(Arc 9-1) Dresses in the rainstorm; fanservice denied.

[Anastasia]

> The trip back is one in the first gasps of spring. Past the first night away from Pilltain, warmer air begins to blow from the west and northern seas. Lyselle's counties are left without their true mistress once more, Balmuria approached. It seems like far too long when you return, gates guarded with six paired detachments of guardsmen. They wear bright, freshly polished breastplates, spears at attention.  They peer ahead as the party approaches, but not a one breaks military formation, even in the late morning's rising warmth.
> They peer ahead as the party approaches, but not a one breaks military formation, even in the late morning's rising warmth.
<Seira> "We must have made it back in time," Seira comments.
<Shamal> "We're probably just ahead of the high ups, if that's the reception committee," Shamal notes, giving the guards an almost whimsical salute as they approach the gates.
* Lyselle nods, straightening a bit in her saddle and squaring herself. Formality was the same the kingdom over... "At least we won't be barging in."
> Biggs and Wedge are in this well kept group, all saluting stiffly. "Sirs!" They chorus, Wedge adding, "Have you heard," he says carefully, "Lord Salman is coming within a day or two. Commander Oberuth wants you to report right away."
* Shamal smiles to the familiar pair. "We were told before we left. Good thing we got back in time," she nods agreeably.
<Berlioz> "... oh dear. Wonderful timing on us, indeed", the bard replies curtly.
* Seira eyes the pair critically, but declines to comment, proceeding into the city.
> "Sirs!" The guards repeat as you head into the city. The front streets are clean - amazingly so. Even the dirt paths are smooth, the cobblestones polished recently. Young men sit at the sides in nice uniforms, even one with shovels that eye the horses passing by critically. As you enter a few peasants quickly come out and eye you, and while you get smiles and a few waves, there is an air of disappointment.
<Shamal> "Sorry, Lord Salman's not here, yet," Shamal calls as she returns a wave. Those people are going to get awfully tired if they rush out everytime someone comes through the gates...
> "It's still the local heroes!"
> OOC - Gah.
<Berlioz> "Although... if they're going to rush out every single time someone comes up, it surprises me that no wide-eyed kid has pulled any related pranks. My brother used to love those kinds of events for the sole sake of causing problems when he was young..."
> "It's still the local heroes!" One of the housewives calls, "Welcome home!"
<Seira> Life is full of disappointment, Seira muses to herself, and glances at the others. "Shall we go report to the Commander at once, or take a bit of time to and meet anew at his office?" she asks.
* Shamal blushes, "You're too kind," she nods to the woman calling them heroes, before glancing at Seira, "We were told to report at once, so we might as well head directly to the garrison."
* Seira nods in consent, proceeding silently the rest of the way.
> The trip back is without incident. On reaching the garrison, you find it cleaned and ready, in perfect state fo rinspection. Commander Oberuth is found in his official office - a stuffy room with a well stained and polished oaken desk, flags on either side of the room. Not a single window, but he stays in it nonetheless, wearing a breastplate and having a shield rest at his feet. His sword is belted to his waist, his face clean. "Oh, good, good. At ease if you want to, you might not get a chance for a few days."
> "Oh, good, good. At ease if you want to, you might not get a chance for a few days."
<Shamal> "I've never seen Balmuria look so clean," Shamal observes cheerily as she settles into the commander's office.
> "I thought you'd prefer it more natural and less human tampered?" Oberuth observes, a few droplets of acid clinging to his words. "No, the reality of the situation is here, and mainly, it's called making sure that the ruler of the land is duly impressed."
<Seira> "I believe he will be, Sir," Seira responds firmly.
<Shamal> "Natural doesn't mean dirty... sir," Shamal replies, not all that enthused by his tone.
> "Yes, yes..." Commander Oberuth blows out a long breath, rubbing his temple. "Good. Anyway, go ahead and report. How was this mountain temple?"
<Seira> "I received the divine inspiration I was seeking, Sir," Seira tells him, unable to keep a note of satisfaction out of her voice.
* Lyselle tries to relax her nerves, the overbearing sense of formality wearing a bit on her nerves. Ah well. "We recieved varied information and direction from Helm," she adds with a bit more detail.
> "Well then?" Commander Oberuth inquires, "Did this yield information? Ah. Where does this lead?"
<Shamal> "The implication seems to be that the God King of the gnomes may return," Shamal offers. "This would naturally have disastrous results for... more or less everyone."
> "Well. Yes, we'd need to do something severe about that. Any more detailed information on that?" Oberuth frowns.
<Seira> "The Resorts seem to play a crucial role in this, Sir," Seira adds. "Either as the catalysts of his revival, or as tools of stopping him should he find another way. Helm told us that mortals are those who will decide the fate of things."
> "...One for us, then. Khardon holds the third," Oberuth nods shortly, thinking, "So by this, we have even more reason to find more of those. Any leads?"
<Shamal> "Not yet," Shamal replies, not wanting to spread around knowledge of the shield until they're ready to take it themselves. It's safe where it is so long as no one learns of its presence.
* Seira frowns, but remains silent.
> "Damnations..." Obertuh murmurs, "Alright, for now? Is there anything else to report? If not, go rest and prepare. Lord Salman's coming, and he's going to want to see you."
* Seira salutes, and leaves to prepare as she is dismissed.
<Shamal> "We did find a magic weapon, though not one any of us can safely use," Shamal volunteers. "It's an Unholy Glaive we liberated from its former fiendish owner... honestly, we're not quite sure what to do with it."
> "Fiendish? As in a monster from the Abyss? Hellspawn?" Oberuth blinks at that, "Dark, evil, demonic magic?"
* Shamal nods. "Very very evil," she confirms. "It's not a typical enchantment, as such, but its a weapon that does terrific damage to the pure of heart, and can only be safely wielded by those of... flexible, morality."
> "What are you going to do with it, then? I don't like the thought of that weapon drifting around, frankly." Oberuth crosses his arms, scowling.
<Shamal> "Nor do we - we can't exactly sell it and have it used against the virtuous, can we?" Shamal agrees. "We were hoping you might have some ideas."
> "It's best kept held somewhere or destroyed. I can't particularly let you sell it to the highest bidder, either." Sighing as he thinks a moment, "How do you price a demon's weapon?"
<Shamal> "Presumably it would be worth as much as a holy relic, to a person with the appropriate mindset," Shamal volunteers. "It's a pity we have no nearby volcanoes to toss it into, all things considered."
> "Barring that...hmm. I will inquire with our coming superiors. It may be worthwhile to purchase it from  you and simply sit on it ourselves." Looking at each, "That's best done now, so go ahead and go rest if that's all."
* Shamal nods, salutes, and departs!
* Lyselle adds her salute, smiling faintly as she slips out.
> -----
> A day of rest passes. The next morning the party is awoken by messengers. Grand messengers, clean faced and attractive men and women, bowing deeply and wearing well pressed uniforms. The message is the same at each, "Lord Salman arrived at dawn and wishes to meet with each of you." So the message goes out to the three heroes, only Seira mysteriously absent.
> OOC - More.
> Archbaron and Protector of the United Baronies Rickshaws Salman. The man that now leads the United Baronies, a fragment of the Malmuth Empire.  His body is severe, muscled. He wears plate mail despite his standing, a fierce, protective look on his face, black bearded.  The gold of the armor is sparse, only a few accents. (More)
> He stands in the garrison's meeting room, cleaned and with a new, restored table. Besides two stone faced, official guards that stand at attention in the back, he is alone. He awaits, as the three party members enter...
* Shamal strolls in just a bit nervously, attired in her own uniform of a long tailed green jacket over a white tunic, with a darker green flared skirt down to her calves. "Lord Salman," she bows on bent knee, looking downwards. "It is an honour."
* Berlioz breathes deeply, and deeply bows to Lord Salman, knee-bent, head lowered. "We are deeply honored by your presence, my lord."
* Lyselle enters and slips down in time with her comrades, bowing to her direct liege and military commander, "My lord, it's an overwhelming honor to meet oyu," she murmurs, blonde hair long and ordered, looking down.
> "Rise, lieutenants," Lord Salman instructs, voice gruff, the rumble of a hundred battles under it. "Your commanders have sent nothing but glowing remarks about your aptitudes and how you excel at your duties."
<Shamal> "My Lord is too kind," Shamal replies politely as she smoothly rises to her feet.
> "Now then," Salman goes on, "Of your activities, there are those that have proven your competence and those that have also stirred our attentions. The Resorts and the gnomes. Hellman has told me what you have told him, so I ask of you - do you feel that you can continue to investigate this matter and do so well?"
<Shamal> "Powerful forces also seek the Resorts, but I believe we can and must continue on the path set before us," Shamal affirms. "It is my hope that each step on the journey will better prepare us for more difficult challenges that await in the future."
<Berlioz> "I have both the interests of Balmuria and my own scholarly glee in mind when I say the pursuit of the Resorts and their history won't leave our long-term schedules anytime soon. Even if slowly, we will steadily keep up towards this. It's far too interesting to let it go, anyway."
* Lyselle nods, folding her hands. "I believe that given the time of our pursuit of these itmes and secrets, we should be able to keep par with our enemies," she agrees, straightening confidently.
> "Very well then," Lord Salman agrees, "I bestow on you this task, as servants of our nation: Amid your other duties, pursue the Resorts and the gnomes. Now, come forth and kneel." He stands up, going to his belt. A heavy warmace hangs at his belt as well as a sword, he chooses the latter and draws it forth.
* Shamal kneels once more, head down.
* Lyselle follows Shamal down onto her knee, eyes downcast and waiting.
* Berlioz follows suit alongside Lyselle, his eyes attently fixed towards the floor.
> "Our young nation still lacks many of the trappings of the old. Our traditions are our own, but they are still being made. For service in stopping a plague of undeath, for valiantry and pursuing magical artifacts, for dedicated duties above the call any normal person could obtain?" His sword goes out, the cool metal touched to the forehead of each. "I hereby create the Order of the Crimson Star, the order of merit for those who excel in the Crimson Guard. Who better than those who came first and have exemplified our wishes for the Guard?"
> "I hereby create the Order of the Crimson Star, the order of merit for those who excel in the Crimson Guard. Who better than those who came first and have exemplified our wishes for the Guard? I hereby grant you the right to a medal in the shape of a red star and the right of being known as honorable in the eyes of our nation."
<Shamal> "Thank you, my Lord," Shamal says gratefully, still looking down as she awaits permission to rise again. "I only hope our example can inspire our comrades to likewise excel in your eyes."
* Lyselle remains kneeled, wishing the vocabulary for acceptance speeches wasn't so limited. "We are honored immeasurably by the accolades laid upon us, my lord, and we will fulfill all the duties and responsibilities laid with them as an example to all allies."
> "Well spoken. This evening will be a ball, where in we will holding meetings and honor. I hereby invite each of you to come. Rise now." So inviting, Lord Salman sits.
* Berlioz slowly rises, retaining a solemn quality to his expression, as if waiting for the next announcement.
* Shamal stands up once more, though remains where she is since they haven't been dismissed yet. 'Wait... I don't have any clothes suitable for a ball... How am I going to get a dress with this short notice?!' Masterfully she manages to keep her expression clear of such thoughts.
> "Well then. Until the evening, you may leave." Lord Salman speaks, but stops. "Oh, and on another matter. Your friend Seira will not be with you for a few weeks. Business requiring her elseware have occured."
* Lyselle rises gracefully, stopping almost in a freeze at that invitiation. She flows from there into a half curtsy, smiling. "I would be most flattered to attend," she ascents, smiling faintly.
<Shamal> "Would it be improper of us to ask what has detained Seira?" Shamal asks, trying to think if she knows any tailors in town.
> "She is on a mission for the good of the United Baronies, but it takes her away from us for a time." Lord Salman speaks strongly, "Hm. As common soldiers still? I hereby grant you 75 gold coins to purchase suitable clothes." Shamal knows a few here and there, they're certainly common enough.
<Shamal> "My Lord is too generous, by far," Shamal smiles gratefully. She doesn't so much need the money after recent adventures, but it's certainly appreciated.
> "Until then, you may go," Lord Salman dismisses you, to the point.
* Shamal snaps off an almost perfect salute to Lord Salman before she turns about and departs.
* Lyselle curtsies again, smiling thankfully as she departs. She certainly didn't need the money...she probably would need to keep an eye on her companion's chocies, though. The burden of living with the lower classes. Far outstripped by its benefits!
<Shamal> As soon as they're safely outside, Shamal sighs and deflates, turning to Berlioz and Lyselle. "Well, any ideas on where Seira's gone off to? I have noticed the commander has been speaking privately to her after our briefings a lot more often, lately."
* Lyselle shakes her head, frowning now out of the presence of her feudal overlord. "Not really, no," she admits, shrugging. "Maybe they're having an affair?" she suggests in a conspiratory tone, rolling her eyes.
* Berlioz folds his arms, sighing. "I don't know very well myself... but I wouldn't be completely surprised if it was something regarding elves."
<Berlioz> "Either that or what Lyselle said", the bard snickers. "I'd be predictably less corteous if I came up with the jab first, however."
<Shamal> "The elf thing is... probably more likely," Shamal decides after a moment of apparently serious thought.
* Lyselle snorted softly, making a flippant wave and mock smirking. "A superior officer drawing a young and exotic half-elf into secluded rooms away from prying eyes? Where's your imagination?" she insists, trying to not crack, though snickering softly none the less.
* Berlioz giggles lightly. "I think I've seen way too many low-brow dystic poems talking about the same thing, Lyselle."
<Shamal> "I suppose it's always the ones you least suspect..." Shamal mutters, nodding and playing along.
* Lyselle just shrugs, her smile settling. "Mmm...anyway, do either of you need help picking out ah...clothes?" she asks lightly, almost hesitating. "I guess you could've been to this sort of thing before, but neither of you seem the sort..."
<Shamal> "That obvious?" Shamal blushes weakly. "I'm hoping I can even find a tailor at this short notice. None of my clothes are suitable for a ball."
* Berlioz rolls his eyes, but his expressions settles quickly into a more light-hearted note. "I'm not totally out of the nobility loop, Lyselle. I've been to noble gatherings before. That said, my scholar-type rags aren't particularly appropriate for this kind of event, so... yes, help would be appreciated."
<Lyselle> "You're a druid, Shamal..." Lyselle coughs lightly. "The ah...reputation of avoiding such situations sort of precedes you," she offers lightly, shrugging. "As for good Berlioz...I suspected fashions in Malmuth would be considered quite offensive here even if he was experienced in that sort of thing..." she nods, casting between them both with her eyes. "I honestly can't give much advice for men, though."
<Berlioz> "I'm not picky, and I trust your common sense. As long as you don't try to frill me in a dress, we're golden", the bard shrugs lightly, a faint smile in his face.
* Lyselle gives Berlioz a hurt, mock innocent look, batting her eyelashes at the southern bard. "You wouldn't suspect me of that, would you?"
* Berlioz snickers, tsking to the countess blonde. "I'd definitely expect Seira to try, and I do not know what do you do for fun. I'm just being cautious!"
<Shamal> "It's not so much that I avoid them as... well, they never come up, I suppose," Shamal offers hesitantly. "Anyway, I'd appreciate any help."
* Lyselle just shakes her head, taking Shamal by the hand. "Well, I can do that," she agrees, smiling and leading her fellow blonde towards the more affluent market districts. "Don't worry."
<Berlioz> "I'd say getting Shamal ball-worthy wouldn't even be particularly difficult", the bard remarks rather blankly.
<Shamal> "The only dancing I normally do is, um... well, not the kind you usually see in a ballroom," Shamal replies nervously as she follows Lyselle. "But it's not required to dance, right? I can just, er... show up?"
* Berlioz bobs his head, trying to hide a snicker. "Well, you even can decline dances. Not sure how well would that reflect on your social performance there, however. I'd kneejerk it as 'not astoundingly'."
<Shamal> "Well hopefully no one will ask me to dance," the blonde nods her head sternly. "Unless he's really handsome..." she adds with a slight chuckle.
<Lyselle> "...Oh dear, do I need to give you dancing lessons, too?" Lyselle asks after a moment, pausing to lok back at Shamal. "I wasn't terribly good at it either, but...well, yes, we could just decline...hmm."
<Shamal> "Maybe I can figure it out if I just watch other people first?" Shamal wonders. "I mean, it's not like I'm slow on my feet, and if my partner leads then it might be okay?"
<Berlioz> "Um. Dancing requires a bit more synergy and dedication than that, Shamal. Watching for a few minutes is not much better than going in blindfolded, and you'd definitely step on a few dancing toes."
<Shamal> "If only there was some... dancing, spell?" Shamal laments at Berlioz's confidence sapping words.
* Lyselle nods, looking a touch worried. "It's ah..best to practice without shoes on," she adds, smiling a bit. "Well...we could try to work on it enough to keep from being embarrassed?"
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<Berlioz> "A basic one-two could at least work. We're just aiming to make a presentable frame here, nobody in the ball expects us to be dancing queens. I can be the practice dummy, if needed."
<Shamal> "Yes, let's see if we can get someone to make clothes in time for it and then practice for the rest of the day until the ball?" Shamal nods, hoping that the tailor's aren't all too busy to take a last minute rushjob for her.
<Lyselle> "Don't worry so much, I can even help out if they're really pressed," Lyselle offers, smiling a bit more. "A noblewoman's required to learn some things, even in a place like Armasea."

[Anastasia]

> ------------
> So the night of the grand ball has arrived! A large hall has been rented - Waukeen's own grand hall, fountains burbling and gushing pure water out. The walls are bedeckoned with silks and tapestries, tables of foods laid forth. Here as music plays, a full orchestra in the rear, the dancing goes on. Dozens of people, all dressed in rich clothes and fancy jewelry. A shining banquet of the best and brightest of Balmuria and the United Baronies! (More)
>  (More)
> Gone are the priests of Waukeen largely, instead familiar faces. Countess Stronger lingers by a bowl of punch, chatting up a dashing young man as they laugh together. You see Commander Oberuth, hanging back towards a wall, sword still on his belt, even as he wears noble finery. Peeking out from a side door is Mia, wistfully looking on. A small delegation of Malmuthians mingle politely as well, some eyes on them, but one in particular catches Berlioz's eye. A sharp, engaging man, one whom he knows and escorted. (More)
> Berlioz's eye. A sharp, engaging man, one whom he knows and escorted. (More)
> Entertainment comes from many sources. A bard sings with the music, a beautiful woman caroling great songs of a faraway kingdom and it's legendary heroes. Dancing happens int he center, many wearing slim masks of white or gold as they go about.  Some watch a narrow faced woman with close cropepd blonde hair, a hawk answering her commands, landing on her shoulder and yet not tearing her white brocade dress. Above it all, at the back, Lord Salman sits on a deep back throned, hands folded as he watches it all.
>  Lord Salman sits on a deep back throned, hands folded as he watches it all.
> *throne
* Shamal looks and feels rather out of place, attired in a nice ballgown of forest green that she nonetheless feels would be torn to shreds if she so much as looked at a bush, making her altogether uncomfortable in her flimsy attire.
<Shamal> It doesn't help that the only jewellery she's wearing is her magical gnomish amulet - sure it's probably worth more than any other jewellery here, but it doesn't look so special compared to the finery on display. "I'd have brought Laika if I'd known animals were allowed," she mutters, glancing at the hawk.
* Berlioz sedately wanders the luxurious halls, probably not catching any fancy looks. While the attire provided by Lyselle's crafty resources is perfectly adequate to such an occasion, it's just a typically well-sewn set of clothes with a few artsy touches - unlike the borderline eye-devouring ostentation some of the guests provided. The bard fixes his monocle, observing the minutiae of the ball as people wander back and forth.
> The hawk is blue banded and quite pretty, one can note. The woman controlling him entertains and calls, "The lure of nature is mighty!" she proclaims. A few people look, one or two even turning to bow or curtsey.
<Lyselle> Lyselle blends a bit better into the lower nobility, though she hides a level of discomfort similar to Shamal or Berlioz. Her upbringing was hardly the most fancy, and her time in the military didn't do much for her experience in wearing things like the garnet satin gown and small pieces of precious jewelry that adorn her now.
<Lyselle> Gold and red outline her surpriusingly delicate figure, some of the embroidery along the lines of her gown even done herself over the years, and accompanied by cascade of bright gold hair down her back as she t least tries to quietly mingle.
> As Berlioz walks along, he does get a bit of attention. There are a lot of people about...
<Berlioz> roll 1d20+4
> Lyselle gets looks and interest, here and there. Including from the dashing young, black haired man that Countess Stronger is chatting with, getting her to glare at his turned head.
<Berlioz> roll 1d20+4
<Reiko-chan> Berlioz rolled : 1d20+4 --> [ 1d20=15 ]{19}
* Shamal tags along with Lyselle, really not knowing what else to do here. She's tempted to try and talk shop with the hawkwoman, but she seems to be busy, and Shamal doesn't want to interrupt the performance. However, she does spot Mia as they circle the room, and excuses herself to Lyselle, "Excuse me, I'm just going to say hello to Mia," she tells her friend, heading over to the side door the acolyte is peeking out of.
> Mia eeeps lightly as someone approaches, but as she starts to quickly close the door? She stops and stares, "Ooooh!" she mouths, "S-shamal? Wow, that's got to be a 100 gold dress you're wearing, and you look it! I didn't know you were nobility!"
<Berlioz> roll 1d20+1 laf
<Reiko-chan> Berlioz rolled : 1d20+1 laf --> [ 1d20=20 ]{21}
* Lyselle nods quietly to Shamal as she slips away, moving slowly away from Stronger's chosen prey. She didn't want to bait another woman's hunt, and definitely not when it's the main magic supplier in town... So she drifts away, keeping a general lookout for the direction of things, or people she might know, besides the obvious.
<Shamal> "Hello, Mia," Shamal smiles, a bit uncomfortable at the commentary on her expensive attire. "Um, seventy five, actually. Lord Salman wanted the Crimson Guard to be looking their best, I suppose..." she fidgets a bit with the skirt, "Honestly, I doubt I'll ever wear something like this again, since I'm not a noble, and don't think I can fake it as well as some can," she concludes with a glance over towards Stronger.
> As Countess Stronger takes the arm of the wayward man and starts to give him far less complimentary words, Lyselle mingles in! A Malmuthian glances at her, wearing a proper if dressed down military uniform. He looks bored, sipping a glass of wine. A few others look at her, including - oh. Khardon comes out from a side door, adjusting his collar and peering at Lyselle
> .
> "Oooh, I'd buy it from you for...oh yeah, wait. I'm broke," she sighs and deflates like an old party balloon. "Speaking of, though?" Suddenly she smiles, "Stay right there, alright?"
* Berlioz squints his eyes, taking a rather alarmed look towards the back corner, and rubs his forehead in disgruntled surprise. Someone rather brutally familiar seems to have joined the fray? The bard shakes his head, and tries to stealthily make his way in the direction of the familiar silhouette.
> Berlioz heads away from the others, clinging to the wall. Lord Salman nods solemnly to Berlioz as he comes in that area, expression gruff and composed, but watching. So back he heads, away from the others...OOC - PM.
* Shamal waits by the side door for Mia, certainly not having anything better to do!
> Soon enough she returns, waving a tiny little vial full of sea green liquid. "No, it's not sea water," she chides instantly, "It's paying you back. Don't ask how I got it, alright?" With a nice smile, she presents it to Shamal. "One magic potion!"
<Shamal> "The fact that I can't ask doesn't reassure me," Shamal nonetheless smiles as she accepts the potion. "What does it do?"
* Lyselle stops, raising an eyebrow at Khardon. Certainly turning him down would do her no good, and he seems to need a companion. Though not THAT companionship, oh no. So Lyselle waits, a garnet and gold figure of noble pedigree waiting for her superior officer.
* Berlioz leaves a light salute to Salman - past that, the bard pointlessly adjusts his monocle, approaching the corner shadows. The face seems more and more recognizable, to the point that he can actually infer the presence without fear of making a mistake. Berlioz raises an eyebrow, subtly waving in the direction of that person...
> "It lets you breath water. It should be worth a couple hundred gold." Passing it onto Shamal, "It's supposed to be very high power as potions go."
> Khardon approaches, a slanted smile showing as he bows. "Countess," he infers politely, "My, at this rate you'll sweep all the men's hearts away, before being promoted to General and Goddess!"
* Lyselle politely curtsies with a small flourish, smiling dryly, and trying hard to not roll her eyes. "M'lord is simply filled with flattery to make a poor yuong woman blush tonight," she answers, raising an eyebrow. "Is M'lord sure he wouldn't be more interested in other companions?"
<Shamal> "Um... yes," Shamal blinks in surprise. "That's actually worth far more than the scrolls I gave you. Um, if you need a supplier for scrolls, I think I'll have to give you a discount." She moves to put the potion in her pouch before pausing as her hand meets empty air.
<Shamal> "Blast, no pockets, no pouches... how do people function in these clothes?" she asks, appearing somewhat mortified as she makes sure no one (besides Mia) is looking and stuffs the small vial down her cleavage and out of sight.
> "I suppose I could sweep your dear friend Shamal off her feet..." Khardon considers, before chuckling. "Oh yes, I apologise. How rude of me to discuss open plans with you like that. I merely wish to ask you a dance, M'Queen." He bows back, offering a hand out.
> "The point isn't to function, it's to be seen!" Mia says reproachfully, "Since if you're wearing those, you're loaded and should be seen! But no matter - that potion's paid for itself a few times..heh, heh..." Mia looks away, "I'll remember that for later and...go out and have some fun! You're wide open and get to be here! WE're all supposed to be meditating tonight now."
* Lyselle pauses, touching a finger to her lips for dramatic effect as she considers Khardon pointedly. "A simple Countess of a mountain estate hardly deserves the title 'Queen'," she reproaches, smiling and offering her arm. "But I must bow to the occasion and submit to M'lord's request."
<Shamal> "Far be it from me to distract you from your observances," Shamal chuckles, sketching a curtsey to Mia. "I suppose I'll... er, mingle, now," she nods, wandering off and deciding to get some punch to help herself relax. It better have alcohol in it.
> "I talk of the future, that's all," Khardon takes the arm, leading Lyselle to the ball and where the dancing is.  The dancers move a bit to allow the two easy entry, a couple of women blushing and men smiling at Khardon and Lyselle, respectively. "Now then, m'lady...." Khardon murmurs, "How agile are you?"
> As you go to the punchbowl, you see Countess Stronger with her hands on her hips, wearing a striking red gown. A young man shrugs and says, "Well...they are, sorry," he mutters, "You're the one that insisted! It's because I'm not one of your little groupies that you dragged me in-" He cuts himself off as Shamal approaches, bowing to her. "If you excuse me, ladies."
<Lyselle> "More agile than most, but ill practiced," Lyselle answers in a near whisper, staying closer to Khardon, and trying ehr best to pay the other dancers no mind.
* Shamal blinks at that exchange, before deciding it's best to pretend she heard nothing. Instead she gives the countess a weak little smile before focusing on getting herself something to drink.
> "Then just hang on," he grins, taking Lyselle's arm! With a spin the two go together, Lyselle brieftly picked up and twirled!
> Glaring at him as he leaves, Stronger ignores Shamal's effort and joins her. There are a few decanters of dark brown liquid besides the punch, notably. "So. You look uncomfortable," she says, "Suits me just fine now. Stupid man, why is the one you can't get interested in you that'sthe one you like?"
* Lyselle restrains a moment of surprise, doing just that as she's taken for a dance, rather than trying something and tripping Khardon up, she quite simply goes along for the ride.
<Shamal> "Because you like the challenge?" the blonde offers, thinking for a moment before deciding that this definitely calls for something stronger, and getting herself a small measure of the dark brown liquid. It's only by the time the glass reaches her lips that she realises she probably committed a faux pas by not having a servant pour it, but if it's just her and the fake Countess here it probably doesn't matter.
> The twirl gets attention, a few dancers stepping away to give you ample space. As Lyselle lands, Khardon lunges close, passing by her. "Flashy, but it's a good start.  Try something - better than the Queen of the Dance gets the attention than I, hm?"
> "Hmph," Stronger mutters something under her breath about that, "Speaking of challenges, how did your trip out go? I heard from the grapevine that you'd been sent out somewhere. Oh, and is Seira here?"
> roll 1d20+12
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+12 --> [ 1d20=6 ]{18}
<Shamal> "Seira's went off on some special solo mission," Shamal replies, deciding there's no harm in telling Stronger, since Seira is here apprentice after all. "As for the trip, it was quite productive actually," she smiles genially, swirling around the liquid in her glass. "We fought actual devils, and I found a nice wand of lightning bolt."
> "Devils? Lemures or something notable? I've seen them a fewtimes, never had to fight anything too strong directly. Demons, on the other hand..." Stronger shivers, "Anyway, a wand of lighting? I'm trying to update my own inventory, too, but...wait, wait wait. Devil sand magic? Where'd you find all of that?"
<Shamal> "I'm not as familiar with extraplanar creatures as I am of natural ones, but there were lots of small flabby things about yay high," Shamal holds a hand around her waist level, "And two human sized ones with beards that used glaives. It was up in the mountains to the North. So what demons have you met before?" she asks, deciding to get Stronger talking about herself rather than asking probing questions.
<Lyselle> "I think you're overestimating my experience at court, M'lord," Lyselle murmurs, pulling Khardon around into a less extravagant dance that's more familiar to her, and somewhat eassier on her nerves.
> "Lemures - I've fought them. On a guess, those sound like bearded devils." As she talks, "Oh yes, yes-?" She stops as there is a tinking of a glass, the music stopping. In the sudden relative silence it carries quite well.
> Khardon follows along, grinning, "Well then, we'll just do the best we-" He stops as the sound of a glass being tinked is heard, the music in the background ceasing.
* Shamal turns at the noise, reflexively straightening up a bit.
* Lyselle stops with her dance partner, looking around for the source of it, and what might have interrupted it all.
> Lord Salman stands up, tapping his wine glass. "Attention," he calls, "For we have gathered here today for many reasons. One of them is to honor those of bra...bra..." Lord Salman pauses abruptly, face darkening. The wineglass slips from his hand, shattering onto the floor! A moment later he follows, going face down like a bag of stones.

[Anastasia]

Meanwhile...

This was done in PM with Berlioz. It's a shame that this side of Febras never got a chance to come out again. Berlioz drew out his more serious side for a few moments. There's also some pretty big tells in this with hindsight.

> Hm? As you look about, you notice in the very back corner, behind the band and Lord Salman? A man in a dark cloak and wide brimmed hat lingers, face hidden. But you see the hat and the posture - that looks just like Febras.
> As you approach, Febras lifts his head up just a tiny bit. Enough so you can almost see his face past the shadows, eyes trained onto you.
> Febras's smile can be seen - a distant smirk if anything, cynical. "Good evening," he murmurs as you approach. "The gathering of Balmuria's stars includes you?"
<Berlioz> "You could say Balmuria's stars are rather dim. I wouldn't put that below you", the bard lightly shrugs. "I wouldn't necessarily disagree with you."
> "I would." Letting his hat fall down, shielding his face, "This city radiates from the sparks of a new kingdom, fed by the breakaway from Malmuth. It's a...lovely place now, hm?"
<Berlioz> "It's... full of potential, at the very least. It's not an ideal paradise, it will probably never be. However, it's ripe for the picking, and it can do nothing but change. This is a vivid environment, where everything is new and exciting. Certainly quite distinct from the sleep-inducing sturdiness of Malmuth."
> Febras reaches, one hadn to the other as he adjusts a plain gold ring on his finger. "Then tell me, why are you here and not out with the others?"
<Berlioz> "I have noticed your attempts at stealth, the others haven't. And I'm a curious bastard", the bard softly replies with a cynical shrug, smirking as the conversation goes.
> "I'm surprised you did." Febras allows, "This is an excellent position not to be seen. What sort of person looks past all the wealth to the dark, grimy wall behind all of it?"
> After that, he chuckles. "The answer is in front of me."
* Berlioz chuckles softly. "Wealth is vaguely fastidious to look at for more than a second or two. The hidden corners are where the most interesting details lie, after all."
> "Interesting?" Febras challenges back, "I would assign that to you and your allies. Chasing undeath which I know well, then chasing some sort of exotic thieves? That's interesting."
* Berlioz leans to a nearby wall, shrugging off Febras' remarks rather calmly. "It's just part of our job, truth be told. Part of why these things come our way is the fact we're in a land where anything could happen. As long as you have the jarring nerve to look past your belly button."
> "Heh.." Febras looks out - you can see Lyselle dancing, Shamal getting a drink, Commander Oberuth still hanging back. Lord Salman is getting a glass of wine from a quiet female servant, sipping away.  Here and there the party goes on, removed from you. "Look at all that." Febras pauses and considers, "Go out. It's your time, you're young and vital. There'stime enough to linger back and ponder later on."
* Berlioz sighs, shaking his head slowly. "The way you're speaking makes me think of my father's ramblings about wasting my childhood on books. I don't particularly get it."
> For once, Febras looks up. The shadow is gone from his face and you get a truly good look. It's a strong, tight face, feral and defined to a razor's edge. "History is history is history. There's always time to research it, but the now is only the now for a second. Then? It's just dusty history in a forgotten library." His words turn unusually sharp, "You're living at the beginning of what could be an era. You're not bound to sit back and watch, are you?"
<Berlioz> OOC: You're not bound to sit back and watc => Cutoff.
> You're not bound to sit back and watch, are you?"
* Berlioz rubs his temples sedately. "I've always preferred the role of witness to the role of an actor. While I don't mind participating in history itself, it's sub-optimal in a sense. I can do every single act of bravery known to man, but what good is it as soon as I die? Memory is fleeting, and so is the world. The past and future aren't any less crucial than the present."
> Febras starts to respond, but a burst of noise ruins that. The sound of glass shattering, then of a body hitting the floor. Instead, "Look," he says, pulling his hat down.
* Berlioz looks back and realizes what happened, his face taking a grim semblance. The bard rushes back, being forced to leave Febras behind. Although, really, he'd probably skimmer off shortly anyway.
> If you think about it, you remember she had plain brown hair, cut short. Looked very forgettable, though, you can't remember her face.

[Anastasia]

<Shamal> Shamal's glass drops from her hands, the blonde abruptly bolting straight towards her liege - if he's been poisoned, she's probably the best healer in the room, after all.
<Lyselle> "..." Lyselle's jaw tightens instead of dropping, but she feels a sudden desire to have her sword back in her hand with the death of her ultimate feudal lord, starting to move in that direction all the same as Shamal. No reason other than instinct, but she is a soldier, after all.
* Berlioz appears rushing towards the fallen king, as if rising from a shadowy corner. This is -the worst time possible- for that.
* Shamal attempts to diagnose what's happened before anything else - he better not be already dead!
> The gasps are as one, nobles and others staring in outright horror. Commander Obertuh moves like lighting as well, past so many stunned people and to Lord Salman's side! Shamal and Lyselle do the same, as does Berlioz! "Shamal!" OBeruth snaps quickly.
> OOC - Healing chekc.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+8
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+8 --> [ 1d20=10 ]{18}
> His breathing is pained, blood coming from his mouth, but Shamal can't identify the affliction.
> "Poison?" One voice calls, another saying, "Assassination?!" A third cries, "It can't be! Lord Salman is healthy!" Talk erupts like a volcano, gushing out all around you.
<Shamal> If he's alive there's hope! "Mielikki, your faithful servant pleads to you, speed this noble man's healing from whatever ails him!" she chants, hand glowing green as she places it on Salman's forehead, casting Lesser Vigour.
> The magic makes the blood vanish, mending him! He's still out, and more blood comes as he coughs, lesser spurts that don't seem to be dying down. Oberuth is up, calling, "Seal the exits! Call the full  guard!" he instructs, "No one in our out, no ships leave this town!"
<Shamal> "Get the Waukeenar - my spell isn't enough, but they'll have potions of healing and curing!" Shamal orders, casting Detect Magic on the off chance he was struck with a spell - the aura should still be lingering if so.
* Berlioz kneels to support Shamal, muttering a few solemn dystics himself to cast Cure Moderate Wounds on Salman.
<Berlioz> roll 2d8+5 HEEEEEEEEEEEEAL
<Reiko-chan> Berlioz rolled : 2d8+5 HEEEEEEEEEEEEAL --> [ 2d8=10 ]{15}
> There is no lingering magic. As Shamal casts people run about in a tizzy, screams and noise! A few people run off to do what Shamal requests, as healing magic pelts Lord Salman's body! It brings color to his cheeks for a fw eseconds, before it is leeched away from the inside, going white!
* Berlioz grimaces. "This is not good. It seems like whatever was inflicted on Lord Salman is directly draining his life!"
<Shamal> "No magic. He's been poisoned," Shamal states authoritatively as all their healing efforts seem to be reversed. "Get the Waukeenar," she repeats, "We need a spell or potion to neutralise poison!"
> He's coming, running in naught by what looks to be a prayer robe, unusually plain. His face is grim as he appraoches, nodding briefly to Shamal. "Poison?" he asks in a moment, starting to swiftly check him over.
> roll 1d20+11
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+11 --> [ 1d20=9 ]{20}
> As he does, the color drains from  his face. HE begins to chant words, "Let the power granted to us by She flow forth. Save the profit of this life, return to him what has been stolen! Neutralise this poison!"
> The magic does not mend hsi cheeks, no make him breath any easier - but he nods nonetheless. "It's done. Thank Waukeen for the fortune of having that memorised," he allows. Lord Salman's breathing very slowly steadies, but he loosk so weak, so ill, so drained.
<Shamal> "Do you have a restoration spell memorised?" Shamal asks, knowing that normal healing spells are useless against the sort of damage poison does to a person. A pity, since she can even cast the lesser variant herself, but so rarely prepares it. She at least resolves to make a scroll for it when she has the time.
> "No." He shakes his head once, as more acolytes come. Mia is among them, a horrified look on her face as they cluster. Behind you nobles stare, horrified and scared. "We can get him to a safe room, and I can cast what healing magic I do have, but from what I think..." he shakes his head, "Do you know how it was ingested?"
* Shamal shakes her head. "We should check any food or drink that was prepared for Lord Salman, and detain all involved in its preperation and serving," she decides. "I can cast Lesser Restoration, but I won't be able to prepare it until dawn. Hopefully things will keep until then."
* Berlioz remembers a silent servant delivering a glass of wine to Salman shortly before he fell, and tries to work a few connections. "Hm. I saw Salman drinking a glass of wine a short while before being stricken. We may want to check who arranged the drinks first, and look for leads on that."
> Glancing down at theshattered wineglass, "That wouldnt' be a bad place to start," he observes. "Speaking of...yes.  You did?"
* Berlioz nods. "I wasn't far from the throne when the drink was delivered."
> "Then what did the servant look like? Where did they go?" The head priests shakes his head, "It's not my business now." he says, as he instructs the servants to carry Lord Salman off. Behind you, you see Commadner Oberuth with a detachment of guards, getting nobles questioned and escorted away. Countess Stronger is ignoring that, rubber necking from a little away.
<Shamal> "Nobody touch anything," Shamal gestures at the shattered glass and any other utensils Salman had in the area, before she slips over to Stronger. "I don't suppose you have Detect Poison memorised by any chance, do you?" she asks quietly.
> "Hm?" As Shamal approaches, she shakes her head, "That would be practical, lucky and nice. Of course not," she snorts, a look of concern, "Oh dammit, you'd better catch them and make sure Lord Salman makes it through this."
* Berlioz shakes his head. "All I know about that servant is that it's a female. She was rather silent, and I didn't get to look detailedly at her features."
<Shamal> "I'll prepare it in the morning..." Shamal nods. "Don't worry, he's in good hands." With that she returns to the scene of the crime. "Do you think you'd recognise her if you saw her again?" she asks Berlioz.
* Lyselle just watches and mutters a few curses, unable to help out in this realm of things, or really help out at all until it comes to hurting people...
> As the guards work, Commander Oberuth approaches, "I don't think I need to tell you what your assignment is," he speaks, voice low. "As of now until the crisis is over, you have full authority to do what you feel you need to in pursuit of the fucker that did this."
* Berlioz ponders, trying to remember. "I can't say exactly. She was terribly non-descript. I do remember a few features - short, plain brown hair, mostly. However, other than that, I can't guarantee anything, although it's worth a shot.
* Shamal nods to Obureth before returning to Berlioz. "Go see the guards who're gathering all the servants together and see if you can spot her... hopefully we locked the place down before she got out." She leans closer, whispering, "Don't be shy about doing any mindreading, too."
* Berlioz nods calmly. "I'll have my resources ready for this, then. I'm off to investigate this particular matter, then."

Meanwhile...

> The kitchens are a busy place, several servants already corraled here. Khardon is staying here with his arms crossed, looking over them. "Glad you caught up," he murmurs to Berlioz, tense. "How is it?"
> The servants are mostly male, a few females dotted about - two total, one with blonde hair and one with long brown hair.
* Berlioz coughs, and looks attentively at all the servants, scrying for the servants' thoughts. "Hm."
> OOC - They range from int 8 to int 11 or so. Very average overall. One of the men has int 13, while one poor fellow who washes dishes has int 5. Just scanning the general thoughts in no particular order? I figure thate ven if one or two pass, most will fail.
<Berlioz> OOC - Yeah, a general scrying is ideal here. I want to find suspicious thoughts or any leads.
> The servants are afraid and terrified. They're waiting and hoping they won't be blamed for it and jailed or worse. If Lord Salman died and they were blamed...slice.
* Berlioz nods to himself, and coughs, calling the servants' attention.
> The servants shuffle together, as Khardon watches on. "Yes, m'lord?" one asks plainly.
* Berlioz looks around. "I am just here to ask a few questions. First of all, which of you were responsible for the drinks in this ball?"
> After a few moments of talk, several servants raise their hands - neither of the women, notably
> .
> They sound more panicked now, worried.
* Berlioz nods to himself once again, eyes sharpening. "Well. You two, who raised hands. Did you recognize anyone vaguely suspicious? Did you hand drinks to a woman servant, or see a woman handling drinks in any manner?"
> "Both of us were in the kitchens, m'lord," The blonde woman pipes up, "There aren't any more of us."
> However, you notice that a few of the male servants that hear that start to think otherwise. 'That one girl with that brown hair...' one thinks.
* Berlioz coughs yet again, sharpening his sight towards the male servant thinking about the brown-haired servant, pointing. "Hey."
> The servant's thoughts go into a jumble at that, as he straightens up. "Y-y-yes sir?" he inquires, swallowing hard.
<Berlioz> "Sorry for the interruption, but it seems you recognized someone suspicious in the vein I'm searching. If you could ellaborate, I'd be most grateful."
> "Huh...um, you mean, that one girl with the wineglasses? The..." He licks his lips, "The one who said they'd take the next round aroundf or me? I didn't know her, but with this big a task, I figured there were others hired and..."
* Berlioz nods sadly. "Well, I'll cough up the beans. The person I'm looking for is a woman with short, brown hair - which means none of you fit the bill. At least, now I know that the girl was responsible for the glass of wine handed to King Salman. How many glasses did she take? There's a chance she might have taken the chance to poison more people. Also, do you remember her face? I do not have to remind you of how important this is", the bard (More)
<Berlioz> ... finishes. As he clears his throat, Berlioz keeps scrying for the potentially muddling thoughts around the room.
> Most of the people are panicking now, afraid and shocked and dazed. "I didn't get a look, but her eyes were green." A gulp at that, afraid. "I think...2 glasses? 3? It was just one small tray of them."
* Berlioz nods pensively. "Anything else? Any difference in her clothings?", the bard ponders quickly. The small description might be enough to spread amongst the ball halls, but the odds that the girl is no longer around the vicinity are way too high.
> "Um...she moved...well. Really well," he says after a moment, "She didn't make a sound, even in the hallway where the music didn't reach."
* Berlioz nods sadly, letting out a sigh. "This will make her particularly difficult to catch, then. You probably don't really know which direction she headed to, do you? At least, this means my sight isn't completely off-track. I probably should rendezvous with the others. And keep an eye open, there may be two or three more victims of poisoning right now. Search all glasses, we might find the poison's substances from that."
> "Y-yes," the servants all agree very, very quickly. Khardon steps up, "Goign now?"
* Berlioz nods. "I probably should catch up with Lyselle and Shamal. And, if I know them, they're probably keeping track. There's someone else I'd probably like to nod about this, but I'm sure he's elsewhere by this point."
> "Good. The guards should know which way they went," he allows, "Get going now."
* Berlioz nods and heads out, leaving a hurried salute to Khardon.
> With a few questions Berlioz can find which side door Lyselle and Shamal went out. Into that alley he goes, and finds a surprise. Febras awaits, hat down. "They're going east, and probably towards the southern wall," he informs Berlioz bluntly, walking by him. "I suspect all of you have it in hand now."
* Berlioz sighs, shaking his head at Febras. "You are always around when things happen. You seem to attract more trouble than even the vaunted members of the Crimson Guard do. I'm fairly sure you spotted who gave the drink to Salman, you were there with me. However... why you seem to stick around closely to us, I'll never figure out. Regardless, thank you for the heads up."
> "I'm not the attractor," he says, matter of fact, as he looks dead on at Berlioz before the two pass entirely.
* Berlioz blinks and stops for a moment, sighing and taking leave. "This will have to wait for a next time. I'm sure there will be one, at least", the bard lets out as he zips away in the direction pointed by Febras.
> Off Berlioz goes, at top speeD! OOC - #dunes shortly.

[Anastasia]

* Lyselle just nods, clenching and unclenching her hands. "We'll have to wait for that to be finished..." she murmurs, frowning darkly. "The entrances into this building are all closed, aren't they?"
> "They are now," Oberuth agrees as Berlioz goes off. OOC - #evil, Berli.
<Shamal> "I can cast a spell tomorrow to definitively check for poison, so we need to make sure no one interferes with any of the evidence," Shamal explains. "I can also hopefully speed Lord Salman's recovery. For now, though..." she shrugs weakly. "Magic is all about preperation, and I wasn't prepared for this."
> "Bastards..." Oberuth growls low in his throat, slamming a fist into his side. "Of course we were. No one would've suspected this. Now, I wonder who did it and why."
<Shamal> "Malmuth is always the obvious suspect," Shamal mutters quietly, "But we mustn't jump to conclusions. Hopefully Berlioz can find something from the servants."
* Lyselle nods slowly, folding her arms. "Subsequent invasion preparations would be a clear clue, but we can't quite even be sure of that."
> A pause as Oberuth thinks, before taking his sword out and passing it to Lyselle. "Here."  It's presented hilt first, "I can't chase them myself, with Lord Salman down, I have to rune verything. If you don't get a chance to get a better one, use this."
* Lyselle tries to not flinch, reaching up to take Oberuth's sword carefully, bowing. "Sir...thank you," she struggles out, looking a bit more worried all despite having a reassuring sword in her hand. "I will endeavor to sheath it in the blood of these assassins," she promises, hoping to not sound TOO bloodthirsty.
> "Just return it in one piece. The assassin probably isn't a goblin, but it should still do better than any other sword." Oberuth takes a breath out, "By all the Gods, live up to what you just said. But take them alive if possible." With one more curt nod, the Commander leaves.
* Lyselle takes a deep, claming breath, pushing down her subsequent feelings. Helm protect her if she lost it on this... She nods, collecting herself behind the necessities of duty, rallying to what will be a hard time in front of her.
* Shamal collars a guard and tells him to make sure no one touches any of the items around where Salman fell. "Come on, Lyselle, let's check all the exits," she suggests.
* Lyselle nods, adjusting the magical ring she thankfully remembered, and adjusting her grip to the balance of Oberuth's weapon. "Alright," she agrees, falling in with Shamal.
> The guard nods and does so as Shamal goes to check the exits with Lyselle. The front one is triply guarded and not in need of obvious checking. There are a few other doors out - one to the side, leading to the back streets. It looks like it's been opened recently.
> It's a plain door in the wall, away from all the glitz of the main hall of Waukeen.
<Shamal> "I really wish I'd brought Laika, now," Shamal mutters, deciding to look around the door, both inside and outside. If a fake servant left via here right after an assassination attempt, maybe they took off their conspicuous servant's uniform to draw less attention outside?
<Lyselle> "I hate sloppy troops..." Lyselle frowns, opening the door carefully, and stepping outside to look in case they'd only recently moved through.
> Outside is a little access alley, going up and connecting to a minor street. You don't see much in the way here. It's a cloudly night, with rain drizzling down. OOC - Spot checks.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+9 casting guidance
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+9 casting guidance --> [ 1d20=16 ]{25}
<Shamal> "Fresh tracks," Shamal points down at the footprints, trying to estimate the build of whomever made them as she starts to follow the trail.
* Lyselle follows Shamal, sword held ready, but really wishing she had some armor and a shield, and... Well, there's a whole lot of things it'd be better to have right now.
> As you head out, you see that the road ahead is cobblestones. Walkign down the path slowly, you see a man in a heavy black cloak and wide brimmed hat, face looking down at the street. Febras looks up a moment to sniff the air, the cloud covered night sky glanced at.
* Shamal mostly keeps her attention on the tracks for fear of losing them, heedless of the rain which is likely ruining her expensive dress, but still manages to address Febras. "Febras, have you seen a young woman with short brown hair pass this way? She may have been wearing the clothes of a serving girl."
> The tracks are fading rapidly - the cobblestones make it difficult, as doe the rain, but Shamal thinks she has a bead on them. "Hm..." he doesn't turn, instead speaking aloud. "Heh...yes I did. She's heading eastward, I believe. Down this street in quite the hurry. Do hurry, so that you can save your Lord."
> He pauses a moment, looking up, "Well then, if you're so interested, I'll leave it to you. Do tell Berlioz that he should be along too." Febras steps aside, pulling his hat down as he looks your way.
* Shamal stops and stares at Febras for a long, unblinking moment. "We will have to talk about how well informed you are," she states coldly, but alas has bigger fish to fry. "Come on, Lyselle," she picks up the pace, following the tracks while she still can.
> "Another night..." Febras chuckles as he steps backa nd back and back, away into the shadows. "I wish you a good hunt."
* Lyselle frowns, eyeing Febras. They should've made him take the hat off... Shaking her head, she quickly follows up on Shamal, waiting a bit to get out of earshot. "I think we should've made him take the hat off."
<Shamal> "Why?" Shamal asks, rapidly pacing along with her eyes fixed on the muddy cobblestones.
> The path is weak, but your'e following it as best you can, down the street and to an intersection!One way goes east, and the other curves south. Black and quiet houses, none of note. OOc - Under the circumstances I think another check is needed. Tracking.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+10
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+10 --> [ 1d20=9 ]{19}
<Lyselle> "I'm a suspicious sort in these situations," Lyselle admits with a shrug, looking around with a very dark frown on her face.
> Shamal can just barely follow it! It goes south, towards the city walls.
* Shamal picks up the pace, dearly hoping to intercept their quarry before the trail goes completely cold.
> As you approach, the rain begins to pick up! It's a long straightaway to the walls, twenty five feet tall. Excellent defense, wet and rain soaked! As you run, about fifty feet away now? (More)
> roll 1d20+11
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+11 --> [ 1d20=11 ]{22}
> You can see a figure climbing up, what little light there is letting you see the ripples as you approach. The figure is about halfway up or so, scaling the wall with effiencent, quick movements.
<Lyselle> Well, that simplifies things. With guilt clearly indicated, Lyselle...starts climbing up behind this malefactor! Pursuit! Death to the conspirators!
<Shamal> "I call upon the spider's blessing to aid me in traversing the obstacles before me," Shamal chants briefly, before breaking into a flat out run and tearing up the wall after the figure!
> As you approach, you can see the figure turn. She's clad in mostly dark colors and leather, but her face is a woman's! A weapon hangs at her belt - a short sword? A rapier? You can't get a good look. But..."Damn," you hear her soft voice carry, as the rain continues to fall! OOC - Initiative.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+2
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+2 --> [ 1d20=18 ]{20}
> roll 1d20+9
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+9 --> [ 1d20=1 ]{10}
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+2
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d20+2 --> [ 1d20=20 ]{22}
<Lyselle> Lyselle doesn't wait! She clambers up the wall behind this damned assassin, lashing out with her acquired longsword at the last moment to sweep them off the wall! "Surrender!"
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+6
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d20+6 --> [ 1d20=11 ]{17}
> OOOC - Hit.
<Lyselle> roll 1d8+4
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d8+4 --> [ 1d8=7 ]{11}
> The slash hits true! It rips into her tendons and legs, tearing them open! You hear her hiss, "Bitch..." she scowls, looking down at Lyselle! Grand Striker tears through her body easily, far better than a normal weapon. OOC - Shamal.
<Shamal> Effortlessly scampering up the wall in her now somewhat bedraggled and muddied dress, Shamal is even able to free one hand as she ascends to gesture and point at the assassin as she incants a spell, a ray of crackling purple energy lancing forward to strike her!
<Shamal> roll 1d20+5 ranged touch
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d20+5 ranged touch --> [ 1d20=9 ]{14}
> OOC - Hit,
<Shamal> roll 1d6+1 strength penalty
<Reiko-chan> Shamal rolled : 1d6+1 strength penalty --> [ 1d6=2 ]{3}
> The strength wilts from her body at that ray, but she nonetheless stays on! With one hand she draws her weapon, a rapier, before she strokes down at Lyselle!
> roll 1d20+11
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d20+11 --> [ 1d20=10 ]{21}
> roll 1d6-4
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d6-4 --> [ 1d6=4 ]{0}
> OOC - Fort save, 1 damage.
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+7
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d20+7 --> [ 1d20=6 ]{13}
> roll 1d6+1
<Reiko-chan> Kotono rolled : 1d6+1 --> [ 1d6=1 ]{2}
> As the weapon strikes, Lyselle feels her body go numb! Her motions are clumsier, retarded and hindered! OOC - 2 points of dex damage.
> As this happens, girls fighting on walls in beautiful dresses is interrupted! Beriloz runs up, approaching as the battle rages! OOC - Roll initaitive.
<Berlioz> roll 1d20+1
<Reiko-chan> Berlioz rolled : 1d20+1 --> [ 1d20=18 ]{19}
<Lyselle> Lyselle hisses, but pays the debilitating pinpring no heed! Her duty to her lord is in the forefront of her mind, kept as a clear objective and bastion against supernatural attacks while she slashes at this black hearted criminal!
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+6
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d20+6 --> [ 1d20=19 ]{25}
> OOC - Crit threat.
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+6 crit confirm
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 1d20+6 crit confirm --> [ 1d20=17 ]{23}
> OOC - Crit.
<Lyselle> roll 2d8+8
<Reiko-chan> Lyselle rolled : 2d8+8 --> [ 2d8=14 ]{22}
> The vicious strike stabs right into her back! She wobbles on the wall, blood gushing out! Evne in this light, you can see her face in pain, back stained red!
<Shamal> "Throw down your weapon and surrender if you want to live!" Shamal calls against the driving rain, readying a spell in case she doesn't play nice.
> OOC - Holding your action, Shamal?
<Shamal> OOC: Readying an action. I'll summon something if she does anything that isn't surrendering.
> The female thief hangs to the wall, splatters of dark bloodf alling with the raindrops. The cloudy sky weeps down, beautiful ball maidens at war. Snarling a moment, "Sorry...but I don't...have any illusions of surviving now anyway," she spits, reddish blood coming from her mouth in a spray.
<Shamal> "So be it!" Shamal calls, using her three hand to gesture in the air while hanging off the wall. "Hunter of the night, I summon you to bring this assassin to ground!" Upon her words, an enormous black winged shape materialises above the wall, beating its wings furiously and emitting a high pitched screech as it tries to snatch the assassin up!
<Shamal> *free hand
> As the bat comes, the rapier of the assassin darts out, a defensive stroke!
> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+11 and gets 30." [1d20=19]
> roll 1d20+11 crit check ow
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+11 crit check ow and gets 12." [1d20=1]
> roll 1d6-4
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d6-4  and gets -3." [1d6=1]
> OOC - Have the bat make a fort save.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+9 and gets 25." [1d20=16]
> While the defense barely punctures the bat's wing, it's just enough to make it have to fly a little off! Meanwhile, Berlioz rushes to the scene, monocles rainsplattered but nonetheless still perfectly in place! He begins to tell of a tale of wall climbing sword princesses and shamans, the tale epic!
> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+11 and gets 28." [1d20=17]
> Grunting in pain, the assassin pulls herself up the wall! She leaves a trail of blood as she shimmers up, avoiding bat and assault! But she climbs up, just about reaching the top! OOC - Lyselle, you're up.
<Lyselle> OOC - I'll hold for the bat.
> OOC - Bat and Shamalthing are up.
<Shamal> Flying far faster than the assassin can climb, the bat beats its wings furiosuly about her, a maelstrom of leathery flapping as it takes the opportunity to snatch her while her weapon isn't ready to poke tiny holes in it!
<Shamal> roll 1d20+7 melee touch
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+7 melee touch and gets 10." [1d20=3]
<Shamal> roll 1d20+12 grapple check
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+12 grapple check and gets 14." [1d20=2]
> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+6 and gets 9." [1d20=3]
> Just as she reaches the very top of the wall, arm on the other side, the bat lunges in! The two engage in a grapple, dire bat clinging and wrapping around the assassin!
<Shamal> roll 1d8+7
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d8+7 and gets 11." [1d8=4]
> The bat holds and rips, little foreclaws raking into her flesh! The struggle is a momentary nova for freedom atop the wall, but within seconds, the assassin screams and goes limp!
> OOC - The assassin's not in fighting shape, so free actions.