Miasma (Moore, 86 days left)

[Anastasia]

Incompetent djinn sounds like a band name.

One sec in here while I hash out Lucy's end of it.

[Anastasia]

> roll 1d100 some luck here, the lower the better
<Serith> Koaway roll for Serith < 19 > [d100=19]

Time passes. A half hour, then some more. You aren't really sure how long.

"The Whirlwind Throne is taking time to begin this," Westwind notes, "Unusual, but the delay may help us. Anything from Tepen?"

[Corwin]

"I'll check," Jaela offers, thinking to Tepen, 'Seems like the Whirlwind Throne is uncertain of where it wants this to go, given the time delay thus far. Anything in the library we could use?'

[Anastasia]

'Yes, we just got something,' Tepen sends back, 'The best chance is to push it to the Whirlwind Throne itself, and try to wear that down rather than several grand caliphs. Unfortunately, history is not on your side.'

[Corwin]

"The home team thinks we should insist on getting this heard before the Whirlwind Throne itself instead of going through a grand caliph," Jaela voices, deciding that bad news aren't really needed in this situation. "I don't suppose that's in your birthright?"

[Nephrite]

"I think the situation may have already risen to that point, considering how long this is taken so far." Moore offers. "I suppose we'll see."

[Anastasia]

It takes a little longer until a djinn enters, clad in silken pants and bare chested. He stands tall and says, "You will be seen now, grand caliph."

[Corwin]

"Well then, shall we go?"

[Nephrite]

Moore nods his agreement.

[Anastasia]

The party is lead within, the additional four people not getting any reaction from your escort.

You are lead through a long hallway, gentle winds blowing. Clean and fresh air, and with them you can hear far away song. Auran if you don't miss your guess, singing of the wind and sky. The walls slowly become less and less opaque, sunny and clear skies glimpsed beyond these walls. Up a short set of airy stairs and before a barrier of light.

"I am of the Noble Wind!" Your escort declares in Auran, "Before the Whirlwind Throne I bring Grand Caliph Westwind, for the ancient pacts have been broken. Admit your noble servant, oh Lord of the Four Winds!"

The barrier of light dims and your guide strides forward, through the barrier.

[Nephrite]

Moore will go along! "Don't worry, Westwind. I got you into this, I'll see you out of it." He promises.

[Anastasia]

As you walk forward, Westwind says in your minds, 'Be brave and make a good first impression. Do not show fear or direspect.'

[Nephrite]

Moore turns and nods to Westwind, waiting to see who it is they meet so he can properly introduce themselves.

[Anastasia]

You are lead within the barrier of light.

Here is a vast open sky. At the bottom is sunlight and warmth, rising up into darkness, eventually turning into the starry sky above you. You stand in the middle - perfect dusk, in between day and night. Slowly this fades and you stand in an elaborate, beautiful stone room. Here half a dozen djinn, well dressed and virtually dripping rich jewelry, stand before a throne. A throne that is a tornado, silently raging and spinning behind them.

A figure sits on the throne, but is difficult to make out amid the whirlwind gusts. The voice that comes from it is the shrieking winds of a whirlwind.

"Westwind! Present yourself!"

[Nephrite]

This is the sort of thing he's made for, so Moore flies slightly ahead.

"Great Whirlwind Throne!" Moore begins, speaking in a language likely known by his allies, but perhaps not understood: High Elemental. "My name is Moore, of Aurora and blessed with the wisdom of Erathaol of Celestia. I stand with my allies, Finnegan of Aurora ,General Jaela of Aurora, bearer of the Triune's might, and General Afina Devilsbane, prismatic pixie of Lady Titania!" He sweeps his arms to them in greeting.

"We stand with Prince Westwind, understanding of the djinn customs of bearing his sins in these trials. We stand with him as a staunch ally of Aurora, one who deserves the utmost respect. We will support him during this trial and will accept the wisdom of the Whirlwind Throne at its conclusion. However, before we continue, I feel I need to explain the situation that led to this." Moore says, taking a breath.

"Bel, Lord of the First, has set his foot on the prime of Lifasa. He has broken all the rules of The Competition and we are gearing up to face Hell itself on Lifasa before it dies." Moore states firmly, but he hopes his voice echos loudly enough to fly on the winds themselves. "In doing so, we went to Smoke to seek out a devil plot. It was there that we were ambushed by agents of Hell, including dozens, perhaps even hundreds of Nessian Pit Fiends and their allies. If it weren't for Prince Westwind, the losses would have been even more than just my friend who died under the assault of their putrid and vile magic. His heroism and valor saw to the deaths of many dozens of Hell's forces, and his bravery in facing them and wisdom in retreating when he realized the odds were exemplary." Moore concludes.

"I am not intimately familiar with djinn customs, but It is my opinion that Bel cast the first stone, and we would be remiss in ignoring his affronts to Creation. I hope you will consider this in your judgement for Prince Westwind." Moore adds. He clears his throat once more and looks directly at the tornado. "Hell will not triumph as long as those like Westwind roam the planes."