a favored watering hole of Baldwin, and while certainly not the most ostentatious or opulent of inns, had arguably the best cuisine in Tris.

Maeve, Cassie, Rachel, Alanna, and Lt. Faye were all invited to join, as they willed.

This is going to be so much fun! she almost squeals.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:33, Wed 19 Nov 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 33):

Keef takes back Longshank with a quiet nod.  While the others go out shopping, he trails along and, as expected, gets lost somewhere along the way.

When he finds the group again, he's already given all of his money to an orphanage he found along the way.

He continues to tag along, questioning the locals about the Order.

Her shopping basically finished--somehow she managed to slip away from the rest of the group to make her purchases--Maeve is powerless in the face of two identical maniacally grinning elf women.  It's truly eerie how much Lyriel and her little sister look alike, especially with their eyes illuminated with the unholy glow that only a shopping spree can ignite.

Maeve grins uneasily and clutches her mysterious parcels.  If the reincarnated Saul were to swoop down and spray the lot of them with acid, she might view that as a preferable situation.

Still, that coffee place *does* sound pretty good. . .

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 35):

Koffee? Keef snaps out of... wherever his head was.  He tucks away what look to be drawings of some sort of strange dwelling that he was showing a cloth merchant (you'd swear you overheard him asking about "matching pillows").

Are we getting Koffee?

So it was technically supposed to be a girls' shopping trip.  But Keef has been through enough shit over the past couple of weeks.

"Yes Keef, we are getting coffee," Maeve says, looping an arm around the boy's shoulders.  "What's more, we are getting the biggest, creamiest, most chocolate-y mocha that they can conceivably prepare.  Hell, maybe we'll even order two."

She fixes each of the women with a golden stare, daring them to gainsay her.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:35, Thu 20 Nov 2014.

Lyriel gives Keef a smile and gestures for him to come along before continuing her animated discussion with Rachel and Faye.

Yes, I think we could all use some mochas, she agrees. As long as you keep the lion bag sealed, Keef, she says meaningfully.

Seeing Keef could use some cheering up, Lyriel didn't have the heart to exclude him from outing, self-invited though he was. Her biggest concern was that Alanna would coerce him into carrying her bags...

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 38):

Keef nods vigorously.

No lions right now, gotcha.  I'm working on a pen for them to play in!

Keef tags along with his usual energy and enthusiasm.  He gladly offers the assistance of the invisible Barnaby to help with Alanna's bags.

As promised, Maeve orders Keef the largest mocha confection that Lyriel's chosen coffeehouse can fix on short notice.  It's practically obscene.  Chubbs positions himself dead center in the middle of the table on a plate of tea sandwiches.

When the Vesper sisters' talk takes the inevitable turn to boyfriends, Maeve--decidedly lacking in this area--feels her normally keen eyes begin to glaze over.  So she engages Keef in conversation about his upcoming exam, delighted to hear him sound enthusiastic about something.

"A playpen for lions?  Sounds fascinating.  Is it designed just for cubs or is it going to be structurally sound enough to contain adults lions also. . . "

And so on.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:09, Fri 21 Nov 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 40):

Keef goes on for great lengths about the lion cage.  How strong it is, how happy the lions will be and a lot of other trans-dimensional stuff that either doesn't make sense or goes over Maeve's head.

He does, however, offer to show Maeve the cage if she wants.

In reply to Keef (msg # 41):

The shopping trip goes perfectly well, with many dresses, blouses, boots, hats, and accessories in the latest fashion being perused, tried on, and -- less frequently -- purchased. Keef proves instrumental in keeping Maeve from murdering anyone, in part because his general lack of an attention span keeps her busy chasing after him long after Maeve herself had lost interest in the mannequins being scrutinized by the more serious shoppers.

Truth be told, even Rachel and Lt. Faye have trouble keeping up with Lyriel and Alanna, and by the end of the day, everyone is quite exhausted -- in a good way, of course.

The group reconvenes over breakfast one last time the next morning, solidifying their plans for the coming months, sharing their more interesting purchases, and saying their farewells.

OOC: If you wanted to spend any money on items and such in Tris, now's a good time."

The Plan

• Maeve and Cassie will return the menagerie of animals to Boreas's sister in the Krall lands to the north, then head to Ikuabai.

• Boreas will remain in Tris for long enough to establish the Slyvan as a legitimate race and organization, and accepts the designation of Sylvan ambassador to the Empire. With the Marquise's help, he plans to return the army to Fey'driel and ultimately reunite with Maeve and Cassie in Ikuabai.

• Keef will accompany the Marquise to Astria for his entrance exams, after which he will head to Ikuabai to meet up with Maeve and Boreas -- the goal being for the three to then set sail for Gaelia.

• Zuriel will head to Lo'driel to oversee the transition of power from Choso to the Heartseekers

• Lyriel will continue her search for information about her brother, Eldric. Wherever that may lead her.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Fri 21 Nov 2014.

Maeve and Cassie show up a bit late to breakfast, having spent the morning wrangling manticores and griffons into some semblance of marching/flying order.  They bear assorted scrapes from their more enthusiastic charges, but are in good spirits and eager to hit the road.  Soon enough, they are mounted up and ready to go.

"Oh!  I almost forgot," Maeve says, doling out the mysterious packages to the P.A.R.T.Y.  "Consider them early [not-Christmas] presents."

The packages contain the following:

• Zuriel: a small burlap sack filled with the very-best quality roasted Gaelian coffee beans.
• Lyriel: a delicate porcelain teacup beautifully painted with amethyst Gaelian designs, to replace the priestess' wooden traveling mug.
• Boreas: a wooden bird whistle for summoning avian friends.
• Keef: a small carved wooden lion, purchased from a vendor who specializes in exquisitely carved animal figurines
• Cassie: a leather herb bag with many clever pouches for storing dried plants.

"See you in Ikuabai!" she calls to Boreas and Keef before winging into the sky.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 43):

This... is.... THE BEST THING EVER! Keef loudly proclaims before nearly knocking the larger woman over in an all-limb-encompassing death hug.

I'm going to... no, I'm going to put it in a special place, and I'll clean it every day!

Boreas simply smiles and gives a chirp on the bird whistle.  He blows a couple of sharp, staccato notes, and shortly after, two cardinals - one male and one female - fly up and land on his outstretched arm.  They begin to eat the seeds he holds in his hand.

So nice to meet you two... yes, I agree, it's a lovely whistle.  He gestures to Maeve.  That human gave it to me.  Her name is Maeve.  And yours?

Mr. and Mrs. Blade - lovely.  Hope you enjoyed your meal... I most certainly will call you again if I'm back in the area... and to you as well.

He looks back to Maeve with a truly happy look on his face.  Thank you.

"Maeve, this is fantastic!" Zuriel exclaims, grinning broadly. "I have some ideas I've been meaning to try with the chalice, but I need the drink to exist first before I can recreate it magically. This will be perfect. The next time we meet, I'll have some new drinks to show you!"

The paladin beams at the Eastern woman. "Thank you, Maeve!"

Oh, this is beautiful! Lyriel gushes as she examines the porcelain cup. It will make tea ever so much nicer to have an actual proper tea cup. The wooden mug always tastes like last batch. Thanks you, Maeve!

Lyriel catches a surprised Maeve in an unexpected hug. When the priestess disengages, she is wiping away a tear.

It's just...we only just all got back together, and now we're heading off in different directions again... Lyriel looks down at her feet, and not just to admire her trendy new green leather traveling boots. I'm going to miss you. All three of you. She extends her affections to the others, hugging Keef and even Boreas as well.

Stay safe, and be careful. We'd be fools to think this is the end of our troubles.

Maeve smiles fondly at her friends from the air, raises her hand in a military salute and with one last flirtatious wink at Zuriel--from Cassie, naturally--the two young women are gone in a flurry of feathers and fur.  A bay horse and an oversized panther race along the turf under them as they depart.

"So it's a quick jaunt over to the Krall family's lands, then back to Ikuabai, no sweat," Maeve says to Cassie, who is mounted on the back of a chestnut-colored manticore.

"What could possibly go wrong?"

Boreas deigns to accept Lyriel's hug, wishing her good fortune until the group reunites.  He shares similar valedictions with the other members of the PARTY, each in their own way.  As Maeve and Cassie race off, the Marquise finishes her incantation and a shimmering portal appears in front of Boreas.  He raises his hand and steps through into Fey'driel.  The rest of the Sylvan Army follows, save Ambassador Adaon and his attendants.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 49):

The P.A.R.T.Y. shares fond farewells with one another and with the various other people they've come to call friends and compatriots over the last few weeks and months and years.

Team Menagerie
Accompanied by Cassie, Maeve and the various and sundry animals make their way northward toward the other edge of the continent. It's a long journey made slower at times by the weather, by the beasts' collective temperament, and by the periodic encounters faced along the way.

All told, it takes them three months to reach the Krall Territories and return all but one of the beasts. At Cassie's behest, they double back slightly in order to drop the druid and her feline companion off at the edge of the wilderness. They thank Maeve for her company and promise to meet up again in the near future.

By the time Maeve finally rides into Ikaubai, four months have passed -- and a steady stream of stories seem to be going around about the aerial Gaelian's exploits in helping the Empire's commoners with their troubles with the help of her griffon, panther, and druidess.

These stories give her fellows plenty to rib her about (good-naturedly, of course) back at the officer's barracks. Before long, she has chartered passage back East aboard a Gaelian naval vessel scheduled to head back with a crew of green recruits looking to join the Sultan's service.

The vessel, entitled the SFS Cashmere, will be ready to depart by the end of the fifth month.

Team Fairtheora

Boreas returns the Sylvan Remnant to Fey'driel and spends a few months helping to lay the groundwork for a successful civilization. The Primal Voice helps in this regard, and by the time Boreas is ready to leave, the Sylvan Remnant is in possession of a respectable swathe of territory, a handful of smaller villages, and one larger town, which has been dubbed their capital. It's no city, but it's a start.

Promising to return when the world is less in peril, Boreas makes his way toward Ikuabai, rendezvousing with Maeve just a week or so after her arrival.

Team Lions

Keef travels to Astria and tours the amazing Observatory that houses the Order and its various sects. The Marquise manages to keep him more on task that would otherwise be possible, but still the boy is sorely tempted and distracted by the various magical oddities that abound in the structure.

Several sectors are declared out-of-bounds to Initiates [Private to Keef: (let me know if you break that rule)], but the things that aren't are still enough to boggle the mind.

Keef finds himself a far more experienced and accomplished mage than any of his fellow initiates, few of whom have much experience with magics beyond the 4th level, and easily aces the tests. He is given a choice between the Inquisitors and the Pellinore [Private to Keef: (tell me your choice)] and offered full admission into the Order, should he want it.

His decision made, he is teleported to Ikuabai, where he arrives about three weeks into the fourth month.

[Private to Keef: Once you decide to join or not join, we'll teleport you to Ikuabai.]

Team Highborn

Lyriel and Zuriel do things. I will elaborate in a future post :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:19, Tue 25 Nov 2014.

Maeve is easy enough to find in Ikuabai.  Even if she weren't something of a local celebrity now, the slumbering griffon parked outside of Yuri's coffee establishment is something of a dead giveaway.  Sekhmet blinks one golden eye lazily at Boreas in greeting as he enters to find Maeve thoroughly at ease with a cup of something steaming and delicious, reading a book.

"Welcome stranger," Maeve says with a smile.  "You'll be pleased to know that the animals were delivered without a hitch and are now safe home. Your sister sends her regards.  Your father sends. . . .basically the opposite."

The duo spends the couple of weeks prior to Keef's arrival doing. . . . .stuff, I guess.  While not carousing, Maeve will find out what her dad's up to now that he's presumably long since quashed that gnomish uprising.  Also she'll try and glean any intel about the Ghosts that might be of use.

[OOC: Boreas, what do *you* want to do?]

When Keef arrives in the city, the news that he passed his entrance exam with flying colors is cause for celebration.  Maeve orders him a mocha that is approximately the same size as the young mage and promises to take him to see the lions at the arena prior to their departure for Gaelia.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 51):

Team Lo'driel

Zuriel accomplishes much in his three-month window, but since part of that time is spent in the Celestial Heavens -- where time slows to a crawl -- it's not really a fair comparison.

The Church of Ma'or takes root within Lo'driel, and the Knight-Captain-turned-Protector-General Edrahil is tasked with the establishment of a proper (and non-choking) bureaucracy along with making the necessary appointments to allow for smooth administration. Missionary work begins in earnest, as there is much to be done in terms of healing the hearts, minds, and bodies across the continent.

Advised by his father that saving the world was more important than being bogged down in the minutia of church administration, Zuriel then heads to the Celestial Heavens with Lyriel, who hopes to find some record of her brother's divine mirror there and perhaps learn through that whether he is well and truly dead.

As she is not a citizen, Lyriel is forced to remain outside the gates of the Celestial Heavens while Zuriel enters the city to obtain a visa for her. En route to the proper facility -- he'd done this before for Sazed, so the way was familiar -- Zuriel was stopped by armed Celestials and escorted without delay to the Celestial Council.

All the burning questions and desires Zuriel had for the Council were forced to be swallowed, as the illustrious gathering did not allow him to speak.

"You have resurrected the lost church of Ma'or."

A statement, not a question.

"When Tassada first rose to power, it became clear that the presence of two Lawful Good churches was too much for mortal minds to handle. They succumbed to in-fighting and to petty vanity, and weakened the cause of both in the process. The more militant of the two ultimately prevailed, and Ma'or entered a dormant state after ceding her territory to the younger church."

"Thanks to you, Ma'or stirs once again. We do not believe this to be a problem, as the power of the Hells has grown such that even the might of Tassada may not be enough to contain them."

"Therefore, this Council has seen fit to assign you a Celestial Duty: Restore Ma'or to full consciousness, and help her return fully to the pantheon of light. You are dismissed, Celestial. May the Heavens ease your travels."

Zuriel returns to the gates, so bewildered that he had forgotten entirely about the visa, to find Lyriel chatting with Liora outside.

"I can't stay, but it's great to see you both," the celestial researcher smiles, hugging each in turn before heading back toward the city. "We'll catch up properly later, but right now I am very, very pressed for time. Take care!"

Lyriel clutches to her chest the scroll Liora had brought to her (presumably in response to a Sending while she waited for Zuriel), upon which is etched the title: An Archive of the Mirrored Spells Provided to Eldric Vesper -- (P) Tassada.

A plane shift later sends the pair miraculously onto the deck of a Gaelian vessel, upon which Maeve, Keef, and Boreas have just set foot in the expectation of setting sail to the East.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:34, Mon 01 Dec 2014.

Lyriel cranes her neck as the deck of the ship materializes around her. A split-second later, as she stumbles to regain her footing on the gently swaying ship, Zuriel, Shahara, and Stony pop into existence around her.

Well that worked better than expected,Lyriel remarks as she sees Boreas, Maeve, and Keef looking at the new arrivals with suprise. I was expecting to have to walk.

Without any further ado, Lyriel collects her traveling pack and - clutching the scroll tightly to her - descends belowdecks to claim a cabin and begin studying the archive that would hopefully shed light on her brother's fate.

In reply to DM (msg # 52):

The SFS Cashmere is a beauty to behold, with immaculate rails, decks, sails and rigging despite seeing more than a decade of heavy use. Clearly, the cabin boys of the Sultanate do their work well.

The sky is blue, with nary a cloud in sight, and the seasoned sailors among you feel confident that you will avoid a springtime squall for at least the next week. The voyage is long, however, on the order of several months, and everyone will be expected to pull their own weight should extra hands be required.

As such, the P.A.R.T.Y. is assigned to certain roles on the ship:

• Maeve: Quartermaster
• Boreas: Lookout
• Keef: Cabin boy
• Zuriel: Medic
• Lyriel: Medic

Captain Caleb Tariq stands on the foredeck, his back to Ikuabai and his face toward the rising sun as it sends ripples of light dancing across the rolling expanse of water before him.

Presently, he turns to the assembled crew and barks out a short speech.

"Ship's secured and supplied, and we have fair skies and fair weather. Prepare to weigh anchor, with rudders aimed at the horizon -- and home, beyond it. Aye, lads?"

The response is resounding: "Aye!"

"Then let's get to it, before I keel-haul the lot of you," the Captain says, the good-natured grin on his face at odds with the harsh reality of his words. "Shove off. I want us at sea within the hour."

"Aye, Captain!"

The words are accompanied by a salvo of salutes, and followed by a flurry of activity. Without further delay, the SFS Cashmere begins its journey.

Once the Ikuabani coastline has receded into the distance, Boreas blows his bird whistle from atop the aptly named crow's nest.  Shortly thereafter, a trio of osprey arrive and are presented with strips of jerky for their trouble.

Friends, if you would be so kind, fly out from the ship and tell me what you see.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 55):

The birds soar out over the waters, and take their sweet time coming back. When they do, they have nothing unusual to report... this time.

Boreas continues the pattern of summoning birds and feeding them jerky (or other appropriate food) to do scouting.  Whenever the ship leaves the home range of one group of birds, he will summon another.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:20, Mon 01 Dec 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 56):

Two weeks into your journey, Maeve and Zuriel find themselves unable to sleep and abovedecks, watching the moonlight slosh over the gently rolling waves. It is a tranquil scene that is ultimately interrupted by a flash of searing light from Zuriel's eyes -- and a harsh, grating voice you'd both done your best to forget.

"Well isn't this just perfect?!"

The stench of sulfur burns the air for a moment, and Gilbert materializes seconds afterward, dripping wet and wrapped with seaweed. A cord hangs from his neck adorned with shark's teeth, but otherwise the imp looks much the same as before.

"Go fetch the Ironwood Band, Gilbert," he says in a sarcastic, high-pitched voice meant to imitate Maeve's. "It'll be easy, Gilbert. It's on an abandoned sunken treasure ship, Gilbert."

He flaps over to Maeve and hovers in front of her face.

"Lies!"

The noise has drawn the attention of the lookout, who tonight is not Boreas, and then man looks questioningly down at Maeve.

"Let me tell you something, sister: There is no such thing as an abandoned treasure ship," he continues, ranting in an evergrowing voice that approaches a yell. "There were sharks. Mermen. Eels. Naga. The skeletal remains of Sid the Malfeasant and his ghostly first mate, Chumley. And for what?!"

Gilbert holds up a waterlogged, half-rotten wooden box about the size of a man's palm.

"For this?! All I got to say is that this thing better summon a giant blue genie or something, or so help me, I'm going to lose my mind!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:28, Mon 01 Dec 2014.

Maeve waves to the lookout on duty.  Don't worry, nothing wrong here.  We know him. . .unfortunately."

She accepts the small box from Gilbert, largely ignoring the imp's unlovely voice.

"Thank you Gilbert, I know that you went through much trouble to acquire this.  So, um. . . .consider your debt repaid."

Maeve waves her hand vaguely at the imp, unsure of the proper way to acknowledge a completed demonic pact.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 59):

Keef appears for the journey decked out in his brand-spanking new Order first-level attire:  a long flowing robe that is technically blue but so dark a shade as to appear black without very close inspection under harsh lighting.  Beneath this Keef now sports a bright red sash of a light, flowy material that catches the light and seems to almost glow as if each thread were on fire.  The sash is affixed to his belt and shoulder by heavy brass emblems of his station and branch.

In carrying out his normal manic cabin-boy related duties, Keef is uncharacteristically attentive to the maintenance of his new clothes.  Certainly he isn't careful about not getting his robes caught on planks or splotched with seawater and tar, but when it happens he is meticulous in the repair and cleaning.  These are... well the first NEW clothes I've had that I really EARNED, he will point out.

Zuriel nods knowingly as Keef explains the importance of earning his uniform. Over the weeks and months that follow, Zuriel offers advice on how to get out the various stains and repair the inevitable damage that results from being on a vessel at sea. Indeed, many days find Keef and Zuriel working side by side, each attending to their own garments to keep them immaculate for the next day.

For as much as the paladin hates laundry, he was rather good at it. He had to be, as growing up, there was no greater terror than crossing the iron will of the Emerald Laundress.

As for Gilbert, Zuriel nods begrudgingly at a job well done. "Thank you, Gilbert. You have upheld your bargain faithfully. Go in peace."

This time

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 61):

"Go? GO?!" the imp says, flitting around for a bit in irritation. "Where would I possibly go?"

He lands on the tip of Maeve's guisarme and puts a hand to his chin.

"You know what they never say about the Hells?" he asks rhetorically. "That they are NICE this time of year! Yessir, I cannot WAIT to return to those sulfurous pits of bubbling tar and the echoing screams of the damned!"

Gilbert jumps back into the air, still animated in his indignation.

"It's terrific, just terrific," he gripes. "But fine, I get it. The pact is sealed, you've paid the fee, so from here on in... I'm looking out for me."

With that, Gilbert flies off into the horizon.

In reply to DM (msg # 62):

...I didn't like him...

Zuriel exchanges a look with Maeve, the inner fire fading with the imp's departure. "I'll admit that I'm...relieved...that we have the iron band. The Everstaff has been helpful, but it is a slave to its hunger, and this ring could prevent it from getting out of hand. At the same time, I wonder if alleviating its hunger would allow it to function more...ethically. Something to consider, perhaps."

The paladin turns his gaze back to the dark waves on the horizon, lost in thought.

[OOC - not sure that Keef was actually on deck for that bit.]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 64):

The next few weeks go rather smoothly, despite a few squalls here and there. The Cashmere is not the largest ship you've seen, but neither is it tiny, and it handles the cresting waves and gusting winds with dignity.

One evening, however, has Captain Caleb prancing about the deck in an unusual flurry of activity.

"Batten the hatches, lads! Stow anything that moves belowdecks and lash 'em there. Furl the sails! It's going to be a rough night."

Not 30 minutes later, a storm of terrifying proportions rips across the ocean, rocking the boat to and fro with reckless ease.

In reply to DM (msg # 65):

Maeve will offer her assistance moving various items belowdeck.  Assuming that Caleb needs the help, she will remain on deck during the squall to lend her strength to the battening down of sails and other such maritime stuff.

Sekhmet is sent below to ride out the storm with the horses.  The griffon straightens her damp feathers and looks generally grumpy.

Zuriel will likewise lend his aid if needed, otherwise he will get out of the way of the people who know what they are doing and spend the storm in his cabin with Lyriel, a steaming mug of tea, and a warm blanket.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 67):

Keef has no idea what he's doing, but attempts to run around and help anyway.

Boreas wishes Zuriel luck with his mug of scalding hot liquid inside the reeling ship.  He also offers his aid where he can, then rides out the storm belowdecks.  He does enjoy a mug of steaming hot tea, however, as the heat of the beverage seems to have little effect on him when it inevitably spills.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 69):

Oh, right!  Keef exclaims when he finds everyone huddled belowdecks. You don't like storms... people, not dragon turtles, right...

Keef waves his hand and a shimmering reddish doorway appears out of thin air.  Inscribed on the wooden panels are the words "Keef's Clubhouse".

The young mage smiles and ducks through the door into nothingness.  He calls back casually, C'mon in, you can wait it out here!

In reply to Keef (msg # 70):

In the midst of the storm, the P.A.R.T.Y. is faced with a choice between remaining on board or taking refuge in Keef's magical portal-like door.

[Crossroads]

Maeve admires Keef's new spell during a trip down belowdeck bearing assorted items in her arms.  However, her offer to remain on board and help out still stands--assuming she's needed.  Though she wouldn't mention it do anyone else, a large part of that decision has to do with her desire to appear fearless in front of the raw recruits, many of whom seem to be in awe of her.

Lyriel pokes her head out from the nest of blankets she has cocooned around herself, blinking owlishly at the clubhouse door. Thank you Keef, but for now we ought to be on hand in case we're needed in an emergency. That portal trick is really neat though, I'd like to check it out soon.

But it's sooooo cozy in here right now...

Zuriel is likewise loathe to extricate himself from Fort Cuddles.

"I'll ride it out from here for now Keef, thank you."

Very impressive, Keef.  I'm going to keep helping the crew right now, but it's good to know we all have somewhere to go in an emergency.  If things get bad, we'll come join you.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 75):

Riding the Storm Out

Keef spends the storm behind his magical door, while Zuriel and Lyriel retreat to the relative comfort of "Fort Cuddles" -- a place of warmth, laughter, and no small amount of scalding from spilled tea.

Maeve and Boreas, however, busy themselves about the ship, earning the respect and admiration of the determined crew in the process.

Eventually the storm passes, and the voyage continues as normal -- though Lyriel and Zuriel find themselves the target of muttering derision to the tune of "Typical highborn, only thinking of themselves and their own comfort." from the crewmen from time to time.

Keef, being a cabin boy, does not suffer similar scorn for his decision to remain out of the way.

After the Storm

About two weeks from the end of the journey, Boreas's birds bring back a rather alarming development: two ships appear to be engaged in battle to the north. The bird does not understand concepts like "allies" or "flags" or "nations," however, and can provide no further help than to judge the distance as about half a day's voyage northward -- which, needless to say, deviates from your charted course.

Zuriel stands on the top deck, cloak billowing non-artificially in the stiff wind. "I think we ought to go look," he declares. "With three of the four major nations lacking navies after the war, I'd be surprised if pirates weren't taking advantage of the vacuum to prey upon innocents."

The Captain eyes Zuriel blankly and then turns to Maeve for her opinion instead.  Disappointed that Boreas' bird-friends were unable to report back on any flags or insignia, she mulls over the situation.

"It's out of the way, but not overly so," Maeve says.  "And piracy does seem a likely explanation. I agree that it may be worth our while to investigate and shut down their operation if that is indeed the case.  But it's your call, Captain."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 78):

"We are neither crewed nor equipped to handle corsairs," Caleb frowns, putting a muscular arm to his chin to ponder the question. "Still, we are likely to closest Sultanate ship, and that makes it our responsibility to do what we can."

Mind made up, he barks new orders to the helmsman.

"Look lively, lads! Veer 30˚ port, and unfurl the sails to catch the northward wind!"

Boreas thanks the helpful bird, offering some food.  My friend, I must ask you to fly to the ship one more time for me.  I'll have more food for you when you return.

[Casting Chain of Eyes]

Boreas' eye glows green, as do the bird's eyes, momentarily.  It sets off back toward the ships, with Boreas checking through its vision periodically.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 80):

Boreas quickly relays what he can now see from a (quite literal) bird's eye view of the situation unfolding a number of miles northward.

There are two ships, one flying the flag of the Sultanate and a second flying no discernible colors at all. They are arranged at broadsides, with ropes, hooks, and ramps connecting the two, and battle appears to be joined in earnest among the sailors of each respective vessel.

It is hard to say who might be winning, but chances are good that a victor will be decided one way or the other before you get there.

In reply to DM (msg # 81):

I could... I mean we can get there right NOW if we want...

In reply to Keef (msg # 82):

"Speak plainly, lad," Captain Caleb says, overhearing. "You can transport this ship and its entire crew there right now? Or just yourself and your friends?"

Zuriel stretches his arms, armor clanking as he loosens his sword in its scabbard. "If there's a conflict, the longer it takes us to get there the more people will be hurt. Let's teleport in ourselves and see what we can do while the Captain brings the ship up behind us."

Maeve nods.

"As he says.  We'll see what can be done and meet you when you catch up with us."

"Keef, under normal circumstances I'd say that lions on board a ship would be a really quite bad idea.  But we might make an exception here."

Zuriel nods in agreement. "As long as they're on the bad guys' ship."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 86):

Keef reaches into his new cloak and lightly taps the special built-in ultra-secure Lion Bag pocket.

I understand, he says solemnly.

He then looks around.  Well, I mean, who else is coming?

Keef thinks for a moment and appears to confer with Chubbs for a moment.

And if anyone would like to arrive on the ships as anything other than a person, just let me know... as long as it's not a toad.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Thu 04 Dec 2014.

In reply to Keef (msg # 87):

"My crew and I will follow as quickly as the Cashmere allows," the captain says. "Any of you are welcome to stay or go as you please."

Lyriel nods, throwing her hood back to leave her arms free to cast. Clearing the waters of some scum taking advantage of the war? Sounds like a lovely afternoon to me.

Boreas nods.  I'll join you as well... as a person.

He lays a hand on Keef's shoulder, so the wizard knows where he is, and fades from view.

[Casting Walk Unseen]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 90):

Ok then, Keef cracks his knuckles.  One mass-transit to possible pirate ship... via cabin boy.

The P.A.R.T.Y. lays hands on the young mage and he begins his incantation.  Though nobody else present understands a word of these magics, each is almost positive that the name "Marquis de Peleanor" was worked in there somewhere...

In a red flash, the group vanishes from the rocking deck.

In reply to Keef (msg # 91):

The P.A.R.T.Y. materializes on the slippery deck of another ship, this one slick with more than just sea spray. Dark timbers loom in all directions, and you quickly realize you are standing on the main deck.

No colors or flags can be seen above you, though that is more because the mast and sails are fully engulfed in flames than because of any definitive proof that they don't exist.

Corpses litter the deck around you, many wearing Gaelian naval uniforms, and others wearing a hodgepodge of rags and armor. The door to the single cabin on this deck that leads into the interior of the vessel is hanging awkwardly ajar. Smoke pours from the opening, an acrid plume that smells of rotting flesh and charred wood.

This burning vessel is attached to another ship -- this one made from lighter timbers -- by a series of ropes, hooks, and ramps. Although the foremost ramp has been snapped in half by the fighting, the others appear to be in good shape.

The melee continues in earnest on this second ship, with Gaelian seamen battling it out with the un-uniformed crewmen. It's hard to tell who's doing better, but given the fact that the ship's central mast has been separated from the deck and now bobs in the ocean far below, the winner won't be either of the galleons that brought them here.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:45, Fri 05 Dec 2014.

"Looks like pirates," Zuriel exclaims grimly. "Alright, let's protect the Gaelians."

Zuriel draws Dawn, which flares brightly to life along with the paladin's shield.

[Divine Shield]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 93):

Then we should work fast.. I mean... hurry!

Keef claps his hands together.  Reddish energy squirts out from between them and strikes each member of P.A.R.T.Y.

We can... well I mean a Dragon Turtle could carry them all away if you can get them onto me... it, one.

Keef thinks

OR we could have them all hide in my clubhouse?

(OOC:  Haste 13 rounds

When making a full attack action, a hasted creature may make one extra attack with any weapon he is holding. The attack is made using the creature’s full base attack bonus, plus any modifiers appropriate to the situation. (This effect is not cumulative with similar effects, such as that provided by a weapon of speed, nor does it actually grant an extra action, so you can’t use it to cast a second spell or otherwise take an extra action in the round.)

A hasted creature gains a +1 bonus on attack rolls and a +1 dodge bonus to AC and Reflex saves. Any condition that makes you lose your Dexterity bonus to Armor Class (if any) also makes you lose dodge bonuses.

All of the hasted creature’s modes of movement (including land movement, burrow, climb, fly, and swim) increase by 30 feet, to a maximum of twice the subject’s normal speed using that form of movement. This increase counts as an enhancement bonus, and it affects the creature’s jumping distance as normal for increased speed.)

Emerald fire flares out around Lyriel as she takes an offensive casting position. Let's focus on dealing with the pirates first.

[OOC - Long term buffs: Zuriel and Maeve have +4 STR, Lyriel has + 4 WIS, Zuriel has +4 CHA, everybody has +4 CON]

Maeve's eyes light up with barely suppressed rage when she sees the dead soldiers littering the decks.

"They're killing my fellows," she murmurs dangerously, almost to herself.  "They are going to dearly regret doing so."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 96):

or... OR Keef nods along with his companions' suggestions, we could kill them all.

"What?! No, that's not what we said." Zuriel shoots a glare at the Everstaff. "We're here to save as many lives as we can."

Boreas turns to Keef, slightly shocked at his suggestion, but not entirely disagreeing with it.

We leave at least one alive, he says.  We need to find out who sent them.

His eye crackles with multicolored energy as he prepares for battle.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 99):

Oh... right... Keef nods first at Zuriel then at Boreas.

N opponents, I mean, in this plane, so we kill N minus 1. 

Keef grins at Lyriel and Maeve in a way that asks if they approve to the compromise.

Zuriel scowls across the deck. "We kill X, where X is the number it takes to get the rest of these criminals to surrender."

Maeve's eyes glitter and she smiles in an almost leonine fashion, clearly agreeing with Keef's plan.  She does not however voice her approval of Keef's idea as she's already darting toward the thick of the fighting to murder-kill some pirates.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 102):

Maeve darts across the nearest gangplank and is faced with a combat situation.

~~ Disposition ~~
The P.A.R.T.Y. has basic long-term cleric buffs and 13 rounds of Haste, plus whatever passive magics they generally possess.

There are roughly a score of sailors fighting on the deck across from them, split evenly among Gaelian sailors and rag-clad others.

Targets with a G are Gaelian; targets with an R are Rag-clad; FM means First Mate; Captain is self-explanatory.

Everyone starts on the same square Maeve's in, just one round behind her.

Stats forthcoming on the appropriate thread.

Grid: https://docs.google.com/spread...usp=drive_web#gid=12

~~ Surprise Round ~~

Maeve

~~ Initiative ~~

Boreas
Keef
Team Rag-Clad
Lyriel
Team Gaelian
Maeve
Zuriel
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:59, Fri 05 Dec 2014.

Maeve charges into the fray (space F6) and drops R7 with seemingly no effort.

[Attack R7: 42]

[OOC: That was a crit, but there's no point in rolling to confirm]

"Hey you dumb pirate fucks!" she calls.  "I thought you were supposed to have sea legs.  This fellow doesn't have *any* legs."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 104):

Keef's eyes glow dull red and he squeezes his fist closed so hard it is shaking.

...and so it is, we protect our own, he mutters.

With a fizzling sound, he flicks his fingers open.  Five identical leashes of red energy burst out, one from each finger to connect with the heads of five of the Rag-clad warriors.

The beams splash onto their heads, boring through their skulls and out the backs.

Five enemies collapse to the decks.

[OOC:  took my turn early since I'll be busy for a while and it shouldn't affect Boreas any.]

[Private to GM: OOC: Magic missile.]

Boreas dashes up (to F10), firing a blast of energy at R6, which strikes him in the chest and breaks off to hit R5 and R3.  The arcane energy overwhelms the other two sailors as all three collapse to the deck in a smoldering heap.

[Shot on the Run]
[Casting Edlritch Chain]
[Ranged Touch Attacks: 30, 21, 35]
[Damage: Irrelevant]

Boreas then backpedals (to G6) and looses another quick bolt of technicolor power at the ragged captain.

[Casting Quickened Eldritch Blast]
[Ranged Touch: 28]
[Damage: 22]

[OOC]I assume I hit, even accounting for any cover bonuses he might get from intervening enemies.[/OOC]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 106):

The rag-clad sailors don't really know what hit them. One minute they're fighting against a rather evenly matched group of seamen, and the next their numbers are reduced by 90% thanks to the P.A.R.T.Y.'s efforts.

R8 takes one look at Maeve and makes a run for it, ducking belowdecks.

Captain R, staggered slightly from Boreas's blast, nevertheless continues his duel with Captain G. With a flick of his sword, he disarms the man, and with a follow-up attack, he runs the good captain through.

R10 and FM10, who stand nearby, whirl to finish the job, launching a series of sword strikes that send Captain G to the deck.

"And that's that, laddie buck," Captain R roars, extracting his sword from the dead man's chest and turning to take in the new arrivals to the fight. His searching eyes eventually settle on Maeve, and he smiles.

"Or mayhaps it's just begun. Look alive, me buckos, and make fast to port!"

Lyriel fixes the captain with a penetrating gaze. No. For you, this is the end.

Throwing her arms out to her sides, her hood blows back in a sudden wind, leaving her blonde hair to stream wildly. Then, as suddenly as it started, the wind stops and the world seems oddly muffled. She points at the captain, and utters a single word and as green eyes flare an unearthly emerald.

Balus.

[Casting: Destruction]

[Fortitude Save vs. Death: Fail]

The pirate captain opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. A look of confusion descends over his face, replaced quickly by pain. His mouth hangs slack, and instead of words, emerald fire begins to pour from his mouth. Finally he finds his voice, and a howling shrieking fills the silence as the fire spreads. His eyes burn next, sending out gouts of fire that quickly spread to the rest of his flesh.

The howling grows louder, mixing in with the whoosh of the brilliant emerald flames. Oddly, only his body seems affected by the purging fire, as the inferno passes harmlessly over his clothes and equipment. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

The flames vanish, and the form of the Captain disintegrates ashes, which fall to the deck into the pool of his clothes, hat, eyepatch, and equipment. The last thing to fall is his sword, which sticks into the deck with a dull thunk. The echo of his wail lingers, until at last that too falls silent.

A faint breeze plays with the ashes, making delicate whorls on the blood-stained deck.

Surrender. Or don't, if you wish to share his fate. It hardly matters to me.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:22, Sun 07 Dec 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 108):

N minus nine 9... Keef mutters.

Zuriel stares in shock at the rapidly diminishing pile of ash that was just a moment ago the pirate captain, sword forgotten at his side.

What magic is this, that can snuff life's flame so easily?!

He shudders to himself and turns to his foes, waiting to see what their response will be.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: The look Zuriel gives is inscrutable, but the awe is plain to see, along with...something else. Dread? Apprehension? Likely Zuriel himself doesn't even know.]
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:20, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Maeve's eyes widen slightly, shocked (and possibly a little jealous?) at Lyriel's awesomely destructive power.

"Ah. . . .what she said," she says, jerking a thumb at Lyriel.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 111):

The rag-clad first mate and R10, the only remaining rag-clad sailors alive on deck, look at each other and give an audible gulp as the Gaelian sailors swarm them. In moments, the battle is over, with R10 being run through by Gaelian steel and First Mate R disarmed -- at the wrist -- and bound roughly to the shattered remains of the ship's main mast.

~~ End Combat ~~

Various Gaelian crewmen rush to cover Captain G's body with a scrap of canvas, while others work to return the rag-clad dead to the deck of the burning ship from whence they came -- retrieving their own dead on the way back.

"Not that we aren't grateful for the help," First Mate G says, turning to the P.A.R.T.Y. "But how in the name of wind and fire did you get here? I fear those blaggards left us in sorry shape... we'll be adrift for weeks without a mast."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:14, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 112):

One left... Boreas was right!

"Well, you see" Maeve begins, then decides that "the one-eyed man over there saw your plight through the eyes of his bird friends and then the lad magically transported us here" is an explanation that can wait until they're all a little better acquainted.

"We were bound for Gaelia on board the Cashmere.  We caught wind of your trouble and decided to come lend a hand.  As for the mast, the Cashmere itself should be along within the day.  They'll take you on board, I've no doubt."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 114):

It's not, Keef adds, well, not strictly speaking anyhow, and absolutely and totally not an Order thing.

Keef looks at the devastation around him.

It's not even a cabin-boy thing... it's a hero thing.

In reply to Keef (msg # 115):

The first mate looks surprised by this news, but merely nods.

"It's fortunate that you realized our plight. Thank you."

He turns to the other Gaelian sailors and raises his voice.

"Plunder their vessel before it sinks, lads. We'll be here for a while yet."

A group of sailors stir themselves and head toward the burning ship, sacks in hand.

The first mate, however, turns his attention toward his counterpart, who is lashed to the ruined mast and bleeding profusely from his severed hand.

"Tell me true, mate: how'd you find us, and to what waters were you heading?"

This question is repeated in several different ways, but the man answers only with sobs. Exasperated, the first mate gives up and turns, saying, "Think about it, mate. Only cooperative captives eat."

With that, he begins pacing the deck, assessing the extend of the damage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:46, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Maeve hunkers down next to the captive sailor.

"Lyriel, if you'd be so kind," she says, calling to the priestess.

I doubt she can do anything about that hand, but she can fix the wound itself.

After Lyriel's finished patching up the sailor [assuming she does], Maeve hopes that he'll be more cooperative.

"Now then," she continues, "you and your friends were hacking up my countrymen.  That really pisses me off.  It's not going to go easy for you, but it will be significantly more so if you cooperate.  So tell me: who are you working for?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:59, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Lyriel shrugs, and waves a hand lazily at the captured pirates. As you wish.

Their injuries fade in a faint emerald glow, but the first mate's stump remains a stump. If she is capable of such magic, the priestess makes no attempt to reattach the hand.

She then turns on her heel and sets about seeing to the injuries of the Gaelian crew.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 118):

"You've gotta loose catapult in that one, an' make no mistake," the captured sailor says as Lyriel walks away, breaking his silence as the healing magics wash over him. "Didn't know the Sultanate worked with sea witches, and that's a fact. Didn't know they worked with the Order, either."

He looks at Maeve, who stands before him threateningly, and swallows audibly.

"I worked fer the captain. Now that's he's dead, I work fer me. Chopin's the name. Untie me, and I'll work fer you."

"Ah well, you may have a point there," Maeve says, watching Lyriel glide away.  "Though the lady isn't a sea witch and I doubt she'll thank you to hear you calling her one.  They're usually fat and purple, so I hear."


Come to think of it though, we never did introduce ourselves.  For all the crew knows, she *is* a sea hag in disguise. . .

Maeve listens further and pretends to consider Chopin's offer.

"While I'm charmed that you want to offer up your services to me, what makes you think that we'd take on someone who would turn his back on his former employer so quickly?  Doesn't seem like a very smart decision. Now this Captain of yours. . .he a freelancer working for his own gain?  Or was there something more to it?" 

"Have a care, Chopin," Zuriel admonishes, eyes narrowed. "You are hardly in a position to make insults, or requests for employment. I don't know the Gaelian admiralty laws well, but I should think piracy a very grave offense indeed. Unless you have an alternative explanation for why your crew was engaged in combat with a Gaelian vessel?"

The paladin turns to Maeve. "Unless you can think of an alternative method he can serve his punishment, we ought to just turn him over to the Captain."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Boreas replies to Chopin, Indeed.  Your bargaining posture is highly dubious.  Turning to the Captain, he adds, It's not so much that we're with Gaelia... he gestures to Maeve, Well, except her.  It's more that we don't take kindly to ships getting plundered at sea.

He scans the enemy captain's possessions and those of the rest of the enemy crew.

[Casting Detect Magic]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 122):

Keef pokes around a little, though he isn't certain what the duties of a cabin boy are in boats without sails.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 122):

The Gaelian crew's former first mate and now acting captain -- whose name you learn is Flanders -- nods.

"Always the same with seadogs. No foresight. They'll attack anything they think they can take a bite of out."

The Gaelian crewmen continue to pile plunder from the other ship on the deck, under the new captain's watchful eye. Flanders scowls openly at the lackluster bounty.

"What a sorry lot. Won't even pay for the damage to the ship. More's the pity."

To Zuriel, he raises an eyebrow.

"The man's a prisoner. If your captain wants him, we can discuss it once he arrives, but I'm not surrendering the man until I've had my answers."

[Private to Boreas Highwind: There are a few baubles, rings, and weapons with minor magical auras, but nothing particularly powerful or valuable seems to be present. The rad-clad captain does have a sealed scroll tube in one of the breast pockets of his jacket, however. It's not magical, but it's interesting.]

"Pirate? PIRATE?! Lies and slander," Chopin snaps. "We're Chain Breakers, thank you kindly, and proud of it."

The newly minted captain groans and puts a hand over his face, dragging it down toward his chin in an exaggerated motion.

"Of course you're proud. Most lunatics are," Flanders says dismissively. "Alright, sir. Your captain can have him. The man's a lost cause."

"Freedom isn't lunacy!" Chopin exclaims. "It's an inalienable right! But I wouldn't expect a slaver to know the difference between the two concepts, and you, sirrah, ar-"

"ENOUGH!" Captain Flanders barks, backhanding the man savagely. "Hold your tongue unless spoken too, or prepare to lose it. We do not speak ill of the Sultan's law, and we keep the Sultan's peace."

Chopin narrows his eyes, but apparently decides he's lost enough body parts today and obeys.

Under Flanders's direction, the ship detaches from the burning vessel and limps away from it, giving everyone -- including the bound Chopin -- a wonderful opportunity to watch the other ship sink beneath the hungry waves.

"Right then," the Captain says, putting his hands on his hips. "Look alive, men. I want everything prepared for an orderly transfer once the SFS Cashmere arrives. How far out did you say it was?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:38, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Ah.  So that's how it is then.  Maeve feels a brief pang, and knows that if she's feeling even a little guilt then Zuriel  must be incensed. . . and probably crippled with self-resentment.  Lovely.

"Regardless of your intentions, these sailors are still dead.  And even if they deserved their fate, their widows and children surely did not."

She rises from her crouch near the prisoner and speaks to the new captain.

"About half a day's journey.  Plenty of time to get things in order.  Boreas, shoot out a beam occasionally to let them know our exact location."

Maeve looks thoughtfully at Chopin, then abruptly leaves to begin getting cargo in order.

Zuriel stares mutely at the chained prisoner. A sudden sickening realization occurs to him, and he pivots on his heel and marches belowdecks.

[Private to DM: Checking on the 'cargo']

No right side to this battle, it seems.

Boreas nods to Maeve and fires a blast into the air.

Tragic as it is, Gaelia's slavery is an injustice for another day.

Boreas walks over to the rag-captain and takes anything of interest, holding it for examination later.

[Private to GM: All the magical stuff, plus the scroll tube.]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 127):

Zuriel heads belowdecks while the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y. busies themselves with the loot and tending to the ship itself.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: You head down the staircase, round a corner, and immediately freeze when you hear a whisper of fateful words: "Slaver's Slumber".

Will vs DC 19 (Fail)

The paladin's eyes grow heavy, but before they shut completely, he could swear he saw three-score men, women, and children; a pile of chains on the ground; and a single rag-clad sailor pointing a wand at him.]

Minutes pass, then half an hour, and someone eventually realizes that they haven't seen Zuriel in quite a while.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:39, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Lyriel frowns from her place at the leeward railing. I'm going to check on Zuriel she mutters to nobody in particular.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 129):

Lyriel heads belowdecks.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You head down the stairs and into the pitch-black interior of the ship. It's stuffy and hot, with the unmistakeable stench of sweat and mildew nearly overpowering anything else... though Zuriel's sandalwood scent is faintly detectable among it.

The main chamber appears to be divided into three portions, with two long rooms running the length of the ship against either side of the hull and a hallway between them. The two rooms on the sides are lined with bars, chains, manacles, and more, which lay strewn haphazardly among the soiled straw and buckets of filth.

Zuriel has been chained to the wall on the left-hand side, manacled hands and feet. A choke collar is wrapped around his neck, with a chain affixed to the hallway's only door, which leads deeper into the ship. It is impossible to open the door without strangling the paladin, due to its peculiar configuration.

The paladin looks unharmed, but his eyes are closed and his breath is coming in slow, regular intervals. He is also lacking his armor, sword, and shield.

Carved into the wood near Zuriel's head are the words: "Some Chains Must Be Broken".]
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:53, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Lyriel's voice calls out from below, strained but even. Boreas, can you please come here for a moment? I need your help with something.

[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: Lyriel rushes forward, looking around for any enemies. Fire flickers at her fingertips, pulsing with her heartbeat. A slow, simmering heat. She kneels next to Zuriel, doing what she can to strip break the enchantment. Casting Dispel Magic]

Boreas heads belowdecks at Lyriel's request.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 131):

Things happen belowdecks.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: Zuriel awakens immediately.]

[Private to Boreas Highwind: You head down the stairs and into the pitch-black interior of the ship. It's stuffy and hot, with the unmistakeable stench of sweat and mildew nearly overpowering anything else... though Zuriel's sandalwood scent is faintly detectable among it.

The main chamber appears to be divided into three portions, with two long rooms running the length of the ship against either side of the hull and a hallway between them. The two rooms on the sides are lined with bars, chains, manacles, and more, which lay strewn haphazardly among the soiled straw and buckets of filth.

Zuriel has been chained to the wall on the left-hand side, manacled hands and feet. A choke collar is wrapped around his neck, with a chain affixed to the hallway's only door, which leads deeper into the ship. It is impossible to open the door without strangling the paladin, due to its peculiar configuration.

The paladin looks unharmed, but he is lacking his armor, sword, and shield. Lyriel is standing near him, emerald magic dissipating from her as though she had just cast a spell of some sort.

Carved into the wood near Zuriel's head are the words: "Some Chains Must Be Broken"]

Boreas scans the area for magic, focusing particularly on the chains.  If they are mundane, he calls fort a single syllable.  They shiver, break and fall to the ground.

[Casting Baleful Utterance]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 134):

Belowdecks

Lyriel and Boreas stand before Zuriel, who lands with surprising grace as the chains binding him fall to the ground in tattered pieces.

Abovedecks

Keef whistles a jaunty sailing song while Maeve stares dramatically at the horizon.

Zuriel looks, quickly getting his bearings as he massages life into extremities. Feeling underequipped without his sword and armor, he nonetheless makes to move deeper into the ship. He pulls a dagger from his boot, palming it but holding it down at his side as he descends.

"Let's go," he says after quickly Lyriel with a quick kiss and Boreas with a grateful nod. "Let's figure out what's going on. We shouldn't cause alarm abovedecks yet...I want to know what's going on first. I'm not sure our enemies are who we think."

Lyriel unbuckles her longsword and shield, handing them to Zuriel. Here, if you insist on going first, take these until we can find your gear.

Boreas nods, fading from view.  We have to go deeper.

I'll scout ahead.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 136):

Belowdecks

The door was secured entirely through tension against the collar chained to Zuriel's neck, and thus creaks open (outward, not inward) on its own accord. Zuriel, Lyriel, and Boreas descend a second staircase carefully -- and, for once, Zuriel's steps are not the loudest thing to echo down the stairwell.

The trio reaches the long-term storage area of the cargo hold and pauses, allowing Boreas to scout ahead is his typically unseen fashion.

This done, Boreas reports that there is a single rag-clad sailor carefully arranging a series of runestones in a circle in the back room. About three-score men, women, and children of various races, ages, and ethnicity are crowded around him, quietly watching him work.

The magic of the runestones looks like Conjuration to Boreas, and it is an extremely strong aura.

Maeve idly drums her fingers on the rail of the ship but for the time being at least, has no reason to assume that Zuriel is doing anything other than having himself a strop belowdecks.  Presumably Lyriel and Boreas are attempting to soothe him.

Not sure why she'd want Boreas for that though. . . .

For lack of anything better to do, she decides to make small talk with her fellow Gaelian.

"So, you're a slaver vessel?" she asks.  "Been any trouble on the seas what with the conflict out west?"

Boreas sneaks up closer to the conjurers.  He speaks softly, Don't be alarmed.  I'm not your enemy.  What is this circle you're creating?

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 140):

Abovedecks

"Not especially, Major," Captain Flanders says. "You know how it goes: Stay the course, business as usual, and so on. Though between us, I'll admit it was nice to hear that the various other navy's had smashed themselves to bits in the process."

He swells with pride.

"The Sultan's always had the best navy around, of course, but now there's no debating it."

The man looks over the railing wistfully for a moment.

"There HAVE been more reports of piracy than usual, though. I'll grant you that. And these Chain Breaker folks have struck more than a few of my colleagues. For a group that's been a thorn in our side for little more than a year, they seem awfully well organized. And you saw their vessel -- that was a ship o' the line, just like ours. They've got good coin and a passionate patron out there somewhere. I just wish they'd put that fervor into righting things that are actually wrong with the world, instead of sabotaging our legitimate trade routes."

Flanders' express darkens.

"Good sailors died today, Major. And more would have, if you hadn't come to our rescue. I won't forget that. None of us will."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:41, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Zuriel makes his presence known by clearing his throat. He holds his shield defensively, charged with divine energy, but keeps his longsword at ready pointed less threateningly downward.

"So not pirates then. Freers of slaves?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 143):

Belowdecks

The rag-clad sailor stiffens when he hears Boreas's hushed voice.

"Who wants to know?"

At the sound of Zuriel's less subtle approach, he whips out a wand and kicks the final stone into place. The runes flicker to life -- though the light emanating from them is quite weak.

"Children first," he murmurs to the crowd around him. "Women, next. Men, hold the line as best you can. It'll take some time for the circle to warm up."

The man then raises his voice.

"Freers of slaves," the man says, walking toward Zuriel with measured steps. "In all their forms. You have a problem with that?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:47, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Maeve mentally files away the potentially useful information to share with her friends later.  She wonders what her father--a man who personally frowns upon owning people as property but at the same time who is honor-bound to protect Gaelia, including its commerce--would feel about the Chain Breakers.  Probably much the same way she does: torn. Just one more thing to discuss with him at some point, she supposes, as she picks up Chubbs and sits him by the ship railing so that he can better show scorn for the ocean and all its denizens.

What's keeping them?

By now Maeve has rather begun to suspect that her friends are not comforting Zuriel but are in fact poking and prying belowdecks, possibly in search of human cargo.  For her sake, she really hopes not.

Please, please have the sense not to be doing anything illegal down there.  Remember that on this vessel, I am the law.

She latches upon the point about the Sultanate's undisputed naval superiority.

"Yes well, we may have had something to do with that."  Maeve launches into a telling of their various adventures during the previous year's war, hoping very much that her friends will have made their way back above deck by the time she's done.

Zuriel gazes intently at the man for a long moment, then nods to himself as if making a decision. "It's a shame we came too late to stop you, isn't it?" he asks the increasingly confused man rhetorically. Zuriel lowers his sword and shield, passing both back to Lyriel to stow. "You're going to have to move quickly if you want to get everybody out before the folks upstairs notice I've been gone."

The paladin then sets about healing any injuries he finds, noting with growing ire the chafing and infected cuts around wrists and ankles, starting with the wand-holding man. "We thought...we thought you were pirates. I'm... so very sorry. Lyriel, can you help expedite the portal?"

He turns back to look at her imploringly. "We can do this one thing, at the very least."

"Oh, and might I have my equipment back? I'll need it where I'm going."

Lyriel looks down uncomfortably. Zuriel...I know this is all awful but...it's the law here. As terrible as it is. But we'd be committing a crime if we helped him.

"Aye, we'd be committing a crime...and doing the right thing." Zuriel gazes back at Lyriel, and then Boreas. "Look at these people. Not even Tassada, cold as she is, would approve of such a law. And I know I for one do not care."

Lyriel sighs. I just hope we don't get caught. That could jeopardize our entire mission. If you're willing to risk that, Zuriel then...then I'll help.

Goddess help me.

She walks over to the runic stones to see what she can do to expedite the ritual.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:08, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 149):

Belowdecks

The chain-breaker blinks at Zuriel and Lyriel, then shrugs and hurries to complete the ritual. The runestones create a summoning circle, which whisks away anyone who enters it to what the chain-breaker calls a "safe haven."

Once everyone has been rescued, the man moves toward the circle.

"I don't know what to make of you," he says. "But you've earned a measure of consideration. Your equipment is safe, locked in a closet not far from here. For freedom!"

He steps into the circle and vanishes. The runestones flare brightly for a moment, then they, too, vanish, leaving nothing behind but a faint whiff of lilacs and vanilla cream.

The equipment is easily found, and Zuriel heaves a sigh of relief as Dawn is return to him.

Boreas flickers back into view.  We'll do our best to see you aren't caught, but we can only buy so much time.  Be swift.

He fades again, heading back upstairs to intercept anyone that might come prying.

Zuriel returns topside, lugging his gear as slowly and clankingly as possible. Once abovedecks, he proceeds to the nearest railing where he proceeds to be violently ill. "They *blargh* enchanted me...fell asleep..." he explains in between retches.

He leaves it to Boreas to craft the rest of the cover story, not trusting himself to lie in his present agitated state. His hands shook tremulously, having nothing at all to do with the lingering enchantment or seasickness. He had only to close his eyes and the image of the chained slaves floated before him, complete with the stink of unwashed humans and pent up waste.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:26, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

Boreas emerges moments later.  It was a cruel device, a chain around his neck that would choke him if he moved.  Took me a while to get him free without killing him in the process.  Some kind of magic circle down below.  My guess is, they used it to escape.

Maeve takes the opportunity to gaze appraisingly at her friends while the captain understandably questions them with some urgency.  She might have believed their story herself if not for the detail about the chain.

Took me a while to get him free, my ass.  The handy shattering blast would have had him out in no time.

As soon as the captain heads belowdeck to examine the runic circle, she approaches her friends slowly.  She does not look pleased.

"Care to tell me what happened?" she says quietly yet firmly.

"These aren't pirates, Maeve. They're some organization that frees slaves. And they're well funded if they can afford a warship and a teleportation circle." Zuriel's gaze drifts over to the former first mate tied to the mast. "I can't approve of their methods, but there's no way in hell I'm condemning their goals."

Zuriel wipes his mouth clean, and conjures some liquid in his chalice that smelled strongly of alcohol and fresh mint. He takes a mouthful, but rather than swallowing, swishes it around before spitting it overboard and repeating the process until the chalice was empty.

He gazes balefully at the ladder descending belowdecks, hands still trembling. "If you want to see for yourself what Gaelia's slave trade truly is, feel free to take a look at the conditions they were being transported in. Hell, you don't even have to look. Just take a whiff."

Oddly, Zuriel entirely passes on an easy follow up jab at Boreas' hygiene. Instead, he looks rather gratefully at the taciturn woodsman, as if the two had come to some new understanding.

Maeve's face twitches in a mixture of admiration, exasperation, and sheer horror.  She pinches the bridge of her nose sharply, as if warding off a sinus headache.

"Right.  Fine.  I think he believed you.  I almost did myself.  But Zuriel, you. . .you just *can't* do this once we get to Gaelia!  You can't.  Inevitably you're going to be found out if you keep it up and then it'll be on me to make sure that the law is carried out.  I can't just refuse to do so on the basis that you're my friend, or that I think that what you did was justified. If I did, I'd be stripped dishonorably of my rank for helping a criminal skirt the rules, and there's nothing I or even my father could do about that. Do you understand?  You *cannot* do this to me."

After several deep breaths, Maeve is more under control.

"That goes for the rest of you also."

Lyriel, meanwhile, stares at the bound first mate, biting her lip pensively. A mix of emotions play across her face, and she seems to be engaged in some kind of internal debate. After several minutes, she walks over to the prisoner. She picks up his hand from where he was cradling it rather forlornly.

This might hurt. Well, this will hurt. I'm sorry, she says, not unkindly. She takes a dagger and bloodies the healed stump of the prisoner's hand. Healed and unhealed won't conjoin without stronger magic, she explains apologetically. Then, with a flash of emerald, she seals the hand back to his arm, and watches as he flexes it.

...Chopin, was it? I... Lyriel looks down at the deck, at a loss for words. I hope the law treats you kindly. she whispers.

More loudly she calls out Prisoner is healed and fit for manual labor, Captain.

Her eyes find the pile of ashes that was the original Chainbreakers captain, but she can't gaze for more than a few moments before she  has to look away.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Mon 08 Dec 2014.

"I know we can't," Zuriel murmurs bitterly. "But in this case all we had to do really was...nothing. And we had a good cover story that was honestly mostly true. Little chance it would come back to bite you." He flexes his gauntleted hand, willing the tremors of anger to subside. He turns to Maeve, looking her dead in the eyes. "I can't promise you that under similar circumstances in the future, I wouldn't do exactly the same thing. But I can promise you that I won't take any action that is likely to come back to harm you, and I won't go out of my way to look for these...situations."

"I know I can't change this myself, and it would be counterproductive to try."

Zuriel returns his vigil back to the horizon, waiting for the tellale signs of Cashmere's top mast.

Somebody *is* trying though. And I mean to find out who.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 158):

Keef whizzes by:

O gallantly, gallantly do we all fly,
topside and portside and all o'er the Rye!

Staysails and mainsails and gantrys aweigh,
To the ever-loved ports of Gall'i'nisay!

In reply to Keef (msg # 159):

Captain Flanders is in a foul mood by the time he returns to the main deck, and he stomps over to the captive with murder in his eyes.

"Alright, mate, I'm only going to ask you once," he says, drawing a sabre and holding it under Chopin's chin. "Where's the cargo?"

"Oh, is it missing?" the captive asks rhetorically. "I wouldn't know, being lashed to the mast and all."

"But-but-BUT..." he continues, inhaling sharply as the sabre's tip presses into his neck."BUT. If I were a gambling man, Capt'n, which I'm not. But if I were. I'd wager the cargo's gone someplace far, far away."

"WHERE?!" Captain Flanders roars, forcefully cuffing the captive with the hilt of his sword. "WHERE ARE THEY?"

"Someplace where there are no chains. An' that's all I'll say."

Flanders tenses his sword against the man's throat, then whips the blade upward instead to wallop the man across the temple with the flat of the steel. Predictably, consciousness leaves Chopin like an extinguished candle.

"Take him belowdecks and chain him up. We'll have at least one slave to deliver," Captain Flanders growls. "And then we'll see what the Janissaries have to say about your silence."

No further incidents occur prior to the arrival of Captain Caleb and the SFS Cashmere. Flanders is affirmed as acting captain, and the two commiserate about the sorry state of things on the waves when a group like these Chain Breakers can operate so brashly and so successfully.

"They didn't even have anything magical on them," Flanders gripes. "We looted their entire ship, and I thought I saw some magical trinkets that would help pay for the damages and loss of life, but when we rummaged through it later there was nothing of value."

After some debate, Caleb decides it would be better for the Sultanate if he towed the second ship behind him. This slows progress considerably, but it's deemed a necessary sacrifice -- and one that is only possible thanks to Lyriel's ability to conjure the extra food and water they'll need from thin air.

OOC: Anything else you want to do on the voyage, or any words you want to have with Chopin?
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:15, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 160):

Ok.  Keef slows down his buzzing.

We're slavers now?

There is not a touch of irony of judgement in the boy's voice, he intones it exactly as if he were asking about the weather.

Zuriel glares balefully at the captain's treatment of Chopin, and it's only Maeve's stern gaze that keeps him from interceding. He leans over to her. "Make sure he isn't executed,"  he whispers. "It sounds like they just want to enslave him; that's probably the best he can hope for."

And Goddess willing, maybe he can do something for his fellows wherever he's shipped off to.

The paladin clenches his hand into a guantleted fist, slamming it into his side in frustration. He whirls to face Keef. "Absolutely not. Not ever. I'll...explain later Keef."

[Private to Keef: Later on that day, Zuriel will pull Keef aside and explain what really happened belowdecks.]

Maeve watches Chopin's punishment stoically, but then clears her throat.

"With respect, Captain Flanders, might I put in a request that you turn the prisoner over to my custody?  He did offer to work for me, and presumably the offer still stands.  I'd be most interested to know more about these Chain Breakers.  Once we reach Gaelia I'll see that he's dealt with. . . accordingly."

Maeve hopes that Zuriel etc. are quick enough on the uptake to realize that she's not been taken with a sudden desire for a slave of her own.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:27, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 163):

Keef wanders the ship trying to figure out which ropes should be tied to which other ropes.

According to the crew, "none" is the answer and "leave the damned ropes be."

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: When Zuriel explains things, Keef blinks.  Oh, well THAT's better then.]

Zuriel shoots Maeve a quick grateful look, but otherwise keeps his face a mask of impassivity.

[Private to Keef: Zuriel nods grimly. "Right. This is Maeve's homeland, and we can't do anything that will get her in trouble with her people but...we still have to do the right thing, when we can. We just have to be *very* careful, and *very* discreet."]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 165):

"If you want to spare him the auction block and take him yourself, that's all well and good," Captain Flanders says. "But I think we need to process him first. These Chainbreakers have crippled a ship of the line, and they'll have to pay for it. In this case, that payment will come in the form of information. When the Janissaries are done with him, though, he's yours."

"Splendid, and I agree. We have a deal," Maeve says, shaking with Captain Flanders.  She does, after all, genuinely want to have hard words with Chopin and to learn all there is to know about the Chainbreakers.

Flanders doesn't have to know that the prisoner may regain his freedom based on whether or not he solemnly swears to lay off harming Gaelian soldiers.

Maeve murmurs quickly to Zuriel once Flanders is preoccupied elsewhere.

"I hope you realize that this isn't as it seems.  That said, his freedom is contingent on his promising never to harm any of my fellow soldiers again.  If he can't do that, I'm content to leave him with the authorities."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:05, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

Zuriel nods almost imperceptibly. "I had no doubt," he murmurs back. "Thanks for doing what you can."

Maeve smiles sadly.

"I doubt he's going to want to talk to me right now, seeing as I'm his new "owner" and what not. But maybe he'll listen to you.  Please try and get him to understand that cooperation is in his best interests."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 169):

The rest of the voyage is uneventful, and soon both ships have pulled into the enormous harbor of Teziir. In addition to being an important port city involved in a staggeringly large number of cargo/freight transactions each day, Teziir is also the capital of Gaelia and home to the Sultan's palace.

The P.A.R.T.Y. disembarks, dazzled by the mixture of opulence and poverty around them. Teziir is a city at odds with itself. Like Ikuabai, it appears to be home to all sorts of people -- all races, all nations, all faiths, and all languages seem represented. The coppery hair, darker skin, and golden eyes that Maeve exhibits are common among the humanoids here, and the fashions convey a synthesis of practicality and fashion that even Lyriel can appreciate.

As in Ikuabai, there are several clear areas of activity: the harbor, the bazaar, and the palace's public gardens.

"This is where we part ways, Major," Captain Caleb says to Maeve. "Best of luck to you, ma'am. And give your father my best."

Your immediate surroundings include the hustle and bustle of the busy port in action, along with a variety of auction booths that seem to have been set up near the warehouses for folks who overestimated the storage space that would be available to them.

It is to one of these areas that Captain Flanders goes first, speaking apologetically to a merchant and gesturing to his clearly damaged ship. They seem to part amicably, and then the Captain returns to the group.

"Thousands, down the hatch, all thanks to you," he growls at his captive before looking at the P.A.R.T.Y. "Alright, I'm taking the dog for a walk. Coming?"

Without waiting for an answer, an agitated Flanders tugs on the chain attached to Chopin's traditional choke-collar -- harder than strictly necessary -- and sets off toward the nearest Janissary outpost.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:52, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

"Easy now," Maeve says to the Captain.  "I'll want him returned to me in one piece and able to work.  We'll meet you back here when you're done with the authorities."  It's the best she can do for now.


Pleased though she is to be back home, Maeve feels a little green around the gills from the whole mess.  Sekhmet preens disinterestedly and Wes just looks relieved to be back on solid ground.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:19, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

Zuriel summons Shahara in a flash of light and mounts up, trailing after Captain Flanders like a baleful, clanking shadow. Shahara, if it is possible for a horse without pupils to do so, looks as equally displeased as Zuriel, somehow mirroring his scowl, albeit in a more equine fashion. Doubtless the paladin has quickly filled the mare in on the relevant details.

So sorry this all cut into your profit margins, you son of a bitch.

Shahara snorts.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:58, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 172):

The Janissaries

Captain Flanders leads Chopin to a pavilion beyond which is a rather large tent, the entrance to which is flanked by two uniformed guards.

"Horatio Flanders, former first mate and acting captain of the SFS Damask," he says when questioned. "And a prisoner. A Chain Breaker who attacked our vessel."

The guards admit him, but move their polearms together to obstruct Zuriel's entry behind him. Captain Flanders does not turn to help, but continues to drag Chopin deeper into the tents.

"State your name, rank, and business," one of the guards says to Zuriel. "You don't look like a sailor to me."

"Knight-Defender Zuriel Silendril," Zuriel responds tersely, and then nods to Maeve. "Accompanying Major Hassan. Yes, that Hassan. I'm here to ensure her property isn't mishandled," Zuriel says, practically spitting the word.

He regards the Jannissary icily. "He needs to be fit for duty, after all," he says in a voice he tried but failed to keep free of sarcasm.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 174):

The Janissaries

"Welcome back, Major," the guard says, straightening his posture. "Didn't recognize you right away, nor were we aware you had taken a consort at last."

He glanced at Zuriel with obvious distaste, but tactfully said nothing. The polearms straightened a moment later to admit them into the tents.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:17, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

Zuriel follows Maeve, too agitated to even bother correcting the Jannisary's assumption that he was Maeve's consort. He tries to calm himself, taking deep breaths.

He's not a slaver, he's just doing his job. Don't take it out on him, you're not helping.

He bites his lower lip until he can taste blood.

Goddess, I need a drink.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 176):

The Janissaries

You walk down a corridor and duck into a side tent when you hear Horatio's voice.

"...amounting to a complete loss of the ship's cargo, a third of her crew -- including her captain -- and the main mast. She'll have to be completely retrofitted," Captain Flanders is saying to a bored-looking Janissary, while a dutiful clerk jots down every word.

"Right then," the Janissary says, dusting off his hands and beckoning over his shoulder. "Bring him to The Chamber. We'll see if this Chain Breaker knows more than the others."

They usher Chopin into a smaller tent, in which a coffin-sized box of steel is set upright. It looks a bit like an iron maiden, except that it lacks spikes. Instead, a single hole has been bored into the very top, in which a cork has been placed. A sliding square of metal is also built into the box approximately where the mouth and eyes would be located.

Chopin is quickly secured, and the box is closed. The faceplate is opened to reveal Chopin's wide eyes and chapped lips, but the cork is left in place.

"You're dismissed, Captain. See to the requisitions officer to do to the paperwork on having your ship repaired and reissued a proper crew. We'll process the captive."

"He belongs to Major Maeve Hassan," Captain Flanders says stiffly. "If you'd be so kind as to return him to her when you're done, I'd be grateful. In good working order, if at all possible."

The Janissary nods, and Flanders turns to leave. When he does so, he notices Zuriel and Maeve behind him and smiles.

"I told them about your prize, Major, never fear. Thanks again for your help. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've paperwork to handle."

With that, the man wanders off, leaving Maeve and Zuriel alone in the Chamber with Chopin and the Janissary.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:18, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

Maeve barks out a burst of semi-hysterical laughter at the guard's assumption.

"HA!  No, Sir Edrahil is my friend, a good friend, but no more," she hastily explains. "I mean. . him?"

God, what a day.

Maeve's day becomes rapidly worse when she sees Chopin shoved into the infamous Chamber.  She climbed into it herself once as a novice soldier on a dare from some of her fellows.  It didn't hurt, but it was more than a little claustrophobic.  Not an experience she'd like to repeat.

Maeve loves her homeland, she really does, but she guesses that to her friends, it must seem as though she's brought them all to a wretched hive of scum and villainy.

I need a sandwich.  And coffee.  Spiked coffee.


She nods curtly to the Janissary, then turns abruptly on her heel and rapidly exits the chamber, sinking to the ground outside and staring blankly into space.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:46, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

Zuriel follows Maeve outside after one last sympathetic look at Chopin. He exhales audibly back under the scorching sun, running his hands through his hair.

"We're doing what we can," he says miserably. "What do you say we find a place that does kebabs and coffee?"

She nods eagerly at the suggestion.

"Oh yes, let's."

Maeve considers picking up a sandwich for Chopin as well but since she doesn't know how long he'll be under questioning, she instead decides to buy him lunch when his ordeal is over.

In addition to the food, Maeve procures a couple of clay jars, which seem to be sold nearly everywhere.  Opening it up reveals a thick white salve.

"It's to protect against the sun," she says, tossing one to Zuriel, who catches it deftly.  "I'll tan if I'm here long enough, but that sun's going to be murder on your and Lyriel's complexion."

"Thanks," he replies gratefully, rubbing the salve in. It smelled odd, but pleasant, like one of the drinks Cassie mixed in Mah'mout's refuge. "The sooner we get Chopin back, the quicker we can get on with finding this temple. Which reminds me, have you heard from your father? I'm assuming you'll want to meet him at some point."

Zuriel's thoughts turn inevitably back to Chopin. "What exactly is the Chamber? Any idea how long this will take?" he asks dully.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:03, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

"Haven't spoken to him since I informed him that I was coming back to Gaelia," Maeve says.  "I'll have Lyriel prepare another Sending once we have Chopin business all sorted out.  I guess we'd better go back and wait for him to finish."

They return to the Janissary outpost and wait patiently for Chopin's interrogation to finish.  As they hang out awkwardly outside the outpost, Maeve explains the little she knows of the Chamber.

"There's not much to it.  It's just a box that you stand in.  Some other recruits locked me in it on a dare when I was maybe 15.  It was supposed to be for just a minute or so, but they ran out of the room and left me in there shrieking curses at them.  Bastards.  They came back about ten minutes later, figuring I'd have time enough to stew.  It's not painful, but it is uncomfortable.  Especially with someone shouting questions at you."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:13, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 182):

"The Chamber's psychological, Major," one of the guards chimes in, overhearing. "Criminals don't like being caged in, and they realize they're entirely at our mercy throughout the ordeal. Plus the funnel in the top is perfect for applying topical... ointments, we'll call them. But only if needed."

The other guard shakes his head.

"Never heard of 'em doing that, though. It's not really needed."

After about two hours, Chopin is led back to the entrance. He looks none the worse for the wear, except for a fearful paranoia in his eyes.

"Here you are, Major," the Janissary says. "He was cooperative enough, but then again, that's what The Chamber's for."

He clears his throat.

"In light of his questioning, we're convicting him on one count of piracy, one count of destruction of the Sulan's property, ten counts of assault on a Gaelian officer, one count of attempted murder, one count of first-degree murder concerning a Gaelian officer, and 60 counts of aiding and abetting runaway slaves. I'll leave the sentencing to you, being that you've already decided it will involve indentured servitude. How many years shall I book him for?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:32, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

"Oh, I see no reason to put him down for more than ten, with the option to extend halfway through that period," Maeve says easily.  "Though I'm sure he will have learned his lesson by then."  She and Zuriel wait while this information is duly recorded, then walk away from the outpost.  When they are a satisfactory distance away, Maeve steers both men into a shaded alcove.

"First things first, remove that collar.  It can't be comfortable, and it doesn't suit you.  But more importantly, you won't need it," she says to Chopin.  Maeve looks pointedly at him until he does as she says.

"Now you may be thinking that you can use this opportunity to run now that you're not collared.  Wouldn't advise it.  You're not a slave--I find it both distasteful and unnecessary--but you're not exactly free to run about as you please either.  We need to have a talk, you and I.  And if you try to bolt, I'll have no compunctions about cutting you down.  You're still a murderer, and the law would be on my side. Is that clear?"

Maeve waits for some acknowledgement of her command.


"Excellent. You must be hungry. I take it that they didn't offer you anything to eat?  Chopin shakes his head.  "Of course not.  You'd think they'd learn that men are more willing to be cooperative on a full stomach.  We'll do our questioning a bit more elegantly."

Maeve, as promised, purchases Chopin a gyro and a steaming cup of coffee.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 184):

"A decade for murder and piracy and more?" the Janissary says, jotting it down with a shrug. "The Major is feeling generous today. Count your lucky stars."

The paperwork completed, Maeve and Zuriel are free to take Chopin out for his aforementioned Gyro.

Chopin looks at the fare before him, but doesn't eat or drink.

"What... er... that is..."

He looks at Zuriel and narrows his eyes.

"Not that I'm ungrateful for the broken chain, but that other highborn DISINTEGRATED the captain, then reattached my hand. And this one's been moping around ever since. Then your pair of mages are so aloof that I can't judge what's what, and you're an officer of the law. All Gaelians are slavers, though some are only complacently so. I don't even know what to think right now."

He struggles internally for a while, then grabs the gyro and takes a hearty bite.

"So I'm not dead and I'm not chained up. That's a start. What do you want to know?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:51, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

"We thought you were pirates," Zuriel says by way of lame explanation. "You certainly looked the part. We had no reason to think there would be any other reason you'd be attacking a Gaelian merchant marine vessel. I...had no idea there was an organization dedicated to freeing slaves."

"So I guess start with who you are?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 186):

"Chopin," the man says simply. "Who're you?"

Maeve rolls her eyes.

"Yes, that's very helpful; thanks Chopin.  Zuriel, let the man finish eating his meal and let's get back to the docks before we start talking business.  I think the others will want to hear this too."

[Let's assume that Maeve asked the helpful dudes at the outpost what Dad is up to/where he is]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:13, Tue 09 Dec 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 188):

Coming as a surprise to exactly nobody, Keef vanishes into the swirling crowds as soon as the P.A.R.T.Y.s collective backs are turned.

In reply to Keef (msg # 189):

Chopin eats, drinks, and follows Maeve wherever she leads him.

Once Chopin has eaten and drunk his fill--looking considerably better for having done so--the three head back to the docks where they parted ways with the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y and their assorted livestock.  Sekhmet chirp-purrs in delight as Maeve pats the griffon's head.  Boreas is loitering around looking a bit bored, and Lyriel is examining various items with interest.

"Sorry that took so long.  My *consort* and I had to wait for the Janissaries to finish."  She doesn't actually use air quotes on the word "consort," but the vocal implication is there.

"I suppose you're right that introductions are in order," Maeve says to Chopin.  "Me, you already know.  The matched pair of highborn are Zuriel and Lyriel.  Boreas is the fellow with the eye patch.  And Keef--"  Maeve trails off.

"Keef is the one who is not here."

She glares at Boreas, easily the most perceptive member of the group, for failing to notice Keef's disappearance.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 191):

"Yes, the Order-initiated cabin boy. Him, I knew. He introduced himself several times during the journey," Chopin says simply. "I won't say well met, as you lot essentially slaughtered my closest friends over an easy-to-clear-up misunderstanding. But I will say hello."

He blinks at Maeve.

"And thank you for lunch, I suppose."

Lyriel looks up from a nearby stand displaying brightly colored silken scarves. She frowns at Chopin's quip. Might I suggest dressing as something other than a pirate next time, then? she says, somewhat icily. What happened was regretable  all around, I'll admit, but you do share some of the blame in killing Gaelian sailors. Surely there are less bloody ways to free slaves.

The priestess' eyes flick up to the burning sun near the zenith of the cloudless sky. We'll never find Keef in this crowd, unless he sets something on fire or lets a lion loose. In which case we'll find him without having to look.

She nods towards the heart of the city. Let's secure lodgings for the night. I'll Send to Keef once we've found where we're staying, but for Tassada's  sake let's get out of this sun. I'm burning up.

(Assuming Zuriel provides her with the salve Maeve procured), Lyriel will liberally smear her fair skin in as much of the stuff as she can rub in.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 193):

"One doesn't have to be dressed in a uniform to not be a pirate," Chopin snaps. "Why would that be the first place your mind goes?"

He lowers his eyes at his garments.

"These clothes are all I can afford. It may surprise you to learn that the profit margins of the chain-breaking business aren't particularly high."

Chopin narrows his eyes.

"And no. There are not less bloody ways of freeing slaves, where Galeia is concerned. Removing them at sea is the best way, and it's always a tussle 'til the end. Most of us can't disintegrate inconveniences on command."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:29, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

A flag then? Lyriel suggests mildly. What's done is done. And though mistakes were made on both sides, the reality is even if we had known what you were, with Maeve's position on the line there would have been little we could do other than arrest your companions. Though it's the slavers who ought to be arrested in a just world.

Lyriel sighs, rubbing her temples. Come on, fighting over this is useless.

The priestess' keen eye quickly catalogues the local fashion, and she alters her glamor to emulate several gaggles of fashionable women she sees in the market. Long flowing pants of amethyst silk and a sheer robe-like top of the same color comprise her new ensemble. Though Lyriel elects to leave her midriff exposed like the locals (on which she promptly slathers sun ointment), she does ensure that her top isn't quite completely translucent in all the areas. Some of these other women were leaving rather little to the imagination indeed.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 195):

"I'm sure a chain-breaking flag would go over well," Chopin nods sarcastically, before turning to Maeve. "I'm confused, mistress. Is interacting with my friends' murderers part of my initiation into slavery? Or am I free to just... walk away?"

"Please do not call me that," Maeve says, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.  "Or was removing that collar not obvious enough?

The truth is Chopin, I'm not really sure what to do with you.  My intent was to get you away from the Janissaries the only way I knew how--by pretending that I was going to take you on as an indentured servant. Clearly I don't intend to do that.  But, you and *your* friends did murder a bunch of *my* countrymen.  Regardless of the trade in which they were engaged, that makes me *very* displeased. So clearly I can't just let you go off on your own.  I have no guarantee that you won't immediately start murdering more soldiers."

"So unless anyone has a better idea, here's what I propose. I desperately need a drink. Let's go find that inn of Lyriel's.  We'll have dinner--as equal, free men--and you'll tell us about these Chain Breakers.  Then, we'll tell you about our plans here in Gaelia. It's not overly dramatic to say that the fate of the world is at stake.  Depending on your inclination, you may even be able to help. Sound good?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 197):

"Would it matter if it didn't?" Chopin says. "Slave or no, I seem to be in your collective power for the time being. Lead on."

Maeve decides that ripping off Chopin's head would be counterproductive to her attempts to form an alliance.  But as her words are getting them nowhere, she falls silent and leads them to an inn that she recalls being decent, if not up to Lyriel's standards.  She keeps pace with Boreas, in the mood to keep company with someone who doesn't mind being quiet and stoic.

Chopin she leaves in the elves' company.  Maybe Zuriel can make more headway with the not-pirate.

Zuriel, at a loss for words, elects to remain silent for once. He needs some time to think.

Instead, he takes up a position in the back of the procession as rearguard, a tile having nothing at all to do with the unobstructed view such a marching order offered to the back of Lyriel's new attire.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 200):

Maeve leads the P.A.R.T.Y. (minus Keef) to an adequate inn named The Desert Rose, which is nestled on the outskirts of the bustling city center and boasts a thoroughly acceptable balance of food, comfort, and privacy.

Rooms are easily obtained, and soon the group finds itself sitting at a long table, munching happily on a variety of kabobs and curries with rice, spicy flatbread, and three different kinds of hummus. Strangely, neither wine nor beer nor liquor appear on the menu, though you see patrons enjoying them here and there in the dining area.

There is a separate area upstairs where the sleeping chambers are, and a secondary dining area off to one side that seems reserved for patrons looking to enjoy a little hookah -- patrons in the smoking room are attended by a decidedly less professional waitstaff that makes up for the lack of skill with a lack of clothing, but you catch only the faintest glimpse of this as the area is obscured by silks and beaded tapestries.

Maeve is content to let Zuriel do most of the talking during their meal, but she kicks things off with the question that's on everyone's mind.

"So these, Chain Breakers," she begins.  "They are unprecedented.  I mean, there's always been abolitionist sentiment as you well know, but it's mostly limited to the occasional street corner preacher or clandestine meetings by night.  Never anything so public or clearly well-funded.  That was a kitted-out ship you attacked with.  It's almost impressive.  Actually, no, it *is* impressive."

She chews thoughtfully on a hunk of pita bread.

"So how did it come to be?"

Lyriel fills her plate with a substantial mound of food, having grown quite fond of Gaelian fare and eager for fresh, non-conjured ingredients.

She gazes around the establishment, taking in the decor and patronage, and nods to herself, deciding that the inn met her standards. She looks at the hookahs curiously, having never seen a water pipe before. The combination of aromatic smoke and soft music coming from the beaded partition was intriguing.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 203):

"We've been operating for a while now," Chopin says, helping himself to a mouthful of naan. "News of our activities tends to be suppressed, when there's any news to speak of at all. Other times, the news is reported differently than you might suspect."

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

"Just last year, for example, the army had one of our liberated camps torn down stone to mortar. Later heard that it was being billed as an operation to resettle a contingent of refugees from Kordica."

Chopin shakes his head.

"Yeah, we have some resources at our disposal. There are more abolitionists than the Sultan appreciates, and many more who are sympathetic to the cause without being willing to throw their hat into the ring themselves."

Zuriel blinks, pointedly avoiding looking at Maeve. "So you aren't able to get the freed slaves out of Gaelia proper?" he asks, furrowing his  brow.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 205):

"Now why would we go and do a silly thing like that?" Chopin says innocently. "It's blood, sweat, and tears that'll bring about real change, not fleeing in poverty to Aestrena or Drynn to live as servants to the wealthy."

He shakes his head and smiles.

"No, the best way to be heard... is to make a lot of noise."

"You can make a lot of noise without leaving your civilians in danger," Zuriel says introspectively. A sudden thought occurs to him, and wheels begin to turn in his mind. "I know of a place that's hiring," he says with a faint grin. "But getting there would be the hard part."

Maeve has a pretty good idea who was responsible for crushing the settlement of liberated slaves.  It's painfully obvious that Zuriel's trying to avoid looking at her.

Really though, what did he expect?

Zuriel sits back on his cusions, taking a long sip of the steaming tea provided with the meal. "So the way I see it, we have three goals here. First, to reconnect Maeve with her father. Second, find this hidden temple...wherever the legends say it may be. Lastly, we need to figure out what to do with Chopin."

Zuriel stretches his mind  out towards the dark void that is the Everstaff's conscioussness. Anything you can tell us about this place would be helpful. You've had some time now to sort through your restored memories. What have you learned?

He then remembers that Keef is not actually with the PARTY. He sighs explosively. "Lyriel, can you let him know where we are?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Thu 11 Dec 2014.

Maeve nods.  "I think I have an idea of what kind of employment Zuriel has in mind.  Lo'driel was pretty decimated by the war, and they're in the process of rebuilding.  Builders, farmers, they have need for all sorts.  Honest work for honest wages.  If your people are looking to make their way in the world as free men, I can't think of a better place to do so."

"Thing is," she continues, "assuming I say you're free to go, what's to stop you from going out this very night and murdering another soldier?  What's to stop you from slitting my throat right here at the table? Or later tonight once everyone has gone to sleep? I mean, this lot would probably kill you if you did so but you'd have still taken down a high-ranking member of the oppression. I can't think of a better martyrdom to rally the Chain Breakers."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 210):

"There's always risks associated with freedom," Chopin says, wiping his mouth with a napkin before folding his hands in his lap. "Whether they're worth it or not is up to you."

He smiles slightly.

"I will say that I gain nothing by murdering soldiers in the dead of the night. The Chain Breakers are actually loathe to kill unless in doing so an equal or greater amount of life can be saved."

"Speaking of accomplishing the most good, I'm decently sure we can convince Chopin that remaining with us of his own will is his best bet for accomplishing his goals while staying out of trouble," Zuriel murmurs, giving the ex-chainbreaker a long introspective look.

"But we have to look to our other issues as well. Maeve, have you figured out where your father is stationed? We ought to pay him a visit. We also need to figure out where to find this lost city. Is there an archive, or archaological society, or treasure hunting society that might have some answers? The book is turning up blank, which means that the answer isn't known for sure by anybody. It sounds like we're going to have to do some research and put some leads together."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Thu 11 Dec 2014.

As distasteful as it might be, perhaps we ought to ask the Everstaff to start with, Lyriel suggests. Surely it could at least give us *something* to go on. I'll call Keef. Goddess willing, he hasn't gotten himself in any sort of trouble.

The priestess spends the next ten minutes muttering under her breath, casting a spell from the comfort of her cushioned sofa. She conveys to Keef the name of the establishment, it's general direction from the wharf, and a request to please hurry.

The priestess' eyes snap open as she concludes her spell. Alright, I've let Keef know where we are, and asked him to come as soon as he can.

Lyriel turns to Maeve. I have one more Sending today, did you want to contact your father?

[OOC - Keef, you can assume IC you know where you are. Maeve, incorporate  a 25 word message in your post and Lyriel will Send it to your dad]

"I don't know, Zuriel.  It's not as though he leaves convenient little notes with every outpost saying where he'll be traveling to next."

Sending seems the most useful method of communication at this point, so Maeve will have Lyriel prepare the following:

Back in Gaelia, with companions. Important matters to discuss.  Where are you stationed? We will meet you there.

Maeve scrubs tiredly at her face before seeming to come to a decision of some sort.  She counts out and presses $100 into Chopin's hands.

"You're right.  Sometimes we do have to take chances."

"Go on, Chopin.  Unless Zuriel or anyone else has any more ideas for lawful employment, you're free to go.  Buy yourself some decent clothes, maybe a horse, whatever you need to get on your feet.  Probably a good idea to lay low for a while, to get out of the city.  Steer clear of the Janissaries.  If they catch you again, you'll tell them that you somehow managed to escape. You will leave me out of this.  I doubt they'd believe that I let you go anyway."

She quirks a half smile.

"I do have a reputation to maintain, after all.  Oh, and Chopin?  Don't make me regret this."

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 214):

Keef halts dead in his tracks to listen to the sending.  The young man driving the cart behind him, having the additional duties of momentum imposed by his horse, cart and wares, is not able to stop so quickly and instead veers off to one side where he smashes in slow motion into a vendor selling summer fruits.

By the time the horse is extracted from the vendor's wares and the vendor's wares are extracted from the cart, Keef has bolted off.

Zuriel rises along with Chopin. "I'd be happy to show him out."

[Private to DM, Keef: Zuriel nods meaningfully towards the door to Chopin. Once the two are on the street outside, Zuriel leads down the road a ways. "Alright, I've been thinking...I think I have a way that you can continue to make a difference here with the slaves, but it's going to require guile, finesse, and no small amount of discretion. What do you say, are you interested? Or would you prefer to go your own way? I completely understand if you do, but...at least let me show you what I have in mind."]

Boreas watches impassively as Zuriel and Chopin go.  All the while, the same question nags at his mind.

Chopin... not from here clearly.  Where could he be from?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 218):

Chopin and Zuriel chat for a few minutes outside, and then the paladin returns to the table.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: "I'll hear you out," Chopin says. "But it's been a rough day. If it's all the same to you, perhaps we could arrange your demonstration for another time. I'm sure your associates have the power required to contact me should the need arise."

With a polite bow, he heads off.]

In reply to DM (msg # 219):

Keef eventually meanders into the inn, aligning nicely with the response to Lyriel's sending.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper; Maeve Hassan: Welcome home! On patrol south of Caelah. You port into Teziir?]

"Dad's on patrol south of Caelah, it would seem.  That's to the southeast of here.  Not too far all things considered."

When this pronouncement is met with nothing but polite interest, Maeve does not elaborate further.

"Regarding this temple, I had one last thought on how to maybe locate it.  It's silly but. . . .it might work." She pulls from her bag the volume that Boreas came upon her reading at the coffee shop in Ikuabai.

"It's the Two Thousand Tales of Griselda the Gregarious," she explains.  "I thought I might read through it to try and find any stories related to temples in the desert.  Some of these tales have loosely based on fact."

"Of course, I'm only up to "The Tale of the Eviscerated Vizier."

"Well, going there would get us closer to the center of the desert," Zuriel muses. "So going there would probably be on the way. The problem remains, though, that we don't know for sure where the 'way' is eventually supposed to lead. Geographically speaking, at least."

He speaks up, specifically addressing the Everstaff. "You mentioned before you thought you could recognize it, but that's still an awful lot of ground to cover, much of it in very unpleasant environments. So we need to try to narrow down the search. We ought to consult historical archives, archaologists, treasure hunters...hell, Maeve is right, even legends and stories might give us an idea  of what to look for. Maeve, any idea where we could find libraries, or archives or..." he shrugs. "Any of that?"

Zuriel glances back to the Everstaff. "Anything you remember would be helpful. Names, approximate locations, stories...anything we can go on to start with inquiries more specific than 'that place, you know the one, with the ruins and stuff, in that desert.'"

The paladin frowns in frustration. "The Book of Answers has been less than helpful, but I might be able to start getting more useful information if we uncover more clues. For example, if the ruins of what was once the temple and its city are now known as something else entirely, and we can determine what it is known as, the book would have a better chance of being able to give us an actual location."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:10, Mon 15 Dec 2014.

Boreas listens as his companions set to planning.

Nice to finally see Gaelia, though I don't know my way around at all.  Still, the coffee is delicous.

He takes a sip from his cup, leaning back in his chair.

"Right then.  Here's what we'll do.  Let's spend tomorrow searching through all the likely repositories for information on this temple which ostensibly exists.  Between the five of us, we should be able to make good progress."

[OOC: Given that Teziir is the capital city, I'm going to assume that it would have a university or, failing that, a Library of Congress equivalent.  Failing that, an official archive.  Failing THAT, used bookstores. Maeve will suggest we direct our attentions there, in that order.]

"Lyriel, today or tomorrow could you please let my father know that we will be making our way down to meet him?  Conveniently it's in more or less the right direction."

"So if that sounds like a plan, I'm going to turn in.  I still have 1,873 tales to work through.  Oh look, "The Tale of the Hundred Severed Heads. . ."

Gaelian folklore, it seems, is not really what the rest of you are used to.

Tale of the Severed Heads?  That's a good one.

The Two Thousand Tales was one of Boreas' favorite books growing up.  It might not be surprising to learn that the Krall family library tended to include more violent and macabre works than most.

Oh it's a splendid story!" Maeve gushes.  She quickly explains:

"It's all about a murderer who decapitated his victims and threw the heads down a well.  One night he stumbles and falls into the well, and the heads come back to life and chew him to death."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 227):

Keef leans forward on his elbows, wide-eyed.

And then?

'. . . . .well, the heads ripped him apart, so I guess he was dead."

"But that's nothing compared to the story of the young man who wed a lovely princess, only to discover that his new wife was in fact a were-camel.  That. . .that did not end well for him. . ."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 229):

Oh... but AFTER they chewed him to death... what happened to the heads?

In reply to Keef (msg # 230):

"THAT is a question that's been under debate for years."

The voice belongs to an elderly woman -- one might have called her a crone if she'd been blessed with more warts -- with white, dirty hair and a wrinkled complexion. She stands up from her place at a nearby table and, with considerable difficulty, hobbles her hunched self over toward the table where the P.A.R.T.Y. is gathered.

"The reigning theory is that the heads had been animated by the force of their hunger for revenge alone, and once satiated, returned to their inert state," she continues, oblivious to the slack-jawed reception her present has received thus far. She leans on her gnarled walking stick and hunches over the table conspiratorially. "But personally, I've always felt there were more subtle machinations at play."

"The name's Zelda," she says, standing as straight as her stooped back will allow. "Mystic, soothesayer, fortune teller, and current chairwoman of the Gaelian Authority on Lore & Legend."

She looks over the group with a calculating expression on her features.

"You look like a decent group, and youngsters studying the classic tales warms my heart. Would you be interested in swinging by a society chapter meeting? Our next one's schedule to be held in Hilda's Apothecary and Candy Shoppe down in the bazaar at dusk tomorrow. Bring that book and any questions you might have -- I promise you'll learn something interesting by the time the meeting's over."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Mon 15 Dec 2014.

Zuriel rises politely as Zelda come to the table. "Well met Zelda. Please, join us." He takes a seat as the old woman perches on a pile of cushions.

"I am Zuriel Silendril, Knight-Defender of Ma'or. Such a gathering would indeed be of interest, in more ways than one. I look forward to the meeting."

I wonder if the other stories native to this land are equally...macabre. What a horrid tale to tell to a child...

"Much obliged, Ms. Zelda," Maeve says politely, scooting over to make room for the elderly woman.  "We would be most pleased to attend the meeting tomorrow.  It will be fascinating to discuss some of our lore.  I'm afraid my companions haven't had the pleasure of hearing some of our more. . .startling tales."

Zuriel greets the old woman with warmth, but looks ever so slightly green at the recap of the tale of the severed heads.

"Cheer up Zuriel.  Not all of the stories are so glum! In "The Tale of the Walking Bones," the hero gets to go back to his home village to live out his days in peace.  Albeit as an animated skeleton, but that's beside the point."

Still, Maeve can't quite suppress a shudder as she flips past "The Straw Man of Al-Serrah's Field."  That particular story caused her no small amount of terror as a small child.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 233):

Necromancy, Keef agrees with nobody in particular.  It seems very strong here... possibly a warping of the planes...

In reply to Keef (msg # 234):

"Oh, I can't stay, dearheart. There's an ill omen in the stars tonight, and I must get home to make the necessary preparations. But tomorrow, we shall discuss much and more."

With that, the hag limps out of the tavern.

OOC: Anything else you want to do between now and then?

In reply to DM (msg # 235):

Unless the conversation directly involves Keef or someone stops him, Keef will slip back out the door to wander some more.

Farewell, Boreas says to the old woman, and thank you for your counsel.

[OOC]Nope, good to go for me.[/OOC]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 237):

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, as does the next day when it finally dawns. Soon enough, evening falls once more, and it is time to seek out Hilda's Shoppe.

Maeve wakes up quite refreshed and well-rested for someone whose pre-bedtime reading consisted of "The Tale of the Creeping Grave Worms."  She spends the day showing anyone who cares to the sights of Teziir, including the Sultan's palace, the bazaar, and the horse market, in an attempt to show off the nicer side of cosmopolitan Gaelian life.

When evening falls, she finds herself standing before a nondescript shop door with the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y, the Two Thousand Tales tucked under her arm.  She raises a hand and knocks at the door.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 239):

Keef, finding himself hopelessly and joyously lost in the buzz and bustle of the city, elects not to return to the hotel at all.

The next morning (neither bright nor early) a local shopkeep notices an odd shimmering in the general vicinity of his wine barrels.  Upon closer inspection the shimmering takes the form of a reddish wooden door.  The shopkeep gives a yelp and falls backward on his rather ponderous behind when the door swings open and a young boy in Order robes clambers sleepily out.

What time is it?  Keef asks, rubbing his eyes.  He squints at the sun.

Oh... I'll go then.

Keef snaps his fingers and the doorway vanishes.  He then skips off down the street before the man can formulate a proper sentence.

By evening, Keef plods up to the appointed address.

In reply to Keef (msg # 240):

Hilda's Shoppe looks exactly like it sounds, containing a sprawling, cluttered expanse of figurines, star charts, incense, and water pipes along with an impressive selection of herbal and psychedelic teas. While not a book shop or a library, per se, there is no small number of books on the various shelves, most of which seem to be about spirituality and folklore.

"So glad you could make it!" Zelda says, hobbling over to great her guests. "Come, come, we're gathering in the back room."

The back room appears to be part of the same room, in an area cordoned off by creative use of bookshelves that double as walls. Before you can actually cross the boundary, however, Zelda whirls and levels her walking stick at each of you.

"The conversations can get heated, I warn you, but mind your manners and keep a civil tongue, and you'll do fine. And none of that newfangled slang. Right then, off you go."

The P.A.R.T.Y. passes the bookshelves to find a group of people seated on beanbag chairs and cushions in a loosely organized circle, many of whom are leaning with their backs to the surrounding shelves.

All eyes look up to great Zelda, and turn with polite curiosity to the newcomers. As the group is only about a dozen people large, the P.A.R.T.Y. adds sizable girth to the assembly.

"It is my distinct honor and pleasure to introduce you to Alcott, Louisa, May, Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy, Emmit, Nat, Dan, Tom, and Rob," Zelda says, pointing out an elderly dwarf, six human women, a dark elf, and four human men of varying ages. Each acknowledges their introduction politely.

"My friends here were discussing the underlying philosophic principles of the Two Thousand Tales over dinner at the Desert Rose," she explains, referencing the tavern and inn where the P.A.R.T.Y. spent the night. "They seemed to perfect fit, but I'll let them introduce themselves. Since Hilda isn't here yet, we might as well pass some time getting to know one another."

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Nobody radiates evil of a divine nature, but the dark elf has definitely taken notice of you and Lyriel's lineage. Still, he looks more intrigued than aggressive, and there's something about him that seems oddly familiar -- though you can't quite put your finger on it.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:46, Wed 17 Dec 2014.

Boreas regards all of the little men and women for a moment, inclining his head by way of greeting.  A pleasure to meet you all.  He takes a seat on one of the bean bag chairs.

"Hello," Maeve says with a small wave.  "It's lovely to meet all of you."

Still, there's a niggling feeling--brought upon by a combination of the elderly gathering, the odd smells, and her bedtime stories-- that she and her companions have stumbled into a witches' coven.

"I'm Maeve," she says, and then proceeds to introduce the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y in turn.

[Wasn't the inn we were staying at called the Desert Rose?  I know this because the song has been in my head ever since Aaron wrote it down.  AaaaalaaaaiiiiEEEEaaaaalaaaaaeeeiiiii!!]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 242):

Keef.

Keef looks around to see who was talking.

What?  Oh... me.

Keef sinks into a beanbag chair and seems to be having great difficulty keeping from sinking all the way into it.

Zuriel nods politely to the assembled group. An interesting bunch...but this might be exactly the type of place for the unusual answers we need.

The dark elf in particular was of interest to Zuriel. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen him somewhere before. He keeps his gaze friendly and demeanor pleasant, comforted somewhat by the fact that none of the book club registered divinely evil.

But then, I wouldn't have expected them to be.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he says with a smile. "I am Zuriel Silendril, Knight-Defender of Ma'or. I'm quite intrigued to hear more of this land's literary tradition."

Zuriel focuses on the faces turned to him as he introduces himself, particularly the dark elf, wondering what responses, if any, are provoked by his name, rank, or Goddess.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Wed 17 Dec 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 245):

"What, is it a festival day? I didn't dress the part," the dwarf mumbles, nodding toward Zuriel. "I like how you've blended fashions old and new into your ensemble, however. You must be a skilled tailor."

In reply to DM (msg # 246):

He is, Keef agrees.

Lyriel arches an eyebrow at the dwarf, unsure whether or not to take his comment as sarcasm but not particularly liking his tone.

That's rather the point, I'm pleased you picked up on it, Lyriel replies neutrally, deciding to take his compliment at face value. An ancient Order reborn needs a blend of the traditional and the modern when it comes to attire, I should think.

She gives the dwarf a small smile, almost daring him to press the issue.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 248):

"Oh yeah, sure, no arguing that," the dwarf nods. "I figured that's what you were trying to depict. Some suitably ancient sect that sounds like it could have been pulled from the days of the Sho-"

He pauses, noticing Maeve's insignia, and corrects himself.

"of yore."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:18, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

Zuriel grins in bemusement. "I'm quite certain that she's not going to arrest you for mentioning the Shogunate, sir. History is history. Censorship has no place in academics."

Maeve nods reassuringly at the dwarf.

"No harm done."

"So, how exactly do these meetings proceed?  Do you select a piece of lore and start discussing?"

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 251):

"Typically, we wait for Hilda to arrive, and talk about whatever she's decided the day's topic will cover. Though while we're waiting, anything will do," Zelda says with a smile. "Did you have something near and dear to your heart you wanted to bring up?"

"A couple of things, really. I suppose we're most interested in antiquity. That is to say, the time period around the Shogunate, so I hope we can get over mentioning it. Specifically, there are three gods worshipped in those times we don't believe are actually dead, just dormant. Ma'or, Cedrick, and Ka. The first two we know for a fact are still forces in this world."

"Ma'or's I can prove to you now." Zuriel opens his palm, and radiant white glow begins emanating from the paladin. He holds the energy for a few minutes, golden eyes turned pure white, before letting it fade.

"Her Church is reborn, after all these millenia. We still know precious little about the original Church, however. As I understand it, this land once hosted many of her faithful. Any stories or legends, even hearsay you could impart would be welcome."

He nods to the PARTY. "The other thing we're seeking is a lost city of Ka's disciples. It supposedly included a temple. I don't know what it was once called, where it was, or what happened to it, other than it was forgotten long ago. We're trying to rediscover it, for research."

"Also, young Keef here has made a special study of lions," Maeve adds.  "I daresay any tales involving the great cats would not go awry."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 254):

Keef nods vigorously.

Chubbs, long silent, croaks loudly.

And toads, Keef translates.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 253):

The group watches Zuriel's light show politely before addressing his statements.

"Oh look, he's incorporated illusionary magics with his costume," one of the women exclaims, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. "How droll! Well done, dear!"

"It's a good line," the dwarf concedes. "But you'll wanna be careful who you go spouting off to about founding new churches and restoring lost gods. Some folks take that mighty serious."

"There are few surviving tales of the gods of the ancients," Zelda says after a moment. "Those we have consist mostly of folktale-style sagas depicting a heroic, bedraggled Cedrick attempting to protect the populace from the well-meaning but naive Ma'or and her ravenous paramour, Ka. They are quaint tales, to be sure, but they're not religious texts. Whatever their adherents once actually believed has been lost to time."

"Not anymore," the dark elf says in a cryptic, unnatural voice. His eyes appear clouded, with no pupil to be seen, though he handles himself as though his sight were unimpaired. "Or, not for long. As always, I see much that otherwise would be shrouded."

He pauses for dramatic effect, and holds out his hand toward the P.A.R.T.Y.

"Consider this enigma, my friends: A paladin of Ma'or... a cleric of Tassada... General Hassan's daughter... a mage of the Order... and a mage bound to another plane... walked into a dusty shoppe in the Jewel of the East with incredible claims. Ancient gods to birth, and temples to dig out of the swirling dunes. What could it mean?"

The corners of his eyes wrinkle, indicating a smile though you cannot see his mouth.

"Hypothetically, of course."

"Oh stop it," Zelda says, making a shushing gesture. "You'll spook them. Pay Emmit no mind. He likes to make a fuss."

She clears her throat and turns to Keef.

"There are MANY tales about lions. Which is your favorite?"

Zuriel cranes his neck in surprise at the dark elf. The paladin stands up to pour himself some tea, and when he sits back down it is to relocate himself next to Emmit.

"It means that the world is changing. For good or ill, I don't yet know. You see much, friend Emmit," Zuriel says softly. "I would hear more."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:09, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

Maeve is prepared to dismiss Emmit's spiel as no more than an attempt to be dramatic and mystic.  But something nags at her and by the time everyone's finished speaking, she's realized what it is.

"How did you know that Boreas has ties to another plane?" she asks.  "The rest of us, it's easy enough to tell our affiliations from our attire.  But nobody said anything about his bond, and, well.." Maeve gestures at Boreas' nondescript green and brown garb.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 257):

A groan goes up from the assembly, and Zelda sighs, "Now you've done it..."

Emmit, for his part, clambers slowly to his feat and faces Zuriel directly, staring straight at or past the paladin his swirling, unfocused eyes.

"I see many and much, but by no means all,
Like nine sleek towers, strong and tall
Each affixed to a point on a nine-sided star
And the light from this star, which one shone so bright
Seems muted and dull, and consumed by the night"

He strains as if listening to something, then takes his seat.

"No more can I see at the present, my friends. But I'm eager to learn what the vision portents."

"Is that Emmit I hear prattling?" a female voice says from near the entrance to the shop, followed by the shutting of the door.

A moment later, a middle-aged, rotund woman adorned with more bangles than hair pops behind the bookshelves.

"Newcomers!" she smiles. "Welcome, welcome, one and all."

Hilda takes the only vacant seat left, sits down, and takes the hands of her companions to either side.

"If you'll all join hands, we'll get started."

Zuriel looks shaken at Emmit's proclamation, but refrains from asking more as the lady who he assumes must be Hilda arrives. Mutely and skeptically, he agrees to link hands with the people next to him.

Maeve studies Emmit thoughtfully for a moment or two longer before taking the hands of whoever the hell she sat down next to.

Gods I hope this isn't a coven. . . .

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 261):

Everyone grasps hands, and Hilda begins to hum softly. The group chants along with her, though the words seem like nonsense noises. Those of you who have not closed your eyes notice that everyone else's eyes are closed... except for Emmit's. Still, he chants along with the rest.

A powerful divination aura coalesces around the group, and Hilda's humming is replaced by sing-song words, singing against the backdrop of the chanting.

"We complete the circle, again, again
What tales shall we hear today?
What lore from the ancients shall we unlock?
If you have a preference, say!"

Hilda begins to hum again, but the chanting stops. Then Zelda's voice perks up.

"The Tin Soldier Tale."

Hilda's humming changes, and the chanting begins anew. Soon, Hilda begins to sing.

"Listen, people, to a story that was written long ago
About a kingdom on a mountain, and the valley far below
On this mountain was a treasure, buried deep beneath the stone
And the valley people swore they'd have it for their very own"

The chanting cadence grows louder.

"So the people of the valley sent a message up the hill
Asking for the buried treasure, tons of gold for which they'd kill
Came the answer from the mountain: 'With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of the mountain and all the riches buried there'"

The chanting thunders into a climatic movement.

"Then the valley roared in anger: 'Mount your horses, draw your swords!'
And they killed the mountain people. Thus they earned their just reward
Now they stand before the treasure, on the mountain, dark and red
Turned the stones and looked beneath them..."

She holds the pause for a while before continuing.

"... Peace on Prime. That's all it said."

Hilda begins to hum again, then repeats the cadence from the very beginning of the circle.

"We complete the circle, again, again
What tales shall we hear today?
What lore from the ancients shall we unlock?
If you have a preference, say!"

Hilda begins to hum again, as before, and the chanting falls away. Emmit, his eyes open, seems to nod at the P.A.R.T.Y. encouragingly. It is, it seems, your chance to ask for a story.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:28, Fri 19 Dec 2014.

Hearing the traditional tale sung in its entirety gives Boreas a new appreciation of the Two Thousand Tales.  Thinking for a moment, his eyes pop open.

I've got it!

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, 'The Tale of the Twenty-Seven Virgins and One Slutty Chick.'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Fri 19 Dec 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 263):

The chanting and humming procedure repeats itself as the tale is told:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, weak and weary,
Past many a quaint and curious brothels by the shore -
    Asking women, dressed for napping, whether they would like some tapping,
Or maybe someone gently rapping, rapping at their chamber door.
“A paying customer,” I muttered, “tapping at your chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate woman slammed upon my face the door.
    I must admit I felt dejection, on the 27th rejection
    From my objects of affection, 'til I happened on a whore
Twas the rare and wanton maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            She, you see, opened the door.

Hilda begins to hum again, then repeats the cadence from the very beginning of the circle.

"We complete the circle, again, again
What tales shall we hear today?
What lore from the ancients shall we unlock?
If you have a preference, say!"

Hilda begins to hum again, as before, and the chanting falls away. Emmit, his eyes open, seems to nod at the P.A.R.T.Y. encouragingly. It is, it seems, your chance to ask for a story.

OOC: But not Boreas. You've had yours.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:41, Fri 19 Dec 2014.

Maeve recalls the story she paged past last night and feels a not-entirely unpleasant tingle of trepidation run down her spine.

"The Straw man of Al-Serrah's Field."

In reply to DM (msg # 264):

Keef counts off on his fingers.

"The Tale of Seven Brides for Seven Lions"!

In reply to Keef (msg # 266):

Lyriel ponders for a moment lost in thought, until a sudden ideal lights up her face.

Oh I know! You simply must tell us the tale of the Divine Secrets of the Self Rescuing Sisterhood of Damsels Dedicated to the Goddess Ya-Ya. She smiles brightly, it is simply one of my very favorites!
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:44, Fri 19 Dec 2014.

[OOC: When it is Zuriel's turn to ask]

Hearing the requests of the rest of the PARTY, it seemed apparent that it was up to Zuriel to ask for something actually relevant.

"The lost tales of the Forgotten Pantheon, and the legend of the hidden temple. I heard it rumored that a scholar compiled the old lore of Ka, Cedrick, and Ma'or. Eat, Pray, Love, I think it was called."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:00, Fri 19 Dec 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 268):

The Strawman of Al-Serrah's Field

Listen, my children, and quake with fear
At the horrible tale of Al-Serrah, vizier
To the Sultan of Jade, from centuries past
When Gaelia's reach was far from vast
I remember well that day and year
When a man from the fields came, drenched in sweat
And claimed that a horrible phantom had spawned
Al-Serrah, the landowner, sent soldiers to vet
The truth of the tale, and to hang by dawn
One lamp if 'twas true, and two if 'twas lies
While Al-Serrah held vigil, on horse, in disguise
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Gaelian village and farm
For the country folk to be up and to arm

The soldiers deployed under cover of night
Silently crept to the fields, a phantom to sight
Only moon lit the fields filled with brown withered reeds
Whose dancing played tricks on the things the eye sees
Thus the men saw a figure, both looming and vast
Standing tall in the fields, with a shadow that cast
Fear in their hearts; their swords were drawn fast
And the huge black hulk, which stood magnified
By the light of the moon had nowhere to hide

Meanwhile, the lamp-hanger waits in the street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears
'Til in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men, in combat engaged
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet
And the measured clatter of bandoleers
As archers took aim at the fields from range

He climbed to the top the barn, as tall as a church
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the lofted chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the fields, the soldiers lay dead,
Swords strewn and useless on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That the lamp-hanger could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The rustling sound of the hulk as it went
Creeping along like a living lament
And seeming to rasp with a whispering voice
The lamp-hanger now must make his choice
In this place, at this hour, with secret dread
Alone in a barn, watching over the dead
Then suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On that shadowy something, moving near
The lamp-hanger stiffens, heart filled with fear
As he spies not one but several shapes
Surrounded now, he has no escape

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
At the edge of town walked Al-Serrah
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape near and far,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The top of the barn, where his solider was perched,
For a moment his nerve gave way in the chill
Of the night, which was lonely and spectral and still
And lo! as he looks, at the barn's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
He notes that only a single lamp burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

So through the night rode Al-Serrah;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Gaelian village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Al-Serrah.

Men of all ages, both soldiers and not
Took axes and hoes to the shadowy plot
But all that they found were the corpses of men
Who'd been sent on the first investigation
There were six in the fields, and one in the barn
Where the lantern still burned in a silent alarm
But the shadowy hulks, which murdered those men?
Must still be at large; they were not seen again.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Mon 29 Dec 2014.