079: The girl who was...death

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> A quick jaunt home to blessed silence and sunlight occurs after a meeting with the various unearthly informants of Pandemonium. Perhaps a mortal priest will have something to offer for less exacting demands? "And how does this morning find you all?" high priest Alford asks as you're welcomed into his office.
<Franceska> "Quiet."
<El-Cideon> Alford raises one perplexed eyebrow at this response.
<Julia> "Yes, most soothingly so," Julia agrees.
<Franceska> "Pandemonium," Franceska adds, sticking to curt responses.
<El-Cideon> "A most happy welcome back home, in that case," he concludes. "What can we do for you, then?"
<Steph> "We were hoping for a bit of help sussing out the whereabouts of, ah, Phibous Liramar," replies Stephanie.
<Franceska> "Prison."
<El-Cideon> "The name is not wholly unfamiliar," Alford says, leaning back in his chair. "From the war days, yes? What would he be doing in a prison?"
* Franceska shrugs. "Murderer."
<El-Cideon> Alford begins to look a little piqued by the frequency of single-word answers that don't explain anything.
<Julia> "Really it's because he got swept away by the winds of Pandemonium. But yes, this occurred shortly after he murdered someone," Julia clarifies.
* Franceska nods.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, and you need to find him in the interest of justice?" Alford assumes, standing up and walking to a cabinet to dig through a collection of magical paraphernalia.
<Steph> Stephanie claps her hands. "Yes! Pandemonium is totally arbitrary! It can't be trusted to administer an appropriate sentence!"
* Franceska shrugs. It probably can be twisted to sound like justice.
<El-Cideon> Alford nods in understanding, obviously prepared to believe any manner of iniquity about such disorderly realities. "You'd have a scrying, then?" he concludes.
<Steph> "A divination. At a minimum, we want to know what the prison he's being held at is called," explains Stephanie. "We should be able to go on from at least that much."
<Julia> "Divination might be best. A verbal guide might be better than a small look at his immediate surroundings," Julia nods at Stephanie's words.
<Steph> "We do know that he's in the sub-plane of Agathion," she adds, frowning. "But not where."
<Franceska> "Location," Franceska says, before shaking her head slightly. "The location of the entrance to the prison. That much would be enough to get to him."
<El-Cideon> "Ah," he nods at Franceska's statement. "A most precise question, that's best. Much meaning can be lost in the aether between here and the higher planes if a request is not properly worded." He retreats to a hearth at the side of the room with a collection of scrolls and incense. "Is there anything else of significance I should mention?"
<Franceska> "Yes. The same prison was also said to hold an ancient horror. Some kind of aberration the gods locked away?"
<El-Cideon> "How dreadful!" he says as he goes about arranging and lighting candles and incense. "I do hope you can carry out your mission without releasing whatever it might be."
<Julia> "I expect we'll have to fight it, but needs must in the pursuit of justice," Julia says bravely.
* Franceska glances at Julia, wondering silently whether the ancient monster will make for good undead.
<Steph> Stephanie folds her arms and nods.
<El-Cideon> He nods. "Let us proceed, then." He kindles a fire in the hearth, feeds it a small gemstone and a series of parchments covered in intricate celestial writing. "Lord of sunlight, your humble servant requests your guidance," he intones, kneeling. "A warrior maiden in your service seeks the wayward soul Phibous Liramar, for recompense of crimes past. Please direct your servants toward his prison in Pandemonium so that justice might be done."
<El-Cideon> roll 1d100
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d100 and gets 34."12 [1d100=34]
<El-Cideon> Alford stands up and turns around to face you all. His expression is distant and when he speaks again it's with an unearthly solemnity: "A kindly shadow of death holds this man in her keeping. Seek out her tower by the den of gloomy winds."
<El-Cideon> Alford blinks and is more clearly himself again.
<Julia> "Kindly? That sounds promising!" Julia says, focusing on the bright side.
<El-Cideon> "'Shadow of death' does not sound very promising!" Rosemund counters.
<Steph> "Well, it's better than death itself."
<Franceska> "The entire plane is filled with gloomy winds," Franceska points out unhappily.
<El-Cideon> "'Den' perhaps directs us to some place in which they congregate more thickly?" Alford hazards.
<Julia> "It's probably winds that sound sad or mournful rather than just constantly screaming. That's a step up as well, isn't it?"
<Steph> "When you think about it, this is all upside!"
<El-Cideon> "I admire your optimism," Alford says, without apparent irony.
<Steph> "Really?"
<Franceska> Since they're all being so optimistic, Franceska muses that at least seeking out the nice shadow will give them plenty of opportunity to kill terrible people and stock up on corpses.
<El-Cideon> "Well, I suppose that people living on the plane might be able to make more sense of this guidance," Rosemund says, adding, "Hopefully!" given the nature of the plane in question.
<Franceska> roll 1d20+10 K:P!
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+10 K:P! and gets 19."12 [1d20=9]
<Julia> rol 1d20+15 planes
<Julia> roll 1d20+15 planes
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+15 planes and gets 34."12 [1d20=19]
<Steph> roll 1d20+20
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+20 and gets 35."12 [1d20=15]
<Steph> Stephanie snaps her fingers. "There's a town. Windglum," she says. "Gotta be it. Dangerous place, filled with those slaughterhouse headcases."
<Steph> She frowns. "No, that's the plane its on. The town's meant to be quite nice!"
<El-Cideon> "By Pandemonium standards?" Rosemund asks dubiously.
<Steph> "It's nice the way a closet is nice when you're hiding from bad people."
<El-Cideon> "I think that we have had much more success confronting and overcoming such people," Rosemund says. "That way nobody has to hide at all!"
<El-Cideon> "Is there anything else we can help you with?" Alford asks, concluding the divination business.
<Julia> "It's on Phlegethon and not Agathion though. Maybe there's a tunnel between them?" Julia wonders. They'll have to go there and see, anyway.
<Franceska> "I think we're good."
<El-Cideon> "Walk in the light, then," Alford says in parting, adding with a faint smile, "though where you're going, I suppose you may have to make your own."
<El-Cideon> Hopefully everyone cherished the calm spring weather while they could, because it's back to the screaming darkness of Pandemonium for more answers immediately thereafter! The Worm is coiled up in quiet contemplation at the center of its cemetery. It raises its featureless head in apparently senseless acknowledgement of your return. *You have reached a decision?* it queries telepathically by way of greeting.
<Julia> "We have further information so you can be more sure if you can provide what we seek," Julia says before repeating the divination. "A kindly shadow of death holds this man in her keeping. Seek out her tower by the den of gloomy winds."
<El-Cideon> It nods its head. *I know of her. I am capable of answering your question*
<Julia> "Alright," Julia turns to the hulking goat zombie, its polearm left back at home. "Shenkin, it was nice knowing you. I wish we could have spent more time together, and perhaps learned to understand each other better," she says, reaching up to pat his hand. "But like this you'll be doing something to help that Battersby and Friday never could. So hold your head up high and walk towards that
<Julia> worm. Don't fight it, okay?" she finishes with a wistful smile, seeing him off.
<El-Cideon> The demonic zombie tromps forward obediently to its doom. Once within the ring of statues, the Worm latches immediately on, coiling around Shenkin headfirst and breaking down the undead's malformed cranium with a combination of acidic secretions and muscle action. It doesn't deign to answer any further questions until everyone's had to endure the grisly spectacle of the creature eating its fill. Then, it first provides the following with a disapproving tone: *Demons kidnapping petitioners. That is bad for business. The human selling weapons in town told the demons when mortals went up the tower. You should kill him if you see him*
<Julia> Julia hasn't any objection to doing that.
<Steph> Stephanie cracks her knuckles. "Bold claim," she muses.
<El-Cideon> The Worm then goes on to properly answer your query: *What you have told me indicates that your quarry is held by the young Miss Adelie*
<Julia> "What can you tell us about her?"
<El-Cideon> *We have not met* the Worm admits. *I will relate what corpses entrusted to me have seen or heard. The adjective is oft repeated but surely inaccurate--she has been in residence in excess of a century by your mortal reckoning. She is a specter. An echo of an unfortunate end. She dwells within an abode called Legiarim--it is an old sylvan word for rebirth--outside the town of Windglum. She preys upon the maddest of its citizens for use in her experiments. What these experiments entail has not been made clear to me, but her servants are uniformly animated dead*
<Steph> "Kindly," mutters Stephaine, shaking her head dismally.
<El-Cideon> *Her demeanor appears at odds with her activities* the Worm agrees simply.
<Julia> "Well, unless anyone has any more questions I suppose we'll have to go and ask her ourselves?"
<Steph> "Aww. Yeah, I guess so," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> *You requested means of access to the elf's prison* the Worm adds finally. *Adelie's tower perches upon the locked portal to an ancient prison. If he is held therein, accession to it requires the sacrifice of a valuable diamond and the utterance of the following incantation--* The Worm relates a complicated chant in celestial, and repeats it for convenience. *I know not where within her abode this portal might be situated. I have not recent information about its interior design*
<Steph> "Hmm. If we open the portal from the outside, is it, like, open for good? And everything in there can get out?"
<El-Cideon> *The incantation triggers a spell of transportation. It will move you to the other side. It should function as means of egress for those voluntarily visiting the other side. This is what is related to me from ancient dead. I cannot verify through personal experimentation*
<Steph> "Ah, I see. Well, thank you kindly for your time."
<El-Cideon> *Thank you for your contribution* the Worm says in parting.
<El-Cideon> After a trip home and a night's rest for Rosemund to recollect all her spells for the likely ordeal ahead, the team warps back to Pandemonium, this time to Phlegethon, the lowest layer casually available to interplanar travelers. The ship emerges in the air above a town--ramshackle, but closer to civilization than anything else you've seen on this plane. Windglum occupies a bowl-shaped depression underneath a low, cramped ceiling studded with stalactites. The buildings here are haphazard and poorly-maintained, but at least they're intact and some even boast more than a single floor. The ship hovers over a plaza centered around a vaguely feminine statue worn beyond all recognition. Stray madmen wander howling through the common streets and a gaggle of knights bustles around the exterior of what looks like a common house. Elsewhere, an uneven sprawl of magelamps outlines the veins of the city, and at the edge of town loom two notable structures: one looks like a perverse recreation of a cathedral, with the columns and flying buttresses sculpted to resemble bones and gristle; another is a mad collection of spheres seemingly piled one atop the other with no conscious design to stack up into something vaguely resembling a tower.
<Julia> For this trip both Bedford and Friday are on boat-defending duty, as Julia considers she can likely poach minions from Miss Adelie if needed.
<Franceska> After casting Barkskin to protect herself, Franceska disembarks and heads in the direction of the knights.
<Julia> Julia trots off after Franceska, casting False Life herself.
<Julia> roll 1d10+10
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d10+10 and gets 16."12 [1d10=6]
<Steph> Stephanie cricks her neck in either direction. "This place looks fun. Like a dream that doesn't go away when you wake up, didja ever have one of those?"
<El-Cideon> "I did not have one like this," Rosemund says.
<Julia> "Nor I," Julia says.
<Steph> "Guess it's just me. Ok, let's fly down," Stephanie suggests, deciding to descend from the ship to the surface near the crusade of knights.
<El-Cideon> There's a handful of fully armed and armored knights in the group; they don't appear to have brought mounts with them, but then this isn't exactly proper riding country. Their armor carries a healthy sheen and is well maintained, but also obviously quite well-used. Accompanying them are a pair of clerics swathed head to foot in robes of shimmering shades of blue. The evident leader of the group is of obvious half-orc heritage, bearing diminutive tusks, a healthy beard and mustache of bristly black hair, and an openly gregarious expression as he turns to look at you. "Good morning to you!" he calls out with a friendly wave, then adding with a grin, "Well, one presumes it's morning somewhere, at least."
<Franceska> "One does," Franceska agrees. "Hello. Might I ask what brings your group over here?"
<Steph> Stephanie studies the heraldry of the knights.
<El-Cideon> OOC: K:R?
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17 well, Rosey has it
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 well, Rosey has it and gets 29."12 [1d20=12]
<Julia> roll 1d20+17 I do as well
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+17 I do as well and gets 35."12 [1d20=18]
<Steph> OOC: I don't. haha.
<Julia> "Hello," Julia greets them, relieved they're not associated with Polaris. "Are there dragons around here?" Hopefully evil ones.
<El-Cideon> The leader's armor is decorated with the sign of a dragon--which could mean a wide variety of things, but Rosemund seems to recognize it and nod with approval. "Our immediate business? A fortifying drink before we head out for our real business, which is with the degenerates in the temple and destined to be of a much bloodier sort. We mean it to be their final transaction, so to speak." He shakes his head to Julia. "Just us, dear! Figuratively speaking, of course," he has to admit.
<Julia> That's a shame. One day... But speaking of temples, is Legiarim the cathedral or the weird stone thing? "Would that be Legiarim?" she asks to clarify.
<El-Cideon> He shakes his head. "We're bound for cleaning Erythnul's temple of all its vile deviants. It's a rescue mission, properly speaking, but I don't expect it to be accomplished without considerable violence. Of the most righteous sort, of course!" he adds helpfully. "Legiarim is the structure that looks like a pile of tumors, or so the locals tell me." He frowns. "Some kind of necromancer keeps up the place. I'd be more than happy to attend to her as well, but once you start on a crusade in a city like this you could hardly stop, and we've not the numbers in any case."
<Julia> Julia nods, glad to have narrowed it down without much in the way of fumbling around. "In that case I wish you the best of luck."
<Steph> "Yes, let us know how it goes!" adds Stephanie. "If the boat is still here."
<Franceska> "A charming place," Franceska voices. "Well, best of luck."
<El-Cideon> "You sound remarkably sane and polite," he points out in a tone that makes it sound like these words are synonymous to him, "which is a refreshing thing to encounter on this benighted plane. We could spot you a round before you head on your way, if you like."
<Julia> "Well, I suppose we could be tempted?" Julia glances at her friends to see if they're thirsty as well.
<Franceska> "Why not?"
<El-Cideon> "Good, good!" he says happily. "It's not a proper warrior that can't find time for a strong drink before battle! In moderation, of course." He bows deeply and introduces himself. "Sir Sargash, at your service." One of his attendants mouths silently but clearly, "Not Sir Gash."
<Franceska> "Franceska Durant. Charmed," she responds.
<Julia> "Julia Astin, a pleasure," Julia gives a little bow of her own in recognition of his politeness.
<Steph> "Moderation? So you fight mostly sober?" asks Stephanie, inclining her head.
<El-Cideon> "Rosemund Whitefall, pleased to meet you Sir--" Rosemund says, stopping short before stumbling into exactly the faux pas she was warned against making.
<El-Cideon> "Vigilia and Tiel," Vigilia says simply, the little archon beaming silently from the back of the party.
<El-Cideon> "Mostly," Sargash says. "One must maintain a modicum of discipline at all times." He heads inside--the establishment proclaims itself to be the Hatter's Retreat--and finds a large open table. It's a dive of the sort found throughout the planes, mostly peopled with disreputable drinkers hiding deliberately in far corners; an unkempt elven woman with wild hair and eyes sings on a far stage, with talent but an unhinged air.
<Steph> "Hey, get us some cocktails! With spice and ivy!" Stephanie yells at the bar.
<El-Cideon> Sargash opts for mead, the proper warrior's drink. "I trust you lot are as far from home as we are," he guesses as the drinks arrive.
<Franceska> "Who would willingly live here?"
<Steph> "Well, home is only a spell away! So it really feels like visiting a neighbouring town more than going on some long journey."
<El-Cideon> "This is the bottom of the world, my lady," Sargash says. "It's a proper place to disappear, for those with desperate need." He shakes his head at Stephanie. "I shouldn't like to think of this world as a next door neighbor, myself."
<Julia> "There are worse places," Julia says philosophically.
<Franceska> "At least the rain here is just rain."
<Steph> "I don't mind it. It's like the inner madness of everyone is just on the surface."
<El-Cideon> "That is a debate that could stretch for a long time," he says to Julia. "For myself, being here comes with a constant itch just within my skull. As if the plane cannot make up its mind whether it wants to drag me down to its level or whether it simply wants me gone."
<El-Cideon> Vigilia shakes her head at Stephanie. "That is exactly the problem."
<Franceska> "I understand perfectly," Franceska commiserates.
<Steph> "It's still better than Earth."
<Franceska> "No, I don't think so. Earth was equally horrible to everyone."
<El-Cideon> "Is it?" Sargash says skeptically. "You should know, we call another of the inner planes home, so it is difficult for me to imagine any of them being the worst against such competition as this. At the very least, the elemental planes press no judgement upon you."
<Steph> "Yeah, but Earth just presses you into the fucking ground."
<Julia> Julia nods unhappily. "I thought I'd be fitter after going there, but really I was just tired."
<Franceska> "Also, there is no sky, ever."
<El-Cideon> "Think of it as seasoning, dear girl," he says. "Good training for a martial life, at least!"
<Steph> "Don't talk to me like I'm your niece."
<Franceska> "Better not talk to her at all."
<Steph> "I can get behind that," notes Stephanie, dropping coins on the table. "My shout," she adds, walking over to watch the elf on stage from closer up.
<El-Cideon> "Er, so where are you from?" Rosemund asks before the Steph & Fran show rears its ugly head yet again.
<Franceska> "One would hope a pleasant plane exists out there, somewhere," Franceska adds, sounding dubious.
<El-Cideon> "Our company is presently headquartered on the plane of Water," Sargash says. "Our patron, Lady Strathmore, has tasked us with retrieving a priestess kidnapped by the cultists of Erythnul. Divinations have informed us that she has already been quite fatally defiled in one of their vile rituals, but we hope at least to retrieve the body for proper resurrection." He raises his mug. "So there is more than reason to drink before departing, you see."
<Franceska> "Yes, that is rather like most of our experiences."
<El-Cideon> The song is in elvish, but Stephanie's knack for languages at least lets her discern the words. It's an extensive tale of personal loss and woe that makes it sound as though the singer's present state of dementia may have been a welcome refuge from her past life after all.
<Julia> "Well I certainly wish you luck," Julia says, wondering if it would be worth swinging by the temple afterwards for minions. Assuming she doesn't lose all her diamond just to gain entrance to Legiarim.
<El-Cideon> "Is that so?" Sargash asks Franceska. "I trust you mean that in regards to the virtue of the mission, and not to our own lamentable tardiness," he says charitably.
<Steph> Stephanie winces at the tale, but it pulls at her heartstrings sufficiently to throw some weighty coins into whatever passes for a busker's hat in Pandemonium.
<Franceska> "Usually, yes. You sometimes get there too late, and there is little to do about it."
<El-Cideon> He nods. "Well, one must do what they can with the time given," he says.
<Franceska> "So, Water, was it? How is it?"
<El-Cideon> The singer winds down her song, sweating and panting from the wild exertions of her act, yet with enough mild presence of mind to give Stephanie a nod of acknowledgement.
<El-Cideon> "The only trouble is breathing," Sargash says, adding with a laugh, "but it's very pleasant as long as you've got that covered!" He runs a stubby finger along a band ringing his neck. "Of course, the cities are arranged in glass bowls with plenty of air to make commerce with non-natives easier. You learn to understand the perspective of a goldfish quite quickly."
<Steph> Stephanie raises her mug to the girl, otherwise keeping a lazy eye on her companions in the hopes that they hurry up their conversation and can leave.
<Franceska> "And you come from one of those cities?"
<El-Cideon> "Not...originally," he says. "But home needn't necessarily be where we come from, wouldn't you agree? When we can choose for ourselves other places more welcoming."
<Franceska> "I do. I understand perfectly. In fact, I would be interested in paying it a visit."
<Julia> "Home is where the heart is, yes," Julia agrees.
<El-Cideon> "Then I recommend you begin your journey at the City of Glass, dear lady," Sargash says. "Very accommodating to all manner of outsiders and you can find easy direction or guidance to any more exotic locale you might care to seek out. We call it home ourselves, though we are oft out on assignment."
<Julia> "It might be worth a look sometime when we're finished our other travels," Julia says, finishing her drink. "But speaking of, we should probably get going. Good luck in your own quest, Sir Sargash."
* Franceska drinks hers and stands up. "Quite right."
<El-Cideon> "Of course. May the gods smile upon your endeavors," he says in parting, standing up to bow properly.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund frowns as she gets back to the ship. A pair of disheveled locals lie dead on the ground with skulls caved in from obvious hoofbeats. Bedford has no immediate comment on this matter.
<Franceska> "Shall we be on our way?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes," Rosemund agrees, taking the helm. "It is the big ugly building we are bound for, correct? Ah, the uglier ugly big building, I suppose that is."
<Julia> "Yes, I have plenty of crushed diamond if it proves necessary," Julia says, patting Bedford approvingly.
<Franceska> "The horrible building with undead, not the horrible building with evil cultists."
<El-Cideon> "I have one too," Rosemund says. "Of course, it is reserved for any of you first, if anyone gets in real trouble!"
<Steph> Stephanie stumbles over toe the group. "We're done? Done with them? Let's go!"
<El-Cideon> The ship drifts over the city and out into the hinterlands. The tower doesn't look any better as you get closer--the stack of misshapen polyps appears to have no windows whatsoever, although it looks like at least a simple, plain door is nestled in the base sphere of the structure. Someone has also taken the trouble to lay out a nice flagstone walkway from the city to the tower, though it meanders rather crookedly. A low wall rings the exterior of the compound, though it looks more like the kind of neighborhood fence you might see at home than anything that would prove a real deterrent to intrusion. Below you, as the ship drifts closer, a pair of zombies ambling along the path look up with some faint semblance of awareness.
<Julia> Do they look as impressive as any of her zombies?
<El-Cideon> They were probably just ordinary humans, but your zombies rarely demonstrate any degree of curiosity as these almost appear to be doing.
<Steph> Stephanie floats down to the front door and peers at it.
<El-Cideon> It's just an ordinary door. It isn't heavy or reinforced or anything. Any carpenter back home could've knocked it out in his sleep.
<Steph> Stephanie knocks on it, moments later!
<Julia> "You should learn a thing or two from those go-getters," Julia tells Friday. After that demonic gleam in her eyes when she got her wings she had high hopes, too!
* Franceska just keeps her distance from any undead for the time being.
<El-Cideon> There's no answer from the other side, but the zombies stumble over towards Stephanie. One is male and the other female; they do not look to have died in any particularly violent or traumatic manner, and are dressed in plain but intact peasant clothing. Insofar as an amateur might be able to tell, the bodies look fresh and well preserved. Just clearly dead. "Hel-loooo?" the female zombie hazards uncertainly.
<Julia> "So anyway, do we recite that thing now, or is it somewhere inside that we do it?" Julia wonders before hearing the zombies speak. "Oh! Hello! We'd like to speak to Miss Adelie, can you help us?"
<Steph> "Er. Um. Hello, dead girl," says Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Helllp?" the zombie repeats. "Help. Young miss. Help. Can't remember." She runs hands through her dirty blonde hair, grabs tightly and yanks at her scalp. "Young miss, who was I?" She makes fists with her hands and beats angrily at her own head. "Who was I? Whooo waaas I?" The male zombie gives Stephanie an awful smile. "Dead?" it asks.
<Julia> "I guess it's not perfect. But still, it's certainly worth investigating whatever methods she used," Julia muses, watching the zombie have her little breakdown.
<Franceska> "Do you want to help them die?" Franceska asks Rosemund quietly from her spot by her friend's side.
<Steph> "Eh, uh..." Stephanie grimaces. "Insane zombies. This is so sad. Julia, do they even have souls?"
<El-Cideon> "Um. Maybe so," Rosemund says, unnerved and uncertain. "This is awful!" Tiel exclaims. "It is bad enough to make a dead thing walk around again, but it is worse if they cannot even be sure whether they are alive or dead!"
<El-Cideon> "Young miss said, talk to strangers," the male zombie recites slowly. "Young miss said, try learning." He turns to his distraught companion. "Young miss said, try learning?"
<Julia> "I don't think so," Julia says. "My way doesn't involve that at least... not that I've had a chance to test it. But you want to learn, yes?" she asks the zombies. "What are you interested in?"
<Steph> "You, archon, I think we could really use some theological advice, here!"
<El-Cideon> "Whooooo?" the distressed zombie breathes. "Whaaaaat?" The male zombie staggers to a lawn ornament, one of several scattered about the yard (this one is a playful stone sculpture of a housecat hiding behind a bush and poised to pounce upon some hapless rodent). "Why?" he adds plaintively.
<El-Cideon> "No no no!" Tiel beams out. "When someone animates a body, it is just a body controlled by magic. The soul is still wherever it went for its eternity."
<Franceska> "Can you be insane without a soul?"
<Julia> "Good question. Maybe that's how she cures them?"
<Steph> "In that case, the answer seems to be 'yes'?" Stephanie turns back to the door and pounds on it again.
<El-Cideon> Tiel's light fluctuates as it thinks about this. "Maybe if something isn't working properly then this animated body can give the appearance of being insane." Tiel goes on to speculate on similar grounds: "If someone built an automaton and gave it instructions that made it act insane, is it really insane?"
<Franceska> "And since using Heal on a zombie would kill it, there is no way to prove it is true insanity?"
<Julia> "Well they're better off than those roving mobs... oh! Heal, I can cast its opposite!" Julia says in realisation. "Let me try," she says, going to cast Harm on the female zombie.
<El-Cideon> "I think that Heal would certainly kill them," Rosemund says quietly.
<Steph> "But they are suffering, right? They are in a state of pain," Stephanie says, grimacing. "Even if they don't have souls, that's true? They're not like automatons which have no feelings."
<El-Cideon> The zombie looks invigorated by the negative energy, but doesn't sound any more confident than it did before. "Thaaaank you," it hauls up from some deep pit in its rotting brain. "But still don't know. Still don't rememberrrrr~rr! Young miss, it doesn't work. It doesn't work!"
<Steph> "Should we raise them? I don't like this."
<El-Cideon> "I--I really don't know," Tiel admits. "Look, I don't know if I'm supposed to ask questions like this. I was just supposed to keep an eye on Vigilia!"
<Julia> "Well that would've cured insanity. I'm sorry I can't do more than that," Julia says, apologetically.
<Franceska> "If Miss Adelie refuses to come out when we knock, perhaps casting Heal on her zombies would summon her?"
<El-Cideon> The male zombie stands up and looks at Franceska. "Young miss is busy," it intones seriously. "Alwayyys busy."
<Steph> "Oh. How can we see her?"
<Franceska> "Yes. Where is she?"
<Julia> "The diamond sacrifice might do it?"
<Steph> "I don't think so. The tower was built on top of the portal. This is just a door," points out Stephanie. "I could just break it down."
<El-Cideon> "Young miss is inside," he says. "Always inside. Laboratory." Again, for good measure, he adds, "Always busy. Workiiiiiing."
<Steph> "Well, I think so. See if it's magic?"
* Franceska decides she might as well check for magic, coming over.
<Julia> Julia obligingly casts detect magic.
<El-Cideon> The door does not radiate any magical aura. It is just a door.
<Steph> "Um. I think we should be polite, but geez," mutters Stephanie. "Ok! Can you go and tell her people want to see her?" she asks, turning to the zombies with a bright but completely fake smile.
<Julia> "No magic," Julia confirms.
<El-Cideon> "People?" the female zombie echoes. She points at herself and repeats with creeping desperation: "People?!" The male zombie walks to the door, opens it, and walks inside without another word. You can catch a brief glimpse of an open, spherical room before the door swings shut behind him.
<Steph> "Y, yes! We're all people."
<Franceska> "I would put her out of my misery myself, but it would be messier than with healing magic."
<El-Cideon> The distressed zombie shakes her head. "Do not feel like people," she laments. "Young miss, do not feel at all!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks to her friends. "I can stop this if we are done asking questions," she says quietly.
<Franceska> "Please do."
<Julia> "Keep working at it, I'm sure it'll get better," Julia says encouragingly.
<Steph> Stephanie looks away.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund walks forward. "I think this will make everything better," she promises, then reaches out one hand glowing with positive energy.
<El-Cideon> roll 2d10+14
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 2d10+14 and gets 23."12 [2d10=3, 6]
* Julia shies away from that energy!
* Franceska gives one curt nod of approval.
<El-Cideon> Whatever force kept the zombie active and agitated is forcibly dispersed as lifegiving energy courses through it. It tumbles to the ground silently and is mercifully still and silent at last.
<El-Cideon> "I do not know what is going on here, but I think that it should stop," Rosemund says firmly.
<Steph> "Poor woman."
<Julia> "That wasn't nice," Julia says unhappily. "Even if things weren't ideal, she was thinking and had a chance to grow and get better."
<Franceska> "As a reminder, I never want to reach that state."
<El-Cideon> "Are you sure?" Rosemund asks. "The worm said this woman has been here for a hundred years. If she has been doing things like that the whole time, I do not think anyone is learning much of anything!"
<Julia> "It's better than just raving uncontrollably. She hasn't gone to a better place or anything like that - she's just going to be another lunatic wandering around Pandemonium now... or she just went to oblivion entirely. There's no heaven waiting when you're already in an afterlife."
<Steph> "Oblivion would be better than that," Stephanie replies. "Anyway, your zombies die all the time and you don't care about them. Wouldn't they have the same potential?"
<Julia> "Until one of them speaks to me, no," Julia says sadly. "As for Bligh and Ahab, they were never really *my* zombies, were they?"
<El-Cideon> "I do not see what point there is making something that just suffers because it does not know what it is!" Rosemund counters.
<Julia> "She had forever to find out what she was. That's long enough to overcome a lot," Julia replies. "She wasn't hurting anyone, not even accidentally like the more violent lunatics here. It was just senseless."
<Franceska> "She was enslaved, and we make a point of doing something about that."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund shakes her head. "I do not know if that is worth it. How long would she have to stay like that before anything got any better? Do you know? Would it even happen at all?" She slumps in place. "Look, ah, Julia, you know I do not have any issue with, um, the things you do to our enemies, because at least that is helpful and they are being useful for once instead of the exact opposite of useful. But this is very different, is it not?"
<Julia> "By killing slaves? And what work or toil was she set to, anyway? From what I heard it sounded like she had been instructed to learn and better herself. It seemed to me like you killed her for your own peace of mind, not for hers."
<Franceska> "We would've done the same with the queen, too, if she couldn't still be useful."
<El-Cideon> Downcast, Rosemund replies, "Did anyone ask her before she was turned into a zombie whether that was a thing she wanted to be? I do not know. I think that we should just get inside and find out what is really happening instead of arguing with each other."
<Steph> "No, that's not true. Her being useful had nothing to do with it," says Stephanie, suddenly. "Julia is right."
<Julia> "Because she is a ravening murderess and threat to everyone around her. Surely you can see the situation is different?" Julia retorts, waving an arm to the crumpled corpse below.
* Franceska rolls her eyes and decides not to argue with someone who clearly took the opposite opinion out of spite.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks at Stephanie as though expecting an explanation.
<Steph> "Look, we should at least have gone to talk to this necromancer first and determined what she was trying to achieve," continues Stephanie. "That said, we don't kill sick people because they're suffering, or euthanize living, insane people because we are disturbed by the way they talk to us. Isn't that what this zombie was? Maybe you could classify her along the same lines as a young child."
<Franceska> "We do put down automatons that act insane," Franceska points out. "Which is what she was, apparently, lacking in a soul. How is that different from Clanktron?"
<Steph> "He was more than insane. His programming had turned him malicious, and he was terribly dangerous."
<Franceska> "So because he was stronger?" Franceska shrugs. "This zombie couldn't tell right from wrong and was at a place with many possibly innocent people. In any case, we could raise her and then ask the original owner what she prefers."
<Julia> "I repeat what I just said about the Queen," Julia says in a brittle voice. "And we haven't established that she lacked a soul - this is an afterlife remember. If one of the petitioners here was made into undead, there would be nowhere for the soul to go. It might already be destroyed, or it might be that the soul and flesh are entwined. I lack the expertise to say. But she was a thinking,
<Julia> feeling being. If there's that then there's hope."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks from Stephanie to the motionless corpse with evident discomfort. "Um, look, I am sorry everyone, but it felt like the right thing to do. I am not used to dead people talking to me like--like they do not know that they are dead. I may have--maybe I did not think about all of this."
<Steph> "Clanktron was also guilty of torture! He had some degree of agency. I would put down an insane person if they are a threat to others, too, and the cost of saving them makes it difficult. Are you going to suggest that there is a strong equivalence here?" argues Stephanie, heatedly. She grimaces. "I wasn't sure either, Rosemund. That's why I didn't say anything before."
<Julia> "I'm sorry as well. I should have spoken up sooner. Lets just go inside and speak to Miss Adelie, and then find Phibous," Julia says with a sigh. There's nothing to be done for it now anyway.
<El-Cideon> The second zombie hasn't returned, but it didn't look as though the door was locked in any way either.
<Steph> Stephanie takes a deep breath, and then walks to push open the door.
<Franceska> "How can you be guilty of anything when you cannot distinguish right from wrong?" Franceska asks Stephanie. "You're clearly reaching."
<Julia> "And you're reaching when you speculate that she was a threat when all she did was talk to us civilly. Zombies are no innate threat to anyone, not like vampires or ghouls."
<Steph> "You know just as well as me that Clanktron ought to have been destroyed. He existed solely to cause harm! That is clearly different to that zombie!"
<El-Cideon> Within is a great sphere of a room carved out of rock. Around this room are several closed doors, and above each is scrawled in the all-caps writing of a perpetual amateur various labels: DORMITORY to the right; LIBRARY to the left; LABORATORY directly up; PENITENTURY at the bottom of the room (this door, unlike the others, is heavy, metal, and soundly secured). The LABORATORY door is also ringed with a crude mural of happy zombies holding hands.
<Franceska> "It might well be that we're all seeking some manner of justification," Franceska muses, heading inside. "Julia clearly is partial to undead and research into them. Stephanie is erratic and flighty and probably decided this was wrong because I said it was right. And I just found her creepy, like with Clanktron and the queen and far too many others."
<Steph> "Oh, fuck you!" exclaims Stephanie. "I don't base my feelings on your opinions, Franceska!"
<Franceska> "Stop being so angry all the time, it can't be good for you."
<Julia> "Then stop baiting her."
<Steph> Stephanie seethes. "This is an important question over the appropriateness of taking life! How dare you seek to trivialise it into petty wordplay?"
<Franceska> "I feel entitled to it because I took a stance, at least in part because the zombie's clear suffering bothered me and I wanted it to stop. I can understand Julia's stance somewhat, even if I disagree. But I clearly saw you look away and offer tacit support, only to now strongly come out against it once it's done and too late. I cannot respect this.":
<El-Cideon> "Everyone is going to stop arguing right now!" Rosemund announces, thumping her mace against her shield. "Nobody is happy about anything right now. Let us save all of our dismay for when we have asked this woman just what is happening here!"
<Steph> "I wasn't sure! What do you want me to say, I'd never seen something like that!" exclaims Stephanie, shaking her head. "I did think she was suffering. Yes, I did think maybe it would be better if she was put to rest. But I wasn't comfortable..." She shivers. "I regret."
<Franceska> "Fine. In the interests of peace, if a situation you're not certain about comes up in the future, say so. I'll make an effort to delay judgement until we've looked at all aspects properly."
<El-Cideon> ~