030: Sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Winter has crept over Solata during the party's absence. A light, early snow falls in picturesque manner outside as everyone settles around a blazing hearth in Aunt Leah's house to report the various happenings of their most recent journey. The spinster mage doles out tea and coffee to anyone who might wish it before settling into an armchair near the fire. "I see you've all survived another adventure," she observes, adding with particular approval, "my niece included."
<Steph> "Yes, well, I don't think we would've come back if-" Stephanie coughs. "How have things been here while we were away?"
<Franceska> "The horrible places we go to put things into the proper perspective," Franceska says with a frown, before showing mild interest in Stephanie's question herself.
<Julia> "Which is more than can be said for all the people that tried to hurt your niece," Julia reassures her pleasantly, accepting some coffee.
<El-Cideon> "I am comfortable with that balance," she assures Julia. "It's been a quiet season here. Some small gossip about the exotic types you bring back home with you, but nothing malicious I recall. People can't help but be curious, you know?"
<Steph> Stephanie shrugs. "People are used enough to this sort of thing that gossip is all it is," she muses. "But we found out something pretty awful. One of the heroes, William Alcembrone? We know where is is, roughly. According to an informant, he was bought by some kind of revenant on the Plane of Death. But she's calling herself Auranelle."
<El-Cideon> "An ill jest if true," Leah says. "As though there wasn't sufficient barbarity inflicted upon her in life, someone must savage her name as well, eh?" she sighs. "Do you have any notion *where* in that world you need search? Insofar as location has any meaning at all there. Is your informant reliable in this regard?"
<Franceska> "It might just be true. She's properly dead, isn't she?"
<El-Cideon> Leah just gives Franceska a flat look as though she'd asked whether the sky was still blue.
<Steph> "Well- no," admits Stephanie. "There are traders in some drow city than speak in her name, so going through them might be our only lead. But the rumor itself was pretty alarming. I wanted to refresh on how she died."
<Julia> "I don't know. The people who sold him to her might know, but reaching them would be a trial in itself," Julia says, not relishing the thought even if it does end with her on the negative energy plane.
<El-Cideon> "Drow?" Leah repeats with evident distaste and surprise. She draws a blanket around her shoulders, and looks just a little smaller as she goes on. "Her majesty was eviscerated in her own chambers. Insofar as anyone could tell, the degenerates responsible were attempting to enact some demonic ritual, but were dispatched before their work was complete. Her majesty's body was so thoroughly desecrated in the act that no restorative magic could call her back to us." She frowns (even more) at Julia: "And you intend to follow this rumor to a land that is bane to all life?"
<Franceska> "Maybe later."
<Julia> "Yes, we still need to catch Polaris, but it's something to think about."
<Steph> "But for right now, wouldn't this concern the royal court?" points out Stephanie. "I dunno if we're equipped to do anything, but surely they'd have reason to be worry about the former queen buying up our former heroes."
<Franceska> "Getting them to accept that she became some sort of undead through demonic desecration might take creativity," Franceska muses.
<Steph> Stephanie snorts. "That kind of shit was happening all the time, back then," she replies. "It's not a huge stretch."
<Franceska> "Not that it's plausible, only that they would publicly acknowledge it now. After all, the next step is doing something about it."
<El-Cideon> "Later, yes." That much seems to earn her approval. "This impostor is NOT our queen," she spits heatedly at Stephanie. "And I beg you not to spread rumor that she is. The last thing the king wishes to hear is that some shade of his late mother is off-world slaving. I'll pursue this myself, quietly. I'm not without connected friends. Best that this slanderous mountebank is put down without us publicly impeaching her majesty's good name at home."
<Steph> Stephanie raises her hands. "Alright, alright! That's all I wanted to ask," she replies.
<Franceska> "See?" Franceska asks Stephanie, feeling vindicated. "It will be a cover up."
<Steph> "Obviously it's a cover up," replies Stephanie, giving Franceska a weird look.
<El-Cideon> Leah just slumps in her chair, looking sullied by the entire conversation. "I will tug upon skeins of intelligence, see what I might reel in about happenings in the negative energy plane, and trust that if the time does come for you to travel there, you will keep my Rosemund safe."
<Franceska> "Oh, certainly! It is far too dangerous to go there, in any case, so how about we visit Fire instead?"
<El-Cideon> "Aunt Leah, I am no longer a child!" Rosemund protests. "I am capable of taking care of myself! Although of course it is easier to do that surrounded by friends."
* Franceska stares at Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> "Practically speaking, of course," Rosemund assures Franceska.
<Steph> "Anyway, if we go to a place like that, it will be Rosemund protecting us," muses Stephanie. "Going to the eternal furnace is so much safer, apparently."
<El-Cideon> "And what business have you on the plane of fire?" Leah wearily asks Franceska, conceding Rosemund's determination not to be mothered.
<Julia> "We have a letter to deliver?" Julia says, that being the only thing that comes to mind.
<Franceska> "It would be nice to actually gather some information on our own first," Franceska responds. "Since we must apparently rescue all the has-been heroes and one has ended in Hell after some betrayal on Fire, we should find out what happened." She nods at Julia. "Plus, we have some other business there."
<Steph> "Training devils, it sounded like. How does that happen? Does she know what she's doing?" wonders Stephanie.
<Franceska> "Clearly, the answer is either on Fire or in Hell. So we should go to Fire, and then hire the mercenaries we know on Air to kill just whoever she's working for and abduct her."
<El-Cideon> "One should think devils require little in the way of training," Leah sniffs. "They are what they are, yes? Their world shapes them in reflection of itself."
<Franceska> "I would think they never stop training. Unlike demons, who never bother with that sort of thing."
<Steph> "And yet, they're just as dangerous! It's like hard work doesn't matter at all!"
<Franceska> "Not in this. Do you really feel stronger after suffering through all the menial labors on Earth?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, I certainly do," Rosemund confirms.
<Franceska> "No, you just think you do."
<Steph> "I learned more from being a statue for a day than I did from all of that," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "No, not at all!" she challenges. "Why, I can call back the dead and transport us to other worlds now, and I could not do either of these things before we left. Or at least I feel as though I could do these things," she amends at a skeptical glance from her aunt.
<Julia> "I don't actually," Julia looks most disappointed, having expected to be leaping small hovels in single bounds once back in normal gravity.
<El-Cideon> "You have to consider strength more figuratively," Rosemund assures her friends.
* Franceska shudders. "Moving past that. I learned that I hate all the planes we have visited so far, so we might as well keep on doing that."
<El-Cideon> "I should ask whether you require assistance finding more portals," Leah starts, "but it sounds as though my niece is ahead of me."
<Steph> "We could use assistance with not getting burned alive, though?"
<El-Cideon> Leah frowns. "The proper spells or magical equipment, perhaps," she ponders. "Do you mean this to be your next destination? I thought there less offensive ones on your list...but if you insist, I may see what charms I might draw together for your protection."
<Steph> "Mmm. I don't really mind. Devils are involved, and devils need killing the most of all the things that need killing," replies Stephanie, chirpily. "But if we can't survive there at the moment, we can still head to Pandemonium or the Beastlands."
<Julia> "The Beastlands would be easy, but Pandemonium... well, earplugs at minimum would be needed," Julia says, thinking it over.
<Steph> "Why?"
<El-Cideon> "Madness is the prime risk in Pandemonium," Leah confirms. "Best you accommodate yourself to nonverbal communication during your stay, as Julia says. You'll not wish to hear a thing while you're there, for the sake of sanity and averting deafness at the least."
<Franceska> "An unexpected bonus," Franceska says with a sniff, looking at Stephanie.
<Steph> "Now, now, Franzy. You can wear earplugs anywhere. Even all the time! In fact, please do?"
<El-Cideon> Leah looks speculative. "Some magical means of speaking to each other telepathically might help. I wonder..."
<Franceska> "Some means of casting through the noise would be more important. I'll look into that myself."
<Steph> "What kinda bad guys live on Pandemonium?"
<El-Cideon> "Lunatics of every stripe are drawn there, in life and beyond it," Leah counts off. "Stray fiends preying on the same. The god of slaughter calls Pandemonium his home, and best you steer clear of his followers in the lower layers. Any manner of strange things not fit to call any saner world their own," she concludes.
<Steph> Stephanie clucks her tongue. "Nasty. Lunatics are alright if they're all the same, but a world of random weirdoes? Ugh." She shrugs. "Well. Julia's right, we do have that letter. If we can make it to Fire, let's do that?"
<Julia> "Assuming we don't all burn to death," she allows. Won't be a good place to take the undead, sadly.
<El-Cideon> "You will require something to protect you against instant immolation," Leah reminds Stephanie. "I may look into that if you insist on going. Elsewise..." She stands up. "I must apologize for my mood today. Poor news you brought for a cold winter's morning, but the tidings are not of your own doing. Ah!" something occurs to her. "I was told to relay to you from one Master Grafton that he wishes to convey his personal thanks? You lent him your modron when you left last," she clarifies.
<Steph> "He's not my modron! He's his own... box. Thing. Person," replies Stephanie, nonetheless looking pleased with herself. "I'll go pay a visit!"
<El-Cideon> "Of course," Leah says, seeing you out.
<El-Cideon> So the adventurers break up into pairs to see to their various business in the city, Franceska and Julia to seek out more prestigious lodging while Stephanie and Rosemund to catch up with a wayward modron.
<Julia> Friday the zombie succubus tags along with them, effectively being driven around like a giant robot by Thing who hides under her veil. "It'll be so nice to have a proper home I can do whatever I want with," the necromancer says in a happy voice, already picturing the various tombs and traps and mazes and escape tunnels it could have.
<Franceska> "Oh yes," Franceska pleasantly agrees, pretending the covered-up thing is most definitely not a zombie and, better yet, doesn't exist. "I was considering getting another residence for myself, of course. It is quite a dilemma for me. I wish for one far away from the townspeople, but I wouldn't feel comfortable living out in nature like some elf, either."
<Julia> "Just burn all the nature around it, then?" Julia suggests. "I'd actually quite like to live near nature, especially if there were bears and things nearby." Needless to say, they'd make good undead minions.
* Franceska tilts her head as she consider this. "An interesting suggestion. Certainly, people would talk, but what I do on my land is my own business. Yes, that might work!"
<El-Cideon> Amaranth is not without stray houses still left vacant from the war, forlorn retreats of noble families shorn several branches by the troubles. A few of these might be on the market at any time for someone who knows where to ask.
<El-Cideon> OOC: feel free to roll diplo for househunting?
<Franceska> roll 1d20+18 I happen to be an expert on this subject!
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+18 I happen to be an expert on this subject! and gets 27."12 [1d20=9]
<Franceska> OOC: +2 since it's my home city
<El-Cideon> Franceska's market research digs up several such models presently serving as no more than a tax burden for their bereft owners: one is a fashionable townhouse compressing its growth vertically in a row along the fashionable dressmakers' quarter, well-kept up, the owner apparently having eloped overseas; there's a sprawling one-floor retreat lurking in the woods outside of town, somewhat in need of repair and with ill repute (the owners fell from plague quite recently), but suitably isolated; and a stone roundtower vacated by the city guard for larger quarters sits moldering on a hill in the woods, waiting new utility.
<Franceska> Franceska is practically bubbling with excitement. Plague! And a stone tower used by soldiers! Surely no one would try to visit those!
<Julia> "I like the sound of that tower," Julia says, after all she's a wizard after a fashion, and towers are all the rage. And stone will stand up better to angry mobs should any ever come after her.
<Franceska> "It surely comes with its own dungeon, which takes care of the basement issue," Franceska agrees. "And being round, why, you could have a room surrounded by closets from every direction!"
<Julia> "I could even devote an entire floor to such storage!" she agrees brightly.
<El-Cideon> Owing to the expense of secure stone construction, the tower commands a higher price than the other residences, but owing to its isolation from the town proper and its somber atmosphere, Amaranth authorities have had difficulty unloading it on a buyer and have recently reduced the asking price to twenty-eight thousand gold. The townhouse commands a more modest six thousand, and the sprawling retreat a simple four thousand due to its relative lack of repair.
<Franceska> "The only problem, really, is with who might repair that house for me," Franceska muses, interested in the remote residence. "With a reputation for plague people will avoid it, which is good. But so would any workers, and I can hardly do the work myself."
<Julia> "I could lend you some skeletons, but they'd need to be closely directed since they're rather stupid," Julia offers. "Of course I need to start making some first as soon as I set up the tower..."
<Franceska> "By making them, do you mean visiting the graveyards?"
<Julia> "No, I mean summoning demons and devils and killing them before reanimating them to my service," Julia explains. "I've already said, human skeletons aren't worth much."
<Franceska> "Fiends make the best skeletons, then?" Franceska asks in a sort of horrified fascination.
<Julia> "Well, them and dragons. Same with zombies," Julia says uncertainly, not sure which is really best. "Then again, magical beasts... like hydras especially, aren't anything to sniff at either."
<Franceska> "So angels and dao and their sort, they are actually weak?"
<Julia> "Oh, they'd be good too!" Julia smiles and nods. "Outsiders in general, I meant. But people are less likely to care about me turning fiends into undead minions than they would about angels."
<Franceska> "Of course, if one should just so happen to die and leave a perfectly usable corpse...."
<Julia> "It would have to be very powerful to be worth all the trouble that would surely ensue," Julia shakes her head.
<Franceska> "Would it even be obvious? Simply by the skeleton?" Franceska asks curiously. "How could they tell it's not an erinyes?"
<Julia> "I expect there's some resonance with the original owner of the body, and I don't want a planetar punching my head off for desecrating his old body," Julia says, "Admittedly I'm not sure, and I intend to summon the succubus Stephanie killed to see how it reacts with Friday," she gestures at the zombie trailing them. "Given I already grafted living wings to the undead shell, it's already
<Julia> something of a special case."
* Franceska studiously doesn't look back as she nods at Julia's words. "Are you aiming for any particular number for your bodyguards?"
<Julia> "Not really. I'll just summon a few to look after the tower and help you with your refurbishing. I still can't summon anything impressive so I'll just have to hope we encounter more fantastic creatures in our travels. And kill them."
<Franceska> "So long as we decide upon killing anyone we meet and don't like, it should work," Franceska agrees.
<Julia> "I hope we find a pyrohydra in fire, though I suppose killing it would be a pain..."
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> Master Grafton's shop is along a quiet little street in the artisan's quarter. This neighborhood is subdued at the best of times and on a chill winter's morning is absolutely depopulated. The master is at a desk working at a dissected watch when you walk in. He's a short, narrow little man with beetle brows and a magnifying lens over one eye. He looks up and blinks at you, momentarily lost in a world of gears and springs.
<Steph> "Good day, Mastah! It's Sundown here! I heard my cute little Ron has settled in well, so I came to see!"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, yes!" he brightens up on recognition, bustles around the desk and pumps Stephanie's hand, and Rosemund's in turn. "Quite a knack for mechanics your little creature has, earned some strange looks and talk keeping him around, but I say, man takes pride in his work, doesn't matter what shape he comes in, yes? Made no mention he had medical training, though. That took me by surprise--fortuitous one, though!"
<Steph> "You probably won't find someome more suited to engineering in all the realm," agrees Stephanie. "Oh? He's very interested in how people's bodies work, you know, so it makes sense that he'd pick up medicine- did something happen?"
<El-Cideon> "Sure, sure. My other apprentice, Milton, he was out at the King's Head one evening. Far too late, if you get my drift, came back all astagger when he left and stumbled under a cartwheel. Probably would've lost that arm or worse if Ron hadn't hustled over and sewn it right up. Of course, we got it magicked good later, but there might not've been anything attached to magic if someone hadn't pieced him back together first."
<Steph> "Remarkable! Right there in the street, too?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes ma'am, no one told him to or anything!"
<Steph> Maybe he should talk to Julia sometime? "Where is he now?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, he's in back, let me show you in." Master Grafton pushes his way through a rear door into a workshop that is imposingly cluttered, yet in a highly organized fashion. You get the impression the resident could locate a two-centimeter wheel or whatever needed without looking up if need be. The familiar modron is here quietly assembling a pocket watch.
<Steph> "Yo, Ron! How 'ya doing?" greets Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Work proceeds," the modron chatters away at her. "Watches are simple. They have but one function. I prove adequate for this task."
<Steph> "Hmm? Lemme see one! Maybe I should get one," muses Stephanie, moving over to take a look. "Time's money, and all that."
<El-Cideon> "These subjects are not interchangeable as one is an immaterial subject and the other physical," Ron challenges. "However, I have oft heard the expression uttered by humans and concede that there is a relationship between time expended and money as conceived as a net result of productivity." He hands over his work for inspection. It's gold, and immaculately fashioned, but not ticking away just yet.
<Steph> "That's the whole point of money! You do a bunch of work, get money out of it, and convert that money to whatever you actually want," replies Stephanie. "So no matter what your job is, if you're just amazing enough at it, you can get anything you want."
<El-Cideon> "I wish only to succeed in my work," Ron points out. Master Grafton scratches his head. "He doesn't even ask that I pay him," he says. "I do it anyway, of course, but it just builds up in his room near as I can tell."
<Steph> "Hmm." Stephanie peers at Ron. "And you've decided that your work is just gonna be making watches from now on? Forgetting about all the other stuff?"
<El-Cideon> "I do not forget," the modron whirs. He looks up at Stephanie. "It is suitable work. I learn from it. When my services are not immediately required I consider more complicated projects."
<Steph> "Any progress?"
<El-Cideon> "I can make simple toys. They walk when a key is turned. But that is all that they may do. Only what they are instructed until they wind down and reenter a state of quiescence."
<Steph> "Yeah, they can't keep going forever," muses Stephanie. "Not like magic stuff does."
<El-Cideon> "Magic is not among my capabilities," Ron says. "As substitute I shall have to refine my skills until the creations are capable of manifold function. Perhaps if they repaired one another and cooperated as a team? Theory: sufficiently advanced technological functionality approaches same utility as magic?"
<Steph> "You'd always need someone to get them started, right?" muses Steph. "Even if you wind up one thing lots, it probably can't wind up the next thing as much, and so on?"
<El-Cideon> Modrons lack proper shoulders, so Ron simply slumps altogether in place.
<El-Cideon> "Please do not be distressed!" Rosemund reassures the construct. "Why, some machines may still run for a very long time. People do not last forever either, and that is knowledge every one of us must learn to live with."
<Steph> "Except the ones that don't live with it, but keep on going anyway," points out. "Like vampires."
<El-Cideon> "They only keep on going until someone appropriately heroic stops them!" Rosemund counters.
<Steph> "Yes, well- yes, that's absolutely right," says Stephanie, deflating a little. "But the point is there's clearly ways for things to last a long time! Without magic. Apparently."
<El-Cideon> "Proper maintenance is key to longevity of functionality," Ron points out, on more comfortable ground.
<Steph> "Sure. The question is really what keeps you going for a long time. For us, it's water, food, and air!"
<El-Cideon> "And having a friend who knows how to patch you up properly when you get hurt," Rosemund points out in complimentary fashion. "Certainly a skill we did not expect you to have, but I am sure that young man is very grateful."
<El-Cideon> "I have outlined my previous responsibilities," Ron reminds her. "This utility was necessary for proper maintenance of the experimental units."
<Steph> "Really? You learned how to fix up people as well as Modrons?"
<El-Cideon> "Of course," he goes on. "The experimental units comprised a broad cross-section of species. I was required to possess a similar range of knowledge in order to perform my functions."
<Steph> Stephanie blinks. "They weren't all Modrons?"
<El-Cideon> "Modrons did not constitute the subject population," he goes on.
<Steph> "Was the subject population a bunch of prisoners? What was being done to them?"
<El-Cideon> "The means of subject acquisition was not within my ordained parameters," Ron answers. "Theory: based upon later subject rebellion, the experimental subjects were not volunteers. The purpose for their containment was not explained to me. My superiors carried out any experimental work. I was ordered only to see that the experimental units remained quiescent and in proper health."
<Steph> "What kind of people were they?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks increasingly unnerved by the conversation as Ron ticks off answers on his digits. "Human, elven, crossbreeds thereof, small representation of more exotic humanoids such as gith species, other hybrid humanoids demonstrating mixed heritage of fey/elemental/dragonic origin," he lists. "I did not observe incidence of dwarfs, orcs, or goblinoid species. Elsewise I was not able to discern a pattern save that the experimental units had uniformly reached an age of physical maturity."
<Steph> "Remind me where all this was. Arcadia, right? Could you find this place again? At least tell us how to get there?"
<El-Cideon> "The outpost was stationed upon Hutchfield Overlook in Arcadia," he confirms. "Its location upon a mountaintop afforded a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. I could find it again given sufficient proximity." Ron is audibly uneasy about the prospect, given his past flight from the outpost. "Do you wish to visit the outpost, Stephanie?"
<El-Cideon> ~