096: The rusted chains of prison moons

[Sierra]

<@El-Cideon> Rosemund gets the ship airborne and soon you're floating over a silver thread wending its way through a plain of scarlet grass. The myriad other cells of Carceri lie scattered across the dingy sky above like filthy, cast-off pearls. Shandria looks sullenly around the landscape for sometime, admitting, grudgingly, "This is a nice ship." Then, with keen interest: "How does it work?"
<Julia> "I don't really know," Julia admits, sitting against Scarlet's foreleg. "We stole it from our vampire queen."
<Franceska> "Appropriated."
<Steph> "Liberated!"
<Franceska> "That's a good one."
<@El-Cideon> "I just tell this magical orb where the ship should go and that is where it goes," Rosemund says. At Shandria's acquisitive look, she adds, "But I do not think it would move between worlds if I did not already have the right spell for that."
<@El-Cideon> Shandria sniffs, evidently disappointed. "Vampire queen? So you make it a habit, gallivanting from world to world and overthrowing the proper rulers?"
<Julia> "No, no, no. We had that discussion already," Julia shakes her head. "She died and the throne passed to her son. The fact that she continues to exist as a vampire doesn't legally give her another go at it."
<@El-Cideon> "This one's in an asylum now," Jill points out, adding without evident irony, "You could join her there if you like. It might be of actual benefit."
<Steph> "Also, the domain she ruled over is one she claimed via rebellion, so technically we were acting in favour of the former rulers. I mean, they were all dead, but still."
<@El-Cideon> Shandria gives Jill a withering look, but responds to Julia with interest despite herself. "Oh, is that actually a law? Was there precedent?"
<Franceska> "She declined from establishing one, so in the absence of a fresh precedent the rule of her son went unchallenged."
<@El-Cideon> "Well, I call that feeble," Shandria answers. "I'd never give up such a lofty position if it was ever mine to defend. I'd fight tooth and nail if I had to! She must never have been suited to ruling in the first place."
<Franceska> "...she says, not having fought at all just now."
<@El-Cideon> "I was--I was ensorceled!" Shandria challenges. "That must have been it. I'm ordinarily not so terrified of anything, except possibly my superiors." Perhaps not quick enough, she remembers to add, "Which you are not."
<Franceska> "Are you feeble-minded enough to fall under a mortal's spell without so much as noticing, or just plain cowardly? Your response suggests one of the two."
<@El-Cideon> "Sometimes," Shandria starts in a brave attempt at rallying her dignity, "sometimes you have to admit that you're beaten for one day in order to have a chance to win later."
<Steph> Stephanie peers at Shandria. "Huh! I was gonna offer to teach you how to actually fight tooth and nail, but if you're already better than us or whatever there's no point, I guess." She picks at her bloodstained dress with a scowl. "How the fuck am I going to get this cleaned out here? There aren't any cleaners and I didn't bring a change."
<Franceska> "How about a nice, refreshing dip in the river? I'll watch over your things for you."
<Julia> "I could have Scarlet wash them for you. I don't think she has a memory to lose," Julia offers.
<@El-Cideon> "Well you are very skilled at murder," Shandria admits to Stephanie.
<Steph> "Tempting, but I will defer to our expert in mindless servitude," replies Stephanie, spinning about.
<Julia> "Well, just give them here and I'll get Scarlet to do her thing... or maybe Friday, actually," she says considering it. "Those big claws would probably shred any garments in a few minutes."
<Steph> This can't possibly go wrong, so Stephanie is all too eager to fling off her dress and wrap herself up in her cloak during the interim. "Well, if they destroy my clothes, I'll borrow yours. I could go for the mistress of the night look," muses Stephanie.
<Franceska> "Do you even need them anymore? Do you get cold?"
<@El-Cideon> "I would suggest that you let everything dry out very thoroughly before trying them on again!" Rosemund adds from the helm.
<Steph> "Huh? No, I'm a tiefling to start with so I never got cold, really. Unless you fling magic at me."
<Julia> "Alright, here you go Friday," Julia bundles up the clothes and some soap, passing them into the undead succubus's hands. "Just rub them together without dropping anything," she commands, and Friday starts doing exactly that. "Scarlet, grab Friday by the legs and dip her over the side. Don't drop her," she then orders her dragon who proceeds to dunk succubus and clothing both into the Styx
<Julia> while leaning over the side of the ship.
<Franceska> "Why do devils wear clothes?" Franceska asks Shandria curiously. "It's clear that you aren't bothered by the elements and you lack any sense of shame. What is the point?"
<@El-Cideon> Shandria cocks an eyebrow and peers at Franceska's crown. "I should think you'd recognize the importance of making the proper impression at first glance. Your clothes tell everyone who you are! Or, more properly, they tell everyone else what you have and they don't."
<Franceska> "They're actually a bother for me since it takes a lot more magic to get them to shift with me," Franceska laments. "But really, it's force of habit for me at this point. Whereas I can't see devils being raised with it. You're not raised at all, are you?"
<Steph> "Huh. I just had a weird thought. What if someone tries resurrecting the person Shandria was now?" wonders Stephanie. "Would she just pop out of existence?" she asks, with a snap of her fingers.
<Julia> Julia listens to the conversation with half an ear while keeping watch to ensure no Styx-sharks try to dine on her zombies. "Wouldn't she get a say?" she asks, having never considered that.
<Franceska> "I think she wouldn't get a say. But it would make for a very expensive experiment, since the chance of failure is there."
<@El-Cideon> To Fran's first question, Shandria answers, "Raised? My dear, if you can't take the trouble to improve yourself, then certainly no one else will do it for you."
<@El-Cideon> Regarding resurrection, Rosemund answers, "We would have to find the body first, otherwise I could not even try."
<@El-Cideon> Friday sculls silently through the Styx waters as the ship drifts along, not visibly inconvenienced by it in any way.
<Julia> "I wonder what sort of person she was," Julia mulls, looking at Shandria. "If she was even a she when alive, that is. I mean, obviously she had to have been both evil and orderly, but was she an evil despot or a... mean librarian?" she manages to bravely avoid chuckling but her lips to tick upwards at the corners a little.
<Franceska> "Not a despot," Franceska says immediately.
<Steph> "Eh, she could've been. You lose all your memories and basically become someone new, right?"
<Julia> "Yes, but surely the soul, the vital essence, would carry over? Someone who took charge and succeeded at things in life, wouldn't they do much the same afterwards?"
<@El-Cideon> Shandria narrows her eyes on Franceska in suggestion that this remark will be remembered. "I don't remember anything before--" She stops whatever it is she's about to say, "--before Baator," she decides.
<Franceska> "Before what?"
<@El-Cideon> "I said," she answers with a definitive air.
<Steph> "Would it? How many people become lantern archons or lemures or whatever? I don't think it follows that just because you're a success in life you'll be a success in death. And vice versa," points out Stephanie. "Wow, I'm really unselling myself on my plan to die of old age, here."
<Julia> Spawning pits is most likely, but saying so seems cruel. "Still though, I can't imagine working your way to the very top in life, then having to start again at the bottom after dying, absent all your hard-earned skills and abilities. If you kept your memories it would be nothing but frustrating."
<@El-Cideon> "Most people become lemures," Shandria says, adding confidently, "and the ones without any drive stay that way."
<Steph> "But... you're a lemure?" Stephanie seems puzzled, then, and she sits down on the deck. "What can a lemure possibly do to improve itself?"
<Franceska> "Plot ineffectually?"
<Julia> "Nothing," Julia says. "They're as mindless as Maeandar over there," she gestures at her skeleton who is doing a convincing impression of an inanimate anatomical model. "It's just pure luck, isn't it?"
<@El-Cideon> "There's always a chance if you survive long enough!" Shandria insists, doing her best to stick up for the old firm.
<Steph> "I guess. Then you become an imp, right?"
<Franceska> "It sounds like an internship," Franceska muses. "So Shandria, did you suffer for a few centuries as a lemure before being given the honor of being aware of your suffering upon promotion?"
<Julia> "Those can think and plot, yes," Julia nods. "But it seems wasteful that a world-conquering tyrant and a cruel shopkeeper both have equal odds of making it to the imp stage. Some must surely get to skip the lemure stage, or at least get kept in reserve in nice pens while the rest get catapulted at demons?"
<Steph> "You'd think, but devils think all mortals are worthless anyway, so why'd they single anyone out over their achievements?"
<Franceska> "No, no. Julia is right. I'm fairly sure I skipped that stage."
<Steph> "Yeah, but you're weird. Why would you even go to Baator in the first place? You must have some weird magic stuff set up so you can cheat once you die."
<@El-Cideon> "I couldn't say how long," Shandria answers, affecting airy detachment. "You don't remember much from those days. You haven't got much to memorize anything with, as a lemure. I suppose I must have done. There are...flashes of images, not much more." She shudders. "I am quite satisfied not to recall more, thank you very much, and thank you very much for reminding me what I've got to look forward to again when I get home. They can demote you again in a blink if you're a disappointment, you know," she reminds everyone bitterly.
<Julia> "Only if they catch you, surely?"
<Franceska> "I'm feeling particularly... I don't know, it must be something like pity. Do you want to tag along? I suppose in a very roundabout way we do have some small connection and you just know you'll regret returning to Baator."
<@El-Cideon> In order to distract herself from the less enviable of her possible futures, she adds for Julia: "And the more prestigious mortals *can* skip ahead a bit if they make the right deals ahead of time. It is such a shame to waste good material, after all. Of course, most people lack such foresight."
<@El-Cideon> "Tag along *where?*" she asks noncommittally.
<Franceska> "A better plane than Baator."
<Julia> "Acheron!"
<@El-Cideon> "Acheron?" she echoes. "And what sort of opportunities should I expect to find there?"
<Julia> "Well, we're storming a castle. I'm sure it'll have a library?" Julia offers after a long moment of thought.
<Franceska> "Just what do you want out of life?" Franceska asks her plainly. "I can find some job for you back home. I do have a decently-sized legal library, so something in that capacity? It might not require sitting on a throne of crushed mortals and souls, but it would mean reporting directly to someone with a better position in Baator without even trying."
<Steph> "I wouldn't bother thinking too hard about it. Just hang around and see what you think of how we do things," replies Stephanie, peering at Shandria. "None of us ever cared much about status or position, but we somehow find reasons to get up each morning anyway. Maybe one of them will appeal."
<@El-Cideon> "I'm not unfamiliar with libraries," Shandria concedes. "What sort of deal did you have in mind?" she asks speculatively.
<Steph> "Franceska, may I have a moment?" asks Stephanie, placing a delicate hand on Franceska's shoulder.
<Franceska> "Hmm? Oh yes, what is it?"
<Steph> She lowers her voice to a whisper. "Anything and anywhere, except home."
<Julia> "She'll want you to be her library maid," Julia tells her while Franceska is distracted. "The uniform will probably be more flattering than the one at your last library though."
<Franceska> "I will have Darrin with her, plus whatever precautions I work out," Franceska responds just as quietly. "This is something you started, and in a very weird way she's this sad slave of Hell. I can't just leave her if she'll keep on finding improbable ways to meet with you."
<@El-Cideon> "As long as it looks official and respectable," Shandria says, staking out her priorities for everyone's reference.
<Steph> "Sad, pathetic, pitiable, yes." Stephanie purses her lips. "It's weird, since I get you. But I have a rule about this, a personal rule about actual fiends. Not letting them have a pass at home. Ever, even if I'll take risks with us here. Somehow, she's gotta prove herself first 'fore she goes to the Prime."
<Franceska> "In what way? That she is too cowardly or too sensible to oppose us is actually a good thing. Do you want her to rescue orphans from a burning building on Acheron?"
<Steph> "Yeah, actually, I do! Something like that! Remember, sticking with us is how she gets out or Carceri, so she'll fold no matter what for now. Afterwards? I don't know. But she's not going home with us unless I can trust her without needing to keep an eye on her."
<Franceska> "I didn't really want to bring her along but I will make this concessions. For Rosemund."
<Steph> "I'll take what I can get."
<Franceska> Nodding curtly, Franceska returns to Shandria. "The contract will be sensible, and cater to your skills to our mutual advancement in society. We'll go over the details once we actually head home, so for now if you are interested you will stay with us."
<Julia> "Scarlet, pull Friday back up?" Julia asks to see if the clothes look clean yet. The Styx cleanses memories it should hopefully be good for stains too!
<@El-Cideon> "I should consider it preferable to getting off the ship," Shandria answers, gesturing to the grim landscape around you.
<@El-Cideon> Stephanie's dress looks about as clean as it would after any thorough washing? And perhaps Friday might find herself cleansed of whatever memories she retained of fiendish wickedness, but she's hardly capable of resolving that mystery one way or another.
<Steph> "Get her to hang it off the rigging?"
<Julia> "Put her back on deck and let go," Julia orders Scarlet before nodding and telling Friday, "Fly up and hang the clothes off the rigging out to the side," she points for extra clarity. "Then throw the soap away." She wouldn't trust her memories to washing with it now.
<Steph> "Magic is so handy! If I ever get my arms cut off, I'll learn magic to make up for it."
<@El-Cideon> "I can take care of that for you!" Rosemund volunteers. "Although I hope that I will never need to."
<Steph> "Like I said, handy?"
<Franceska> "You learned how to fix missing limbs?"
<Julia> "It never seems to happen, thankfully," Julia says. "Cuts, bruises, broken bones, those are all typical hazards but actual dismemberment seems rare even in our profession."
<Franceska> "Marcus aside."
<@El-Cideon> "Oh, I should try it when we meet him again," Rosemund remembers.
<Franceska> "It's only sensible."
<@El-Cideon> "I think that I can do it," she clarifies. "It is sort of like how I could not say for sure that I could bring someone back to life until I had done it, but I was very confident that it would work? Anyway, this sounds much simpler than that."
<Franceska> "It really is. After all, you can bring them back whole if they die."
<Steph> "Huh. So before, if I lost an arm, it'd be easier to just kill myself and get raised?"
<Franceska> "Not with you, but normal people, definitely."
<@El-Cideon> Rosemund peers across the landscape speculatively. "I am not sure if that is how it works. And I do not wish to perform experiments to find out, either!"
<@El-Cideon> Time passes as you drift along the river. Every now and an inmate of Carceri mistakes your ship for a convenient way out and errant arrows or grappling hooks make for the ship in desultory fashion from hiding places amongst the waving grass, but any such inconveniences are easily dealt with by simply lifting the ship into the air and drifting further downstream until the locals are out of range. It's a few days (and a few easily flown over toll stations established by more enterprising prisoners) before a barely perceptible change in the air alerts the group to a transition. Color seems to seep out of the air, dead trees replace the bladegrass in the landscape outside, and the hopeless atmosphere that Carceri fostered just due to its circumstance of imprisonment is replaced by an oppressive gloom that suffuses the very air around you.
<Steph> "I felt a chill. Are we in another plane?" asks Stephanie, perking down.
<Franceska> "How about going somewhere else?" Franceska suggests.
<Julia> Julia is looking a little haggard, regretting her decision to get rid of her soap so early on in the journey. "Honestly that took so long I was worried it wasn't going to ever work," she admits. "Please, take us away Rosemund!"
<@El-Cideon> "Yes," Rosemund agrees quickly. "Should I take us straight home, or...?" Rosemund's unfinished sentence takes in Shandria, evidently with some of Stephanie's own misgivings in mind.
<Franceska> "Beastlands?"
<Steph> "Sounds plannish."
<@El-Cideon> "Okay," Rosemund agrees, and with some relief focuses to shift the boat across worlds--
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Current planar traits: -2 to CHA-based checks for Evil characters | '
<@El-Cideon> You arrive in a forest that clearly wasn't designed to accommodate the passage of a flying boat. It doesn't look like it could've been designed at all, really--this is the kind of primal wilderness that dedicated hunters seek out and then regret finding. The trees tower on every side, looming up to block out most of what little moonlight is shed from a pale disc far above. Visibility is accordingly very poor here, and it's with a startled gasp that Rosemund stops the ship just in time from ramming into a tree trunk. "Er, I could take us down," she offers. "I am not sure about anywhere else."
<@El-Cideon> Shandria looks around. "Nature," she sniffs with distaste.
<Franceska> "Maybe up, with sufficient violence visited upon the trees?"
<Julia> "I don't know, these trees look like they could visit plenty violence on us and our boat..." Julia says uncertainly.
<Steph> "These trees are huge! It'll take us ages to knock enough down." Stephanie pauses. "Anyway, we gotta find Karasuthra..."
<Steph> roll 1d20+20 knowledge: p for karasuthra?
<Rei-chan> 6,0Steph rolled :6,0 1d20+20 1,0knowledge: p for karasuthra? --> 6,0[ 1d20=15 ]4,0{35}
<@El-Cideon> "I am not sure whether they appreciate that here, but I will try," Rosemund says. The ship levitates upwards, forcibly ascending through a tight canopy of leafy boughs. Branches snap before you, but not without a considerable degree of collateral abrasions for those on deck. If anyone didn't look harried and unkempt beforehand, they certainly do with leaves stuck in their hair. Ultimately your reward is a scenic vista of unbroken treetops as far as the eye can see. "Did that actually help, Franceska?" Rosemund asks dubiously.
<Franceska> "It helped with my nature claustrophobia."
<Steph> "Our boy's down there, and we can't see anything from here. I figure even any settlements would be beneath the treeline, too," Stephanie reflects. "But the ship is safe up here, at least."
<Franceska> "Where do we actually need to go? We can keep the ship guarded and proceed on foot. Or just teleport, I suppose?"
<Steph> "We're where we need to be. He's somewhere here, running around." Stephanie shifts. "Uh, that's all we got from the creepy twins."
<@El-Cideon> "I am not sure where to look," Rosemund admits. She nods. "Yes, they did not have more of use to say than that. I suppose that we will need to find someone else to ask about it here."
<Franceska> Nodding, Franceska tells Shandria, "Pretend like you belong and like it here."
<Julia> "And remember they can smell your fear," Julia adds helpfully.
<Steph> "They can? Is that how it works, here?"
<Franceska> "It is the beastlands."
<@El-Cideon> "That may be beyond my capabilities," Shandria admits, looking around the verdant landscape. "I feel that the world itself wishes me gone. I cannot disagree with it." She shuffles uncomfortably.
<Franceska> "Yes you can. I understand exactly what this world is telling you, and it just takes practice to ignore that."
<Julia> "I still don't understand that," Julia admits. "I've felt at home everywhere we've went."
<Franceska> "Yes, that's quite strange. Maybe you are a natural planar chameleon?"
<Steph> "This place is fine, really. It's not like how Baator or the Abyss or even Carceri were screaming at me to leave."
<@El-Cideon> Rosemund decides to lower the ship back below the treeline to look closer to ground level. The forest floor here is busy with undergrowth, and there's nothing anywhere in sight that you might recognize as civilized habitation.
<Julia> "It could be that," Julia ponders. "Certainly it seems to be a nice talent to have."
<Steph> "I'm gonna start scouting around down there," Stephanie says, floating off the deck. "I'll see if I can find anyone willing to talk and, uh, bring them back, I guess. You guys keep a birds eye?"
<@El-Cideon> "I am not sure how far even a bird could see here, but we can try our best to mimic one?" Rosemund suggests.
<Steph> "Eh, that'll do." Stephanie floats off the side of the boat, then, and starts flying in between the trees in search of some intelligent life!
<@El-Cideon> Birds call somewhere out in the darkness. Fireflies wink on and off. Wind rustles through the trees. Once out of sight of the ship, Stephanie almost immediately seems to be in another world; it must be perilously easy to get lost here. You think you could maybe make out a faint glimmer of light somewhere down on the ground there, at the edge of sight. It might not be just another firefly?
<Steph> Good thing she can fly straight up and get a view of the sky again. Stephanie finds herself chasing the light.
<@El-Cideon> It looks like a campfire. There's a humanoid figure sitting next to it; from this distance it's hard to be sure what.
<Steph> Stephanie circles it from above, and descends closer to get a better look.
<Steph> roll 1d20+29
<Rei-chan> 6,0Steph rolled :6,0 1d20+29 --> 6,0[ 1d20=15 ]4,0{44}
<@El-Cideon> The campfire's attendant is not human. You have plenty of opportunity to observe unnoticed, and it looks like a gnoll, hyena-kin. An old warrior, most like--there are lots of scars giving the fur a patchy look. It's wearing light armor that must have been brought from somewhere outside the Beastlands, because it's hard to imagine anyone setting up a forge and turning out chainmail here. You can smell meat cooking on the fire.
<Steph> Stephanie swiftly descends next to the gnoll! "Hey, you!" she calls out, in Common.
<@El-Cideon> It jumps up, a fighter's instincts causing it to reach immediately for a weapon--swords sheathed at either hip--but it calms down when Stephanie doesn't appear to represent any obvious threat. "Surprised," it grunts in a voice that doesn't sound to have made much use of the Common tongue in its life. "Should know, animals not say Hello. Not most of time."
<Steph> Stephanie touches down beside him. "Huh! Yeah, they're quiet like that." She leans against a tree with a fangy grin. "I'm Steph! I'm from another plane, but I'm guessing you are too?"
<@El-Cideon> He sits down by the fire. "Long time ago," he confirms, trying out a complicated word: "Ma-tear-ee-ul." He gestures across from him. "Fiendling girl can sit if she like. Gruk not need all of fire."
<Steph> "Thanks!" Stephanie kneels on the opposite side, like a gracious guest. "Like it here? Or would you want to go back someday?"
<@El-Cideon> "Nothing to go back to," he says. "Besides, quiet here most of time. Except when food talk back." There's a rabbit on a spit over the fire. Gruk appears to look at something far off, rumbles, "Gruk not like when food talk back. Sometimes food talk so good, Gruk stay hungry."
<Steph> "Ah, ah, is that so? What kind of food does that?"
<@El-Cideon> "Animals talk here," he says. "Smarter than animals at home."
<Steph> "Ah." Stephanie taps the ground. "Have you seen any humans running around? Aside from me?"
<@El-Cideon> "Gruk not see much but smart-talking animals, most of time," he answers. "But sometimes hunters visit. Most die, food for animals. Steph look for one human or any human?"
<Steph> "There's one human. We think he's running around here and screaming his head off. Like, he's gone a bit crazy?"
<@El-Cideon> "Most human here scream too," Gruk points out, then conceding, "but, not for long. Gruk see one once by black river, howl like wolf. Gruk stay away. Gruk think human not know what he is." He shrugs. "This years past, but maybe human still there. Water, good fishing. If human like fish." He sounds unversed in the dietary habits of humans, but pretty sure the dietary habits of Gruks don't routinely involve anything with scales, at least.
<Steph> "Where's this river? Is it really wide?"
<@El-Cideon> Gruk looks around, sniffs the air. "Mostly that way," he points to his right. "Follow land sloping down. River wind through small valley. Old river, move slow like old man. Gruk understand."
<Steph> "Huh. Well, I'll keep that in mind." Stephanie brightens up. "Thanks for your help! I'd offer you a lift somewhere, but..." She taps her heads. "Here, take this as thanks!" she adds, rummaging around in her bag and pulling out a small pouch of designated thanks-giving gold. "There's gotta be someone around here who takes coin!"
<@El-Cideon> He snorts in what might be perceived as amusement. "Gruk not need coin for long time." He takes it anyway. "But Gruk understand saying Thanks."
<Steph> "I don't have anything else to give," Stephanie admits. "Unless you want a ride somewhere!"
<@El-Cideon> "All forest," he says with a shrug. Then, with a trace of curiosity: "Ride what?"
<Steph> "Flying boat. Jumps through planes, too."
<@El-Cideon> "Gruk not been on flying boat before. Gruk not been on boat before." He shrugs and concludes, "Gruk say, Why Not?"
<Steph> "Ok... yeah, that's the spirit!" Stephanie grimaces. "I've gotta carry you, though! If I fly back by myself I'll forget where you are."
<@El-Cideon> "Gruk say, Good Luck," he says, standing up. He's markedly taller than the average human and hauling him anywhere significantly slows down Stephanie's flying speed. It's undoubtedly an odd sight when Stephanie reappears at the ship hauling an aged gnoll warrior bigger than she is.
<Steph> Once she arrives, however, Stephanie explains very little beyond pointing in the river's direction before collapsing on the deck.
<Franceska> "Making friends, winning hearts and minds?"
<Julia> "Hello," Julia smiles at Stephanie's new friend.
<@El-Cideon> Gruk looks around, peers over the rail. "This good boat," he concludes. "Gruk say Hello back," sounding as though proud of some hard-earned wisdom. "That what human say for greeting."
<@El-Cideon> Rosemund lifts the ship over the treeline, apparently having difficulty navigating beneath it, and pilots the ship in the general direction specified.
<Julia> "It is, yes," Julia is happy to confirm.
<@El-Cideon> ~