008: I've been a miner for a heart of gold

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Departing the giant dragon skull, the party sets out northeast in search of the shrine that will serve as landmark for their next change of direction. Still a day and a half away, they look to have much featureless desert ahead--Mirthardir remains for the most part blindingly bleak and empty.
<El-Cideon> OOC: after four hours' or so walking, you've hit 8 for the day. Set up camp or keep going and make CON checks to avoid fatigue?
<Steph> "I just can't imagine, you know? Eating something that asks you not to?" says Stephanie, unruffled and not at all properly dressed for desert travel. OOC: Let's sleep
<Franceska> "Is a heaven supposed to feel so bleak?" Franceska asks all of a sudden. "And no one seemed to have gone here, either." She blinks at Stephanie's words, growing thoughtfully. "Maybe that is why. People who go here for their so-called reward in life are preyed upon by the locals?"
<El-Cideon> Stephanie can't possibly be less suitably dressed for the journey than Marina, dressed for forest revels and baring far too much skin for this sort of environment. "Well, maybe she can't be too picky about what she eats living out here?" she speculates, sounding intensely weary and not all that interested in the answer.
<Steph> "Hey, if this is heaven, just think about how bad hell's got to be!" replies Stephanie, before she frowns. "So if you die, you go to heaven, but what if you die in heaven? Is there a heaven for heavens?"
* Franceska is, herself, dressed for cold climates and snow. She does suppose that everyone present is suffering simply by being here, however, whatever they have on.
<Franceska> "Maybe you go to heaven again, only to be eaten anew? In a neverending cycle?"
<El-Cideon> "Are you going there?" Marina wonders aloud, aghast. "Whyever for?"
* Franceska handles setting up her hut rather than answer that.
* Steph is quite bright and cheery! "Might have to. One of these other poor saps seems like he got stuck there," replies Stephanie, stretching her hands. "We'll probably have to go break him out." She shudders.
<El-Cideon> "And, well, there are stories to the extent that Mithardir used to be something quite different. More of the heaven you'd imagine, some grand forest perhaps, but no one's sure of the details. Lost to time immemorial, you know? There are ruins suggesting people lived here, once." She shrugs. "Regular people, not renegade fairy lords."
<El-Cideon> "Well, I do not envy you that task at all," she says. "I can only wish you good luck. You will need it and much more."
<Steph> "Not exactly looking forward to it," replies Stephanie. "Last on the list, that's for sure."
<Franceska> "I am sure there will be plenty of competition for the last spot on the list," Franceska muses.
<Steph> "You kidding? Where could be worse?"
<El-Cideon> Marina scurries into the hut as soon as it's available, visibly excited to be out of the sun and plopping to the ground with something less than characteristic ladylike grace. "What else is on the list?" she wonders.
<Franceska> "The Abyss?" Franceska asks in disgust.
<Steph> Stephanie chews her lip. "Oh, yeah. Was that on it, too?"
<El-Cideon> "It begins to sound as though Marcus was comparatively fortunate," Marina concludes.
<Steph> "Yeah, maybe," muses Stephanie. "Well, you gotta ease into this kind of work, right?"
<El-Cideon> The next morning, the sorceress proves to be lividly burned all over, almost as red as her hair. "Does anyone perhaps know a spell for summoning a parasol?" she laments as you set out again.
<El-Cideon> OOC: general survival checks for finding your way, there's no landmarks of any note around
<Franceska> "No, unfortunately. But I suppose I could look into one? There is a token for summoning a whip, so why not a parasol?"
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20-1 Rosie is pro and will aid whoever gets a decent roll
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20-1 Rosie is pro and will aid whoever gets a decent roll and gets 9."12 [1d20=10]
<Steph> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+1 and gets 19."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+8 Marina actually has ranks
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+8 Marina actually has ranks and gets 25."12 [1d20=17]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+2 I can try to aid her, then!
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+2 I can try to aid her, then! and gets 17."12 [1d20=15]
<El-Cideon> Six hours of travel pass. The sun beats down, the white sand creeps its way into every pocket and every crevice, and vacationing in Mithardir continues to an extended excursion into oppressive emptiness...but at least you feel confident you're keeping your bearings well amidst the featureless landscape and are well on track to reaching your next destination. At least, until a wall of dust rises to obscure the eastern horizon--it's another storm, a big one blocking out the sky for miles unseen, and it's headed your way.
<Steph> "Not this shit again!" complains Stephanie, surveying the area for anywhere they might take cover in.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie doesn't see anything convenient to use as cover. There are dunes around, and some are higher or lower than others, but the storm shouldn't have any difficulty rolling right over them in any event.
* Franceska eyes the storm, while considering whether her hut will stand up to it.
<El-Cideon> It might? Franceska knows sufficiently strong winds can disperse her magical shelter...she's pretty sure it would stand up to the previous storm she endured, but this one looks worse.
* Franceska sends Darrin to check for any shelter, even as she says, "We had best avoid it rather than try to force our way through, I think."
<Steph> "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm with you- look how fucking wide it is! We gotta go in a sort of away direction and hope we find something!"
<El-Cideon> OOC: perception, Darrin?
<Franceska> roll 1d20+28
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+28 and gets 42."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> There is something--somewhat out of your way, about a mile's walk north and you're not sure you can quite make that before the storm hits--probably an outcropping of rock of some sort, it very nearly blends into the surrounding landscape. A sliver of shadow suggests there's some manner of overhang that might barely serve as a shelter.
<Franceska> As Darrin whispers his findings into Franceska's ear, she points to the north. "A mile or thataway, there looks to be some sort of shelter. I would suggest we run for it, and use the hut if it is not enough."
<Steph> "A mile? I can run a mile!"
* Franceska should be able to as well, although she wouldn't enjoy it. Her dislike of sandstorms overcomes that, however, and she takes off for that cover!
<El-Cideon> Rosemund demonstrates enthusiastic agreement by bolting north at a run, clanking all the way! Eerily silent, the storm looms ever closer, winds sending clothes all aflap and stirring up dust devils at your feet by the time you arrive at the rock outcrop--which turns out to be, you discover upon arrival, a great beast half-submerged in the sand. It's a dragon of imposing size, partially buried in a dune. Alive or dead, it's hard to tell from sight alone. It doesn't look decomposed in any way, if it's dead. The sliver of shadow Darrin saw turns out to be an outstretched wing. You could probably all shuffle under there and be protected enough from the storm, at least.
<Steph> Stephanie ducks into cover, breathing hard. "How many dead dragons do we gotta hide under?" she complains.
<Franceska> "Everyone makes mistakes," Franceska tells Darrin comfortingly, before reminding Stephanie, "This one could only be sleeping."
<Steph> "Won't be for long if that thing gets here!"
<El-Cideon> Stephanie can detect, when this close to the creature, the sound of breathing. It's very slow, as though the creature were comatose, but you think it's still alive.
<Franceska> She's not going to be running anymore, so this is where her hut goes up. Between the dragon's bulk shielding them and that protection, it might be enough!
<Steph> She frowns. "Think it really is alive," she mutters, collapsing into the hut
<El-Cideon> "I should recommend we be very quiet during our stay," Marina says dubiously, "but if the storm doesn't wake it up, I don't know what chance we stand."
<Steph> "Not a lot, if it decides to eat us."
<Franceska> "If it comes to that, we just burrow down and wait it out," Franceska suggests. "Who wants to have the honor?"
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+13 and gets 22."12 [1d20=9]
<Steph> "What, in the sand? Have to go pretty deep."
<Julia> "Surely we're much too small for it to care about eating regardless?" Julia says hopefully as she huddles under the great outstretched wing.
<El-Cideon> "It's a brass dragon, they burrow themselves," Marina says, not sounding much impressed by this plan. Still, she joins everyone else inside the shelter.
<Steph> "Hey, if it's a metal dragon, we'll probably be okay! Everyone knows that," replies Stephanie, all smiles again.
<Franceska> "They do? How horrifying."
<El-Cideon> Within moments, the outside world is almost wholly blotted from sight as the storm rushes over your shelter. Winds scream and howl like a world ending and conversation becomes almost impossible. It's a wonder your unwitting host never wakes up from this but, somehow, it does not. Franceska feels sure some of those gusts would have dispersed her shelter had they set up out in the open, and even under the dragon's wing a few gales slip in to make the hut flicker and shudder, but it stays up long enough. By the time everything quiets down outside, Rosemund has to light up the interior of the hut magically for anyone to see--the storm dropped sufficient sand to bury the entrance to your shelter.
<Franceska> "This is the worst heaven ever, I submit."
<Julia> "How much longer before the shelter vanishes?" Julia asks curiously.
<Steph> "I'm pretty sure I'm too good for this place," agrees Stephanie.
<Franceska> "How long? Well, it can hold up for the rest of the day and into the evening."
<El-Cideon> "You really are seeing Arborea at its worst today," Marina insists. "I have lived on Arvandor for most of my life and I can assure you I've never had a day there a tenth so unpleasant as I've had here."
<Franceska> But isn't it filled with elves? Franceska settles for a dubious look.
<Steph> "D'ya leave your house much?"
<Franceska> "It is a very nice house."
<El-Cideon> "Certainly," she says. "I have many friends." She seems to decide Franceska's compliment balances out her skepticism, and takes this with good grace.
<Julia> "It is!" Julia agrees. "But still, I think we're going to have to dig our way out... unless anyone has any magic that would speed our egress?"
<Steph> "Can't you just summon some kind of zombie mole?"
<Franceska> "I could dispel the hut, but if there is a lot of sand over it...." Franceska shrugs. "Or we could go back to the burrowing plan. I have a spell for that, if anyone wishes to try it for themselves."
<El-Cideon> Marina admits that she possesses no such magic, and Rosemund similarly shakes her head.
<Steph> "Hey, sure! Hit me up with the moleifier," replies Stephanie, flexing her palms.
<Julia> "No, all of my zombies would be no better at digging than we, and skeletons would be even worse," Julia shakes her head. "And I don't think any I summon would last long enough to make much progress."
* Franceska is all too happy to test out a new spell she had never used on Stephanie!
<El-Cideon> "Are you sure you should volunteer for things like that?" Rosemund asks Stephanie with some concern. As if reminded of recent admissions, she can't help but cast a sidelong glance at Julia while all this goes on.
<Franceska> "I will have you know that my spells are all perfectly safe!"
<Steph> "And if she casts one on me that's not, Rosie, you break her face, right?" replies Stephanie, before turning about and diving through the sand.
<El-Cideon> "Well, if I must," Rosemund allows. "But I would of course promptly heal her afterward!"
<Julia> Julia seems unmoved by such sneaky glances, going back to fiddling with some ointments and unguents in her healing supplies as she's been doing while ignoring conversation around her for the last few hours before the storm.
<Franceska> "And people ask me why I have a strong dislike to humans from Solata," Franceska mutters with a huff.
<El-Cideon> "As if you know a great number of humans from elsewhere?" Rosemund challenges.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie has to dig upwards for a good five feet or so before reaching the surface. Sunset's on the way, painting Mithardir's sand crimson and orange.
<Franceska> "Marina seems perfectly nice!"
<El-Cideon> "I haven't lived there for a very long time," she clarifies, "if that's a relevant distinction."
<Franceska> "It might well be."
<Steph> It looks like she'll have to do a little bit of digging to get them out, but she's got hands and an abundance of time to clear a path for the others, so Stephanie gets to work.
<El-Cideon> Mithardir's sands are almost as amorphous and fluid as water, complicating Stephanie's task and often making it a work of futility, but the spell does allow her enough time to excavate a ramp up which the others might crawl to the surface.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund climbs up and heaves a deep breath. "Finally! It was very close in there, was it not?"
<Julia> Putting away her things, Julia climbs up as well. "It's starting to look dark, too... should we even continue further now?" she asks, looking around.
<Franceska> "I will study a way to make a larger house," Franceska promises, climbing out after them.
<Steph> "That spell's great. 'slike swimming through dirt," replies Stephanie, contemplatively. "Was so sure some would get up my nose, but it didn't!"
<Franceska> "It would not be a very good spell if it suffocated you while doing that."
<Steph> "Uh-huh. Anyway, I don't mind taking a rest," she says, for Julia's benefit.
<Franceska> "Perhaps not near a sleeping dragon?"
<El-Cideon> "Perhaps we should relocate away from the dragon first?" Marina agrees. "Just in case."
<Steph> "Yep, yep."
<El-Cideon> By this point, all one can see of the beast is the ridge of its back and wing. Sleeping with its head under the sand evidently proves little burden.
<Julia> "I suspect it's actually dead, but by all means let's go. I think we need to veer a bit more eastwards now to correct our course?"
<Steph> "Nah, it's not," replies Stephanie, tilting her head. "Couldn't you hear it breathing?"
<Julia> "Oh. I was distracted... oh well, lets go anyway?" Julia blushes a bit on her pale cheeks, not having noticed at all.
<El-Cideon> Another quiet night and you are greeted in the morning by a brilliantly clear, cloudless sky. No signs of trouble on the horizon this time!
<El-Cideon> OOC: survival as you set out again?
<Steph> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+1 and gets 8."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+8 M
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+8 M and gets 19."12 [1d20=11]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+2 I'll try to aid her again
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+2 I'll try to aid her again and gets 13."12 [1d20=11]
<Julia> roll 1d20+2 aiding
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+2 aiding and gets 21."12 [1d20=19]
<Julia> In the morning Julia also has an announcement! "I noticed lots of us had problems with sunburn so I made an ointment that should soothe and protect the skin if anyone wants some," she offers, holding out the vial of lotion she's concocted over the past day.
<El-Cideon> "Thank you ever so much," Marina gushes in gratitude. "I may need a bucket of it," she warns. "I could swear my face feels ready to peel off and run away from me."
<Julia> "Well this should help a lot, and I've made enough for everyone," Julia gives her the vial, having already seen to what little skin she leaves exposed herself.
<Franceska> "It would be quite nice. Thank you," Franceska likewise says, grateful for anything to make this horrible heaven easier on her.
<Steph> "I'm alright, but thanks for the thought!"
<Julia> "You're welcome, if you do have any problems let me know and I'll see what I can do for you," Julia smiles nicely. Hopefully this will lessen tensions ever since she revealed her unwholesome interests.
<El-Cideon> Marina practically douses herself in the stuff, and (after requesting assistance for someone to apply it to her back) gets her bearings, makes some minor course corrections for last night's deviation and set outs east-northeast.
<Steph> "Sure! Actually, I do, but, uh..." Stephanie scratches her cheek. "Do you know how to give a massage?"
<Julia> "Of course," Julia nods pleasantly, "I don't get much practice, but knowing about all the muscle groups and the stress they can suffer after strenuous activity, I think I could give a passable massage if required."
<El-Cideon> After most of a day's walk, mercifully uninterrupted by storms, you come upon the remains of a building perched atop a high dune. It looks designed to have been a temple, though of modest dimensions--a quiet neighborhood shrine perhaps, were it in a city. The construction is white stone, scoured mostly clear of any engravings by the relentless winds. There are...vague suggestions of carved figures about the walls, but little in the way of detail.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, I have a great deal of practice," Marina says. "I'd be pleased to instruct you further, should we ever have opportunity," she offers.
<Julia> "I'd be happy to learn more from you," Julia is eager to agree. "Then all of us could benefit from such knowledge... hmm..." she trails off to examine the temple. "I wonder if there's anything here or it's been picked clean?"
<Steph> "Let's go looksee?"
<Franceska> "Scoured clean, yet retaining a sort of guardian, I think?" Franceska muses. "Still, it should be reasonably safe."
<El-Cideon> Crude stone benches line the interior, carved of a piece from the floor itself, mostly broken down or eroded into almost nothing. A simple stone altar is raised at the far end of the room. There's the suggestion of robed figures carved on the wall behind--a man and a woman, you think? That's about all the detail that remains.
<El-Cideon> The building's roof is intact, so it's not brilliantly well-lit--but conversely, it would be useful as a shelter if one was needed.
* Julia pokes around a bit on the off chance there's any catacombs or tombs to be found below that aren't choked with sand...
<Steph> Stephanie wanders towards the altar, peering over it.
<El-Cideon> There is a strange sense of being...noticed...when Stephanie's inside.
<Steph> "Hello?" she calls out.
<El-Cideon> Julia doesn't notice any obvious burial grounds to plunder in association with the temple--but she does find two corpses outside, leaning up against the exterior wall, looking east. Two elves, a man and a woman from the looks of it, both dressed in splendid white gowns that look fit for elven nobles. If elves have nobility? Maybe just a special occasion. They are quite mummified by the arid environment, and evidently died in each other's arms.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie's query is not answered.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund follows her in out of curiosity and looks around.
<Julia> "Oh my, a wedding?!" Julia gasps, seemingly quite touched as she regards the cadavers.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+12 and gets 13."12 [1d20=1]
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks around the temple as if making an attempt to place its theological basis, but quite thoroughly frustrates herself trying.
<El-Cideon> "A what?" Marina follows Julia around the corner, eyes widening in surprise when she gets there. "Oh, you're quite right, actually," she confirms.
<Julia> "Together in death forever... ahhh, I'm touched!" Julia presses a hand over her bosom, "It's so romantic!"
<El-Cideon> "A curious perspective," Marina observes. "Would it be more or less romantic to be together forever in life?" she wonders.
<Steph> Stephanie frowns, and folds her arms. "Well, if you're not gonna talk to me, nobody's gonna talk to you!"
<El-Cideon> The building proves quite content with that state of affairs.
<Franceska> "Can we go now?"
<Julia> "Both would be ideal, but of course life is transient and fleeting," Julia says with a sweep of her hands over the corpses, "These two have endured how many millenia, through sandstorms and whatever other ravages of this plane, yet never once have they wavered or been forced apart. Ahhh, I want someone like that for me!" she sighs girlishly.
<El-Cideon> "Well, you are quite intelligent and pretty," Marina observes. "I'm sure there will be someone. Really, I think finding love is a matter of persistence. Not everyone may be inclined to share your...unique view of the world? But with however many countless men and women in all the worlds, you cannot be alone."
<Julia> "Yes, I'll just have to be persistent," Julia nods. "Ahh, but you want to leave already Franceska? Is everyone done looking around then?" she asks, going back to the front to look for Stephanie.
<Steph> Stephanie is just coming out, shaking a fist. "It won't talk to me!" she protests. "It's so rude!"
<El-Cideon> "Excuse me, what won't talk to you?" Marina wonders.
<Franceska> "Well, the only thing here is corpses, and they are not talking to us. It may well be preferable for us to leave before they do?"
<Julia> "Oh, are you trying to commune with the spirits?" Julia asks happily.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund walks out looking marginally less frustrated than Stephanie.
<Steph> "Am I? I don't know! I swear there's something there but it won't reply," replies Stephanie, scowling and unreasonably upset.
<El-Cideon> "Maybe you didn't ask politely enough?" Marina speculates.
<Steph> "I said hi, what more does it want?"
<Julia> "Say it respectfully? Or maybe in celestial?" Julia suggests.
<Steph> "If I say it in celestial, it's automatically respectful," muses Stephanie, turning and heading back inside. "Good afternoon, storied host!" she proclaims in the tongue of angels.
<El-Cideon> The storied host does not reply, though Stephanie feels just as sure that something, somehow, is listening.
<Steph> She peers at the altar. "Oooh, I get it! You want us to sacrifice something, right?" she asks, nodding.
* Julia visibly perks up at the talk of sacrifice.
<Franceska> "Can we go now?" Franceska repeats with a bit more force to it.
<El-Cideon> Out of curiosity, Marina makes her own attempts in the flowing tones of Elven and Sylvan (no doubt much to Franceska's dismay), but neither produces any more result than anything else. "Sacrifice what?" she says dubiously.
<El-Cideon> "Are you so uncomfortable here?" Rosemund asks Franceska, sounding worried. "Is it worse than seeking shelter inside a giant skull?"
<Julia> "That's a good question, I don't think we want to sacrifice any of ourselves just to talk to a dubious spirit..." Julia deflates.
<Franceska> "I know how these things go!" Franceska insists. "First you hear voices and then there is talk of sacrifice and then someone is sacrificed to the dark gods! And I do not want to see you sacrificed!"
<El-Cideon> "That's..." Rosemund gives Franceska a gentle hug. "Thank you, Franceska! That is one of the nicest things I have heard you say."
<Steph> "Stupid temple should talk proper," mutters Stephanie, stalking outside again.
<Julia> "Oh well, shall we be off... what direction was it again? East?" Julia asks uncertainly.
<Franceska> "And for the record, I did not seek shelter inside a giant skull," Franceska insists, her voice slightly muffled by Rosemund. "I merely reluctantly followed the rest of you in to chat with a carnivore."
<El-Cideon> "Mm-hm," Rosemund says, sounding satisfied whatever excuses Franceska makes.
<El-Cideon> "East," Marina confirms, setting off with a last glance around the shrine.
<El-Cideon> Pressing on for another couple hours, sunset again leaves the land awash in burning hues, and the group starts to feel weariness take hold...
<El-Cideon> OOC: camp or carry on?
<Franceska> OOC: hut!
<El-Cideon> A quiet night's sleep, disturbed only in the morning when the collective familiars squawk and seek shelter inside as a dust storm sweeps through. It leaves the hut with a fine coating of white sand--but at least you're not buried this time, and there's no trouble at all when you set out. Due east, into the rising sun...and by early afternoon you spy something rising from just over the next dune: three stone spires a deep red thrusting up from the ground, and up in the air, a small shack is strung up between them by ropes as if resting on a giant hammock. A steel pole supports it on the ground sixty feet below.
<El-Cideon> Based on the estimated travel time you'd previously heard, you should be quite close to Blackbird's well by this point.
* Julia casts false life which should easily last for reaching the structure ahead.
<Julia> roll 1d10+8
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d10+8 and gets 16."12 [1d10=8]
<Franceska> For her part, Franceska goes with a spell that makes the most ridiculous lies sound believable. Forbidden for use in courts, so her knowledge of it is purely academic, of course.
<El-Cideon> "Not the most architecturally attractive dwelling I've ever set eyes on," Marina notes. "I wouldn't want to live up there, to be sure."
<El-Cideon> There is an animal at rest in the sand at the base of the pole--scaled, winged and sinuous like a dragon, but leonine, maned and about the size of one of nature's fiercer hunting cats. It looks up and snuffles quietly at your approach. You're obviously spotted well before you arrive, as two figures descend from above as you walk up.  (more)
<El-Cideon> A fairy with dragonfly wings flies down, dressed in powder-blue robes, a man with terrifically long blonde hair and a gentle look about him. The other slides down the pole. A woman, dressed in chain mail forged a deep green and with the look of twining ivy vines to it. She has long black hair that shimmers an oily green, and is the first to speak when you draw near. "Afternoon, goodfellows!" Unconvincingly cheery, not caring if it shows.
<El-Cideon> OOC: perception, anyone who cares to
<Steph> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+10 and gets 21."12 [1d20=11]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+28 Darrin always cares
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+28 Darrin always cares and gets 38."12 [1d20=10]
<Franceska> "Good afternoon," Franceska responds.
<Julia> roll 1d20+6 Thing, evil knows evil!
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+6 Thing, evil knows evil! and gets 9."12 [1d20=3]
<Franceska> Darrin, meanwhile, lands on Franceska's shoulder to whisper into her ear.
<El-Cideon> "You--" she points to all of you, "--are in--" she spreads her arms to illustrate the surrounding area, "--our frontyard. Or backyard, whichever side of the house is the front I cannot ever recall. But! I should know if there was to be a party today, and I did not set out the wine, have not laid the table, so I must wonder, fellows, just who you are?"
<Julia> "Why, we are connoiseurs of art, good woman!" Julia replies just as cheerfully. "We have travelled far and overcome much, all to see a fabled collection if we may."
<El-Cideon> OOC: I'm obliged to ask for a bluff roll there
<Franceska> "And, after all, one must pass through the front yard to get into the house proper," Franceska points out, following up on Julia's words. "However else might we properly admire that legendary art exhibit?"
<Julia> roll 1d20+15 bluffing is what I'm good at!
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+15 bluffing is what I'm good at! and gets 25."12 [1d20=10]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+16 we shall see!
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+16 we shall see! and gets 27."12 [1d20=11]
<Franceska> roll 1d20 can I help us lie better?
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20 can I help us lie better? and gets 20."12 [1d20=20]
<El-Cideon> She looks from Julia, to Franceska, back again. "Mm-hm," she says, considering this. "Mm-hmmmm. See, the thing of it is, there've been some minor misunderstandings about the nature of the exhibits in the past, and that's why when our master moved he only invited good friends. Close, personal friends. On account of it all went belly-up before because of a once-she-was-but-now-not-so-much-and-we-don't-speak-her-name-in-polite-company friend blabbing about things to folks that didn't quite have the refined artistic sensibilities to appreciate my master's tastes. So, see, there weren't any gang of mortals he sent out invitations to when we moved, I can tell you that much. Why don't you tell me why you're really here?" Out of nowhere, a scythe composed of crackling electricity blinks into existence in her hands. "Who knows, I might be entertained."
<Franceska> "If we never got the invitation, then how is it that we knew where to go?" Franceska asks her curiously. "I take it this is a place where you are hiding due to certain misunderstandings in the past? A place that only your master's good friends would know and direct other likeminded people towards?"
<El-Cideon> "That's just what I'd like to know!" she complains, arms wide. She doesn't sound convinced, more annoyed. "If someone has been spreading stories to folks what shouldn't hear them, my master needs to know who this was. So that sternly-worded letters might be sent, shunned parties be properly shunned. And possibly lampooned in verse."
<Steph> "That happens here?" asks Stephanie, curiously. "Someone wrongs you, you write a retaliatory song?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, yeah," she affirms with a nod. "Best revenge, right? You can only kill someone once. But folks might sing a song forever!"
<Franceska> "Lady Bullfinch, of course!" Franceska insists. "The two of us have quite a few shared interests, let me tell you. Has she fallen out of favor with your master in the short time they had been apart?" She frowns. "I must insist that you do not send her strongly-worded letters which mock her, or I might well take offense on her behalf."
<El-Cideon> "Well. She did get an invitiation," the woman says, uncertainly.
<El-Cideon> OOC: try bluff again? Include the Glibness mod, for reference.
<Franceska> "Why, of course she had!"
<Franceska> roll 1d20+12-4+30
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+12-4+30 and gets 47."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+16 academic, but
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+16 academic, but and gets 27."12 [1d20=11]
<El-Cideon> She considers this. "Letter didn't say NOT to share the good word with the artistically enlightened," she concludes quietly. "Alright, alright. I meant it though--there's no wine out and the brie is not room temperature, so you be on your way."
<Steph> "Hey, come on, you're not telling me some tough badass chick like you doubles on serving duty, right?" asks Stephanie, peering curiously at the guard.
<El-Cideon> "That's my job," the robed one says in a small voice. "Oh yeah, all kinds of service," the woman confirms with a nod.
* Franceska does find herself a bit curious, but ends up nodding in vague acknowledgement and proceeding onwards.
<Julia> "I see..." Julia thinks she does anyway, and proceeds onwards with a modicum of discomfort.
<El-Cideon> She dismisses her weapon with a wave, stands by to let the group pass. No one interferes as you walk onwards (though the beast does give everyone a hungry, appraising look).
<Steph> "Shit, that smells like a raw deal to me," confesses Stephanie. "How's the pay?"
<El-Cideon> "It's not so bad," the pretty fairy says with a shrug. "We take shifts." He flutters his wings and zips back up the hanging house above.
<Steph> Losing interest rapidly, Stephanie quickly moves to catch up with the group.
<El-Cideon> Keeping on east, it's only another hour or so before you reach what must be your destination--crowning the top of a high dune is a lip of stone rising from the desert sands. Twenty feet in diameter, ringed with ancient sigils worn to illegibility by the scouring sands, it capably fits the description of a wailing well. The desert winds seems to collect down there, in a darkness descending out of sight, and screech like a coven of harpies.
<Franceska> "What were we going to use against the noise?" Franceska asks the others. "I suppose we lack a spell to make this painless?"
<Julia> "Just make cloth earplugs?" Julia suggests, "If you summon some water to wet them it should work well enough."
<Franceska> "We might as well, yes," Franceska agrees.
<El-Cideon> ~