<Julia> "Oh, this is your home?" Julia asks redundantly. "We were just hoping to shelter the storm, but I don't know... anyone have any ideas on games we could play?" she turns to ask Stephanie and the others.
<Steph> "Games? Uh, I don't have enough booze on me," replies Stephanie. "They're just not fun this way..."
<El-Cideon> "I am sure there are games that do not require drinking!" Rosemund chides Stephanie.
<Franceska> "Are they games you play with other people?"
<Steph> "Yeah, but they're not entertaining," replies Stephanie, pointedly. "Like chess. Who plays that?"
<Julia> "Well, we could play noughts and crosses in the sand?" Julia suggests.
<El-Cideon> Amber eyes blink in the shadows, glowing dimly. "Games I play with people?" the lady of the house says with a laugh. "Oh, they're all that."
<Steph> "That game is even worse! It's solved, you know!"
<Julia> "Well, rather than play a game maybe someone could sing or dance?" Julia says since games have been shot down.
<Steph> "Umm." Stephanie scratches her head. "So what do you like, m'lady?" she asks, turning to the sphinx. "Are we gonna sing for supper? I ain't done that since I was six so my voice ain't as high, but I might still got it!"
<El-Cideon> "The wailing of the wind is singing enough," the sphinx says, looking up and out, to where the dust storm shrieks and scours the exterior of the giant skull. "Do not think to provide counterpoint. No, if you are to occupy my home, you will first give me some information. You could begin by introducing yourselves," she adds, suggesting a woeful lack of manners to this oversight.
<Franceska> "Franceska Durant, at your service," Franceska introduces herself, having no intention of arguing over the finer points of music and singing with the sphinx.
<Julia> "Oh, how silly of us!" Julia is suitably abashed and drops into a curtsey. "Julia Astin, a pleasure."
<El-Cideon> "Ah, forgive me!" Rosemund says, adding her name with a clinking, clattering curtsey of her own.
<Steph> "Stephanie Sundown," she adds, rubbing her head. "Sorry 'bout that. You know how it is, you're just too relieved when you find shelter to remember your manners, right?"
<El-Cideon> After Marina introduces herself in turn, the sphinx nods. "I am Hypaxis," she says, reiterating, "and you are in my home. Quite uninvited, but oh, I shall not hold that against you. All manner of debris blows in on the storms. Some of it proves unexpectedly fascinating. Others merely filling." This last added with a toothy grin. "So! You are travelers. There are few enough who live here, and I know all that do. Knowing things I should not is something of a hobby, you could say. At this moment, I would like to know what brings you to Mithardir."
<Julia> "We're looking for a fey lord in hiding," Julia says, "And if my guess is right and this is the skull of Ormist, we're getting close!"
<El-Cideon> "Ahhh," she says with a knowing tone, "Blackbird and his silly museum. What business have you with the likes of him, hm?"
<Julia> "Part of his collection is a hero from our homeland, whom we would like to have back thank you very much," Julia announces primly.
<El-Cideon> "Mm-hm, and whatever shall you do if the curator does not wish to be parted from his charge?"
<Steph> "We'll make convincing arguments!"
<El-Cideon> She laughs brightly. "No doubt, no doubt! For who could be more relied upon to respond to eloquent logic than a fairy lord?"
<Julia> "It worked with Lady Silverbark!" Julia insists.
<Franceska> "We could also try buying him. How much can he really cost?"
<Steph> "Ransoming him," corrects Stephanie. "Buying people is bad, but ransoming them is okay."
<Franceska> "Oh, certainly!" Franceska agrees. "We will be ransoming him, of course, but telling the fey lord that we are buying him."
<Steph> "And we aren't going to sign any magic contracts that turn over his soul to us or anything like that, even if it's really cheap."
<Franceska> "Signing a magical contract of any sort with them seems quite counter-productive, yes."
<El-Cideon> "Well, the price of a man varies from market to market, and from man to man," Hypaxis points out, "from Baator to Hades, from king to scoundrel--these are things I hear on the wind, though I might not always wish to...But for a collector, ah, I assure you you may expect the price to be steep indeed."
<Steph> "Do you buy people?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, really!" she says, audibly offended. "Do you always cast such aspersions when a guest in someone's home?"
<Steph> "No, no! You just never know with people from other places, right?" she asks, rubbing her head awkwardly. "Some places, slavery is okay! And that's wrong. But they don't think it's wrong! And you only know when you ask some dumb question like that!"
<El-Cideon> "I find it distasteful," she says. "A thing should only be exchanged for another like thing. And so we come to what you may do for me. I have a passion for knowledge, and call all manner of secrets my own. Stories of far-off people and places, guidance for Mithardir around us, facts about the man you seek--I can provide you with these things, *if* you in turn are able to satisfy my own hunger in like manner."
<Franceska> "It sounds quite agreeable," Franceska responds. "And since we are the visitors, would you like to know anything in particular that we might shed some light on/"
<El-Cideon> "I make it my business to know all that I may about the other realms of existence. The better to experience them without suffering the myriad unpleasantries that populate the less welcoming planes, no? If you can provide me with knowledge of other worlds that I do not already possess, I shall be favorably impressed. Elsewise, if it is Blackbird and his gallery you wish to ask about...well, like shall pay for like, personal secrets for the same."
<Steph> "Ahaha, well, are you familiar with Solata's recent history?" asks Stephanie. "It's where we're from, so maybe it's interesting to you! It's, you guys call it a Prime, I think?"
<Julia> "I've only ever been to Limbo, and that was only briefly... but yes, our home was recently a battleground between devils and demons, so we can give some insight into those!" Julia agrees brightly.
<Steph> "Although they were mostly fighting us humans, and not each other," adds Stephanie. "Unfortunately."
<Julia> "But they had humans fighting each other on their behalf."
<El-Cideon> "I hear rumors of wars past, but I cannot claim to have spoken personally with participants." She muses silently for a moment. "I have some knowledge of these events, but doubtless less than a genuine participant. Surprise me with unexpected facts and I will provide guidance for the land around us. But I must warn you before we start, I'll not brook fabrications of any sort. If I discern a lie or a fiction made to flatter me, I shall gobble you right up."
<Steph> "All of us?" asks Stephanie, in a small voice.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, that would make for quite more than a single meal!" she laughs.
<Franceska> "Only the liar, I think," Franceska muses, sounding oddly pleased.
<Julia> "Well, mother and father were both very active in fighting the fiendish forces and healing the victims... oh, they'd surely be able to tell much better stories, but let me think a moment to try and recall a tale I was told when I was young," Julia asks, trying to remember something good.
<Steph> "Well, uh, I wasn't really *alive* except for around the end," mumbles Stephanie. "But did you know that a bunch of the devils had help from those idiot priests of St Cuthbert?" she asks, brightly. "They kept pointing our guys at the demons instead of the devils, then turned a blind eye when the devil-aligned people went around conquering everyone! And they talk about justice, those fuckers!"
<El-Cideon> "The truth of the matter is more important than the telling," Hypaxis affirms.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 and gets 16."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> "Oh yes?" she says. "How delightfully worthless of them."
<El-Cideon> "Mm," she muses to herself. "Cuthbert's lot headquarters on Arcadia. I wonder how the priestly masters at home took this betrayal. I shall have to make inquiries," she makes a note for later.
<Steph> "And afterwards, what priests do you think have the most say in the courts and trials after?" she continues, starting to sound genuinely upset. "Yeah, the Cuthberites! So a bunch of the nobles who were supporting the devils make these huge donations, right? And a bunch of them got off scot-free. It kills me to think they look down on the rest of us and think they're all righteous after
<Steph> pulling shit like that," she continues, glowering into the ground.
<Julia> "That's awful!" Julia cries in dismay at such injustice being allowed even while trying to formulate her own story.
<Julia> "Oh, now I'm ready," Julia nods. "Father was always sad telling this story, even though it was a great triumph," she begins, though for obvious reasons given the curse that afflicted his daughter, "In the village of Summersdale, the people were affected by a plague that caused them to sicken and die within days, and then rise up the following night as fiendish wights bent on destruction.
<Julia> Father struggled to put down these wights while mother tried to cure the plague. In the end they found that it wasn't a typical disease carried by vermin or bad air, for though they initially suspected the water supply, they ventured underground into the waterlogged caverns that the village well dipped into and found a portal to the Abyss guarded by a towering skeletal fiend. I surely couldn't
<Julia> do justice to father's spirited rendition of the fight, but safe to say it was a mighty battle, and after prevailing they ventured through the portal into a land of vile cold winds and howling shadows, huge edifices of bone and rotting sinew stretching up to the sky where a pale green orb glowed but did not light anything. Apparently the portal was maintained by a large obsidian crystal,
<Julia> and when cracked the portal wavered, barely allowing enough time to dive through before it closed, thankfully ending the plague."
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 and gets 29."12 [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> "Oh, is that what happened on the other side?" she says. "I had the story from a wanderer who trucked with demons, some years past, though your sire was much less heroic in their telling, of course. You should take pleasure in knowing the necromancer responsible for crafting that beast was torn to shreds in a rage by a disappointed marilith in the aftermath of his scheme's failure."
<Julia> "Really?" Julia's eyes widen. "It's a small... world?"
<Steph> "Hah! Looks like some people get theirs after all!"
<El-Cideon> "You simply have to know how to listen to the wind," she says. "It tells you all sorts of things, if you have the knack for it. Well, it seems I owe you at least one story, don't I?"
<Steph> "Well, why not tell us about this region?" suggests Stephanie, amiably. "We'll be totally lost without some directions."
<Franceska> "It would be quite helpful to know how to get by, and how to leave eventually," Franceska agrees, lacking in any truthful stories about her parents. It doesn't prevent her from feeling pleasure at knowing the demon-lovers got theirs.
<El-Cideon> "Directions, is it? Difficult to provide without landmarks, but then there is some comfort in that, isn't it? No mountains or rivers to stand in your way. Once you have your bearings, you need only proceed in a straight line to your destination. If you seek Blackbird's domain, then from my home you should proceed towards the rising sun, albeit with it slightly on your right. I would call it two days' travel for those unfortunates forced to travel by foot." She flexes her wings with an air of smugness. "You will find an ancient temple, scoured clean of all signs and icons of whomever it may once have served yet persistent in its basic essence. A presence of some sort lingers there, though I do not find it talkative in my company." She sounds irritated at this. "Another day's walk into the rising sun shall bring you to a well atop a high hill--or so it looks, I happen to know it was once the belltower of a great cathedral. You must descend this to reach your quarry. Elsewise, there is little enough to direct you to in the local desert." She looks thoughtful. "There is a fountain of the clearest water some ways south of Blackbird's realm. You shall know you are off-course if you encounter this. Its waters are curiously unsullied by the desert sands."
<El-Cideon> "As for an exit," she adds, "the nearest I know is several hours' south from my home. You will not know it by sight--only the smell of fresh grass and flowers around will suggest its presence."
<Julia> "It's a good thing we can magically make food and water, considering all the walking we'll have to do," Julia says.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund beams at this!
<Franceska> "Would you happen to know one closer to where Blackbird is staying?" Franceska inquires.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 25."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> "From the well, proceed for one day in the same vector from which you shall depart my home. The storms opened up an ancient tomb in that vicinity some days past; you shall know you are in the right area if you stumble upon that, though it may be that it has been filled with sand again by the time you reach it."
<Franceska> "Thank you!"
* Julia perks up at the prospect of violating ancient tombs.
<El-Cideon> "Well now," she continues, "what else might we speak of? I may tell you of the man you seek and by such means facilitate your task, if you wish. Of course, for knowledge that may unmake a man and his works, I would require you to sacrifice the security of a personal secret of your own choosing."
<Julia> Julia's secrets are best kept her own...
<Franceska> "Must it be a personal secret? What if I shared another's secret?"
<El-Cideon> She laughs, mirth echoing around the skull's interior over the ever-present howling of the wind outside. "Oh, that may do as well. I had not thought of such, but perhaps the consequences could prove equally amusing. I only ask," she adds, raising a paw in caution, "that it be knowledge previously unshared with your companions. You needn't all volunteer at once," she clarifies. "A question--about your quarry, or his exhibits, or his lackeys--in exchange for each secret. An even exchange, no?"
<Franceska> That does limit her options considerably, but Franceska has an idea for one. "Lady Bullfinch from Lady Silverbark's court is an hobbyist alchemist," she tells the sphinx, "and on the lookout for several rare herbs that can only be found in the so-called lower planes. Is that a secret worthy of a question?"
<El-Cideon> "Hmm," she considers this. "What nature of herbs?" she asks.
* Franceska takes out a piece of parchment upon which she had written them down to refresh her memory. "Gloomcap, Maiden's Bane and Liar's Lament were asked for by name. She seems quite willing to go against her lady's wishes in exchange for receiving them."
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 31."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> "Poisons!" she says with delight. "Psychotropic poisons. Aha! I wonder who exactly will be the subject of her ire? I am intrigued. You may ask your question."
<Franceska> "It might be best to first learn of the situation before we learn of the man himself," Franceska muses. "In light of that, could you please tell us about his gallery? What so-called specimens it contains, how they are kept in captivity, how that state of affairs might be reversed and so on, in that vein?"
<El-Cideon> "I have visited," she confirms. "Blackbird thought offering an invitation the neighborly thing to do, you see. Seven specimens kept in cages wrought from twisted branches grown hard like steel, each with one empty wall facing a courtyard. No visible means kept the inhabitants from escaping through their display window, so I took a surreptitious moment to scan for magic: magical walls of force have been erected to keep the subjects within their cells yet still visible for passers-by. It would take a mage of some cunning to reverse this. Or time to cut through the cell walls, though I doubt his guards would allow you that opportunity."
<Steph> "Are you a mage of some cunning?" asks Stephanie, nudgling Marina.
<El-Cideon> "I can't claim to have experience unworking the charms of other enchanters," she admits.
<Steph> "That's not important! The cunning is important, so she says!"
<Franceska> "If they are only as strong as steel, we might just break through them," Franceska muses. "If negotiations fail, of course."
<El-Cideon> "Well, I'm afraid the circumstances of my daily life don't routinely call for much in the way of cunning," Marina says apologetically.
<El-Cideon> "Mm," Hypaxis murmurs in a manner that suggests she expects that turn of events.
<Julia> "I'm sure this little excursion with us will help correct that for you," Julia tells her brightly.
<El-Cideon> "As for the nature of his exhibits--and the unadvertised eighth I detected squirreled away in a protected cell...well, I believe that warrants another secret."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks around nervously, waiting to see if anyone else will volunteer.
<Franceska> "I think Rosemund has something to say."
<Julia> Julia sure doesn't look likely to.
<El-Cideon> She shakes her head vigorously, looking at...Stephanie? Anyone?
<Franceska> "I really want to know, now."
<Steph> "Rosieee, we're friends, right?" asks Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Of course we are, but--oh, I'm just ashamed! Well, if no one else will speak up..."
<Steph> "Hey, I will if you will! Just, we're friends, right? So no embarrassing secret would ever actually come between us?"
<El-Cideon> "Okay, but you must take your turn next!" Rosemund insists.
<Steph> "Fine, fine!"
<El-Cideon> "Well," she starts, "when I was very young, Auntie Leah bought me a pet canary. It was the prettiest little bird, such a brilliant sunny gold to its feathers. The next day, after coming home from the temple, I found it was gone from its cage. There were feathers all about, and blood, and Pogo--you know, Franceska, Leah's old housecat? He was sitting on the windowsill looking very shameless and contented. I was so angry I just seized him and hurled him right down the stairs! He did not walk properly again after that. So, Franceska, if you ever wondered why our old cat limped about the last years of his life, that was why. I have felt terrible about it ever since!"
<Franceska> "Harsh but fair."
<El-Cideon> "The cruel treatment of cats is a terrible admission indeed," Hypaxis says, with evident seriousness.
<Steph> "It can't help it. It's a cat. But Rosie couldn't help it either, because her bird was killed." Stephanie folds her arms and nods. "That's life."
<Julia> "Oh, that poor thing," Julia shakes her head, feeling bad about hearing such an admission from Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> "Well," the sphinx continues, "as I said, there are seven exhibits in Blackbird's gallery, each with their tale of woe. Though I question sometimes whether they are sad for quite the reason he thinks." With suitable gravity, she intones: "An aging warrior, with dark skin and but a single arm; a nymph that betrayed her forest kin for love and saw all perish for it; one of those absurd walking boxes from Mechanus, lording over a kingdom of broken toys; a hellbound soul, devil's thrall, watching his remaining days tick away in solitude, knowing full well what awaits him after life; a painter cursed with unlife by a mad monarch, now long bereft of his dead kingdom; a monk of Limbo, who struggled for authority in her temple and through that struggle brought all to ruin; and one terrible old woman who simply would not stop crying."
<Franceska> "Wasn't there an eighth, you said?"
<El-Cideon> "Tucked away at the back of the underground cavern in which Blackbird has grown his gallery, yes, in a windowless cell, not for display. An uninvited guest, I think, one that I feel does not at all belong in the upper planes and which would no doubt wreak a terrible vengeance given opportunity."
<Steph> "Some fiend, you think?"
<El-Cideon> "I have little doubt," she says. "Wards were in place against magical travel."
<Steph> "They all sound like they're pretty decent in a scrape, you know? 'cept the old woman," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "They may prove motivated and capable should you have opportunity to release them," Hypaxis allows.
<El-Cideon> "Okay! Now, it's your turn!" Rosemund reminds Stephanie.
<Steph> "Oh, yeah! So, uh, I'm a tiefling," she says, rubbing her head. "You guys know what that is? Kind of a big deal to some people! But not you guys, right?"
<Franceska> "So the old woman, what makes her terribl-- what did you just say?"
<Steph> "I said I'm a tiefling," replies Stephanie, turning to Franceska. "You're meant to go 'ahaha, is that all', not 'what did you just say', so can we try that again?"
<El-Cideon> "Well--" Rosemund starts, taken aback for a moment. "Well I think the proper judge of a person's worth is in her deeds," she announces firmly. "But you know, you do not look much like one?"
<Franceska> "Are you a demon tiefling or a devil tiefling or that weird third option tiefling?"
<Steph> "What, it makes a difference?"
<Franceska> "It is important to have all the facts."
<Steph> "Well, tought shit. I don't."
<El-Cideon> "Minor details always make a difference to Franceska," Rosemund says. "It is the first thing a person should learn about her!"
<Julia> "Well, one can hardly control the circumstances of their birth," Julia says supportively, being demon-tainted in her own way after all.
<Franceska> "Demon," Franceska mutters under her breath.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, announcing a mixed lineage, tainted in the eyes of many?" Hypaxis says. "A veritable risk in some quarters. This admission shall do. What is it that you would know, fiendling?" There's no particular judgement to the word; she's just talking to what's apparently in front of her.
* Franceska writes it all down for later, so that she can promptly forget having too much information about Stephanie for the time being.
<Steph> "Aww, I knew you'd understand!" replies Stephanie, grabbing Julia around the shoulder. "You gotta learn to hide that stuff, Rosie. Only pops knows. Well, Leah probably does as well, no hiding anything from her," she mutters. "And hey, sphinx, I'm mostly human!" she protests. "I ain't growing up into some proper fiend or anything, 'kay, so don't say 'fiendling' like that. Anyway, let's hear
<Steph> about this guy's security," she continues. "Ok, he's got cages and stuff, but what about his goons? People like him always have goons and traps and things."
<Julia> "Of course I would," Julia agrees genially even as she's jostled about.
<El-Cideon> "Apologies, of course," she says before continuing. "Most of Blackbird's servants are fairies like himself. Weapons of cold iron will be required to wound them to any significant degree. In particular, you will find a trio of such dwelling in a curious home atop three spires of crimson rock not far from the well. They shall not prove welcoming if you do not come with an invitation. The entrance to the gallery itself may prove a hindrance to your task. The wind screams down that well like a breath from Pandemonium. You'd do well to stop your ears before descending. Within his realm? Be wary of the plants in the gallery courtyard. There was a certain...readiness about them. Finally, Blackbird's chief assistant is a musician of some uncanny ability. Words of power and the silent voice that unmakes matter--safest to employ whatever wards you may have against crippling effects of sound."
<Franceska> "A musician, again," Franceska says sourly, before she nudges Stephanie. "Take care not to fall asleep again."
<Steph> "Yeah, well, I didn't use my ward against sound that time," mutters Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, they cannot all be evil!" Rosemund insists to Franceska. "One day we shall meet a musician who is perfectly agreeable, you shall see."
<Franceska> "Not this time, I suspect."
<El-Cideon> "Well, now," Hypaxis says, "is there anything else you wish to know?"
<Steph> "Well, I've got the cold iron heartsticker," muses Stephanie. "That should do in an uppity fairy. Hey, yeah, there is!" She peers at Julia. "You got anything?"
* Julia briefly looks pained, but then nods. "Very well, as you and Rosemund have both shared such difficult and painful secrets, I would be remiss not to do the same. You recall the story I told you before, Hypaxia? Well, the demons found a way to take revenge on my parents, through a curse on their firstborn. For all my life I have been harmed and weakened by positive energy, and healed
* Julia by negative... much like the undead, though I assure you all that living blood flows in my veins. A few know of this, so it is no secret. Nor is it even much of a secret that my magic flows out through necromantic channels, as you've all seen the beings I can summon. What I have taken pains to keep secret..." she hesitates before plunging forward, "I am fascinated by biology and physical
* Julia bodies, living and unliving. As well as healing people, whenever I have the chance I like to practice the process in reverse, usually on corpses I can find, although I do have a living test subject blessed with natural regeneration who has aided me in experiments I must admit were quite grisly." From where he clings on her arm the bat-thing almost seems to preen on one hand while cringing
* Julia on the other.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, poor Thing!" Rosemund says in sympathy, a hand to her mouth in shock.
<Julia> "He does deserve whatever he gets, I promise you," Julia asserts steadily.
<El-Cideon> "A curious pursuit," Hypaxis acknowledges, "surely not to smiled upon by some authorities. Well then, ask your question."
<El-Cideon> "Well, I do not see how," Rosemund insists. "I have not witnessed him doing anything especially horrible?"
<Franceska> When you have nothing good to say, say nothing. Franceska follows that invaluable advice here, after trying to find some sort of response.
<Steph> Stephanie seems to be in agreement with Franceska on the matter, poking her thumbs together awkwardly.
<Julia> "That is because I keep him restrained," Julia says to poor innocent Rosemund, "But my question, then, and I hope it worth the admission. Can you tell us of Blackbird and his personal foibles and weaknesses which could be taken advantage of whether in battle or negotiation?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh yes," she says. "I believe I have his measure, although I admit he has taken to his desert habitat far more readily than I should ever have expected from one of the fey. I believe it is the bleakness that appeals to him--Mithardir is a dead world, you understand. The constant reminder it proves of mortality and struggle? Futility--well, futility is as a nourishing gruel to Blackbird's soul, I surmise. Thwarted desires, ruined dreams and lives--this is drama, you understand? I gather he was once a great patron of the narrative arts, but grew weary of what he perceived as the limits of any artist's creative imagination. Why should I listen to an opera, he must have thought, when the mortal world is filled with tragedy already?" She shrugs. "He is absolutely dogged in his insistence on preserving...exemplary tales of mortal woe. My belief is that to convince him of anything, you must appeal to his sense of drama. Insofar as battle is concerned? He will no doubt fly beyond your grasp given opportunity. Do not allow him this."
<Steph> "Ugh. Sounds like if we give him some sob story, he'd probably want to lock us up instead of let others go."
<El-Cideon> "He may eagerly entertain such an exchange," Hypaxis concludes after a moment's thought.
* Julia nods, unsure if her secret was worth it... maybe she should've just outted Thing, but that would reflect badly on her as well... "What about to raise his ire and make him beyond reason? Did you percieve any avenues which might accomplish that?"
<El-Cideon> "He thinks himself a...caretaker, if you will," she says. "He was very protective of his charges, and I doubt he would abide any suggested threat to their safety. Of course, they are only of value to him insofar as they are able to *tell* their sad stories. He insists that they relate their own tragedies. If one of his own suddenly could not provide the required narration, well, I do not imagine he would take such reticence calmly. And he remains, in his perception at least, a curator. As such, his pride hinges on the quality of the work in his charge."
<Julia> "Something to work with... well, anyone else?" Julia looks over her companions to see if any wish to bare their secrets.
<Franceska> "I think we have enough."
<Steph> "Yep, yep," agrees Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "Well, so be it," she says, pointing out, "although one of you hasn't taken a turn...Nonetheless, I am satisfied with the quality and veracity of your tales. And the storms have abated, for now." Outside, full, unfiltered natural light streams in through the great skull's eyeholes again.
<Julia> "Well, let's be off then," Julia says, briskly heading back out the skull and orienting herself Northeast.
<El-Cideon> Marina marches out after her before anyone can suggest she take her own turn.
<Franceska> "You always could," Franceska assures her, with a parting nod at their hostess. "Share a deep and terrible personal secret with us if you liked, that is."
<Julia> "I think we've had enough of those for today," Julia says with a sigh.
<Franceska> "It is a two day journey still!"
<Steph> "So could you!" snorts Stephanie.
<Franceska> "Rosemund happens to know any possible secret I might hold, I'm afraid."
<El-Cideon> "Would it surprise you to know I made no idle threat when I spoke of the penalty for lying?" she says in response. "We are in a desert after all, and one must eat." Quite unapologetic, she nods to the pile of old weapons and armor cluttering up the skull interior behind her. "Fortunately, you proved more entertaining than a simple meal."
<El-Cideon> "Well, it is hardly my prerogative to go about telling all my friends' secrets to everyone I meet," Rosemund says in her own defense, while edging away from the admitted predator.
<El-Cideon> ~