19: Take My Daughter...Please!

[Sierra]

<Cidward> Shortly after Madeline's bag of holding has divulged its living cargo, the rescued girl falls to her hands and knees, feeling around the floor and wondering in a timid voice, "Is this real?" Pounding a fist against a nearby wall, looking at it in shock, more insistently: "Is this real?" Kisantha ignores this spectacle, addressing the adventurers instead: "I wonder if we might not have more success concocting some sort of plan rather than poking into every punishment pit willy nilly?"
<Corben> "What's your idea?"
<Eliaphas> "It's real, but I wouldn't celebrate too early; you're still in Mistvalken," Eliaphas consoles the woman, before addressing the others. "We should take her to join the others we've freed first. We can think up a plan along the way."
<Madeline> Madeline leans against a wall for a moment, if only to catch her breath.
<Cidward> "Well, you've visited before, haven't you? Is it possible to resist the pull of these little alternate worlds? I felt as though it would be when I returned to you all, but chose not to resist. If we can avoid being pulled in, perhaps a close examination beforehand would serve us well. I am certain I saw this girl in the painting on the outside, for example."
<Cidward> The girl stands up, wrapping her arms about herself and shivering. "No more suffering," she breathes in relief and a little skeptical wonder. "Not for me..."
* Corben nods. "Try it, then."
* Eliaphas begrudgingly nods, admitting Kisantha's plan has merit.
<Cidward> Kisantha sighs. "Of course, it's up to me, isn't it? No one else here is expendable. I trust you'll all come rushing to save me if anything untoward becomes of me, of course." Kisantha sidles to the next painting, examines it for a moment, does not wink out of existence. "Well, I think this is not, shall we say, hungry?"
<Eliaphas> "There are a few like that," Eliaphas agrees. "Anyway, before further investigation I think we can afford a short detour." Turning to the shivering girl, "This place is still dangerous, but we can take you to the safest part of the castle. There are others there who can help you."
<Cidward> "Safe? Where?" She runs her hands through her hair. "The theater was safe...sort of...no one died there...at least while I was around..."
<Eliaphas> "Mmm," Eliaphas grunts noncommitally. "I don't know about that. But the mess hall in the West wing is where we've been using as our base."
<Cidward> With a light chuckle, Kisantha says, "Indeed, you clearly didn't stay long enough if you never saw that happen, child."
<Cidward> "Is there food there?" the girl wonders. "I haven't eaten in..." A long, blank expression. "I don't know."
<Eliaphas> "There is food, water, and shelter," Eliaphas nods gravely. "Come, girl," he starts heading out of the gallery, before asking, "What is your name? I am Eliaphas, and those are Corben, Madeline, and Kisantha."
<Cidward> "Curious, isn't it?" Kisantha says, studying the girl with a clinical look. "And she must have been there for decades. That little pocket of Hell we visited seems to sustain residents so that they might suffer longer. If only it could do so in more pleasant circumstances, no?"
<Cidward> "Sherice," the girl says, following behind Eliaphas. "Let's go. I would like something to eat, I haven't...I forgot what it's like."
<Eliaphas> "The other paintings might well have the same trait," Eliaphas guesses. He doubts the artist would pay special care for just that one.
<Corben> "Maybe they do it too," Corben agrees, bringing up the rear. No one will ambush them from behind while he's there!
<Cidward> And indeed, no one does! Shortly the group is back with the rescued human villagers in the mess hall. Sherice shies away from the crowd, seeming uncomfortable in close quarters, but makes a beeline towards the food supply once directed to it.
<Eliaphas> With that taken care of, it's back to the gallery for more picture viewing!
<Cidward> Kisantha sighs on resuming her little tour, moving towards the first painting on the east wall; a sidelong glance from afar makes it look like some sort of crater. "I remember this one...Someone simply must come to my rescue if I disappear and don't return, it is not one of the more pleasant examples of my homeland." This said, she examines it carefully!
<Cidward> roll 1d20+20
* Hatbot --> "Cidward rolls 1d20+20 and gets 21."12 [1d20=1]
<Cidward> Kisantha winks out of existence!
<Corben> "Homesick?"
<Eliaphas> Two sets of eyes can see what one can't, so Eliaphas joins her for a look... and as she abruptly vanishes he sighs bitterly and looks to see where she's appeared in the painting.
<Cidward> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Cidward rolls 1d20+11 and gets 15."12 [1d20=4]
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+17 and gets 28."12 [1d20=11]
<Cidward> roll 1d6
* Hatbot --> "Cidward rolls 1d6 and gets 2."12 [1d6=2]
<Cidward> Eliaphas sees the following: Above a vast molten cauldron, demons wheel through the simmering sky, cackling to each other and pointing to the seething muck below. Within the crater itself can be seen the tops of human heads, the owners in vain struggle to keep their faces above the surface. The proliferation of these unfortunates is such that they must be packed so tightly as to allow freedom not even for jostling. One man has pulled free his arm so that he might press down those around him to seek air, only to be cruelly suppressed by a demon. The plaque reads: The Pit.
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+23 perception if needed
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+23 perception if needed and gets 43."12 [1d20=20]
<Madeline> A fan of plans, Madeline isn't one to look into the painting until she sees a report from those who have!
<Cidward> Eliaphas resists the painting's lure! A moment's examination shows Kisantha's fiery red hair stuck in the midst of the crowd, though he's sure he doesn't see anything else out of place.
<Cidward> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "Cidward rolls 1d20+12 and gets 32."12 [1d20=20]
<Madeline> "Should we enter?" asks Madeline, with her eyes still well averted.
* Corben likewise awaits Eliaphas's word!
<Cidward> Shortly, Kisantha reappears back in the gallery! Gasping for breath in quite melodramatic fashion, her outfit thoroughly ruined as though eaten by acid. "Might we have another volunteer for the next one? We can rotate, perhaps."
<Eliaphas> "I can see her," Eliaphas points out the newly arrived red hair. "It seems she needs to be rescued after all," stating in a tone of resignation, he's thus surprised when she reappears! "That sounds fair. I'll do the next one," he nods, moving along.
<Madeline> "We may need to explore even the most hellish paintings to find the orb eventually, but I would hope it lies in one of the more tame works," admits Madeline.
<Cidward> "My gallant priest!" Kisantha croons in appreciation.
<Cidward> Eliaphas sees the following: A side view of of a stained stone altar upon which rests the mutilated body of an adolescent girl. A dagger of black iron is thrust into her heart; her throat is slashed, and veins elsewhere on wrists and legs are laid open. All are positioned carefully for the runoff to filter through channels around her, and indeed the painting captures this unholy ceremony in process of bloody streams filling pitchers placed around the altar. The girl's face is intact, and suffused with an expression of profound sadness. You think you can see trails of dried tears. The plaque reads: Ritual.
<Cidward> This image is recognizable as a recreation of Mistvalken's desecrated chapel. It does not seem to be active in the manner of other paintings.
<Eliaphas> It's plain to see just the girl and no one else is present. "This one's inert," he announces, grimacing a bit at Kisantha's theatrics and quickly moving on to the next.
<Cidward>  In a cavern, perched upon a crude stone chair, a monstrous winged form rests its demonic bulk. Lit from below with a sinister and sulfurous glow by a moat of magma ringing his throne, the deceiver, Lord of Suffering, Olugh, leers at the viewer with his eight eyes and a menace reserved for none but the master of Hell himself. In the shadows around him jut jagged metal poles decorated with writhing sinners, though the lighting means one can catch only a glimpse of their torment and but imagine the rest. The plaque reads: Lord of All.
<Cidward> OOC: will if you're resisting.
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+17 and gets 35."12 [1d20=18]
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+23 perception if any sinners look out of place
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+23 perception if any sinners look out of place and gets 29."12 [1d20=6]
<Cidward> Eliaphas resists the dark one's infernal call! He doesn't see anyone that looks out of place...although he knows from his theological training that Olugh is not typically described in scripture as having wings, it being a popular invention.
<Eliaphas> "Artistic license," Eliaphas grunts disapprovingly. "Can't see anyone standing out in this one." That said he moves along another painting to review!
<Cidward> The final painting in this gallery is: A vision of a barren Earth assaults your senses. This panoramic view from cityscape to tended fields is a study in desolation: houses sit empty, burnt and collapsed, while farmland is black, cracked and crumbled as if scoured by hellfire. Not even rats brave the empty streets, nor does the most stubborn weed break through the ashes. Above this scene of ruination the sky is empty save for a glaring circle of light where the sun lies eclipsed. The plaque reads: End.
<Cidward> OOC: no need for a save here
* Eliaphas steps back. "Nothing. We can try a more pleasant gallery now if another wants to try being the viewer?"
<Cidward> Kisantha nods, points to the exit. "Across the hall is the landscape gallery. Below us is the portrait gallery, and also downstairs are the war and Eleran galleries. Does any strike your fancy?"
<Corben> "War," Corben immediately says.
<Eliaphas> Corben volunteered, and Eliaphas won't begrudge him!
<Cidward> A throaty laugh from Kisantha. "But of course!" A quick trip downstairs, and across the hall from the portrait gallery is...
<Cidward> A colossal battle scene occupies the north wall of this gallery. The other, smaller paintings include: an earthquake and an army in formation, these two next to the door; two paintings of soldiers--human and otherwise--at rest, on the south wall; and a painting displaying the aftermath of a battle next to what looks like a banquet scene, on the far wall.
<Corben> The aftermath of a battle draws Corben to it, and he takes a closer look.
<Cidward> Corben sees: Atop a hill overlooking a field of slaughter, a distinguished and crowned young man wearing plate mail over robes of royal purple and blue looks down on a second figure that kneels before him. The second man proffers a rolled scroll to the regal figure, face fixed on the ground at his feet as he does so. Though the kneeling man's finery is coated in layers of grime and mud, the imperial device of Nomel is visible on his chest. The plaque reads: Yazgid's Surrender.
<Cidward> (OOC: no save for this one)
<Corben> The earthquake is next. Corben shakes his head, and moves towards that painting.
<Cidward> Corben sees: The earth breaks apart, and a city tumbles into its hungry maw. Centrally, the disaster consumes a lavish mayoral residence of recognizably Brislovian brick and wood style. The building is draped with the black and gold of Nomel, though the foreign banner flutters off as the building slips into the abyss. In a paved square before the building, a legion of Nomeluke soldiers breaks formation and panics as they too plunge below, their commander flailing helplessly as he leads them into the afterlife. The plaque reads: Judgement.
<Cidward> OOC: will
<Corben> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Corben rolls 1d20+6 and gets 25."12 [1d20=19]
<Cidward> Corben resists the painting's gravity!
<Corben> roll 1d20+17 perception
* Hatbot --> "Corben rolls 1d20+17 perception and gets 26."12 [1d20=9]
<Cidward> He also doesn't spot anything that looks out of place. All the figures present are dressed in the same foreign armor.
* Corben shrugs. "Nothing so far."
<Madeline> Madeline steps up to the next picture, firming her resolve against the frame!
<Madeline> roll 1d20+9 will
* Hatbot --> "Madeline rolls 1d20+9 will and gets 14."12 [1d20=5]
<Madeline> roll 1d20+18 perception
* Hatbot --> "Madeline rolls 1d20+18 perception and gets 34."12 [1d20=16]
<Cidward> Madeline sees: Uneasy allies stand apart before a mossy, crumbling castle wall. Soldiers bearing the royal device of Brislov tend to a pair of heavy warhorses, one animal trying to rear from unease. On the opposite side of the picture stand three women. All wear leather armor, but what can be seen of their bodies is covered in down of various earthy hues and a cruel beak mars the face of each. One leans forward and crooks a suggestive finger at the knights, who look on skeptically, while her companions convulse with laughter. The plaque reads: Cavalry.
<Cidward> This painting does not seek to an exert an influence against Madeline's will. All the painting's residents look designed as part of the picture.
<Madeline> "This one is ordinary," notes Madeline, with a shrug.
<Corben> While Madeline does so, Corben heads towards the largest of the paintings!
<Cidward> Corben sees: This is a battle scene of staggering breadth and brutality. Tall as a man, the painting must be dozens of paces in width, and it crawls with images of Brislovian knights locked in mortal combat with Nomeluke slave legions. Here a mounted officer staves in a legionaire's skull; there a gutted horse kicks its last; elsewhere a winged figure tumbles from the sky, an arrow through her throat. The field of battle is awash with mud and filth; it cakes the combatants such that it is a wonder they can discern sides. Individual soldiers' faces are distinct in their detail; down the painting's length, you can taste every man's fear, rage and desperation. The plaque reads: Vilna.
<Cidward> (OOC: no save needed here)
* Corben spends a few long moments examining this worthy piece of art!
<Cidward> Corben finds it a worthy and spectacular celebration of the art of battle!
<Corben> "Good painting," he says at last. "But not what we seek."
* Corben thus moves on to the next one!
<Cidward> Corben sees: The borders of this painting are the walls of a copious tent, its peaked roof just edging out of sight at the painting's top edge. Within the tent, lit diffusely through the walls, a long wooden table is laden with a lavish banquet. Though two bands of men reside in the tent, none yet sits for a meal. Brislovian nobles and commanders talk amongst themselves and stare across the room at opulently dressed foreigners while a crowned, bearded man from each contingent greets the other at tent's center. The plaque reads: Truce.
<Cidward> OOC: will
<Corben> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Corben rolls 1d20+6 and gets 12."12 [1d20=6]
<Cidward> Corben disappears!
<Cidward> OOC: to #nightgallery, C

~

<Cidward> Corben finds himself inside the tent depicted in the painting, at the back of the crowd of dignitaries (who mutter what sounds like the same pleasantries, over and over again). By his feet is immediately apparent something that doesn't belong here: the withered corpse of what was once an imposing, bearded man in robes.
<Corben> Being near the back and with painted dignitaries not paying him any attention, Corben kneels by the corpse and searches it for any keys!
<Cidward> Corben finds two things quite quickly, clasped in the dead figure's hands: a familiar amulet, and a parchment note written in a careful and deliberate hand.
<Corben> He pockets those, before making his way past the tent's flap. It is the way out. He believes in it with all his barbarian might!
<Cidward> OOC: will
<Corben> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Corben rolls 1d20+5 and gets 10."12 [1d20=5]
<Cidward> Corben walks out of the tent flap--and right back inside it! The dignitaries are briefly disturbed by the sudden appearance of this foreign ruffian, but it seems this painting is more benign than most--or more forgetful--as they quickly return to their inane diplomatic exchanges.
* Corben waits a moment for the dignitaries to forget of his existence and tries again! As many times as he needs to!
<Corben> roll 1d20+5 eventually!
* Hatbot --> "Corben rolls 1d20+5 eventually! and gets 6."12 [1d20=1]
<Cidward> Corben stumbles back inside, tripping onto the heavily-laden table and breaking it with his weight! Painting fruit and meat tumble to the floor all around him! Amongst widespread looks of irritation, a pair of armed guards stride forward to take him by the arms and forcibly eject him from the tent!
<Cidward> ~

~

* Eliaphas shakes his head and goes to look over the painting and see where Corben's appeared.
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+17 will
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+17 will and gets 36."12 [1d20=19]
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+23 perception
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+23 perception and gets 37."12 [1d20=14]
<Cidward> "Oho, did he find something?" Kisantha wonders, joining Eliaphas. "Or it found him."
<Cidward> roll 1d20+20
* Hatbot --> "Cidward rolls 1d20+20 and gets 25."12 [1d20=5]
<Cidward> Eliaphas spots Corben at the back of the Brislovian side in the painting. By his feet is a withered human corpse, quite out of place.
<Eliaphas> "Well spotted, Corben," Eliaphas smiles in approval at the barbarian's cunning, pointing out the out of place corpse. "We can give him a moment to return, I think."
<Cidward> "Is *that* where he went?" Kisantha exclaims on noticing the corpse.
<Cidward> Eventually, Corben reappears in the gallery--actually, he's flung right out of the painting at the viewers, all of whom tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
<Eliaphas> "Urgh!" Eliaphas grunts as he's knocked over and pinned by Corben's considerable bulk.
<Corben> "Success!" Corben declares, rising to his feet and raising his fist in triumph.
<Madeline> Standing to the side with her eyes averted, Madeline is safe!
<Cidward> "Why Corben, I didn't know you felt that way!" Kisantha says, climbing to her feet.
<Madeline> "You were able to recover it, then?" asks Madeline, glancing at Corben.
* Eliaphas pushes himself up and listens interestedly.
<Corben> "I was," Corben affirms. He hands Madeline the amulet, and then carefully retrieves the parchment so that everyone could read it.
* Eliaphas reads the parchment gravely and then nods. "I will end his unlife, it won't take long," he volunteers, turning and allowing himself to be drawn into the painting.
<Cidward> Eliaphas finds himself drawn into the painting!
<Cidward> (OOC: #ng for the brief time this should take, I guess)

~

<Cidward> Eliaphas shortly finds himself inside the richly-appointed tent, a low murmur of meaningless pleasantries buzzing around him and a seemingly dead man at his feet.
* Eliaphas ignores everyone else present, taking one of the chairs and bringing it back towards the corpse. Rolling him onto his back, he snaps off the chair leg and drives it into the cadaver's heart with all his might!
<Cidward> The corpse dissolves into ash and dust--was that a suggestion of a smile just before disintegration?--and blows away in the light breeze coming through the tent flap.
* Eliaphas victoriously strides out of the tent, job done.
<Cidward> OOC: will
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+17 and gets 26."12 [1d20=9]
<Cidward> Eliaphas strides out of the tent--

~

<Cidward> --and reappears in the gallery!
<Corben> "What next, then?" Corben asks.
<Cidward> "You've laid him to rest, then?" Kisantha says. "He was always such a dour sort, it's surely for the better that an unenjoyed life end while it may."
<Eliaphas> "It is done," Eliaphas nods. "And we are done with this gallery... our next lead led underground, did it not?"
<Madeline> Madeline scowls. "Of course. Now we must face the worms. If they come in great swarms, only the Helm would save us. Would be that I had studied those spells myself..."
<Cidward> "Yeees," Kisantha says, with an obvious grimace. "There are several ways down there, some safer than others."
<Corben> "It better work, unlike with the ghost witches," Corben mutters darkly.
<Eliaphas> "There is a path under the prison we can take. Do you have any better, Kisantha?" Eliaphas asks their friendly fiend.
<Cidward> Kisantha holds up her elegant fingers, ticks them off one by one: "There is a lift beneath the inner ring that provides access to all levels of the underworks. Safe, but usually watched by Maxwell's minions. He seems ready to leave us be in our efforts, but still, why associate with them if we don't have to? There are some old service entrances, in the clock tower and the west wing...Finally, a stairwell beneath the chapel leads to the catacombs. The catacombs are occupied, but if someone down there stole Cain's amulet, I think it likely the culprit is there." A pause. "A warning about the underworks: the air is befouled from byproducts of magical experiments. Residing there unduly long will do....strange things to a person. We should minimize our time there as much as possible."
<Eliaphas> "Hmm... catacombs under the chapel, then?" Eliaphas asks the others, considering it the best approach of their available options.
<Madeline> "I would prefer the catacombs," agrees Madeline. "How can we minimize the time it takes us to explore it?"
<Cidward> "If the wretches in the catacombs indeed have what we seek, we should not be there long enough to worry about such things. If we have to search after all, well, I am at a loss. The amulets evade magical detection, so we'd have no choice but to explore every corner and crevice."
* Corben nods in agreement, himself suggesting, "What if we leave to take breaks every hour? Can you teleport to and from them?"
<Madeline> "It sounds like the magical miasma would need to accumulate on our persons," notes Madeline, nodding to Corben. "I would speculate that we can vent such energies by leaving and allowing them to decay. I'm not sure what the half-life on such would be... I suppose it would depend on the experiments."
<Cidward> Kisantha pouts. "Oh my, you're not going to have me do all the work, are you? There are dreadful huge worms down there, and not the diverting kind."
<Corben> "You can take us out and bring us back, like with the painting. Is that too much work?"
<Cidward> "As for exposure, it is difficult to say. I avoid visiting as much as possible."
<Eliaphas> "We'll all go, and take breaks every hour," Eliaphas puts a stop to Kisantha's whining. He doesn't care to rely on her, anyway.
<Cidward> Kisantha brightens up. "Carrying all of you at once? What a lovely thought."
<Cidward> Exiting the gallery, traveling east along the northern corridor...the party finds the hallway devoid of life, but not of death: not far from the juncture that leads to the chapel, one of the floating eye creatures lies dead and smeared across the floor. Bootprints stamp through green ichor in the direction of the chapel.
* Eliaphas frowns at this, wondering who else could be around... he doubts it's Cat making another appearance, since she wouldn't leave a trail. Readying his crossbow, just in case, he advances into the chapel.
<Madeline> "Our predecessor," notes Madeline, scanning the area for any notes.
<Madeline> roll 1d20+18
* Hatbot --> "Madeline rolls 1d20+18 and gets 32."12 [1d20=14]
<Corben> What possible course could there be but to proceed into the chapel? Corben advances bravely!
<Cidward> Madeline doesn't find anything in the area that she hadn't seen walking through it before...but the others do find the chapel occupied. Two figures turn at your appearance: one a woman of imposing height and build, mousy brown hair clipped brutally short and a scowl seemingly burned onto her face, dressed in gleaming mail with a brilliant sunburst on the chest; the other is a man wearing the white robes of a priest. An older man, with a friendly, gentle smile. It's he who speaks as he examines each of you in turn: "I greet you under the sight of the lord, strangers."
<Madeline> Members of Eliaphas' faith. Madeline will allow him to do the talking here, see if they are friends or foes.
* Eliaphas lowers his crossbow at seeing other members of the church. "Inquisitor Crane, Order of the Vigilant Hound. Norusk watch over you... I did not expect to see others of the faith in here. Newly arrived, are you?"
<Cidward> His gaze holds on Kisantha, eyes briefly narrowing, before he turns back to Eliaphas with his everpresent smile. "Ahh, a brother of the faith. We have heard of you, Inquisitor Crane. My protector, Corona, and I agree your efforts on the church's behalf are most impressive. Inquisitor Hendrick, at your service. Yes, we've only arrived within the hour."
<Eliaphas> "We've been here over a day, ourselves," Eliaphas adds. "These are Corben and Madeline, charged with rescuing the Princess, and Kisantha, a... native, who simply wishes the Duke dead."
<Eliaphas> roll 1d20+27 lets sense their motives
* Hatbot --> "Eliaphas rolls 1d20+27 lets sense their motives and gets 28."12 [1d20=1]
<Cidward> "Ahhh yes, the Princess," he says conversationally. "That is one of our goals as well. Yet you exhibit curious taste in companions, Brother Crane. Know you not what you travels with you?"
PM'd to Eliaphas here: <Cidward> A whisper from Kisantha: "He lies about something here. Be on your guard."
<Eliaphas> "Mistvalken makes for strange allies," Eliaphas returns, his craggy aged face maintaining its stony expression. "I care for nothing but the Duke's death. For now we may work together to that end."
<Cidward> "You would compromise yourself by accepting aid from this...creature? An infernal harlot who tempts men and women to their doom?" All throughout, he speaks with the casual smile and tone of a pleasant conversation over tea. "This is how the corruption begins: with one seemingly reasonable request. You should know better, Brother. I would eagerly fight by your side, yet not with this...creature. It would be a service to part you from her while you retain your wits."
<Madeline> "I would not allow it," states Madeline, after a moment's consideration. "I acknowledge what I have seen. The succubus has fought beside us in earnest battle. To betray one's own allies..." She shakes her head. "A knight who would do so is no knight at all."
<Eliaphas> "I am no virile teenager seeking thrills and temptation, Inquisitor Hendrick," Eliaphas replies in a weary tone. "My current allies serve well in killing Mistvalken's denizens. That is all that matters to me, and I have no reason to part with them."
<Cidward> "He spoke not to you," Corona says to Madeline with a withering glare. "The betrayer is at your side, if you'd but open your eyes."
<Madeline> "He would do well to listen to me nonetheless," replies Madeline. "I would hope not to waste our energy here on a pointless conflict."
<Corben> "This is pointless," Corben states, returning the scorn Corona displays towards them with spades. "We have our goal. Let's do it and leave these two to theirs."
<Cidward> "A disappointment," Hendrick says with a sigh. "I will not accompany such filth. I pray for your immortal soul, Brother Crane, and that you will see reason. Allowing for your sterling reputation, I will do you the courtesy of not standing in your way. You are right in that there is a greater evil to be punished here--we will simply not ally with a lesser to combat it. I wish you luck."
<Cidward> --------------

Note that the following conversation took place over PM with Madeline throughout the gallery exploration sequence:

<Cidward> Kisantha's voice rings out inside your head, playful and chatty as always: "So you are a half-elf, are you? What an act of drama such an existence must be--trapped between two worlds, a child of probably forbidden or at least frowned upon love! I find myself a captive of curiosity--I think surely it was awkward for you when you were young. Did one culture or the other make life considerably more difficult for you because of your mixed heritage? Oh, you simply must tell me!"
<Cidward> (OOC: And you must, because Dominate Person. Kisantha will be listening for mental responses, as she obviously doesn't intend to make this a group conversation.)
<Madeline> "I had my share of troubles from my heritage. My parents might have abandoned me to Brislov, and they kept me there only for the virtue of my station. I was shunned and ignored most my childhood." Madeline's mind wanders back to those days; they certainly weren't easy. "It is unworthy to complain about my past now, when I am amongst the best archers of both human and elven realms. And to do so
<Madeline> would be to pretend I alone had problems in youth..."
<Cidward> "Is that so? So tragic. Why, I myself know all about bad reputations proceeding one due to her heritage. Well, now that we are sisters in arms, and chatting so enjoyably with the closeness of friends discussing their private lives..." All humor vanishes from Kisantha's mental voice and she adopts a tone of serious concern. "...I wonder if you might be willing to do me a favor? You will not find it immoral or distasteful, I promise you. Quite the opposite. It is in fact not so different from the mission that brought you here."
<Madeline> "Ask and I will do what I must," replies Madeline. "We are certainly comrades now."
<Cidward> "Then listen, and decide: while I myself have every intention of returning home as soon as I am able, there is someone else in Mistvalken that I need escorted to a place of safety in the mortal realm. I ask you, Madeline, because I believe you are uniquely suited to sympathize and hope that this will motivate your assistance. I need you to give this honest consideration because it's of no benefit to me if you change your mind once we are no longer, shall we say, so intimately acquainted? What do you say? Will you consider helping us?"
<Cidward> (OOC: note that there is no compulsion here. She wants an answer but isn't forcing a particular response.)
<Madeline> "I already intended to take responsibility for any genuine refugees from Mistvalken. They will be resettled in Brislov if they so desire," replies Madeline. "But everything is conditional on slaying the Duke in the first place."
<Cidward> "This is not an ordinary refugee. She will require assistance in adjusting to the mortal world, as she has only ever lived here, as well as special care to ensure she doesn't come to harm at the hands of ignorant human rabble. I am speaking of my daughter, you see."
<Madeline> "It would be necessary to conceal her heritage if she is to live in my country. I would be able to assist her. If I return alive, it would not be improper for me to request both land and title. Under my domain, hiding one girl would not be so difficult."

*Kisantha got sucked into a painting right about here*

<Cidward> "Where were we? Oh yes! Safety in seclusion is indeed what I ask of you, yes. She knows nothing of the mortal world save what she has read of it in books. It will take care to educate her of its reality and keep her out of trouble. I want you to understand this is a long-term stewardship I'm requesting. If you need speak with her before undertaking this, I understand and this can be arranged."
<Madeline> "I have more years to use than most. What of her? I am a soldier, Kisantha. I would raise her like a soldier trains his men. It is the only way I know. A person in her position would not be able to make her own decisions or decide what she wants on her own until I allow it. Would she accept that? Would you?"
<Cidward> "Madeline, dear, I believe it would surely go worse for her were *I* to bring her home with me, so I could hardly complain. She is very naive and in need of such guidance anyway. Have no fear, she is eager to learn. In mortal years, she should be seventeen now--she yet retains her maidenhead, even! I had hoped to find a suitable partner for her in this year's crop of visitors, but it would seem I found something better, no?"
<Madeline> "What is her lifespan? She may well outlive me. I am not familiar with..." Madeline's inner voice radiates slight confusion. "How did you have her? I am aware you are no ordinary succubus, but this is nearly beyond the pale."
<Cidward> "Well, the difficult thing about our halfbreeds is that they aren't prone to dying in old age and infirmity. I gather most of our get spawned off mortals fall to the church or an angry mob, so I could not properly guess at how long she will live. But she is, in many ways, as mortals. As for how I had her?" A rich chuckle. "The usual way, of course!"
<Madeline> "Well, yes, but... no, never mind. I will pass her off as some girl I took an interest in when we return. There's no need to take a detour to see her now. We should wait until our tasks are completed."
<Cidward> "You perhaps underestimate how easy it will be to visually cloak her heritage, but no matter. Such things are not impossible. If you wish to see for yourself, we can retire to the library when next you and your companions require rest; her quarters are beneath my desk there. I have not previously allowed her to speak with strangers and she will surely be most excited to do so."
<Madeline> "If we have time," allows Madeline. "I suppose I should not commit to this without knowing if it is possible.
<Cidward> "As I said, I do wish you to give this proper consideration, for her sake. I--" Kisantha cuts off abruptly as she's bowled over by a large amount of barbarian.

*Corben makes his disruptive escape from a painting here*

<Cidward> "My, that was a bracing experience! Now, finally, I ask you not to talk of her aloud, at least not yet. Maxwell's scrying remained active still when my means of detecting such spells expired. It may be that it yet remains. If so, and were we to speak of this openly, he would hear all that you hear. I have taken great pains to ensure that she remained a secret from the other caretakers for fear that they would seek to use her as a weapon against me. I will not jeopardize that now if it can be avoided."
<Madeline> "Then it would be best if we do not meet at all. Simply going to the library at a strange time would indicate there is something of interest occuring there," responds Madeline. "Maxwell may choose to investigate or corner us whilst we are seperated. What was I thinking? It is folly to go seperately for long without need. There will be time enough when we are victorious..."
<Cidward> "Oh, I never proposed to separate you. Quite the opposite, I can think of little that would more jeopardize your trust in me than to take any of you with me alone!" A despondent sigh at this. "I am certain a safe meeting could be arranged in time. Consider it, as she will be your charge."
<Madeline> "Will she adopt your traits or come into power on her own, as she ages? I must know."
<Cidward> "Difficult to say. But from observation thus far? She has some innate talent for magic. She does not drain life in the manner of her ancestors--well, she may be capable of such, but not with the efficacy of a purebred succubus--" an undisguised note of personal pride here, "--and nor will it provide her with sustenance. This is why I scammed Larchmont out of his assistants--otherwise regular requests of food would have aroused suspicion. She is in most ways mortal--save for the ability to consistently pass as such. In temperament, she is a perfectly innocent creature."
<Madeline> "Well, she won't be for long under my tutelage. I'll raise no shirking violets." Madeline's voice is tinged with amusement. "How strange that you have kept her so, and it is an ordinary woman like me who will teach her good and evil."
<Cidward> "Ah, well, she may have imbibed certain unspoken attitudes about mortal life from me, of that I cannot say. But for the most, I sated her curiosity with pure knowledge. There is so much of it to spare when one lives in a library, no?"
<Madeline> "I came to reading for knowledge later in life, after I was accustomed to action. It would be interest to see the reverse."
<Cidward> "I look forward to witnessing the meeting as well. For now, on with our task~"