047: We want to see you lead a normal life

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Splitting away to do a bit of intel-gathering on her own while her teammates pursue other leads, Julia sets off to track down the Sagacious Brotherhood. Their headquarters is not difficult to find after some minor questioning of locals (and rarely does anyone here blink at Julia's choice of mount): it's at the upper edge of the spiral of free-floating buildings that is Azure, a huge, utilitarian tower that stands apart for its simplicity. Julia sees only one apparent door at the tower's base, quite solidly shut, and no one is present outside but for a very large, snakelike bird perched on the mantel above the entrance.
<Julia> Landing her large armless dragon down in front of the door, Julia hops off and gives the door a firm rapping!
<El-Cideon> The bird leans its sinuous neck down to peer at Julia. It has four wings positioned in opposing pairs around its body, and a span approaching Battersby's. "Business, personal, or professional visit, lass?" it asks drily in bored Common.
<Julia> "What's the difference between business and professional?" Julia asks back, craning her neck up to look at it.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, well," it sits up straight to clarify. "While the Brothers' chosen pursuit is the unraveling of cosmic secrets, sad to say the pursuit of truth and knowledge on occasion requires the purchase of expensive material regents, and truth does not quite fill the belly as one might wish it to. So some of the Brothers--the less prestigious ones--carry on a lively trade in magical knickknacks to support the community. As for professional, if your intent is to join in the pursuit of forbidden secret truths and what have you, I must regretfully inform you you are chasing the wrong currents. The Brotherhood does not permit the female species to join. Evidently they find it a distraction." Insofar as a creature without lips can appear amused, the bird makes an evident effort.
<Julia> "That's alright I have lots of fun finding out forbidden knowledge by myself," Julia replies pleasantly. "I suppose we'll call my business personal though, yes. I'm looking for a member of the brotherhood called Wilfrid."
<El-Cideon> The bird draws its head back in surprise. "There's a name I've not heard in some time. Not a popular one around here, either. I wonder what a young lady might be seeking him for after all this time. Ah!" The bird appears to reach a conclusion. "Wayward offspring looking for its sire, perhaps?" it guesses.
<Julia> She shakes her head. "Oh no, my parents never had anything to do with the brotherhood. Rather I'm reliably informed that he'd know the whereabouts of someone who stole from a friend of mine. I take it he's no longer present?"
<El-Cideon> "He is not," the bird confirms. "Mmm. If this is a legal matter, then I'd best fetch chancellor Brom." It closes its eyes, concentrates a moment, and there's the heavy *thunk* of bars drawing back on the other side of the door. "If you'll follow me, please."
<El-Cideon> "And I hope you'll forgive me the impertinent question," it adds, with a conspiratorial whisper: "It happens more often than one might expect."
<Julia> "Perhaps if women were allowed in it might be less of a problem?" Julia ponders. "Wait here Battersby. Don't kill anyone," she tells her wyvern distractedly before heading inside.
<El-Cideon> "Sound advice," the bird adds in a droll tone. Within, the tower is one great shaft. There are comfy chairs spread around the base floor, but this is the only concession to terrestrial architectural norms--Julia can see down a grand corridor that must lead to the far end of the tower and is plainly meant to be navigated by flight. Windows ring the interior at regular intervals, so the interior is not quite the perhaps expected dusty university. "Wait here, please," the bird asks, flying down the shaft to return some quiet minutes later with two men in tow: one is an elderly gentleman with a beard of championship caliber, but still quite tall and of imposing bearing despite evident age; at his side is a man about your own age, with long black hair in a ponytail and the sort of broad, ordinary face one might more expect to see behind a plow or diligently sergeanting towards a pension in some provincial guard regiment. "Whatever trouble he caused was assuredly in no way shape or form official Brotherhood business," the older man says immediately.
<Julia> "Probably not," Julia shrugs. "Really there's a long and complicated backstory to this that I have trouble keeping straight in my own head at times, but what it boils down to is that a thief stole a relic from a temple where I live. One of the thief's former cohorts told us that this Wilfrid fellow might have an idea of where the thief is actually hiding out. Does that all make sense?"
<El-Cideon> "He consorted with all manner of strange persons," the chancellor says in a huff that suggests this category should perhaps include anyone not currently resident in the tower. "But I must inform you, young miss, that Mr. Wroclaw hasn't been on our grounds for nineteen years. We'd all rather concluded he'd exploded himself by now, in truth," he adds, in a Serves Him Right sort of tone. "So I must admit to considerable perplexion at this new happenstance."
<Julia> "Oh," Julia says, not really surprised at this point given what the snake had said about not hearing the name for a long time. "Any idea where he went, then?"
<El-Cideon> "I can only relate the circumstances of his departure," he says. "Departures, to be perfectly accurate," he clarifies. "A trio of adventuring types came to us looking for someone to repair a damaged planar castle--damaged by themselves, no doubt," he grumbles, "on the negative energy plane. Mechanic's work, many lesser men here could've done it, but Wilfrid abandoned his research--dross though it was, a man should know his priorities--to go and help. We didn't see him for another year."
<Julia> "Oh, that sounds like an interesting coincidence..." Julia hums before waving her hand, "Ah, do go on, but I might come back to that later."
<El-Cideon> He nods. "And all he came back *for* was to clean out his laboratory!" the elderly wizard adds with an actual *harrumph*. "Said we could no longer help him in his work, and vice versa. Unbelievable! Packed up his books and materials, took a trip out to the old asylum with this knightly lass he was traveling alongside, and that was the last we saw of him."
<Julia> "I don't suppose you have names of any of those he was travelling with, the knight or the adventurers?" Julia asks hopefully.
<El-Cideon> "I wasn't personally involved with that rabble," he says with distaste, "but I saw them about the grounds. There was a dapper little elf, possessed some arcane ability--but only of that undisciplined sorcerous variety," he adds dismissively. "There was a halfbreed lady musician and an armored fellow with him. I think they were part of the knight's gang, in fact, caused some trouble in town a while before," he adds, as though recalling the ancient history of some distant world rather than local events.
<Julia> Brijid... Marcus? Knight must have been Polaris. The dapper elf was probably Phibous? Well, that's not really a new lead at all. Not unless they find Phibous and he has more information than Brijid did. The castle must have been that lich's then, no doubt nothing to do with Auranelle. That all seems to fit neatly in Julia's head. "Well, that sadly leaves me no closer to finding what I seek,
<Julia> but thank you for providing what information you did. Is there a tray for donations or anything?" May as well give them something for their time.
<El-Cideon> "A *donation tray*?" he bristles with umbrage. The younger man interjects, with more evident curiosity: "Exactly what is it that he stole?"
<Julia> "She," Julia corrects before replying to the umbrage, "Well I thought this was like a monastery or a church or something. It's fine, I respect your pride and I won't even speak of compensation further." That done she addresses the young man once more, "I think she's the knight in the tale I just heard. It was a holy... sword. Or possibly mace, I forget. From the church of Pelor."
<El-Cideon> He frowns, gives his older counterpart a searching look that provokes no response. "Curious. I was very young when he left, but I learned some of the basic magics from him, and I'm puzzled to figure what use he might have for such an object. It doesn't seem to have any bearing on his work."
<Julia> "No, no, it's got nothing to do with him," Julia shakes her head. "It's all that knight, Polaris. Or Galina Merowyn. Big hero back in the day, not so well regarded now. She stole the sword or mace and I've been tracking her all over the planes since. One of her old friends - the half-elven musician I expect, mentioned Wilfrid might know where she is, so I came to look for Wilfrid since
<Julia> looking for Polaris is taking forever."
<El-Cideon> "Ah!" the chancellor says, pointing to punctuation his recognition. "Yes, that was her name. Galina Merowyn. Caused a ruckus out at the asylum before her gang stole Wilfrid away. Some of the younger lads thought she might've seduced him or some such rot." He snorts. "Romantic nonsense, I could look at the woman and tell you she'd no interest in seducing anyone." The younger magician adds, more helpfully: "We've some of his old notes in archives still if it might be of any use to you."
<Julia> "Oh, that sounds helpful!" Julia beams, before adding in a lower voice, "And yes, Galina does seem more inclined to stabbing than seduction from all I've heard."
<El-Cideon> The young man looks to his elder, who shrugs. "It's of no use to us. Might as well have something for coming this way, lass." The younger wizard nods, takes off lightly upwards. "This way, then. We'll want the top floor, ah...Miss," he manages, adding wryly. "We weren't properly introduced. Benson's me."
<Julia> "Julia Astin," she supplies helpfully. "Healer and necromancer." Since no one here seems to care about her flying around on a great big dirty zombie dragon she feels safe enough in announcing her taboo specialty. Maybe she'll even come live here one day when things get too fire-and-pitchforky back in Solata.
<El-Cideon> "Pleasure to meet you," he says as you drift along down the corridor. You pass doors of all shapes and sizes, all interspersed with regular windows to let in the natural light of Air, but no other people. "So is it a Galina or a Polaris you're ultimately looking for?" he asks conversationally as you fly. "I'm a little confused."
<Julia> "I suppose Polaris is more of a nickname," Julia shrugs. "She was a big war hero back during the troubles but now she's gone renegade and is up to all sorts of shady business. Holy weapon theft aside."
<Julia> "I call her Polaris mostly because it's quicker and more people back home know her by that than her real name."
<El-Cideon> "Mm," he muses, calling up some scholarly connections: "'Axis mundi,' 'guiding star'...Not an appellation everyone can get away with, I'd say. Ah, here we are." You reach the far-off "ceiling" of the tower, where Benson pulls open a circular door and floats on through. Within is a great spherical room with arcing shelves arranged in concentric layers. "I think some wiseman had the image of a brain in mind when he designed this," Benson says. "You ask me, someone should've made him try being a clerk in here for one week."
<Julia> "I suppose architecture knows no bounds in a gravity-less environment," Julia says, looking around. "It does look very mystical though."
<El-Cideon> "I imagine a lot of it's just here for the sake of thoroughness," he guesses, "but until I've read it all I don't suppose I can judge that. Come along, we're heading for defunct projects of dead wizards. Should tell you Wilfrid's general standing round here." He floats towards a dusty, disused stratum of shelving. "So, necromancy, is it? Not a popular school around here. Mind Over Matter is the Brotherhood's motto, and most feel necromancy puts a little too much emphasis on the matter."
<Julia> "There is a whole family of incorporeal undead, but I suppose they're more souls than minds. I can't make them anyway," Julia shrugs, "The focus on the matter is important for treating various injuries and ailments though. I leave the mind to philosophers." Putting that aside she peers at the dusty shelves, "Any idea what he was actually working on?" she asks, hoping for a summary before
<Julia> she has to start reading it all.
<El-Cideon> "Well, the nature of magic itself is a common subject of inquiry around here. We're all here because we want to know why things work the way they do," he says. "Most of us, anyway. Wilfrid thought--well, you understand the distinction behind someone like a professional wizard, who has to study and memorize his spells, compared to your sorcerer types who are more a living conduit for their magic?"
* Julia nods, feeling nothing but pity for those poor parchment-bound wizards but keeping that to herself given Brom's obvious bias when the subject came up earlier.
<El-Cideon> "Right, so why is it some unpracticed fancypants can snap his fingers and call up a fireball without any learning when the rest of us have to pore over books every night to do the same thing? That's what he wanted to figure out: what makes someone intrinsically magical and others not?" Benson removes a file from the shelf and blows dust off the several dozen pages inside. "This is the index." He gestures to a row of boxes along the same shelf. "Subject data, interviews, hemoglobule analysis, etcetera."
<Julia> The only thing sadder than a man reduced to relearning the same spells out of the same book every day for his whole life is one who's bitter about it. But Julia tries not to judge. Indeed she has far more pressing problems given all those boxes... "Can I take them away or will I have to read them here?" she asks. Fobbing it all off onto Rosemund or Franceska is looking pretty appealing at
<Julia> this point.
<El-Cideon> "Well, Brom didn't seem to care overly much. Thought it was a lot of hogwash, really. Linguistics is a big thing around here, what with how so many spells having verbal components, and creation stories centered around words of power? But for Wilfrid it was more like, well, applied sociology," he concludes, pronouncing with the shifty gaze of someone cautiously voicing something like "botulism" or "incest." With something more than the expected strength of the average wizard, he hefts a box under each arm. "So I took him to mean you can cart this stuff out if you want."
<Julia> "Oh excellent!" she says in clear relief. Ron would also be a good pick for poring over all of this. "Hold on a second while I summon up some pack mules," she says before chanting a few obscene words of power herself, depositing a pair of hunched over troll skeletons before her. Directing them to pick up the remaining boxes she tells them to go and drop them off by the wyvern outside. She
<Julia> can follow at a more sedate pace while they do their job before the spell runs out.
<El-Cideon> Benson floats along carrying his own load next to Julia on the way out. "Sure. Feel free to stop back and let me know if you find anything interesting. I was always curious what he was on about, but too young to ask the right questions back when, right? And, ah, if you ask me this place could do with a lady around once in a while."
<Julia> "Yes, I heard they were banned," Julia smiles. "Not that it seemed to stop Wilfrid." Arriving out before the sedate Battersby, she starts loading the boxes onto his back while the two trolls vanish. "I'll drop by after I've read all of these." Or let Ron do it, "And let you know what I've found."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, sure," he says with a smile. "Have a nice rest of the day, Julia," he adds with a wave.

<El-Cideon> ~

<El-Cideon> After some cursory inquiries, Franceska and Rosemund are directed--in a most general sense--towards the Titan's Carcass to find the Furies. It is a ship, which circumnavigates the city at some mild remove with regularity, so your directions amount to a basic "Just look out from the second ring down, it's out there somewhere." And it is there, eventually! From a distance, it becomes apparent that the ship's name is perhaps not just a colorful flourish--the hull looks to itself be built around some great monster's ribcage, bleached white, with the construction in between being some indeterminate substance bearing the look of crushed bone concrete. There is a single mast, but no sail is up, raising questions as to how the ship moves. From some remove, a handful of humanoid shapes can be distantly glimpsed on deck.
<Franceska> "Shall we?" Franceska asks, aiming to fly towards the ship to intercept it.
<El-Cideon> "This looks like a ship Julia would design," Rosemund observes en route. "Well, if Julia designed boats." The deck is presently populated by some five figures: at the prow, a one-eyed orc clad mostly in bone works at sharpening a fearsome axe; at the helm is a towering undead dressed in rags, gray-skinned, vacant and gapemouthed but nonetheless maintaining the ship on its steady course; amidships between these are two men crouched over some game, one a robed drow with fearsomely sharp and disapproving features, the other a dry-looking middle aged blond man dressed in obvious sneaking gear; and watching your approach carefully is a keen-eyed woman dressed like a dandy and with oil-blue hair that seems to forever shed water of its own accord.
<Franceska> "Permission to come on board?" Franceska asks, hovering just above the deck.
<El-Cideon> "Name and business?" the woman calls back, pose not threatening but ready, hands not too far from a swordbelt (though curiously the only thing hanging from it is a swordless hilt). The gamesters eye you briefly but each seems averse to leaving his counterpart unobserved for too long. The orc watches both of you, unblinking.
<Franceska> "Franceska Durant," she introduces herself. "Here to discuss a job offer."
<El-Cideon> "Judicious application of violence a house specialty," she says with a discreet bow. "Problems solved, enemies removed. You just touch down here and we'll get talking deals. Of course, you'll want to talk to Her Grace for specifics, but share the basics with me before I go bothering Her?"
<Franceska> "That sounds reasonable," Franceska agrees, setting foot on deck. "My friend and I," she continues, indicating Rosemund, "are after two things. Information about a woman calling herself Polaris and any of her allies and activities, and a raid that will result in the judicious application of violence to solve another problem of ours. Specifically, a raid of a cornugon in Jangling Hiter."
<El-Cideon> She whistles. "Not killed one of them before," she says. There's something perhaps unsurprisingly fluid about her voice, the suggestion of liquid harmonics or aftertones. "We'll want to take this belowdecks, Her Grace was in conference last I checked."
<Franceska> "Certainly," Franceska agrees, happy enough that the job was not turned down at the onset. Perhaps it even suggests the Furies are capable of it.
<El-Cideon> She strides towards the hatch and descends to the lower deck. Down the galley, past a row of bunks near the prow, a pair of enormous white wolves are curled up amidst a pile of netting; one looks up and silently bares fangs, but your guide leads you the other direction anyway. Down a corridor with doors to left and right--there is an unseemly odor of spoiled meat faintly wafting from the left door--and at the end of the corridor. The blue-haired woman raps politely on this one. From inside, a sharp, shrill voice: "Who is it?" "January," your guide calls back. "We've got clients to see Her Grace." After assent is given from inside, January says to you quietly, "Be polite," adding under her breath before she departs, "and don't forget her title."
<Franceska> She's hardly such a novice she would make that blunder, Franceska thinks, almost insulted by the suggestion. She'll make plenty others due to Air's lawless society, quite likely, but not this one, and so she enters at the assent.
<El-Cideon> Obviously a lavish captain's quarters once, though rather spartan in decor now. Lit through windows at the stern of the ship are three figures. One is a slight, slender human woman, barefoot, dressed in tattered robes so threadbare their once-midnight black has gone mostly to gray, coal-dark hair unkempt and wild to her hips, a pleasant, spritely face marred by a webwork of thin scars that in no way deters her from offering a pleasant smile to the visitors. Opposite her at a table, rolling up a chart of some sort, is a harpy, flame-red hair and leathery wings, dressed in ratty, oily leather. Central and obviously in command is a nightmarish figure: six and a half feet tall, possessing the vague figure of a fit and shapely human woman but covered all over in chitin the cold black of cast iron, a network of interlocking barbs jagging out over every inch of her body. She wears nothing apart from a ring dangling from a chain around her neck, a signet ring bearing the sign of a crane in mid-step. The only obviously human aspect to the Duchess is her eyes, blue and chill. "Welcome aboard," she rumbles through dagger teeth.
<El-Cideon> It takes Rosemund a long moment to remember her manners and bow respectfully, and slightly longer to shut her mouth.
<Franceska> Is that even comfortable? How do other species deal with the way they were born, Franceska wonders once more as she refuses to quite accept her as human. But that would make any negotiations go smoother in the end, she muses. "Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace," she returns, offering the duchess a proper curtsy. "My name is Franceska Durant, and this is Rosemund Whitefall. As you might
<Franceska> expect, we came here in hopes of reaching an agreement about a job."
<El-Cideon> "As I would expect," she confirms, grinning fiercely. "Rarely are we sought out for friendship." She steps around the table, looms for a moment, appraises you at length. "Your aspect is familiar to me. You have been described in past report by my lieutenant, Masuko, who tells me you acquitted yourself well on the plane of Earth. Was that not you?"
<Franceska> "It was me, Your Grace," Franceska responds, wondering what that remark about aspects means. "He told me, however, that there would be no issues in negotiating a job if and when we ever came to Azure."
<El-Cideon> "That is true," she says, leaning back on her palms resting on the table (which judging by the chips and cuts has seen considerable such abuse). "Provided the work and compensation are fit match for our exacting standards. Explain to me what you require of us, Miss Durant."
<Franceska> "Certainly," she responds crisply. "We are pursuing a certain woman, Your Grace. She calls herself Polaris, but her given name is Galina Merowyn of Solata. Last we heard, she was in the company of two men. A young man going by the name of Jacono, and an elderly wizard. Also, it seems likely that she has been working with forces out of Mechanus across several planes, which may well suggest
<Franceska> this is something unsanctioned by Mechanus itself. In any case, it is not unreasonable to believe that the Furies might have come across mentions of her or of her hideouts. In such a case, we would like to purchase said information. The main reason behind our visit, however, is that we wish to abduct a Jill Cook from the cornugon residing in Jangling Hiter. According to our information, she
<Franceska> was betrayed by her former allies immediately prior to ending in Baator, and said ally might well have been Polaris. She would be a good lead for us."
<El-Cideon> "I am not familiar with this 'Polaris,'" the Duchess admits, "but Galina Merowyn and cronies made a visit of note to our fair city once, to be sure. I cannot admit to knowing of her present whereabouts and activities," she acknowledges (with some strange rise of emotion in her voice quickly quelled). "But," she continues coolly, "we range far, and name many unusual personages our friends and clients. It costs us nothing to make quiet inquiries, and may do so in conjunction with our other services should we reach a deal on this rescue mission of yours. So tell me," she says, adopting the air of calculating strategist, "what you know of this cornugon from whom you wish to steal? Devils do not frighten me, but acting without proper intelligence is...distasteful to me. Security, personal defenses, local standing?"
<Franceska> "Little at present," Franceska admits. "We know the cornugon in question, one Krae Nalus, is considered an eccentric, and that merely bargaining with gold would not achieve our goals. We know that he acquired Miss Cook through bargaining with forces on Fire, most probably the Burning Hand company. It also seems that she is being used to train the soldiers at his household, so it may well be
<Franceska> necessary to bring her back by force. If we can manage to reach an agreement on this, there are a few favors I might be able to collect on to gain more pertinent information."
<El-Cideon> "Mmm," she purrs thoughtfully. Then, in that carefully composed, deliberate diction of hers: "I would ask our expert on Infernal affairs about this matter..." She gives you a level stare. "But you murdered her. Still, Masuko's not without certain understandings with regards to devil kin," she muses. "He could well visit for purported devotional purposes as cover for a reconnaissance mission. In case your other sources fail you? If you are prepared to make a downpayment for our grander adventure, I may dispatch his squad to ascertain our situation on the ground."
* Franceska looks entirely unfazed by the accusation. "It sounds like a suitable proposition, Your Grace," she responds. "What sort of downpayment are we talking about here? And what would the price for the job itself look like, you believe?"
<El-Cideon> "For transport of Masuko and his squad across planes, potential bribes, hazards of brief residence on Baator, I would call for five thousand gold," she quotes immediately. "For our proper operation, we are prepared to consider share in the spoils of the target's estate a factor in negotiation."
* Franceska quickly tallies how troublesome it would be for her to actually look into this, and nods curtly. "This is quite acceptable, Your Grace. I can provide the downpayment right now, and we could negotiate further after Masuko's successful return. Does that sound agreeable?"
<El-Cideon> "It is so," she agrees. "I will have Crier contact you via Sending when the reconnaissance squad has returned." The scarred woman gives a friendly wave, and in an entirely too cheerful voice exclaims, "When you hear from me, you know we're in business. I only bring good news!"
<Franceska> "Then I shall eagerly await your Sending," Franceska tells Crier with a pleasant smile.
<El-Cideon> "Excellent. Then we are partners," Ismaela concludes. "And it is customary for partners to signify the conclusion of a business deal with a handshake." She extends one of her monstrous, thorned palms for your approval.
<Franceska> She shook hands with a drow without so much as a grimace, and so Franceska extends her own hand in turn. Then, it would be a simple matter of leaving enough platinum to cover their agreement and leave.
<El-Cideon> Ismaela makes no particular attempt to crush your hand (although one must suspect that she could). Even so, an average, firm everyday handshake with the Duchess is enough to leave anyone moderately lacerated (if not quite maimed). She watches your reaction carefully throughout, flicking her eyes aside only briefly to note Rosemund's gasp and choked objection, before drawing away to leave your hand bleeding from myriad small wounds.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d4 damage
<Serith> El-Cideon roll for Serith < 2 >12 [d4=2]
* Franceska heals her hand by focusing on her rarely-used belt, before showing the mended flesh to Rosemund to calm her down.
<El-Cideon> "Not a whimper," the Duchess observes with a trace of...admiration? She turns to her harpy underling: "Lieutenant Skinner? See our new partners abovedecks." A squawkish sort of grunt in affirmation, and the grimy bird woman soon leads you back out and up topside. The blonde man looks up from his game. "She didn't eat ya after all, eh?" he jests (keeping one eye on his elfish opponent at all times).
<Franceska> "No." Franceska turns to the harpy, telling her as she floats off the deck, "Thank you for showing us out. Please give Masuko my regards."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, sure thing," he says with a farewell salute. Once at safe distance from the ship, Rosemund exclaims, "That was a beastly thing for her to do! And so rude! You are alright? Franceska, those people all give me the shivers."
<Franceska> "Compared to our experiences on the other planes, it was downright friendly," Franceska responds with a shrug. "And we managed to get a more favorable outcome than I had imagined. It is nice that we don't have to do all the troublesome work of looking into Baator."
<El-Cideon> "No, but we still have to go ourselves," Rosemund says. "I am sure they are all very adept at killing, but for bringing someone back alive, I am less confident."
<Franceska> "As long as they get us there precisely and without trouble or unwanted bargains on our side, it would be quite alright," Franceska assures Rosemund. "We can rely on you for leaving there quickly."
<El-Cideon> "Just so long as we are not too picky about where we going," Rosemund admits of her perpetual difficulty in teleporting the party accurately. "But I should imagine that, leaving Hell, we would not find ourselves exceptionally discerning."
<Franceska> "Quite," Franceska agrees, before asking curiously, "What sort of ancestry makes you shed water from your hair, you think?"
<El-Cideon> "Ah...water elementals?" Rosemund guesses. "I do not how such a thing would come about. And I do not wish to contemplate it!"

<El-Cideon> ~

<El-Cideon> Back from their various sojourns around Azure, the group reconnoiters to share their findings in their lodgings at the Canopy Inn, a pleasant little blob of architecture vaguely reminscent of an enormous conch shell. The establishment seems to cater to outsiders and the window of the spacious common room affords a comprehensive view "down" of most of the great spiral that is Azure. It is quite a stirring panorama, though the glaring red eye of the portal at the bottom of the well is a constant reminder of the looming proximity of demonkind.
* Franceska spends a considerable amount of time glaring at the red eye of the Abyss.
<Steph> "So guess what!" Stephanie says, seeming slightly sloshed, which in itself appears no obstacle to appearing with another jug of foaming liquid. "That Granville chick took off for the Abyss. Why would she do that? Why would anyone do that?"
<Julia> "To fight a stirring crusade against the darkness?" Julia suggests, sitting with her back to the portal.
<Steph> "With two robots and a cat?"
<Franceska> "And there is the part where both she and Polaris are quite friendly with modrons," Franceska adds suspiciously.
<El-Cideon> "In most cases it is because they are awful, awful people," Rosemund decides. "But I do not know so much about her that I could say that."
<Julia> "No offence, Ron," Julia is quick to say to their own robot.
<Steph> Stephanie frowns. "Friendly? You think? Maybe she actually doesn't like them, which is why she's always not here when they come calling," muses Stephanie, glancing at Ron for a moment. "Hey, Ron, you know someone called 'Lord Boxworthy'?'
<El-Cideon> "I am incapable of perceiving offense," Ron acknowledges for Julia before turning to Steph. "I am not familiar with this name, Stephanie."
<Franceska> "More to the point," Franceska addresses Ron, "would there be an easy way to determine who dispatched this Lord Boxworthy to Earth if we have the date and location?"
<Steph> "He's a modron," supplies Stephanie, helpfully. "Do modrons even have lords?"
<Julia> "Well, I had little luck tracking down that Wilfrid fellow at the Sagacious Brotherhood. Apparently he left along with Polaris, and I presume Brijid, Marcus, and Phibous long ago," Julia puts in for her little trip. "I did manage to procure all of Wilfrid's research notes in case there's a clue there."
<El-Cideon> "Primus is the entity of supreme authority amongst the modron hierachy," Ron supplies. "However, my superiors on Mechanus were only pentadrones." To Franceska: "It is curious to hear a name in association with another of my kind. We are not usually afforded such."
<Franceska> "It's always possible someone named him and he didn't care enough to do anything about it," Franceska muses. "Would Mechanus tell us anything if we had a third party ask them about that expedition to Earth?"
<El-Cideon> "That depends upon the sensitivity of their goals there," Ron concludes. "If they were simply observing for the sake of general knowledge, there would be little impetus not to be straightforward in answering as such. If their mission was more critical to the survival of the collective, or to the interests of their present employer, it is likely you would have to navigate up the hierarchy to find definitive answers. Drones of my own caste are rarely provided any explanation for their orders that would be meaningul to a human."
<El-Cideon> "What was the research about?" Rosemund adds in to Julia.
<Franceska> "I don't suppose you know anyone we might ask?" Franceska voices. "Rosemund and I are already looking into Jill Cook, so why not have others investigate our other points of interest?"
<Steph> "Um, isn't Ron, like, a fugitive from Mechanus, now?" pipes up Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "I was not made to know many outside of the collective or the experimental station," Ron states, with a trace apologetic air.
* Franceska nods. "Accused of a crime he did not commit."
<Julia> "I haven't read it, but the gist seems to be about where sorcerers and other spontaneous casters derive their power from," Julia answers. "Rather pertinent considering what we found on Arcadia, yes?"
<El-Cideon> "In point of fact Franceska, I was directly responsible for rousing the experimental subjects that instigated the rebellion. That this may not be a crime in human eyes would be of little significance to my brethren."
<Franceska> "Just remember that you are not required to incriminate yourself if you are ever questioned!"
<Steph> Stephanie nods. "Never talk to the law! It's out to get you. Even if you're clean."
<El-Cideon> "I am not capable of stating known falsehoods. I should remain silent?" Ron concludes.
<Steph> "Yeah. You can also talk to them with your crossbows."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods to Julia. "You think perhaps he is still engaged in this research out there, wherever the two of them are?"
<Franceska> "No, no. Remaining silent is your best option. The only words you should be saying are that you want to talk to your lawyer, Ron."
<El-Cideon> "Are you my lawyer, Franceska?" Ron asks.
<Julia> "It does seem likely," Julia nods. "Maybe there's even something in there about places of power that could link to the one on Arcadia and lead us to others?"
<Franceska> "You have an honest job so I think you could afford to hire me as your lawyer, yes."
<Steph> "Ooh, good plan! And then, when Franceska shows up?" Stephanie snaps her fingers. "Bam! Double-pronged crossbow-bear assault! They'll never see it coming!"
<El-Cideon> "We shall have to read it, then," Rosemund concludes.
<Steph> Stephanie chugs down her beer, and then sets it back on the table. "Anyway! What're we actually going to do next? Meet up with Vigilia, or look into stuff a bit more?"
<Franceska> "Seeing Vigilia will help us decide on our next move, so I prefer to do that."
<Steph> "Then let's go? We know where to go," replies Stephanie, standing up.
<Julia> "How about Ron reads the notes while we do that?" Julia says. "I'll have Battersby guard him from any gangsters."
<El-Cideon> "I shall compile with all due diligence," Ron agrees.
<Franceska> "Please prepare a brief, easy to read summary," Franceska requests.
<Steph> "Dwarven. Dwarven's the best language for technical notes," says Stephanie, nodding.
<Franceska> "A language I can read."
<El-Cideon> The Concordant Union temple is poised midway down Azure's spiral. Vaguely the shape and dimensions of a palace, but obviously open to the public--the front doors are not merely left open, but have been symbolically removed from their hinges. Outside the front door are two copies of the same symbol: a white steel circle with twin feathers dangling from it on either side, standing atop a metal pole. It's not an unfamiliar marker to anyone who's spent some little time wandering around the city, but placement at the front door here suggests it is the Union's particular symbol. Beyond the front gate one can glimpse a pleasant little garden with gray-robed figures about.
<Steph> Stephanie struts towards the doors, seeking out a helpful receptionist.
* Franceska taps Julia's shoulder to get her attention. "Perhaps I could avail myself of your spell, considering our destination?"
<Julia> "Oh, of course!" Julia nods, and quickly masks Franceska's vile nature from magical view.
<El-Cideon> There's no formal receptionist per se, but the first acolytes Stephanie encounters, a young man and woman, are quick to greet her with friendly smiles. "Good morning to you, miss," they both chime.
<Julia> "Really, nobody's even batted an eye at Battersby or me, I doubt it'll be a problem," she whispers to Franceska afterwards.
<Franceska> "Around the city, no. But here?" Franceska shrugs. "In any case, my thanks."
<Steph> "Hi. I'm looking for a Vigilia? She's on fire, hard to miss?"
<El-Cideon> They laugh softly. "She was with the Reverend, last I saw," the man says. He points down a corridor across from the entryway. "Straight on until you reach the water garden."
<Steph> "Thank you, sir~" Stephanie heads off down the indicated path.
<El-Cideon> Through a long hallway lined with doors, and you eventually come out into another open-air atrium, this one with pleasant burbling fountains spaced regularly about. Soft chanting can be heard emanating from one of the neighboring windows. Vigilia's herd of celestial minders is recognizable in a far corner of the garden, leading a gang of children in some game, while Vigilia herself is seated on a bench in the center of the area near three robed women.
<Franceska> "Does anyone else find all this creepy?" Franceska asks quietly.
<El-Cideon> "They all seem very cheerful to me," Rosemund says in answer, though it doesn't sound as though she means this as confirmation.
<Julia> "No, it all looks quite pleasant," Julia says, looking about and heading towards Vigilia.
<Steph> "You never went to a church ever, did you? I mean, for stuff other than healing," muses Stephanie, heading after Julia.
<Franceska> "Whyever would I waste my time with something like that?"
<Steph> Stephanie shrugs. "You got me there! Decent churches sure wouldn't waste their time with you!"
<El-Cideon> Vigilia recognizes you and stands up. "Greetings again," she says with a bow. She has not exchanged her own minimal attire for Union robes, but she sounds very at home here. Her companions three: the obvious centre of this gathering is a pleasant-faced middle-aged brunette with lines from where one could guess many smiles have taken hold; flanking her are a quiet, mousy slip of a girl and a pretty blond with striking green eyes. "Oh, strangers?" the brunette guesses. "Welcome to our home, all."
* Franceska frowns.
<Julia> "Hello, my name is Julia," Julia introduces herself. "I'm glad to see you remain in good health, Vigilia."
<Franceska> "Oh, yes, most certainly," she agrees. "You look much better now, in fact."
<El-Cideon> "I feel better," Vigilia acknowledges. "I could hardly do otherwise given the nature of our last encounter? I do not believe I had adequate opportunity to thank you for your assistance at that time. Please accept my proper gratitude." The older woman brightens up. "Ah, you would be our Vigilia's saviors, yes? She has spoken highly of you all. Please accept our thanks as well. I am the Reverend Bernadette. My twin shadows here are Sisters Mercy and Anya."
<Julia> "It's nice to meet you all," Julia says, sticking to the usual pleasantries for now.
<Steph> "Oh, great!" Stephanie nods to Vigilia. "So what do you guys do around here?"
<Franceska> "Is it really true that there are no slavers in or around Azure?" Franceska can't help but ask. "It even has a portal to the Abyss! This would be the first city on another plane that we visited that didn't have such a thing."
<El-Cideon> "We do what we may to keep the peace," Bernadette says, "which in my experience can most beneficially be fostered by providing for people's most basic wants and needs foremost. A desperate man is ever so more likely to follow orders for a crust of bread than one who's livelihood is assured." Bernadette looks as shocked by Franceska's question as the couple she'd asked about the same subject last week. "Never would we tolerate such vileness within our borders," she swears with wide eyes.
<Steph> "We really don't get to hear that nearly enough," says Stephanie, nodding in approval.
<Franceska> "It really is the first time."
<El-Cideon> "Azure has its own unique difficulties," Bernadette acknowledges, "but never would we accept that it is the right of any man to force another to labor for his pleasure."
<Franceska> "It does sound like you are dealing with crime in an admirable way," Franceska muses.
<Julia> "I've been quite impressed by my time here," Julia says. A town where a necromancer and her unsightly minions can roam freely, it sounds perfect!
<Steph> "What would be the punishment, for a slaver?"
<El-Cideon> She nods. "Our goal is to foster amity by removing the basic desperations that drive men towards crime and conflict. I daresay we've had some small success so far. " She smiles apologetically. "We are some way from the desired state of all men living as one in harmony, but I do think we are on the road towards gangs merely bickering instead of actively fighting over borders. They often come to us for mediation now, in fact."
<El-Cideon> "Death," Anya answers Stephanie instantly with conviction. "There's no true law here in the sense you might be familiar with, but any attempting such wickedness would find himself opposed by a mob in short order."
<Franceska> "What other crimes warrant an immediate death sentence without a trial?"
<El-Cideon> Bernadette frowns slightly at her subordinate. "Well, yes, that is the most likely outcome. If not necessarily a method we of the Union endorse."
* Franceska nods, understanding the need for plausible deniability.
<Steph> Stephanie nods herself. "Vigilia, are you working on anything here? We were thinking to team up again."
<El-Cideon> "You're asking for consistency in Azure of all places," Bernadette answers Franceska with a sad smile. "Part of our mission is to talk the people down from such hotblooded revenges. If one man may kill another for killing, where does it end?"
<El-Cideon> "I have been...relaxing," Vigilia says. "I am somewhat unaccustomed to the exercise. I have learned to weave clothes for the poor," she adds with a trace of pride before inquiring: "What did you have in mind?"
<Franceska> "Usually, when everyone on one side dies," Franceska responds. "Yes, I can see the obvious problem with taking the law into your own hands. Ah, but Stephanie is right. We did have an offer to make. Vigilia, how would you like to go to Pandemonium together on a fact-finding mission?"
<El-Cideon> Vigilia's expression freezes. Unbidden, her contingent of archons suddenly finds it necessary to swarm about her and whisper quiet reassurance in celestial. "I hadn't thought to go back home," Vigilia acknowledges at length. "What is it that you require?"
<Kallen> "A pair of strong hands?" says Stephanie, grinning. "Dangerous place for just three girls and a modron. Four girls, a modron, and a swarm of archons? I'm liking our chances a bit more."
<El-Cideon> "It is a dangerous place," Vigilia confirms, pressing on: "What would be our purpose there?"
<Franceska> "More specifically, one of Polaris's erstwhile allies is kept in Agathion," Franceska elaborates. "We would retrieve him, and then we all might get answers to our questions."
<El-Cideon> "The one I was searching for is not here," Vigilia says tensely. Bernadette places a calming hand on her shoulder as the flamehaired woman insistently asks, "Who is it? Who would we find there?"
<Julia> "Phibous, the elf sorcerer," Julia supplies.
<El-Cideon> "HE'S THE ONE." Vigilia's hair and eyes flare up violently, until Bernadette takes her into a motherly embrace. "Hush dear, he isn't here, it's alright," she whispers.
<Julia> "We'll want to ask questions before killing him," Julia says delicately.
<El-Cideon> "So would I," Vigilia decides eventually, to a tittering of approval from the celestial cloud.
<Franceska> "We all want to hear what he has to say for himself, and working together improves our chances. Naturally, it improves your chances as well. How does this sound?"
<El-Cideon> "I'd never thought to look for him back home," Vigilia admits. "Why would he not leave? Why would *anyone* stay if they didn't have to?" She wastes little time in deciding: "Yes, of course I will help you. I can be of assistance as guide on the first layer; beyond that I know naught personally, but can still express familiarity with the plane's general hazards." A moment of doubt: "I spent dark years there as girl. Going back, I fear I may...relapse. I ask that you all remind me frequently who I am."
<Steph> "Um. Sure. Can you tell us a bit more about yourself, then?" asks Stephanie, curiously.
<Julia> "Won't it be hard to talk with all the deafening winds?" Julia asks worriedly, not wanting to deal with a freaking out paladin in an already dangerous situation.
<El-Cideon> "I think we could all use some refreshment at this point," Bernadette observes. "Sister Mercy, if you'd please?" The quiet, mousy acolyte nods and disappears for a moment, to return eventually with goblets of crystal water and juicy, fresh fruit. "I spent my early years with my mother at the outpost of Gray Hope," Vigilia shares with Stephanie. "It is as pleasant a place as one will find on Pandemonium."
<Steph> "Less noise?"
<El-Cideon> To Julia, Vigilia adds: "One grows accustomed to having her ears plugged out of doors. But you are correct, we should have means of communication. There are spells and devices to grant telepathy, are there not?" she guesses, this not sounding her precise area of expertise.
<Franceska> "Gray Hope? Encouraging," Franceska mutters quietly, whispering to Rosemund, "Do you have a spell to make people happier?"
<El-Cideon> "Priests maintain it as a last rest for the few adventurers brave or foolhardy enough to travel to Pandemonium," Vigilia responds to Stephanie. "It is a spartan existence inside, but a safe one. Father Laurence was very accomodating and...forgiving."
<El-Cideon> "Ah, a little," Rosemund whispers back. "I do not know if it can combat the despair of a whole world!"
<Franceska> "Every little bit helps. You can make up the difference with your personality, I'm certain."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund smiles brightly!
<Franceska> With that responsibility happily delegated, Franceska thinks about telepathy magic.
<Steph> "Anyway, what's the best way to get to Agathion? Can we plane shift straight there?"
<El-Cideon> "Dangerous unless you can be precise," Vigilia says. "And if he is in a cell of Agathion, likely warded from teleportation. We will need to locate both a point of entry to his cell and a means of opening it." She frowns. "How in all the worlds did he get himself there? I would advise aiming for a higher layer and working downwards, unless your spells are very precise indeed. I am told the Last Laugh on Cocytus is the deepmost location one might find reasonably safe haven."
<Franceska> "Under the circumstances, a portal might better serve us. Do you know of any that would take us there?"
<El-Cideon> "My mother fled to the plane through a portal from Earth," Vigilia recalls. "Though that would leave us near Gray Hope, with a great trek ahead of us to Agathion, at least we would know our bearings upon arrival. I am told there is a portal here on Air, but know not where within Pandemonium it would place us."
<Steph> "Do you have any idea where?" asks Stephanie. "Portals tend to mean nearby people."
<El-Cideon> "I do not," she admits. "I was not inclined to inquire closely on this subject. But I am sure someone in town could tell you more specifically."
<Julia> "We may as well ask around, better to travel on Air than on Pandemonium for the most part after all."
<Franceska> "We can look into that, then. What about supplies? Other than means to communicate and to keep the noise out, should we get anything else?"
<Steph> "Axiomatic weapons?... nah," mutters Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "For those who can bear them, they may be of benefit," Vigilia acknowledges for Stephanie, sounding disinterested in the subject of weapons altogether. To Franceska: "The plane itself is wont to inspire delirium and madness in its guests. If you have means to dispel such ailments, do bring such."
<Julia> "Spices!" Julia says brightly. "I need to stock up if we're going to be eating conjured food."
<Franceska> "Yes, of course it does."
<El-Cideon> "Yes...food," Vigilia says slowly. "Real food a rare resource on Pandemonium, you should...you should come prepared for that scarcity."
<El-Cideon> For no obvious reason, Bernadette gently squeezes Vigilia's hand.
<Julia> "Don't worry, with the right sauces and spices even bland conjured food can make a satisfying meal," Julia reassures her.
<El-Cideon> "She can!" Rosemund testifies.
<El-Cideon> "That covers the gamut of obvious risks," Vigilia concludes with relief. "So long as you avoid tributaries of the Styx and can resist the gale winds."
<Steph> "Can your hut resist gale winds?"
<El-Cideon> "Ah, it resisted a sandstorm on Arborea, did it not?" Rosemund recalls.
<Steph> "Good enough. And, um, if we fall in the styx, can we get our memories back?" asks Stephanie, frowning. "And... how much is styx water worth?"
<El-Cideon> "Not without some miracle," Vigilia swears.
<Julia> "It depends if you find someone who really wants to forget?" Julia wonders. "I sure wouldn't!"
<El-Cideon> "I couldn't quote you market value, but I am sure some wizard somewhere may have use for it as a regent," she shrugs to the latter.
<Franceska> "I am working on producing a better magic house, in any case. But yes, let us avoid falling into the Styx."
<El-Cideon> Vigilia gives Julia a careful look, and a nod.
<El-Cideon> In parting, the strange flamehaired wanderer adds one last thing: "It may or may not be of use to you, but when I made my initial inquiries here, most told me a woman named Ione would possess knowledge of your quarry's doings in Azure years past. I did not seek her out myself, as my interest is only in where one of her companions lies now...But if you wish to seek her out, I am told she maintains an art gallery in town and can most probably be found at her restaurant, the Four Winds."
<Franceska> "Someone to talk to while we're here, then."
<Steph> "Yeah. Maybe do that now?"
<El-Cideon> "I'll be here when you need me," Vigilia promises, stepping into the temple's deeper interiors to have further audience with the Reverend as you leave.
<El-Cideon> The Demetrinous Collection is a collonnaded structure of decidedly classical style. Immediately within at the reception desk is a professionally dressed elven man of pleasant demeanor. Guests file past into the gallery proper.
* Franceska bypasses the reception desk to head into the gallery!
<El-Cideon> The receptionist nimbly insinuates himself before you go. "Ah, good afternoon, ladies. If you would hold a moment, we request a donation fee of two gold pieces from all entrants. All proceeds to directly support the artists and inmates responsible for the bulk of the collection."
<Steph> "Inmates?"
<Franceska> "I knew it!"
<Julia> "They were victims of the old asylum, I think this is rehabilitation," Julia whispers to them, handing over two gold coins.
<El-Cideon> He nods. "Oh yes," he says. "You see, the collection sprang originally from Miss Demetrinous' therapeutic rehabilitation of the Blue Horizon survivors."
<Steph> "Blue Horizon?" asks Stephanie, fishing out her own coins.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, you are new in town," the elf observes, collecting tolls. "It was an asylum of ill repute in years past. Anyone dangerous, inconvenient, or whom the late and unlamented tyrant of our fair city simply wished disappeared might find themselves there, to be subject of unspeakable torments at the hands of the asylum's 'caretaker,' for lack of a better word." He looks distraught. "It was a sad time in our history...but what you will see here is *healing.*"
<Steph> "Through art?"
<Franceska> "What if I wanted to see Ione instead of healing?"
<El-Cideon> "Milady has always maintained the arts are the most direct expression of the spirit, and through them we might expiate our anguish as well as express our love of life," he says to Stephanie. To Franceska: "Ah, milady is not on the premises at this moment. Business calls her to the Four Winds today."
<Franceska> "Will she be back later?"
<Steph> "Because if she's not, I want my money back."
<Julia> "We can look at the paintings while we wait. And it's to help people!" Julia says, sounding appalled.
<Franceska> "I'm sure someone's anguish is worth two gold, so long as it prevents the need for more walking around."
<El-Cideon> He shrugs apologetically. "Lamentably, I am not informed of her precise schedule. Milady takes the stage when she wishes, as it is the prerogative of the artist to cultivate the proper anticipation for her work. I may commend the fare of the Four Winds if you wish to seek her immediately?" he allows for any insisting on taking their money back. "Though should you wish to wait and appreciate our fine gallery, I shall inform her of your presence upon her return."
<Franceska> "We are already here, so...." Franceska gives him the two gold and steps inside.
<Steph> "Oh, well, alright then," replies Stephanie, trudging inside.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund pays up, unsurprisingly after her enthusiastic nod in agreement with Julia.
<Julia> "I don't mind waiting," Julia says, though if there's dispute she equally doesn't mind going to eat.
<El-Cideon> That the gallery is not overwhelmingly professional work is fairly clear immediately, but what the individual artists may lack in traditional technical merit is often made up for in fierceness of expression. Every work here is plainly and deeply personal--no still lifes, no stiff, formal renditions of haughty nobles, few landscapes save those of the mind. Paintings often are presented in series or sequence--it is common to see some outsized, exaggerated tormentor displayed prominently in early works, to recede or be reformed to benignity over successive efforts, ultimately giving way to gentle recreations of someone's far-off, tranquil beginnings. The style here is frequently one of slashing, vibrant hues, undisciplined but ferocious. One of the most striking displays in the main hall is of a ghastly malefactor twenty feet tall, a ravenhaired human woman in noble garb with outsized face and hands, a fiendish expression on her cackling face as miniscule figures try and struggle from her grasp. The painting is titled, "The Duchess."
<Julia> "Victoria Crane, then? Or is that other Duchess we know from around here involved as well?" Julia ponders, looking it over.
* Franceska seeks a plaque that explains the meaning behind the painting or, barring that, someone who would love to talk about it.
<Kallen> "How come crazy people are so good at painting?" wonders Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund shakes her head vigorously. "That is not the Duchess we met today!" she insists. "That one looked much worse."
<El-Cideon> Franceska does not see an obvious explanation of the painting's context, but there are handsome tour guides/guards on hand in every room.
* Franceska approaches the resident tour guide!
<El-Cideon> A young human man with mid-length blond hair, he inclines his chin delicately. "Yes, madam?"
<Julia> "It has to do with brain development," Julia informs Stephanie. "You see, there are parts of the brain that are responsible for parts of our personality, or self. Unsurprisingly, the centres for logic and reason are far apart from creativity and expression. So damage to the former allows the latter to shine all the more brightly."
<Franceska> "I wish to hear more about the painting of the Duchess," Franceska says, getting straight to the point. "Who drew it, who served as the model... anything of interest. Is it on sale?"
<Steph> "Huh. So if I bash someone in one side of the head, they'll get smarter, but if I bash them in the other they'll learn to draw?"
<El-Cideon> "Let us not perform that experiment, Stephanie!" Rosemund insists.
<Julia> "Usually more precise implements are required than bashing, but in blunt terms yes," Julia confirms. "The left is logic and the right is creativity," she adds quietly in case Stephanie wants to embark on her own experiments on biology.
<El-Cideon> The guide eyes the great and terrible painted figure. "Ah yes. That would be the late Victoria Crane, proprietor of the Blue Horizon Sanitarium from which we inherited our artists and friends. A common tormentor figure in the collection's work, this is one of the most striking depictions. This particular work is the product of one Harby Downs, one of many young mages disappeared by the old Magistrate for his refusal to support the regime. It is alas not the collection's policy to sell our works while the artists remain under our care. They are personal works and represent their spiritual growth."
<Franceska> "Did any of the artists ever graduate?"
<El-Cideon> He nods. "Some have rejoined society, taken their works with them. Others have left them here or sold them, formally leaving behind that lamented period of their lives which they spent in unjust imprisonment. But some wounds, alas, are so deep as to make healing sufficient for casual social interaction...difficult."
<El-Cideon> "Thus the gallery stands as testament to the pernicious and lasting influence of human cruelty, as well as the importance of our persistence in overcoming such," he adds.
<Franceska> "I see. Well, I suppose there is little to do about that. It does make me wonder why so many people from Azure choose to go as the Duchess in public. This Victoria Crane, and then the leader of the Furies? Is this a local thing?"
<Steph> Stephanie rocks on her heels, and glances at Julia. "Which side do we use for swordfighting?"
<El-Cideon> "We do not hold greatly to titles here," the guide says. "This 'Duchess' of ours imported hers from the Prime. Though we could only take her word for its legitimacy, I may say that her actions did little to confirm that she warranted it. As for this mercenary leader..." He shrugs. "Her insistence upon the title suggests inheritance, though I could hardly claim to see a family resemblance myself."
<Franceska> "It is more that usually, we would use the noble title with a proper name," Franceska muses. "Duchess of So and So, or Duchess Last Name. It is just strange to hear the title itself on its own-- ah, but stranger things have happened across the planes. I do have a question about your treatment of the inmates. Who is your foremost specialist on the subject?"
<Julia> "Hmm..." Julia has to think a moment. "Between reflexes, perception, and learned skill, it's spread all over really."
<Steph> "Maybe I should start wearing a helmet," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> He opens his mouth to answer the question, but is interrupted by a woman's voice, rich and sensually confident, announcing from across the room: "I see that you have met my predecessor." The new arrival is an unusual specimen: lithe and humanoid in form, but what can be seen of her skin is covered in fine scales of a rich golden-brown. She wears a luxurious silk dress, white with whorls of thread-of-gold. The upper half of her face is obscured by a matching veil, but this seems to present no difficulty to navigation. Atop her head, her hair is a mass of writhing emerald serpents. "I pray that you find my work more satisfactory in nature than hers."
<Julia> "I haven't seen her work, but from reputation alone yes, much better," Julia says, turning and showing a brief flicker of surprise at this vaunted healer of the mind being a medusa of all things. But she's a necromancer and healer of the body, so she has little room to judge.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund quickly averts her eyes, realizes no one else evidently suffers the deleterious effect of petrification, and looks back somewhat embarrassed.
<El-Cideon> "I find it of benefit to see that my reputation precedes me," Ione says wryly. "I am informed that you were seeking me?"
<Franceska> "We do. But before we might get to that reason, might I ask if you are the foremost expert on the healing of the mind here?"
<El-Cideon> "Of course we have proper doctors on staff," Ione says. "While the subject is obviously of great interest to me, my approach is plainly more holistic in nature." She looks at Franceska. "Did you not come merely for the gallery, then?"
<Franceska> "I'm afraid not. Is there anywhere more private where we could speak?"
<El-Cideon> "Mm." She somehow conveys the impression of raising an eyebrow without any such thing being visible. "My office, then. Come along." She takes a side door out of the gallery proper and leads you to a spacious office with a window over town. "You may sit. Or float, at your discretion."
<Steph> "So... I guess there are two things," muses Stephanie. "Though they're pretty related."
<El-Cideon> Ione produces a bottle of wine and pours for anyone interested, waiting for Stephanie to elaborate.
* Julia accepts the wine with a thanks, but otherwise lets Stephanie explain.
* Franceska takes a seat. "My name is Franceska Durant, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Demetrinous," she introduces herself. "It so happens that we ended up rescuing a woman from captivity with the illithids, and I was hoping you might have an idea of what we might try to get her on the path to recovery."
<El-Cideon> "What is the nature of her ailment?" she asks Franceska. "While the mindflayers enslave their thralls mentally, such control should fade once removed from the monster's presence. Elsewise, their primary interest with us is in simply eating our brains. If your friend suffers the latter condition, I am afraid that is beyond even our powers."
<Steph> "She still has her brain, since she's alive," muses Stephanie.
<Franceska> "She docilely follows orders and only recalls a few things from her past," Franceska responds. "If her brain had been eaten-- yes, she wouldn't be able to do that, would she?"
<Julia> "Her brain is present, though she has difficulty remembering things, and has very little drive to act for herself," Julia supplies. "Left alone she'd just stand and stare at nothing for hours. Maybe days? We haven't tested that far obviously."
<El-Cideon> "She would not," Ione confirms. "Most curious. Have you brought her to be examined?" she asks. "The four of you seem healthy enough."
<Franceska> "No. But if there is a good chance of treatment, we will."
<Steph> "No, we didn't even know a place like this was here until today," admits Stephanie. "But maybe we could?"
<El-Cideon> "I would be pleased to assist," Ione confirms.
<Franceska> "At present, we have her stay in a safe place with one of her old friends in hopes it would stir her memory," Franceska muses. "I don't suppose there are any portals close to here, short of that one to the Abyss?"
<Steph> "Could Marina just plane shift here?"
<Julia> "That brings us neatly to our second point. We understand you have a familiarity with Galina Merowym? Our patient is one of her former comrades, a Brijid Alcembron," Julia says to see if that stirs her memory.
<Franceska> "But there are squids flying all over!" Franceska hisses at Stephanie. "We can't have her risk such dangers on her own!"
<El-Cideon> "That depends upon one's appetite for travel," Ione says to Franceska. "No doubt the Eye has not escaped your notice," she says, "but beyond that Ysgard lies within a month's flight, Pandemonium somewhat less that. At least one of our neighbors is of tolerable disposition," she adds wryly. Then she focuses sharply on Julia. "Oh yes, I do recall her," she admits.
<Steph> "Not if she can teleport as well!" protests Stephanie, before she frowns. "And we only met the one," she mumbles.
<Julia> "I don't suppose you have any idea of what became of her?" Julia asks. "We've been tracking down her former comrades, but even they don't know where she ended up."
<Franceska> "Also, do you recall her in a favorable light?"
<El-Cideon> She runs her finger round the rim of her wineglass. "My initial impression was somewhat favorable. Her and her friends shut down Blue Horizon, leading rather directly to the gallery since no one else in the city had an interest in taking in the inmates, and she even had the gall to chastise the Magistrate in public. But I met her personally only once a year later, and the experience was a chillier one."
<Julia> That sounds about right. A heroic reputation masking a dark heart!
<Steph> Stephanie nods. "She's been involved in some questionable activities," she notes. "Quite a departure from her old heroics. What was she like?"
<El-Cideon> Ione adopts a guarded air. "I believe turnabout is only fair. I must ask you this: why are you seeking this woman? And what, exactly, has she done?"
<Franceska> "She is running the same sort of experiments she had the gall to chide and kill others over."
<El-Cideon> "And she stole a sacred artifact from our church!" Rosemund adds in. "Though to tell the truth I am thinking whatever else she is doing is much worse."
<Julia> "Also she stole a holy sword. Or mace, I forget, from a temple of Pelor," Julia says, which was their original point.
<El-Cideon> "You mean to bring her to justice, is that it?" Ione guesses.
<Franceska> "She has surely murdered people all over as well, but yes, this is the key part. She seems to be plotting something big. Perhaps a triumphant return home to Solata to take care of all those who she considers enemies. So yes, it is rather important to bring her to justice before it is too late."
<Steph> "Or something reasonably close to it," agrees Stephanie. "At the very least, I want to know why."
<El-Cideon> Ione drains her glass. After some length of consideration: "Some things are more easily seen than explained. Would you accompany me on a brief trip? It isn't far, only a couple hours outside the city all told. You can still see it on clear days, though few care to look."
* Franceska decides that this is one trip she would not want to be completely sober for, and sips some wine as well before nodding her assent.
<Julia> "Very well," Julia agrees, finishing off her glass and putting it down.
<El-Cideon> "Few scavengers dare the old asylum these days, but most come back with woeful ghost stories. It may just be rumor, but I feel it only fair to warn you." She looks for confirmation from the remaining guests.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods. "We have fought ghosts before and triumphed!" she asserts.
<Steph> "Prisons seem to have a way of making ghosts."
* Julia suddenly looks intrigued, but puts the thought aside for later consideration.
<El-Cideon> "That they do," Ione agrees. From various compartments of her office, she retrieves a bow, belts a dagger at her waist, packs some other oddities into a sack. "Are you prepared to leave now? The asylum, of course, will wait until you are if need be."
<Franceska> "Yes."
<Kallen> "Not so drunk that I'll have to wait~"
<Julia> "I'm fine, Battersby can remain and guard Ron, I doubt we'll encounter much this close to the city."
<Franceska> "And as we go, may I ask whether Polaris had any ties to Mechanus or modrons when you saw her?"
<El-Cideon> "Not to my knowledge," Ione says on her way out. "Curious you should ask. A gang of the little nuisances have been loitering in town for days."
<Julia> "I think they're stalking Aria Granville. We saw some on Earth outside her house as well," Julia says.
<El-Cideon> "They've a ways further to go if they mean to find her," Ione says drily as you exit the gallery and makes towards the city limits.
<Julia> "Maybe that's why she went to the Abyss, so they couldn't follow?"
<Steph> "I wonder if it's them she's running from? They must be tougher than they look!"
<Franceska> "We could actually take a look to see if they are the same ones," Franceska muses, following Ione.
<El-Cideon> "Perhaps so?" she guesses in response to Julia. Leaving the arc of blue crystalline structures behind, you drift outwards from Azure and towards what from this far distance looks like a spherical lump of dirt floating in the void some miles off.
<El-Cideon> "Really, I don't see how anyone could've been too surprised to know it wasn't all roses for the inmates," Ione says with a sigh as you approach. "You couldn't design a more unsightly structure. Absolutely not conducive to mental rehabilitation."
<Julia> "It does look unimaginative from the outside," Julia agrees. "Perhaps if decorated as a miniature planet it would be interesting, but it's just a dirtball."
<El-Cideon> As you draw closer, it becomes difficult to discern exactly *what* the architect had in mind, if anything. The asylum is a collection of nodules seemingly pasted together without any concrete plan, with the color and complexion of dried mud. It bears something of a resemblance to a free-floating wasps' nest.
<Steph> "Aren't these places usually just built as a place to throw them all away, instead of heal them?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes," Ione says. "Yes, they are."
<El-Cideon> ~