Arnie walks out with Sidd, whispering I don't think I like this fellow.  That nonsense about "they served whomever they served?"  I'm an ordained priest, well, I think I am anyway, and even I thought that was too vague.

Felix doesn't have much to say at this point, but he knows he doesn't want to be left behind with these weirdos if the rest of his group is leaving.

Bill has a strange feeling about all of these events taking place.. He does know that it one of the best pickles he has ever eaten. Matter of fact, he could spend more time in the larder yet he knows it would not be best to stick around in here as his companions are heading out, he has no quips about following them. He asks the group as they leave "Well now does not this whole place just seem a bit odd? What shall our next move be? I am sure by exploring the rest of this manor, we can add even more mystery to our lives. I am up for anything. I am curious about this hunting taking place around dark howeer."
The confidence artist simply tags along with his friends, all the time wondering what is around the next turn...

''Yeah,'' Sidd whispers back at Arnie, ''he's completly meshugge. I will make sure to cover as big a distance away as possible before this loon opens the doors at nightfall and decides to kill anything that crosses his path.''

If they make it all outside, Zar agrres with Bill. ''A bit odd? This place is absolutely bizarre. Interesting though! Shall we take a look at the upper floor?''

Taking a step back, Omm comments to the captain, "Well, as much as it pains me to delay our toasts to the Gods, it seems my companions are looking to move along."

He slings the wineskin over his shoulder again, "Fear not, we will be back, to avail ourselves to your generous offer." Then, noticing he was still clutching his longsword, he sheathes the blade back in its scabbard.

Turning to Zar, "Second floor it is..."

Bill nods his agreement to Zar and says " Yes that is a better way to put it, absolutely bizarre for sure . I say let us find out what the top floor has to offer. "

You leave the Prince of Swords to what promises to be a long day of succor-less debauchery and return to the entrance hall to gain access to the tower stairs, bypassing for now the stairs to the second floor of the manor. Shafts of chalky, blue light, tendrils more like, slant or worm their way through the open gate.

The door opens to reveal three ladies seated around a glowing brazier. All three wear pale half-masks and diaphanous carmine gowns accented with silk. Slender keys hang around the necks of each lady-in-waiting.

Behind the trio stands a dour woman, her round face framed with a black mantle, girded in a long tunic dress the color of midnight.

And finally there is the Fool: siting atop a tall stool in his striped hose and gaudy tunic, casting clever finger shadows on the wall and entertaining the ladies with a bawdy tale.

At the sound of your entry the seated ladies look up from their needlework, devious smiles flashing beneath their masks. The matron crosses to stand before them, moving with sprightly speed in spite of her considerable frame. The Fool watches on, bemused.

Time: Midday
Location: In the Tower with the Ladies in Waiting
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:36, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

"Ladies," Omm booms out in greeting, "we come from beyond the veil, seeking counsel with the Lord or Lady of this Manor, as the case may be."

Omm finishes with an awkward bow. He was a cobbler after all and not accustomed to courtly mannerisms.

Zar's head whirls. He has had dreams recently. Visions. Arcane secrets whispering in his head. Sigils and runes. And among those, appearing recurrently, the forms of three women. Arbor, loom and scissors. The Fates? Are these women before him those from the dream, just in another guise?
To be safe, he goes down on one knee. ''Are you the Three Fates,'' he asks in awe?

Sidd is entranced, too, but that might have more to do with the translucency of the women's gowns than anything else.
''Err...,'' he says, in another kind of awe.

"Oh, no, we're not the three fates, we're the Ladies Signe, Nyx and Morai," the three respond in near unison as they stampede not towards the questioner but towards the bulging personage of Omm.

Signe arrives first, curtseying so deeply as to reveal breasts of marmoreal smoothness, or so he might understandably imagine. Nestled within, he jealously observes, is a key of iron. "Will you be my champion, oh, my immortal war--"

Nyx, possessing breasts no less classic, arrives second and speaks over her sister, replacing her word with her own, as if she has posed the question. A key of copper offsets the whiteness of her bosom.

The slinkiest of the three, Morai, slips between her two siblings and smiles at Omm, the same question on her lips. Sheathed in her more modest endowment is a key of gold.

Before Omm can consider a reply, he finds himself not addressing any of the three "ladies" but the matron who has uncannily interposed herself between the hulking man and his three suitors, her disapproval writ large, larger than even her capacious urns.

Arnie may not have been the subject of the three maidens' requests, but he observed them nevertheless.  Their requests, that is.  And while Omm is still trying to straighten out his thoughts regarding all the different women vying for his attention, Arnie states, in the most gallant voice he can manage, My lord Gorhan would demand it of us.  Now, what is it that you need champions for?

Felix, who is far more straightforward about things, follows this by asking simply And what are the keys for?

"Well met, ladies, all," Omm finally replies, his eyes darting cautiously here or there. Mostly, there.

Turning back briefly to his companions to sneak a coy wink, he continues, "Don't worry ladies, there is more than enough champion to go around."

He then awaits any answers the maidens might give Arnie and Felix.

Bill stares at the women in awe. Just before drool would drip down his chin, he comes out of his stupor and says to the ladies "I would more than happily be one of yours champions. Or all of ye for that matter. "

''Not the fates then... just some harlots courting strength and steel. I will have nothing to do with it!'' Moping, Zar turns away.

Sidd is upset about him. ''You cannot leave Omm alone with this,'' he argues and waves his hands in wide gestures. ''He has no clue at all what's happening!''

Zar does not turn around. ''Then you explain it to him. I am out of here.''

''Huffy old man,'' Sidd grumbles, and rises his arms in exasperation. Then he turns to Omm.

''Ok, big guy, here's as it is. It's a magic thing, so you should trust me. I think.''
''You have three choices in front of you. There's a sizeable chance that all three are traps and lead to death. But possibly only two are traps, and one is the correct one. I would go with the latter. And be it just for the breasts.''
''Anyway, in that case, pick Signe. She is iron. The warrior's metal. Pick copper or even worse gold, and you will find yourself with a blade which is shiny, but easily hacked in two. You won't want that. There, settled. Explain it to the matron.''

Speech delivered, Sidd does not quite manage it to dissociate himself from the scene though. Hoping that the fearsome black-clothed guard dog is busy with Omm, he sneaks to the side of the woman named Nyx.
''Say,'' he whispers, ''don't you want to forget about that whole immortial warrior business and make out with a promising young mage instead? Honest, I am a way better lover than Omm.''

Omm stands there with a dumbfounded look plastered on his face. "Where did you get all of that from, Sidd?" he whispers as an aside.

Still, he was not one to turn down the offer of a pretty maiden. Addressing Signe, "I will be your champion, milady."

After all, she asked him first. That was about as much complex thinking he could muster. Philosopher, he was not.

"As my champion at the High Fete, you may request a token from me," Signe positively radiates, her triumph all but blinding.

Arnie doesn't need his question directly answered after all. It's curious. When he spoke, he didn't observe any recognition from any of the ladies in waiting, only a twitch from the nose of Nyx as if it had scented something distasteful in the room. The little man, Felix, he doesn't even get that. He doesn't meet the minimum height requirement for a champion.

Nyx's sly dip of a shoulder suggests she knows exactly which favor Sidd will choose. But as he leans close to admire her declivities, the matron wedges herself between them, establishing a one-foot rule, before he can choose, room enough Mary, Jesus, and their baby, or something like that.

Sulking, Morai awaits her most ardent suitor  -- who will fight for her honor at the High Fete?

A jingle of bells draws your eyes to the fool who sings with delight.

"There once was a lady from the manor
 who pledged to spread for knights who would clamor
 All crimson did her cheeks bloom
 and hasty did she flee the room
 when the pleas never beat a stammer."

Outrage! The ladies' cheeks burn with it! Defend our honor, they demand as one, their bosoms heaving in solidarity.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:35, Thu 12 Dec 2013.

Ignoring the earlier rebuttal, Arnie steps toward the jester and says loudly You slander these good ladies, sirrah!  You must apologize and make penance to them for your unkind words.  As the cleric speaks, his words take on a booming echo, seeming to come from all around the room rather than just from his mouth.

Josh rolled 21 using 1d20+1. casting roll (Word of Command)
  Will save DC 22 or else the spell lasts for 1d6+1 turns.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:04, Thu 12 Dec 2013.

''Ha!'' Zar calls out and turns around again. ''You were wrong, Sidd! Warrior's metal, phhht. Omm just gave himself to the blue mage. Which for all we know represents Chaos! Fools all!''

''Yeah, yeah, I get it, ok. So I erred by lending more importance to the symbolism of the metals instead of going merely by their color. Could have happened to anyone!'' Sidd shoots back.
''Anyone with enough brains to get symbolism, that is,'' he continues under his breath.

He then addresses the matron. ''Actually, uh, I wonder, did I already de facto agree to joust for the sweet lady Nyx here? Or is it all yet, uhm... negotiable?''
''Not that it wouldn't be totally worth it,'' he hastens to add, with one eye on beautiful Nyx's cleavage.

Zar shakes his head. ''Of rather more importance is, who is willing to pick up the cause of the golden maid? Who will represent the yellow wizard? Who, for all we know, might symbolize the noble and higher order of things. We cannot fight for Chaos against Order! Omm! We only now come from a great victory of Order against Chaos! Remember who you are, my friends!''

Omm beams proudly at the attention now being lavished upon him by Lady Signe.

"Very well, milady," he says while effecting a clumsy bow, a pathetic attempt to mimic courtly etiquette.

After pushing the brim of his over-sized helm out of his eyes, he continues, "The key, what does it unlock?"

"Would that be a worthy token for your humble champion?"
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 23:05, Sat 14 Dec 2013.

Boom as it might, Arnie's voice does not silence the jester who only scampers around the room as if dodging the strumpets' withering glares. He ceases his scampering only to alight on the matron's back after vaulting himself off of a high-backed chair -- just as she is about to establish the one-foot rule between Sidd's bulging eyes and Nyx's copious bounty.

Even as the three ladies bewail their besmirched honor, they splatter it further. Signe scandalously tells Omm that the home of his key (Omm gains the Iron Key)is the only secret with him she won't share, providing that he prevail at the High Fete. And with the matron distracted by the fool, Nyx presses her advantage, "You do know how to lance, good sir?"

"There once was a sage new to the vale
Who saved his feculence in a grail
daily adding to his store
Avowing his offal galore
proved the sagacity of his tale."

The three ladies howl in merriment, already forgetting the mortal offenses to their character.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:32, Sun 15 Dec 2013.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 64):

Between all the bountiful bosom present in the room, the jester hopping about as a frog with feet afire and the spectacle of his companions, Bill is just mesmerized as if under trance or spell, not quite sure what to do or where to go in all this. He continues to be nothing more than a statue among living beings. He is keeping most of his eye and concentration upon the jester though, he just does not trust this fool....

"So, when's this High Fete?" Omm asks while examining the key, his eyes only barely dancing over Lady Signe's loveliness.

When asked about the lance, "Big pointy spear while astride a charger?" He places the key around his neck, tucks it beneath his mail shirt, and continues in a flippant tone "Sure. If not, I reckon I will figure it out."

''Actually I would better dispense with any comments about my skills in lancing, since all which comes to my mind are witty things too lewd to be uttered in the presence of a lady,'' Sidd explains smoothly.
With the black matron such distracted by the fool, Sidd boldly extends his hand to lightly pick up the copper key (without removing it from its place), his fingers softly caressing Nyx's soft creamy skin. Really, his head is turning and if he had a question about the key in his mind before, he is unable to articulate it anymore.

Zar meanwhile critically reviews his companions. Who has the stern stuff to be a champion of Order? Omm would have been his first choice, naturally, but that fool Sidd has already maneuvered him towards the blue mage. Bill is a scoundrel. Felix too short. Arnie, though, hmmmm.
''My good young man,'' Zar begins, laying a hand upon Arnie's shoulder. ''I watched your approach of Del with kind eyes. A fine young man, I told myself. Principles. High standards, beyond his outward sheen of bearishness.''
''Do you want to expose yourself to these vain little creatures to champion the cause of Order? Because someone might have to do that. I am considering to do so myself, but my bones are old and aching, and I would offer a younger man the chance to prove himself first.''

Then something the fool says is catching his attention and his head whips around. ''You are talking about the hierophant! The ladies first, and now the hermit! Even though we never met him yet. Do you also have a rhyme about the sodden knight?''

Arnie's eyes are suddenly aglow, perhaps distracted by visions of himself as a Mighty Champion of the Good and Just.  It's enough to easily ameliorate the disappointment of his failed spell from a moment ago (and he thought he had done so well!).  He opens his mouth to respond in eager agreement with Zar's suggestion, but doesn't even make it through the first syllable before the elder man cuts him off with his attempt at solving the fool's riddle.

Felix, meanwhile, rolls his eyes and says nothing.  It occurs to him that he has been doing a fair amount of that lately.  It also occurs to him that not being the center of attention might be a good way to not get himself killed, so he makes no change in his current tactics.

Nyx whispers to Sidd whilst his hand nestles in her ivory plumage, "The token's for me to give, not for you to take," but she makes no move to evict her new tenant (Sidd gains the Key of Copper). In no ways as bold a manner, Arnie also gains his token (Arnie gains the Key of Gold).

It would have seemed that you would have escaped the tower without another rhyme until Zar baits the jester. Never encourage a fool.

For this rhyme, he adopts a melancholy air which you know has just enough insincerity to be insulting.

"There once was a knight not from around here
who found in battle his grenadine cheer
until Sisyphus chained death
leaving his valor tooth-leth:
endless debauchery and him still sere."

Edified, you retreat from the ladies with some if your virtue intact and ascent the stairs to the second floor of the manor which you discover to be a place of worship (of the spirit, not the flesh).

The small chapel stinks of mildew and blight. The walls drip with mold, and the pews are spongy with rot. At the far end of the dark chapel, three steps descend to a low altar. A tattered white tapestry hangs behind the altar, stained black and green.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:27, Thu 19 Dec 2013.

At last, something to suggest this place might once have been respectable.  Arnie strolls to the altar in back to see if anything there indicates a specific deity being worshiped.

Felix slinks around to a shadowy corner.  Arnie's welcome to walk into all the traps and ambushes he wants; the halfling is determined to play it safe.