075: But I'd rather stay here, with all the madmen

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Consciousness returns to partygoers the next morning--in some cases grudgingly--bringing with it the inevitable side effects of excessive consumption for those who partook perhaps too readily of the cornucopia of alcohol provided at the party. Not to mention an imposing morning's tidying up for Grey!
<El-Cideon> OOC: a will save for Steph, and then fort
<Steph> roll 1d20+13+8 (hi I can has heropoint)
Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+13+8 (hi I can has heropoint) and gets 37."12 [1d20=16]
<Julia> Julia is probably among the first to awaken, making a big fry up to help settle everyone's stomachs as well as having plenty of water or juice to drink.
<Steph> roll 1d20+17 fort
Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+17 fort and gets 19."12 [1d20=2]
<Steph> *add +4 to that with another hero point, geez
* Franceska is listless upon waking up, intending to spend as much of the day in bed as she can get away with.
<El-Cideon> Despite some existential uncertainty in the deep hours of the night, Stephanie arises in the morning more certain than ever that we are in fact all made of clouds--her friends should quickly notice she's now faintly transparent and mostly colorless, yet still fundamentally a physical being.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund is not immediately in evidence at Franceska's house.
<Steph> "Eee, all these clothes, they seem so... in the way," mutters Stephanie, picking at her dress when she floats into the lounge with her hands on her head. "Ah, but I had the room all to myself so I guess it doesn't matter," she mumbles, surveying the carnage with a practiced eye.
<El-Cideon> There's an awful lot of empty bottles on almost every flat surface. They'll have to be got rid of somehow. If someone made a golem out of them, would it be drunk or hungover? The mind wanders into strange corners in the aftermath of such festivities.
<Julia> "Is that you Stephanie?" Julia calls from the kitchen, before emerging with a plate stuffed with stodgy food and a pitcher of chilled (thank you chill touch!) juice. "Glad to see you're still among the living today," she says, placing the plate before Stephanie and then pouring a glass for her.
<Steph> "Ehehe. I seem to have somehow survived. Everything's all floaty, now, it's wonderful~," Stephanie replies, twirling around in midair before accepting the plate of food. "Ah, you think of everything, Julia. You'd be such a wonderful wife. All I can cook is stew, but it's not really cooking when you're just throwing everything into the pot and hoping it mixes well, is it?"
<Julia> "It is if it mixes well," Julia replies with a smile, just taking a minute to look over the new Stephanie. "Hopefully you can still eat and drink being like this... I'm sure air elementals have to eat something though."
<El-Cideon> After a polite knock, Rosemund is ushered into the house by Grey (who promptly returns to collecting the bottles). Rosemund is dressed casually, aside from her customary hat, and looks somewhat worn yet from the night's excitement. "Stephanie, are you alright?" she asks with immediate, wide-eyed concern.
<Julia> "Good morning Rosemund. Have you eaten or do you want some breakfast?" Julia asks.
<Steph> "Well, the hangover is certainly real enough," mutters Stephanie. "Ah, Rosie, I don't think I would be here if I wasn't," she adds, before wincing for a moment and turning her attention back to breakfast.
<El-Cideon> "Please, and thank you," Rosemund says to Julia. "But you are all see-through now!" she adds for Stephanie. "It does not look like a normal condition..."
<Steph> "I, um, drank the draught of air, so now I'm one with the sky," mumbles Stephanie.
<Julia> Julia departs back to the kitchen to keep everything ticking over while filling up a plate for Rosemund which is soon brought back through.
<Franceska> Darrin makes an appearance in the living room to survey the damage for himself. As Grey is on the job, however, he merely observes silently.
<El-Cideon> "Just so long as you are not one *in* the sky! We are too young for any of us to go to heaven yet." Rosemund accepts the plate with a nod of thanks and, after downing a few bites, adds, "Is Franceska awake yet?" Is she nervous?
<Steph> "I haven't seen her. But she's no doubt the one with the biggest and plushest of all the beds in the house."
<Julia> "I haven't seen her either," Julia says, "Anyway, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," she says, going back to make sure nothing starts burning.
<El-Cideon> "Perhaps she celebrated a little too enthusiastically," Rosemund speculates. "You know, people who are so restrained under ordinary circumstances can sometimes be the ones that lose themselves most wildly when they have an excuse."
<Steph> "Well, it's because they haven't built up tolerance, so they just get drunk faster and let go quicker," muses Stephanie. "That means the crash will be harder, as well."
<El-Cideon> "So this is why you practice a regimen of regular intoxication?" Rosemund speculates without apparent moral judgement.
<Steph> "Ah, no, that's to cope with the horrors of this world. I don't know how you people manage without it, honestly."
<El-Cideon> Eventually even Franceska must admit that she's pushed the acceptable bounds of post-hangover indulgence and climb out of bed. With the group together and more or less sobered up by mid-day, Vigilia is retrieved from her lodgings to join up for the excursion into Pandemonium. "Do we know our specific destination in the other world?" the flame-haired woman asks, businesslike, somewhat tense, but seemingly unaffected by whatever she might have indulged in last night.
<Franceska> "I propose a random plane shift over, followed by finding a local," Franceska says, all businesslike. "We can teleport afterwards, if it is too far to travel by normal means."
<Steph> "Agathion. The lowest and most dangerous layer," notes Stephanie. "I've brought earplugs. Did you all bring earplugs?"
<El-Cideon> "I think that we could use the ship," Rosemund says, "so that it is easier to get back home when we need to."
<Franceska> "If you prefer."
<Julia> "It might get stolen," Julia cautions. "Though I could leave some minions to defend it."
<Franceska> "Alice might want to come along then as well, and I can leave Darrin behind," Franceska muses, adapting her original plans. "Earplugs aside, we really should all bring some means of writing to communicate properly."
<Julia> "Wax would probably be better than chalk, given the winds," Julia muses.
<El-Cideon> Vigilia frowns. It's a fairly natural expression for her rather stern countenance. "Agathion is a series of cells. We will need to determine which specific one contains our quarry and how to access it. This knowledge is not easily obtained."
<Franceska> "Realistically, we are capable of taking out any given local resistance or, in the unlikely chance it is too strong, of being able to retreat. So we would just need to kill enough demon scum to find our answer."
<Julia> "Or we could find a diviner willing to help," Julia suggests, though she doesn't know any.
<Steph> "Or we could just stage a general prison break!"
<El-Cideon> "Some of the monsters in those cells are there for a very good reason!" Vigilia's archon companion cautions Stephanie with an agitated pulse of light. Vigilia herself adds, "I know of a couple minor settlements that should be safer than the rest of the plane, if we wish to begin inquiring among less hellbound souls?"
<Steph> "Ah, I see. Decent people live in this place that is, without a doubt, unsuited for ordinary life. It makes you wonder why they bothered making a material plane at all, it really does."
<Julia> "Lets go with that," Julia nods. "It lets us gather some information and get a feel for Pandemonium. If we lack information or if the plane is too much for us, we can return home and redo our plans."
<El-Cideon> Vigilia nods. "I am personally familiar with Gray Hope. Father Meecham maintains it as a reliable point of departure for righteous adventurers with heroic business deeper in the plane. It should be safe. There is also a small settlement in the ruins around Howler's Crag that is nearer to our goal and may know more about it...though I cannot vouch personally for the moral integrity of the residents."
* Franceska nods curtly. "We can start with Gray Hope."
<El-Cideon> Another nod. "I was raised there. I cannot say that it will be good to go back, but there are worse places on the plane to visit. All of them, really."
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Current planar traits: -2 on CHA-based checks for lawful characters |
<El-Cideon> Even through your earplugs, the sound of Pandemonium itself is almost inescapable. A dull, steady roar penetrates your protection, not harmful but only ensuring further that you'll hear nothing at all of use so long as you remain out on the open in this world. The gusts push and pull and buffet this way and that, sending loose clothes flapping and snapping in the gale; it's a good thing your ship doesn't genuinely require sails, as the integrity of the mast would be dubious at best over the long term. The wind is certainly the defining aspect of the plane, but elsewise there is also darkness to contend with yet again--not the oppressive anti-life aura of the negative energy plane, but somewhat reminiscent of Earth in its natural lightlessness. Rosemund immediately ignites her mace: above you the heights of your cavern cannot be seen; beneath you is solid rock, scoured clean and smooth by the wind. A small hummock of stone rises before you in the cavern wall to starboard. A secure door is set in a low archway, twin magelamps burning blue to either side. A gangly, elaborately-carved gargoyle perches above it.
<El-Cideon> Franceska also again experiences that persistent mental itch that constantly reminds her that here--more than most places--one of her disciplined mental mold is decidedly unwelcome.
<Franceska> Like Earth but more horrible, she thinks in resignation.
<El-Cideon> Vigilia points to the door and confirms your destination with a nod.
<Steph> Stephanie clutches onto Rosemund, fearful that the high winds will simply blow her transparent form away!
<El-Cideon> Tiel, meanwhile, finds safety from the winds by burrowing securely in her ward's copious mass of hair.
<Julia> Thankfully Julia planned ahead by giving Friday and Maeander their orders before departure. 'Prevent anyone from boarding the ship, defend yourselves if attacked.' Simple works best with undead. Nodding to Vigilia, she steps off the boat and walks towards the door.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie finds herself corporeal enough yet not to scatter into motes of water, thankfully!
* Franceska stays near Rosemund for the time being.
<Julia> Assuming the gargoyle doesn't interfere, Julia tries to open the door.
<El-Cideon> The gargoyle stirs at your approach. It's a lanky, elegantly carved sentry, with a silvery sheen to its rocky hide. As it assesses you all with glowing eyes, a cultured voice rings out inside your heads: "Greetings travelers in search of succor. You have found the divine sanctuary of Gray Hope. We welcome and protect all good-spirited souls herein, if you should but give me a moment to confirm that is what you are."
<Julia> Don't look at the undead behind the curtain!
* Franceska looks extremely dubious.
<El-Cideon> So saying, the gargoyle mutters an unheard incantation and makes a careful assessment of the day's visitors. It pauses at length while scrutinizing Franceska. It then looks particularly at Vigilia for a long moment; they share a mutual nod and then the gargoyle says to all, "Please be welcome within our home."
<Steph> "Where should we go first, Vigilia?" asks Stephanie, as they troop inside.
<El-Cideon> Within the settlement is a warren of narrow stone corridors. Hewn circular in shape, one quickly finds that she can walk on any surface here--gravity on Pandemonium adheres to the nearest stone surface, apparently. The wind is not in evidence beneath the surface, but the dim rumble of its fury is still distantly heard, and felt through your feet. From the left corridor, hammer on anvil rings out down the hall. Another corridor branches straight ahead and to the right. Vigilia troops straight forward. "We will see if services are in progress," she says.
<Steph> Stephanie floats along, unhindered by the petty constraints of gravity on this plane and all planes.
<Julia> Julia takes her earplugs out once the dull roar of the wind becomes less evident. "Well, at least everything doesn't weigh twice as much here," she says weakly.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks at Franceska expectantly, as if some necessary comment has yet to be heard.
<Franceska> "I already thought it," Franceska reports, stowing her earplugs closeby.
<El-Cideon> Shortly your progress takes you into an open chapel. Stone benches are hewn from the surface of the plane itself. You appear to have arrived in the aftermath of some sort of meeting, though not all attendants appear cognizant that it is concluded--some of the shabbily dressed, vacant souls occupying the benches stare off into space dumbly, or gabble to themselves in stray corners. Others gather around the obvious caretakers of the hold (having various minor hurts seen to magically): dressed in white robes are a kindly-looking old woman and a lean, dark-skinned man with prominent twisted horns and an unnerving red glow to his eyes.
<Julia> "Oh, I just remembered, won't Licia Senacott be somewhere around here?" Julia says. "Do you think it would be useful to look her up?"
<Franceska> "Yes, she would be here, wouldn't she?"
<El-Cideon> As the gathering breaks up, Vigilia observes, "I don't recognize the man. The priestess, though--" Vigilia breaks off sharply and then, with a brusque shake of her head tells Julia, "She is dead. This man you seek murdered her."
<Franceska> "Who is the priestess?"
<Steph> "I see... Vigilia, I don't suppose you know where her soul might have passed on to?"
<Julia> Didn't he also kill Vigilia's mother? Julia wonders to herself if he killed two people or one. But she prefers to remain tactfully silent rather than press on the issue.
<El-Cideon> Vigilia answers Franceska first: "She was an acolyte of Father Meecham's during my time here. To judge by appearances, it should seem she is in charge now." To Stephanie, she says stiffly: "She was a dutiful and responsible mother. I am sure that whatsoever entity judges the worth of souls took this into account."
<Steph> "Ah... forgive me," says Stephanie, belatedly bowing her head.
<El-Cideon> "Shall we ask our questions?" she suggests, sounding unoffended but uncomfortable as well.
<Steph> Stephanie agrees with this goal-oriented development, and strides towards the caretakers with a raised eyebrow at the obvious tiefling.
<El-Cideon> The man looks more than the average, distantly-related fiendish descendant; there is an otherworldly cast to his features that suggests much more immediate relation. He looks friendly enough nonetheless. Regardless, it's the woman who greets your arrival. "Welcome strangers," she says warmly as the last of her charges totters off to stray corners of the hold or to parts unknown to recuperate in peace. "Are you hurt? Lost? In need of guidance? What can Magda and Harlin do for you on this fine day?"
<Julia> "Guidance, mostly," Julia says before introducing herself and her companions. "We're investigating ways to get into Agathion and search out a particular sorcerer we hear is trapped there."
<El-Cideon> "Agathion doesn't welcome visitors," the man says in a deep voice. Magda nods. "Even less so than the rest of Pandemonium," she says, with an apologetic air.
<Steph> "That is fine, most places we need to be are not especially welcoming," reflects Stephanie.
<Franceska> "The more information we have, the less we will need to spend in that place," Franceska adds with distaste.
<El-Cideon> "Of course," she says with an appraisal of your weaponry (and a nod of recognition for Vigilia). "But that is why we are here! What do you know of your destination? Cells of Agathion must be accessed from particular portals scattered about Phlegethon, and require a key of sorts--it could be any manner of thing, a word, a gesture, an object, it cannot be guessed at easily. The gods made these cells difficult to penetrate for a reason. Many of them yet hold horrors from ages lost."
<Steph> "It, well, let me check my notes... something to do with cancer? Or possibly a genius loci..."
<Julia> "Well, it's Phibous Liramar, an elf sorcerer... and he's trapped in Agathion. And presumably not happy about it... that's about all I have really," Julia admits sheepishly.
<El-Cideon> "I am not sure how much that information helps," Magda says apologetically. "But I admit that cracking into these isolated prisons is not our specific expertise. We make it our business to provide passing crusaders with a final point of peace before they embark upon their journeys into the deeper darkness of Pandemonium, but I'm afraid we don't make it a habit of accompanying. No, I'm afraid that if you require this information, you will have to deal with some of the plane's older, more knowledgeable inhabitants." Harlin adds, "It perhaps goes without saying they also comprise the more eccentric and dangerous?"
<El-Cideon> Magda's eyes widen a little in recognition at the name. "Is that what became of him? Well, a cell is a natural place of repose for a criminal..."
<Steph> "I expected we'd need to go through some sort of caretaker," reflects Stephanie. "But I'm not rightly sure this plane has anything called such a thing..."
<Franceska> "It certainly seems like he deserves it," Franceska agrees. "What crimes has he been convicted of here?"
<El-Cideon> "We could hardly convict him properly after he fled," Magda admits. "I suppose Vigilia may not have told you. He and his companions came here seeking Vigilia's mother many years ago in retribution for crimes committed on another world. It was their judgement at the time that her amnesia, and recent good works, acted as balance to her past misdeeds." Sternly, mouth a tight line, she concludes, "This sorcerer must have disagreed, for he returned on his own the year next to murder her in her daughter's sight."
<Franceska> As expected, given the recent information. Franceska nods. "And then he fled? Or went on a rampage?"
<El-Cideon> "A windstorm swept him away, along with the body of his victim and her daughter. It was only some years later when Vigilia found her way back that we even knew what to make of the disappearance, in fact."
<Julia> "Could the winds have swept him into Agathion?" Julia asks.
<El-Cideon> "I don't see how," Magda says dubiously. "It is not a realm that one might typically enter accidentally. One must be placed therein. Or be so bold as to seek out an entrance," she adds in light of your goal.
<Franceska> "Actually, do the exits work the same way as the entrances? Or would you need different keys?"
<Steph> "Still, that was a rather serendipitous windstorm," notes Stephanie. "Vigilia, could you tell us where the storm took you?"
<Julia> "So who places things in there?" Julia asks to follow that. "Might he have been swept before some sort of judge or warden?"
<El-Cideon> Harlin sounds almost amused as he points out to Julia, "You should hardly expect to find any such respectable authority presiding over the lower reaches of Pandemonium. Phlegethon's most prominent residents are the faithful of Erythnul, lord of slaughter, and would more eagerly kill than condemn. Quite a curious fate your quarry's found for himself, in fact." Magda nods. "Many of the cells are forgotten secrets from the early days of creation. I shouldn't think many employ them still as depots for the convicted, or even know how to access them." Vigilia, for her part, has only to contribute a tight-lipped statement: "Apart from him."
<Julia> "Hmm... I don't really have any ideas then," Julia admits. "We can't just go blundering around ourselves and hope to find him."
<Franceska> "I don't suppose there is a diviner of some reknown somewhere here?"
<Steph> "Well, why don't we try looking up these so-called eccentric-and-dangerous ancient old croaks?" asks Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Other parties guesting at Gray Hope have gone looking for Agathion for lost artifacts and the like," Magda says. Harlin adds drily, "A few of them actually returned to speak of their journey." Magda nods, but gives him a disapproving look for his irony. "All had little recourse but to seek out one of Pandemonium's more ancient residents, indeed. We've heard tales of a few."
<Franceska> "Could we trouble you for information about the nearest two?"
<El-Cideon> Magda recounts: "The Skirl, Wat the Worm, the Collective--all were spoken to of us as satisfying similar inquiries, the last sounding particularly knowledgeable. But they will all want something in return, and you should expect their appetites to be...unconventional, at best. I know not of their exact locations, I'm afraid, save that they are resident of our neighboring layer, Cocytus. If they traffic in information for purposes of trade, I'd expect them near enough to a settlement to be found by travelers."
* Franceska glances at Vigilia, asking, "Such as Howler's Crag?"
<El-Cideon> "I think it must have to do, for a start," Magda concludes. Vigilia adds, "It's quiet enough a place. For Pandemonium."
<Franceska> "We might as well head out, then. Unless you want to visit with your father?"
<El-Cideon> Magda gives you a sad smile. "I'm afraid that Father Meecham has gone on to his final reward," she says to Vigilia. "I am sure that he would be satisfied to see you still doing well, however."
<El-Cideon> Vigilia bows stiffly and only offers in return, "You do his office credit, Sister Magda."
<El-Cideon> ~