Okay, let's refresh on where we're at with this. How far are you along with this, Tryll?
We have sought out Lathander, who gave hints that the paragon quality is tied to destiny. As the irrigo race is effectively dead (for now?), we have no destiny. Tryll is attempting to forge himself a new destiny, or perhaps operate completely outside of it. Whichever is more beneficial. More research is needed.
Easy enough to go from there, especially since Gytha has a few IOUs to you and has been keeping busy.
Aaaw! Puppy! Puppy wolf! Calleigh plays with it, being all adorable and happy. Tryll's meditating and gathering himself. An idyllic scene, interrupted by Elena appearing. She's dressed up like Moore today and waves, "Hi! Gytha's asking if you can come meet him in the library."
Very abruptly the puppy is thrust into Elena's ghostly face with a courrish cry of, "PUPPY!"
"Cute," Elena flashes a smile, "Aren't you adorable?" She pets it a few times, "Tryll, Gytha's looking for you as I said."
'Of course, thank you.' Tryll replies. 'Is there anything else?'
"Puppies," Elena giggles, before vanishing away.
Going to go visit him then? I assume so, but y'know.
Yes.
Gytha rests in a corner of the library, in human form and visible. "Tryll," he greets aloud, "Calleigh. You're researching paragons, last I heard?"
"Yep!" Calleigh replies, having dragged the puppy with her into the library. "We kinda hit a dead end though. Not real sure how to go."
"I have something, a ritual that may help," Gytha says, "But I only have a few fragments of it."
'Do tell.' Tryll replies as Calleigh wrestles with the puppy on the Floor.
"A name and a few steps, I hope you can find more. It's called the Ritual of Heavenly Definition." Gytha says.
'Sounds like a good lead. Where did you find it?'
"One of Sage Vul'lath's lore collections," Gytha says.
'Delightful man, Vul'lath.' Tryll replies, 'Tell me about it.'
"What remains of the ritual are fragments of self-purification and preparation to declare your destiny," Gytha says, "Sadly, it is not complete by any stretch."
'We will have to find its remains, then. Perhaps the upper planes will have an answer.'
"I know not, but I wish you well," Gytha says, "Do you know where you'll begin?"
"Arborea!" Calleigh library-shouts. It's sort of like shouting, but in a library. 'Yes.'
"Ahem," Elder Magi Tepen peeks out from a nearby hall of shelves, giving you a serious look and putting a finger to his lips before departing.
"It may be best if you leave now," Gytha says, "They do not appreciate loud noises interrupting them."
"Booooring!" Calleigh replies, wrestling her puppy toward the door.
Cool.
1. Where in Arborea are you going?
2. Bringing anyone with you?
well, let's ask who wants to go. Moonlight, Rosa, or really anybody who wants to go to Arborea. I'll take anybody. It's unlikely to be dangerous at first. It is Arborea. But who knows where we wind up?
Hanna would like to come, she's finally up to getting out of bed. There's also another, but that will require a bit of introduction.
You're in the practice hall, Hanna wiping herself down from her work out. "Arborea? Yes, I'd love to," she says, "I'm finally up again, that sounds like the best thing I've heard this week."
"Oh!" Prince Westwind strides on over, "A trip out to the great wilds? Excellent, I'll come as well. We'll leave in five minutes."
"Hanna!" Calleigh cheers, "Nothing says fun like giant blondes with axes! And. Uh. Wait. Who's this guy? Hi!" Calleigh turns to Prince Westwind.
"Ah, I see you missed the party. I am Prince Westwind, a Grand Caliph of the djinn and in Aurora's debt for your generosity." He smiles, "You'll have to come to the next one. Courre are wonderful for parties, very energetic."
Deep gasp accompanied by starry eyes and unbridled joy, "A PRINCE!? AND YOU WANT ME TO COME TO A PARTY!? OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OH MY GOSH. "
"Absolutely," Prince Westwind smiles, "Can I count on a lovely maiden like you joining us?"
"'Course!" Calleigh nodnods.
"Wonderful! I'll invite you personally when it happens," Prince Westwind says, "But for now let's go, adventure awaits us!"
"Yay! Let's go to Arborea!" Calleigh shouts.
go go go
> roll 1d110
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 90 > [d110=90]
As desired, you gate to a point in Arborea. It's foresty and not much is immediately going on.
Hanna glances at Calleigh, "Do we have a place we're going here or just hoping happy elves tell us what we need?"
"Well, we figured we'd go bug some tulani until they give us what we want to make us go away. You wouldn't believe how often it works!" Calleigh nods seriously. "It's been a year or so since we did it, but we've been doing it consistently for like two hundred years. Or so. I think? You lose track of time, you know? "
"We could do that," Prince Westwind strokes his chin, "Or I could challenge one to a drinking contest and win, getting our information that way instead."
Calleigh raises her hand to object, stares a bit, then nods. "That's new! We haven't done that one yet! Let's give it a try! If not, we'll repaint the contents of some guy's ice box or something."
Hanna quietly shakes her head and smiles, while Prince Westwind says, "Let's get going. We should find a tulani around here somewhere."
Calleigh zips off, trailing mist with a warbling cry of, "Tuuuuulaaaaaaaaaniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"
> roll 1d100 why not, an eladrin trusting in random chacne
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 61 > [d100=61]
What are your perceptions, you two? Besides a Spot or Listen check? Any special ones?
Both of us have Darkvision 60ft, but nothing beyond that.
You wander for an hour or two, before you begin to hear loud, joyous music ahead. You can spy a large clearing in the forest where it's coming from.
"Oh hey, a party!" Calleigh enthuses.
"A revel," Hanna says and pauses, "Tryll, why don't you go ahead and take a peek first, or I'll do it if not."
'It is unlikely to be dangerous, you know.' Tryll replies. Yet, silent and mostly invisible, heads forward!
'That's not why I'm sending you first,' Hanna replies, 'Some revels become rather, ah, adult in nature. I would rather not expose Calleigh to that.'
Unprompted, Calleigh starts laughing at Hanna. Tryll is otherwise silent.
Hanna turns to Calleigh, "I would assume you'd have avoided those sort of revels," she says evenly. "Correct me if I'm wrong."
"Sometimes you walk into the wrong party. I mean I don't participate. Not like you'd think. But it's fun to steal all their food and throw blue paint on everyone when they're not expecting it!"
Hanna lets it go at that.
Tryll creeps forward, peeking ahead. He can see the clearing - several sayrts are providing pan pipe and drum music. Elvens are dancing and drinking, several eladrin celebrating with them. Roast deer is cooking over the fire, the scent of it wafting through the air. Everyone's laughing and smiling.
'Everything is above board. No orgies or the like.' Troll sends back to Hanna.
"Let's go, it's clear," Hanna says to the others.
Soon enough the rest of you are approaching the revel, hearing the music and smelling the food.
Calleigh zips forward ahead of the group, laughing. "Yay!"
"Oh ho!" A firre eladrin comes over, wild red hair a mess and holding a glance of wine, "Come one, come all! Come and join us, friends!"
Calleigh does a loop around his head, wooping joyously as she looks for the food.
It's roasting deer and the like, and also someone's provided several pies.
Hanna takes a look around, "Excuse me, have you-"
Prince Westwind smiles ear to ear. "Excellent!" He cuts Hanna off and gestures, a great array of foods and wines appearing. "I am Prince Westwind, a Grand Caliph of Air, and I declare this to be a party!"
"Pie!" Calleigh cries, diving wholly into the nearest pie with berries in it.
Hanna sighs slightly, "I should have known," she says as Westwind goes and joins the celebration. She glances at Tryll, "I suppose we're the grown ups here."
'Are we? Must we?' Tryll retorts.
Hanna sighs again and facepalms, "Wasn't the point of this to find information, not celebrate? I have no problem with a celebration, but I fear we're missing the point."
'Hanna, you of all people should be able to appreciate this right now. Arborea itself is in a constant celebration of life. Given your recent circumstances, I would think you would care to enjoy yourself. Relax. We are not here to fight. The information we seek is unlikely to run off now that we are here. Take a moment. We are timeless and eternal, we can spare a brief respite. Calleigh bores easily.' Tryll replies.
Hanna turns and looks out, "As you wish, then," she says.
What's your plan here?
Parties are great places to gather information! Let's see if they know anything or know some sort of local sage. Taking 10 on a GI check for 45.
A few hours of fun pass.
Prince Westwind ends up drinking with a few ladies, laughing away as they have quite the good time. The fact that they sneak off later doesn't bother anyone.
Hanna mostly keeps out of it, though she nurses a single mug of ale. She smiles here and there, watching the festivities more than anything else.
Calleigh and Tryll work. In due time you get a lead: There's a library to the north, it's run by an elven monastery. It's called the Leafpoint Library and is a general collection of knowledge. Looping around to the point, it's a natural place for wisemen and sages to visit.
As the party winds down, Tryll sends to Hanna, 'We have located a place where more information is likely to be found.'
'You're right, you know,' Hanna sends back, drinking from her mug. 'I've been entirely too tense and serious lately.'
Hanna's vision is momentarily filled with a pie-and-berry-encrusted Calleigh as she flies past, singing as off-key as possible about magical rats. Bits of berry occasionally fall from her tiny form as she goes.
'I do have a significant amount of life experience.' Tryll replies humbly.
'If I'm not facing evil, I'm arguing with Jaela or worrying about her. If I'm not doing that, I'm facing down evil. The gaps are filled with training.' Hanna finishes her mug off and gets another, 'I've forgotten what is to celebrate and relax.'
'The life of a planetar is fraught with peril.' Tryll replies placidly, 'The life of a parent would further complicate it. Parentar? Hm. Either way, all creatures, divine or not, need time to unwind. Otherwise you get to be one of those twisted-up celestials who can't understand mortals anymore. Those are...well. I'm sure you've met some. Overly critical, clinical, and detached. Mechanus in skin.'
'Yes. Go on,' Hanna says, 'l'll return to Aurora in my own time. I think I need to celebrate, laugh and have fun. The three of you should be able to handle the trip there.'
'We can do that. We will head to the Leafpoint Library shortly. You are free to join us if you please at a later time.'
'Cheers,' Hanna says.
Plan?
Disengage and head to the library.
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kokokokokokoko roll for Serith < 58 > [d100=58]
Okay, cool. How are you getting there?
Well, it's Arborea, not Pandemonium. We can either walk or fly. Depends on Westwind.
"Walk?" Westwind shakes his head. "I think not. We can all fly, we will fly," he says.
"Okie-dokie!" Calleigh nods.
The flight takes perhaps 5 hours. You make fine time and soon enough see your destination. It's a small village in a clearing which has slowly grown around a large, multistory building. Looks like the place. It's all made of wood and stone, very rustic and simple, yet beautiful and enduring.
"It's pretty!" Calleigh remarks.
"Ah, how rustic," Prince Westwind says, floating along with his arms crossed. "Surely a simple but content people live here."
"Yeah probably. Or it's a big party. Or maybe artists!" Calleigh gushes.
"Ah yes, artists do something seek knowledge," Prince Westwind says, starting to fly down. "Let us get to this. What is it you seek here, Calleigh?"
Whoops, missed the reply.
"We're lookin' for information on the Ritural of Heavenly Definition!" Calleigh replies.
"Fantastic." Prince Westwind clears his throat loudly.
"Ahem. ATTENTION LIBRARY! THE GREAT PRINCE WESTWIND, GRAND CALIPH AND FAVORED OF THE WHIRLWIND THRONE, SEEKS INFORMATION ON A LOST RITUAL KNOWN AS THE RITUAL OF HEAVENLY DEFINITION! A FULL PARTY AND FEAST FOR ANYONE WHO HELPS US!" Prince Westwind bellows, both hands cupped over his mouth. His voice is remarkably loud, carrying far.
Calleigh nods in approval. "Frontal assault, good opening choice."
"Exactly," Westwind lands before the village, as you see people coming out and staring, "Let us go forward and winds willing, what we need will fall into our laps."
"Traveling with princes is fun!" Calleigh cheers, streaking forward into the town.
Make a GI check, +4 circumstance bonus.
Taking 20 for 59.
You talk around and soon enough get pulled into the library by an elf. An elf fair of skin and hair, wearing simple but beautiful clothes, woven well. He leads you into a little office just off the front, "Sir and ma'am," he greets you, "There are better ways to find knowledge here than that."
"They're also slower and less effective," Prince Westwind says.
"Yeah! Libraries are too quiet anyway!"
The elf tuts gently, "Is not the gentle breeze the best way to dislodge the hanging leaf?"
"No. A good gale is, so that it takes it for sure and sends it far and wide. Let it ride the winds and finds its destiny." Prince Westwind retorts. "Right, Calleigh?"
Calleigh nods, very serious with her hands on her hips. "Gales! Woosh!"
A delicate, beautiful frown follows. "I see," he says, "Were you a human woodsman's wife in your mortal life, fair courre?"
"Naw, I died when I was five." Calleigh explains.
That does a lovely job at shutting the elf up.
"I....my condolences," The elf finally says.
Calleigh waves him off. "Buncha robbers broke in one night and everything was loud and then BAM! Dead! Meanies. But then I became a courre! Now life is awesome! Anyway, it was a long time ago. Long time. Lotsa time. Like, wow, I've been a courre a long time, actually." she pauses, thoughtful, then makes a face, "Hope they don't try to, you know, make me a firre or something soon. Gross. Anyway! Rituals! Gimme!"
Prince Westwind rubs his chin, "Remarkable, few outsiders remember their mortal lives, let alone a courre. Was that your work, Tryll?"
The elf clears his throat, "Refresh me on this ritual you seek, little one?"
The sensation of a shrug overcomes Westwind's thoughts, 'Not me, she knew it when I met her. She's pretty old for a courre. '
Meanwhile, "We're looking for, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHEAVENLYDEFINITIONYEAH! The Ritual of Heavenly Definition. I think. Right? Yep. Right." Calleigh nods confidently.
"I'll have a few assistants research it," The elf says, "Stay here and I'll get them on it right away, little one."
"Kay."
Going to just wait then?
He's got 5 minutes before Calleigh loses her patience and starts exploring.
Five minutes pass and no sign of the elf returning, none at all.
Tiny eyes flicker back and forth. "Bored now!"
She flits off to find something interesting.
"Calleigh," Prince Westwind says, speaking up. "Wait a moment."
Calleigh pauses in the process of attempting to remove a book from the bottom of a stack of books. "Huh?"
"Does a King or Queen do everything themselves?" Prince Westwind asks.
"I dunno, I've never met one."
"I'm a Grand Caliph, a djinn Prince," Westwind says, a jovial smile. "I rule many lesser nobles, so I am a king in many senses. Congratulations, you you have met a king. Now they don't do everything themselves. They have servants, soldiers and all the kingdom to do many things for them. They sit here like this," He sits, arms crossed and posture straight, "They wait for their trusted servants to accomplish their will. There are usually serving maids, music and other entertainments, of course."
After a moment to clear his throat, "Now in all my years, I have never met a courre as remarkable as you. I declare you a princess among courres, a diamond amid them all."
Great. Big. Tiny. Shiny. Eyes. "You can do that?!"
"I am a Grand Caliph, of course I can," Prince Westwind says grandly, "Now sit next to me and have a strong, noble bearing as we let our servants do our will."
Har, Control Sound
"Yeah! I'M A PRETTY PRINCESS! WOO!" Calleigh's voice abruptly rises in volume, echoing through the library as she grins, looping through the air to sit primly next to the Prince. All smiles.
He had to try.
Prince Westwind's smile takes a decided step or two down, mostly hidden by a quick cough. "Yes, now let our minions do the work...and be merciful on them when they come to complain momentarily."
Calleigh looks terribly innocent. "Why would they complain?"
"Oh, I think you know. I think you know," Prince Westwind kicks back.
"Is it because they're boring and hate fun?"
This is cut off by an elf racing in and a lecture to follow.
Fortunately, none of that is terribly long and soon enough the elf returns. He has a book in hand, "We may have something," he says.
"Is it a pony?"
"No, little one," The elf smiles gently, "It may be about your ritual. At least a link to someone who may know more. This is a reference of various sages and things that they are known to know about."
"Oh boy!" Calleigh cheers. "Whatcha got!?"
"This book," he says, placing ti down, "Read and see if you find anything useful to your cause, little one."
"You're gonna make me READ!? Ugh! No thanks! Tag, you're it!" Calleigh says. Thusly, the book rises up into the air and over her head. The book flips open as a giant eye manifests before it, easily the size of a watermelon.
> roll 1d20+6 do the elf's nerves hold?
<Serith> Kokokokokokoko roll for Serith < 14 > [d20=8]
"Elf-Father's breasts!" The elf exclaims, stumbling back and hitting the door out rather hard. He stares at that eyes, while Prince Westwind chuckles.
"We have a rather private friend who is with us. Don't worry about it, he's great fun."
"Elf-Father's breasts?" Calleigh's face screws up. "Corelloion Larethololon has boobies?"
"Yes, I'm wondering about that one myself," Prince Westwind chimes in.
Meanwhile, Tryll begins to read the book.
Any speed reading powers or are you doing this the old fashioned way?
No super speed-reading powers, unfortunately. I will just have to use my mere 32 Int to read it.
"Well, several depictions of the Elf Father are hermaphroditic," The elf explains. A lecture on the head of the Seladrine follows, easily tuned out as Tryll reads.
Speed matters here so make an Int check.
[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+11 : 10 + 11, total 21[/blockquote]
Calleigh's face screws up, "Hormawhat?"
"Ah, little one. You understand there are boys and girls? Some are both boys and girls," The elf explains.
Meanwhile Tryll reads. Just a mention of the ceremony, studied by Pasefoot the Gnarled.
"The who what? No, wait, nevermind. Who's Pasefoot the Gnarled?" Calleigh asks.
K:L (Arborea) is possible. So is K:P or K:A, though those are harder checks.
Arborea![blockquote]Rolled 1d20+12 : 16 + 12, total 28[/blockquote]
Planes![blockquote]Rolled 1d20+28 : 14 + 28, total 42[/blockquote]
Psionics![blockquote]Rolled 1d20+40 : 16 + 40, total 56[/blockquote]
Pasefoot the Gnarled is an eladrin scholar, a reclusive tulani who largely keeps to himself. You dimly recall it's said he has his home somewhere in Arvandor.
"Nevermind! We know where he is!" Once fully read, the book snaps itself shut and floats over to land back in the librarian's hands. "Sort of! Somewhere in Arvandor, anyway. Arvandor's not that big, comparably."
"Arvandor, eh?" Westwind says, "Sounds fun, let's get going."
"Compared to, you know, the Abyss! Or Pandemonium!" Calleigh natters as they head out. Tryll's eye dissipates into mist, which trails closely behind Calleigh.
Okay, how are y'all getting to Arvandor?
Either walk or find someone to Plane Shift us, since I can't. Could I Greater Teleport between sub-planes?
No, but since it's on the same overall plane, you could portal to a border with it and walk on over. It's not a terribly difficult border to cross, Arborea and Arvandor are closely tied together.
Sounds like we have a plan, then.
A teleport later, you're walking into Arvandor. Which is largely the same as Arborea, though the forest is a bit thinner. There's more obvious trails, less debris and overall easier going.
Go ahead, ball's in your court.
As all of you walk in, "Great," Prince Westwind says, "So the question that launches a thousand adventures: How do we find this sage?"
Calleigh shrugs, "I dunno."
"Ah, I see the problem. There are a few ways to solve any problem. Alcohol isn't right here, violence isn't suitable so we're down to networking. Come," Prince Westwind says, "We'll find the nearest elven village and talk our way to directions."
"Yeah, wandering around for a few years works most of the time." Calleigh nods. "It's what we usually do when we want something but don't know how to get it. Eventually someone gives us what we want."
"It will hardly take us any time at all. It's Arvandor, you can't go take a piss in the woods without tripping over an elf or ten," Prince Westwind laughs, "This will be easy."
"That's actually true. I've tripped over elves."
"Exactly! Forward!" Prince Westwind says.
From here it's not long. Perhaps an hour until you come to a neat, tidy elven village. It's woven into the trees nearby, full houses built amid the trees and connected with wooden paths. Stairs and ladders lead from the ground up to it and you can see elves up there. "See? Easy. Now then."
After clearing his throat, Prince Westwind calls, "I AM PRINCE WESTWIND, GRAND CALIPH OF THE DJINN! WE SEEK..." A pause and he murmrus to Calleigh, "What was the name of that sage?"
"Pasefoot the Gnarled." Calleigh is helpful!
"Ahem. PASEFOOT THE GNARLED, A SAGE WHO HAS INFORMATION WE SEEK. TO THOSE WHO COME, I OFFER FREE FOOD AND THE HOSPITALITY OF AIR AND THE DJINN!" A gesture from Westwind produces heaps of food and wine, "Now we sit back and wait for curiosity and people's stomach's to come to us."
"Is a good plan, your royal highnessness."
"See? I have this. Now if we had just brought that ghostly maid," Prince Westwind says, "She could be useful and serve everyone."
"I dunno if she can leave the Aurora." Calleigh looks dubious.
Prince Westwind strokes his chin, "Are you interested in being a maid?"
"What, and clean all the time? Make stuff tidy?" Calleigh makes a face.
"Not you, Calleigh. Tryll," Westwind says, as you see a few elves starting to descend.
Calleigh bursts into big belly laughs, "Tryll! A giant squidguy as a maid! In the frilly dress! AHAHAHAHAHA!"
"My tailors could handle it," Westwind says, "Well, Tryll?"
'Pass.' Tryll replies.
"Damn," Westwind snaps his fingers.
Going to info gather here? If so, make a GI check.
<Serith> Celebrated_Ascendant roll for Serith < 46 > [d20=11]
You hear the following rumor:
"Pasefoot? He lives over in Eluras Tower, it's to the northwest," he says, "Right past Miller's Rock, then a little farther from where old Sasha's bow broke."
"Neat! Thanks!" Calleigh says.
"See? The trail is ours," Prince Westwind says, "Let's move."
"Yay!" Calleigh zips off.
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 50 > [d100=50]
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 48 > [d100=48]
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 16 > [d100=16]
Several hours of walking pass. One small thing - night is falling. You could keep going in forest towards the tower or stop here, if you wanted to rest.
Do courre need sleep?
As outsiders, they do not need to eat or sleep.
Unless Westwind need to rest, we'll keep going.
> roll 1d100
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 72 > [d100=72]
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 48 > [d100=48]
You reach Eluras Tower a little after sunrise. It is a tower of wood rising three stories up, broader than taller.
"That's not a tower." Calleigh remarks.
"I'm sure he uses the tower very well," Prince Westwind says dryly. "Ahem. PASEFOOT, REJOICE! GRAND CALIPH WESTWIND OF THE DJINN IS HERE TO SEE YOU! COME FORTH!"
Calleigh waits a moment. "We could knock too."
"Knocking is beneath royalty," Westwind retorts, "Royals know how to make an entrance."
Calleigh nods. "Is Pasefoot a boy's name or a girl's name?"
"What do you barbarians want?" A slender, androgynous elf emerges. He (or she?) has long hair and a graceful step, moving with unnatural ease. His voice is pleasing, alluring. A singer's voice. "This is a place of reflection, a natural library. It is not a place to shout like barbarians and disturb the master's studies."
"I'd like some tiny raspberry cakes." Calleigh says. "Also, is Pasefoot a boy's name or a girl's name?"
"Denied," The elf says, "We have no time for foreign barbarians who have no comprehension of proper behavior. Leave."
"Elfs being rude is boooooooooooring!" Calleigh says. She turns to Westwind, "Let's get louder!"
"Louder, eh?" Westwind says, "How loud can you get?"
"Pretty loud. Tryll will help! He can make us all real loud!" Calleigh turns to the elf, "Unless you wanna suddenly grow a personality?"
"You...you..." The elf sputters, "Such flagrant disrespect! Barbarians! If you will not leave, then you will be battered into submission and thrown out!"
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." Calleigh says, "Also, you would beat up a courre? Shame!"
"No courre is this disrespectful, you little imp!" The elf shakes a finger at you, "Nothing but an imp in disguise!"
"That's...you haven't been in Arborea long, have you?" Calleigh looks confused, then brightens. All cheery smiles. "You know what?"
"This is Arvandor. Maybe all the seriousness keeps courres away?" Westwind says, "My good elf, I suggest you relax and reconsider your course of actions."
"Yeah! You need to relax! Unwind! Stop acting like you're Coreloneon Lorthemas or something."
The elf glares at you - and then stops, turns around and marches right back into the tower.
"Send Pasefoot our love!" Calleigh calls after him.
"Well, that was-" Prince Westwind is cut off. A trio of pale blue magical circles appear on the ground 40ft away from you. They whirl and spins, symbols within moving rapidly. In each a massive thing appears - a large tiger tinted green and black. Each has a smooth, unmarred body that bristles with muscle.
The elf's voice is heard from within the tower, calling out, "Run or they're going to knock you out and drag you off!"
Init here. Also K:N for what they are.
Tryll[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+6 : 20 + 6, total 26[/blockquote]
Calleigh[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+7 : 20 + 7, total 27[/blockquote]
Perfection.
Also K:N[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+27 : 17 + 27, total 44[/blockquote]
Beezlebub approves.
> roll 1d20+16 Westwind
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 24 > [d20=8]
> roll 1d20+8 tiger 1
> roll 1d20+8 tiger 2
> roll 1d20+8 tiger 3
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 12 > [d20=4]
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 22 > [d20=14]
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 26 > [d20=18]
Init is Calleigh (27) > Tryll = Tiger 3 (26) > Westwind (24) > Tiger 2 (22) > Tiger 1 (12)
Calleigh opens.
Huh, they look like elven cats, but as tigers. Expect a more graceful and faster opponent, though without as much vitality as normal. Use attacks that hit surer rather than harder and avoid sleep spells.
He'd better. I work hard on this.
Manifesting Astral Construct via Psicrown of the Astral Legion
Cost: 17
Remaining: 798
Abilities: Pounce, Heavy Deflection, Extra Attack, Energy Touch
Calleigh concentrates, and there is abruptly a very large humanoid standing between her and the tigers. with a shout of, "Go geddum!" the construct rushes over and slams into the nearest tiger.
[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 6 + 30, total 36[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 10 + 30, total 40[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 11 + 30, total 41[/blockquote]
All hit. Roll damage.
Secondary Damage is Fire.[blockquote]Rolled 2d6+16 : 1, 1 + 16, total 18[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d4 : 4, total 4[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 2d6+16 : 5, 1 + 16, total 22[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d4 : 4, total 4[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 2d6+16 : 2, 6 + 16, total 24[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d4 : 2, total 2[/blockquote]
The construct leaps at the tigers, slamming into the front one. A direct hit, smashing its head in fairly good. Its nose is crushed but the rest of it is still going, even as its ruined snout bleeds.
Tryll and then tiger 3.
Calleigh yells, "We're gonna beat up your kitties if you make them fight us! Don't make us beat up your kitties! We don't wanna!"
BOOM!
An explosion of sound like a discordant cannon blast erupts between the other two tigers, hideously loud and grating.
Ataxia (http://www.soulriders.net/forum/index.php/topic,103075.msg1050500.html#msg1050500)
SR Roll:[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+27 : 8 + 27, total 35[/blockquote]
Fort DC 35
Dex Damage:[blockquote]Rolled 1d4 : 2, total 2[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d4 : 1, total 1[/blockquote]
If they failed Fort, D100 Roll:[blockquote]Rolled 1d100 : 77, total 77[/blockquote]
Duration Roll:[blockquote]Rolled 1d4+1 : 4 + 1, total 5[/blockquote]
> roll 1d20+16 1
> roll 1d20+16 2
> roll 1d20+16 3
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 20 > [d20=4]
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 33 > [d20=17]
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 33 > [d20=17]
What condition do they get?
Just throwing this in to help out: 76-90 Stunned
Yes, stunned. Missed your reply, sorry.
Init is Calleigh (27) > Tryll = Tiger 3 (26) > Westwind (24) > Tiger 2 (22) > Tiger 1 (12)
Stunned for 5 rounds. Tiger 3 moves at the same time you do, so it does gets its action, though.
A sheer burst of sound envelopes the tigers, knocking two of them silly. The third is hit in the back and rear, hurling towards Westwind as...
> roll 1d20+32 claw 1
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+32 claw 1 --> [ 1d20=15 ]{47}
> roll 1d20+32 claw 2
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+32 claw 2 --> [ 1d20=17 ]{49}
> roll 1d20+30 bite
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+30 bite --> [ 1d20=19 ]{49}
> roll 1d20+30 rake 1
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+30 rake 1 --> [ 1d20=12 ]{42}
> roll 1d20+30 rake 2
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+30 rake 2 --> [ 1d20=1 ]{31}
> roll 3d4+10-20 (DR is the -20)
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 3d4+10-20 (DR is the -20) --> [ 3d4=10 ]{0}
> roll 3d4+10-20 (DR is the -20)
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 3d4+10-20 (DR is the -20) --> [ 3d4=6 ]{-4}
> roll 3d6+5-20 (DR is the -20)
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 3d6+5-20 (DR is the -20) --> [ 3d6=7 ]{-8}
It catches him off guard, but the claws don't even draw a speck of blood, the tiger a dazed heap right in front of him.
"Summons? Even better, I don't have to hold back," Westwind says cheerfully, dusting himself off with one hand before swinging his scythe.
> roll 1d20+40 (-10 PA, +1 haste, 1st of a full attack)
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+40 (-10 PA, +1 haste, 1st of a full attack) --> [ 1d20=8 ]{48}
> OOC: That will do more than 10 damage, so that triggers his free trip on damage.
> roll 1d20+79 vs ??? CMD
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+79 vs ??? CMD --> [ 1d20=2 ]{81}
> roll 1d20+40 (-10 PA, +1 haste) bonus attack on trip
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+40 (-10 PA, +1 haste) bonus attack on trip --> [ 1d20=11 ]{51}
> roll 1d20+40 haste bonus attack
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+40 haste bonus attack --> [ 1d20=10 ]{50}
> roll 1d20+35
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+35 --> [ 1d20=7 ]{42}
> roll 1d20+30
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+30 --> [ 1d20=12 ]{42}
> roll 1d20+25
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+25 --> [ 1d20=20 ]{45}
> roll 1d20+25 crit?
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 1d20+25 crit? --> [ 1d20=12 ]{37}
> OOC: Going to skip the epic trip saving throw, crit makes it academic.
> roll 2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+14d8+371
<Rei-chan> Koaway rolled : 2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+2d8+53+14d8+371 --> [ 2d8=6 2d8=6 2d8=11 2d8=13 2d8=9 14d8=62 ]{743}
Ouch. His crits hurt.
Westwind is a literal blur, winds gusting as his scythe flashes through the tiger over and over. No blood until it simply falls apart into pieces, gone with a wink of eldritch energy.
Calleigh and Tryll, go. Includes your construct. Round 1 of the two survivors being stunned.
Sometimes the Dice Gods smile upon me.
Is there more than 10 feet between my summon and the kitties?
No, they're each 10ft away in different directions.
What?
One cat is 10ft away to the right and one cat is 10ft away to the left.
So the answer is yes? They're both 10 or more feet from the construct?
Yes. 10ft.
Neato. Construct is Charging. [blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 5 + 30, total 35[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 4 + 30, total 34[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+30 : 13 + 30, total 43[/blockquote]
"Oh, they're summons. Okay. Go, Smashy!" And thus does Smashy the Astral Construct charge down another tiger.
The other tiger gets himself disintegrated.
Manifesting Disintegrate
PP Cost: 27
SR? Rolling Touch AC:[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+21 : 2 + 21, total 23[/blockquote]
All hit and no SR.
Fort 27
> roll 1d20+16 Fort
<Serith> Koaway roll for Serith < 20 > [d20=4]
Failure. Damage.
Haha 54d6
<Serith> Celebrated_Ascendant roll for Serith < 191 > [54d6=191]
Zap! One tiger crumbles to dust, gone. the other battered back by your golem. It's smacked around good, bloodied and dazed as...
Westwind.
"Well then," Prince Westwind surges forward, "Let's finish this!"
> roll 1d20+52 (+1 haste, +2 charge)
<Serith> Koaway roll for Serith < 62 > [d20=10]
There was supposed to be PA here, but I aimed at the wrong room and pasted it over. To be honest it doesn't matter here, minimum damage finishes the tiger off.
With a scythe-swipe the last tiger falls, all three of them gone back to whence they came.
"A mildly boring encounter, hardly worthy of royalty," Prince Westwind says, "Was it any better for the two of you?"
Free act.
"Smashy is great!" Calleigh cheerily replies.
"Fantastic,' Prince Westwind says, as the door to the tower cracks open. The elf peeks out again, "You...you obliterated them. Who...who are you people?! What sort of barbarian strength do you have?!"
"I'm a courre! He's a prince! Together, we fight crime!"
"Now then," Prince Westwind says, "Kindly fetch your master for us."
Any of you have ranks in Intimidate?
Nope! Calleigh is Calleigh and Tryll has gone out of his way to appear as harmless as possible to those that can see him.
Okay, Westwind has the highest Charisma so he'll try it. Feel free to attempt a Charisma check to aid.
+10 circumstance bonus since tigers go slicey.
> roll 1d20+17
<Serith> Koaway roll for Serith < 23 > [d20=6]
[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+10 : 16 + 10, total 26[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+4 : 13 + 4, total 17[/blockquote]
"F-fine, just stay out there, barbarians!" The door slams shut.
"Ah, diplomacy. Best applied with violence and a smile," Prince Westwind says, "Though that's usually with fiends and dao."
"We're usually better at either being nice or annoying." Calleigh nods.
The elf that emerges is rather unremarkable for an elf - beautiful certainly and graceful, wearing leathers and a cloak, walking out with a staff's help.
"Yes?" He asks blandly, "You seem to want to meet me enough to terrify my assistant."
"He was pretty rude." Calleigh points out, "He called me an imp and a barbarian!"
"Quite," The elf says blandly, "But let's put bygones to bygones and get to the reason why you're here."
"MmmmmmmmOkay! We're looking for information on the Ritual of Heavenly Daffodils. No." Calleigh looks confused.
"Ah, I believe you may be confused then," The elf smiles, "But I do have some daffodil bulbs if you'd like to grow some yourself?"
"Definition!" Calleigh cries! "Not daffodils. But those are nice too."
"I find daffodils more interesting than that ritual," The elf concurs, "One can rarely go wrong with white and yellow daffodils. Yet you want to be a purple daffodil, like any proper eladrin. Or is it for your friend with the scythe?"
At this Westwind shakes his head, "No, I am a Grand Caliph. I'm merely along for the adventure with a friend."
"I don't wanna be a daffodil at all! That's sounds boring! I wanna be a super-courre!"
"I see, I see, I see," The elf murmurs, "Excuse my curiosity, but what drives a courre to seek such power? You are hardly the carefree child you should be if you have such might. No, you are a familiar doing your master's bidding."
"Yup!" Calleigh points up. "It's kinda sad when you people figure it out though. More fun to surprise you!"
The elf looks up and frowns, then closes his eyes. When they open, they blaze blue and white. "Ah," he says, "How brazen of you. Were your course of action anything but confusing, I would send you to your final judgment. Explain yourself in the name of the Elf Father and the Three that are One."
"My good elf," Westwind says, "I have been told Tryll is often mistaken for an aboleth, but is not one. A djinn prince would not travel with an aboleth. Peace, peace."
Silently, Tryll manifests his true form; a transparent 40-foot long squiddish aberration. Though his face has no humanoid analogue, he nevertheless appears somewhat smug. 'This is true. I am not an aboleth. I am superior. I have a sense of humor!' Tryll broadcasts to the group.
"A point to you over the aboleths," The elf replies, "What you seek is not lightly given. Why do you seek it?" He does not seem overly perturbed by your form, standing loose. Tryll's seen enough battles and warriors to know one when he sees it. This elf is no stranger to combat, you're fairly certain he could explode into motion in a split-second.
Tryll is ever-placid, like a calm pond. His tendrils float as though he were submerged, but otherwise he does not move. 'It is a somewhat long story.'
The elf leans forward on his cane, and then out of nothing but the faintest stirring of magic, a chair appears behind him. A good wooden chair with padding, which he promptly sits on.
"I have all day," The elf replies. "As do you, I don't doubt."
"Ah, an elf of refined tastes," Prince Westwind says, sitting on the air itself, "What is civilization if you cannot bring to you when you wish?"
"We've got forever!" Calleigh pipes in, nod-nodding, "Well, not forever-forever, cuz we've got stuff to do. But we'll be around forever! Unless we die. But then we don't have to worry about it, cuz we're dead! But we're not dead. Sorta. But we don't age! That's what I'm saying. Yep!"
'Yes. How aware are you of events outside of Arvandor?' Tryll interjects.
"Somewhat," The elf replies as he sits, walking stick put across his lap. "In a broad sense yes, in specifics no, unless it pertains to something I am studying. I would know if either side won the Blood War or if a great power was slain, but beyond that less so."
'Lifasa and Benfal?'
"I do not know of them," The elf replies, "But continue, this strkes me as a story."
Prince Westwind chuckles, "Are you familiar with Semyaza, an outcast Archduke of Hell? He was chastised and chased off Lifasa like a child running for his mother's skirt. A wonderful time all around."
"We kicked his butt off of Benfal too, right before things got nuts!" Calleigh is helping!
"Well then, continue on," The elf encourages.
You're firmly holding the expo ball now, Yuth. Up to you how you use it. Short reply since this is in your court to what you tell him and how you convince him.
'Very well. We will start at the beginning. Lifasa is a Prime that was experiencing a golden age. Things were going very well, and the overwhelming majority of the plane's residents were happy-'
"Yep! It was great! I got to meet a unicorn there once! It was pretty!" Calleigh interjects.
Tryll continues on as though uninterrupted, '-with their lives. The plane appeared to actually be shifting toward a naturally Good alignment. In all, things were looking very well. Unfortunately, not everyone was happy, and Baator capitalized on that. They found people who craved power above all else, and used them. Nine people, traitors all, were recruited by the Hells to enact some sort of ritual, we're still unsure of how it was managed.'
"Nasty-mean people! We caught a couple of them though!" Calleigh again.
'Unfortunately, they succeeded in their ritual, which caused the plane to slide toward Baator. There was a full-scale invasion mounted by one of Bel's lieutenants, named Abigor. The plane instantly began to twist and corrupt, and the plane's defenders rose to push the devils back. They failed.'
'Those who remained free fled the plane in all directions. A small handful of those defenders managed to find each other, and then locate the ancient demiplane of Medicant. After activating the plane's controlling intelligence and restoring it, they began seeking out other survivors and recruiting help. Eventually, they were able to mount several incursions back into Lifasa to free enslaved citizens and even caught one of the traitors. A dragon, I believe.'
'Shortly after that, the leaders of Medicant, now renamed Aurora, mounted an attack on Abigor and slew him. Unfortunately, by this time there were other infernal players in the game. Lixer, son of Asmodeus; and Taelfagn, the Duke of Destiny. Lixer appears to have set himself up as an infernal version of Orcus. He is, thankfully, not nearly as powerful. Taelfagn, though, has something that we as yet have been unable to counter. I believe he is a paragon among devils, and uses this power to manipulate the forces of fate and destiny to his own ends.'
'We've been able to thwart him a few times now, most notably with the salvation of Benfal, a Prime that nearly suffered the same fate as Lifasa. This is where Semyaza lost to us, and was ejected from the plane. Benfal now appears to be loosely attached to Elysium. Possibly. I don't understand the planar metaphysics yet, or quite how it occurred. It's not really on my list of things to do, as the citizens appear to be permanently safe now.'
'We are here, at your door, seeking this ritual so that we might be able to oppose Taelfagn. My race is dead and gone, and our destiny is expended. I am among the few living souls in creation without a fate, and I want to capitalize on this. If I can negate Taelfagn's efforts, if I can face him in combat and even the odds, then we might yet be able to save Lifasa and those that remain enslaved there.'
A beat, then, 'As for Calleigh, she just wants to be all the courre she can be. Can you blame her?'
The elf listens throughout the story, never interrupting. At the end he claps slowly several times.
"It has been a long time since I've heard such a fanciful tale from anything but a traveling bard's mouth. More so that they have the ring of sincerity to them! How long has it been since such desperate heroes have come here, I wonder?"
A long sigh as the elf closes his eyes, letting his hands go limp and rest in his lap. He is silent for a time and still, not once reacting and instead merely there.
"They're right, my good elf," Prince Westwind speaks up, "I've seen the place, lovely in a mage-built sort of way. There's good people there, the sort to break a greater ring of djinn summoning rather than using the bound djinn to grant any wish they desire."
"I have researched the ritual you seek," The elf finally says, "What do you wish to know about it?"
'How to conduct it, and what the costs are.'
"The ritual is difficult and the price is a tricky one," The elf replies, resting back in his chair. "You must be prepared to represent a fundamental question about the destiny of your race. You must have accomplished deeds to represent this. Calleigh, what shall be the question you represent, and how will you strive to answer it in your life?"
"Hmmmmm...What is best in life?" Calleigh asks.
"A question many have asked. Do you have an answer?" The elf asks right back.
"Well, yeah! Yo be a courre, of course! My life is awesome!"
"What is a courre, then?" The elf says.
Prince Westwind puts his hand to his face and sighs. "Philosophy! The enemy of all right thinking winds, for how else can wise men make such foolish claims?"
"I ask not out of philosophical drive, but to instill the point. You must represent something, a question. What is a courre, then?" The elf banters back, giving Prince Westwind an even look before turning his attention to Calleigh.
"A courre is fun and light and joy and pies and pranks and fun and sometimes real scary and also me!" Calleigh replies.
"That may all be true, but it is not a question. It is not a meaning. It is not something that means something to all the courre and the courre's destiny. That is what you need," The elf says, then looks up to Tryll. "I believe you understand the difficulty she faces. Courre are not well suited to this manner of introspection. Does she have the hidden depths to find her own answer to this?"
"Of course she does," Prince Westwind says, "I wouldn't be here with her if she wasn't more than capable of it."
"Whaddaya mean I'm not suited! Are you calling me dumb? That's mean!" Calleigh shouts.
'She is somewhat correct. Calleigh is unlike many other courre. Ignoring the cliche, she is rather unique. She is quite old, and enjoys being a courre. She has no intention of "growing up," as they say. In truth, Calleigh is more courre than most people can handle. Other eladrin included. A few hundred years ago we were asked quite politely to leave and not come back for a century or two. She may indeed be able to suss it out, but I'm not sure how long it would take her. It seems like something she would need to find on her own.'
"You are not dumb, it is simply not your strong suit," The elf says gently, and then to Tryll once more. "If she can provide a good question, I will teach the two of you the ritual. To teach it before then risks much for little gain."
A pause as the elf coughs lightly into his hand, then he once again turns to Calleigh. "I need you to think long and hard about your destiny and what the means to all other courres. Being a paragon is an important thing and you need a good answer to that."
Prince Westwind gestures idly, a glass of wine appearing in his hand. "Simplicity. Calleigh fights evil and has joined Aurora, in spite of being a courre. What childlike courre would care for such a thing? What courre would think about fighting evil like that, so actively and so far away from Arborea?"
'It's more than that, though. I understand. It's a question of the core of one's very being, and such a thing is not often questioned by the wisest of mortals. Or even those outside the natural cycle. A fire elemental burns, and is burning at its core. What cause would it have to question itself? The devil does not question its innate cruelty, nor does the celestial question its innate kindness. That level of self-awareness is not necessary in the overwhelming majority of creatures, though occasionally mortals try and fail to obtain it. Monastic orders are a good example.
No, a courre wouldn't care for such things, or even the line of questioning. It's-'"Wait!"
Calleigh interrupts, holding up a hand, "Wait wait wait. Wait. Okay. It's not about whether or not it's fun. It's about why, right? Why is it fun? Why do we do it? Why is it important?" She looks somewhat constipated, and presses her hand to the side of her head. "This is hard. Why is it important? That's actually a real good question. I never thought about it before. Why is fun important? Why do courres exist? It's not just stuffing some dead kid's soul into an eladrin body. Kids die all the time, and not all of them become courres. Or lantern archons. Or cherubs. If that's how those work I dunno...Anyway! Disease, famine, war, random violence, abuse, yadda yadda. Creation isn't fair. So what makes us special? Do gods play dice? Like, is it random? Cause that's like the very essence of chaos. ...WAIT. That makes sense!" She points at the elf. "Aha!"
"Oh?" The elf asks, keeping his thoughts to himself for now.
Westwind is much the same, sipping his wine and watching Calleigh. "This should be good. What did you just realize, Calleigh?"
"It's not about fun at all! Well, sorta. It's not that fun isn't important, it's about what fun is. Why fun is important. Where does fun come from? What creates fun? Not, like, actions, but what really is it? Break it down, and you get randomness. I think? Weird snakey-stuff that gives us the idea to do something wild or crazy or random or makes you want to sing or paint for no reason! It's the chaos-stuff that makes up a big part of the everything that everything is built on. Right? That's why it's so important. Chaos is the source of inspiration! It's the base of beauty and joy and fun! Order's important too, sure, but Chaos is more fun! I mean, sometimes it's horrible, yeah. Look at the Abyss. Icky stuff, yeah? Chaos without Order to balance it is not good. Or Good to balance it out. You need one or the other to keep you from being a real jerkface.
But! Yeah! Have you ever really met a really happy mortal who is also a really good artist? I've noticed that a lot of really artistic mortals are sad or cranky or you know, not all there. But it makes sense! Cause if Chaos is the source of beauty and fun, then if you're really channelling that, like really, it's gonna mess with your head if you're a mortal. Chaos creates strife and struggle breeds creativity and innovation. Yup.
And that brings me to my point! I'm a courre! I'm like, distilled Chaos and Good! I'm super important because of what I am! I've gotta oppose things like too much oversight and tyranny and castor oil and stuff because that's super important! Because courres are the source of fun and joy! And I'm the best courre ever! Whoa. This is deep stuff. I think. Where was I going with this?"
"To your question for the ritual," The elf says, smiling a bit. He even chuckles after, "This is amusing, so please, finish it."
"That's it. That's gotta be good enough. I dunno what you want. 'Splain yourself."
"It is," The elf admits, "I didn't think you had that sort of thought in you, most courres would never think of things like that. You've been one a long time? You've come to realize you have to fight because it's important, even if it erodes at your endless childhood?"
"Sweetheart, I've been at this for a few thousand years now, and I've seen stuff that would spook you so bad your skin would turn green. This ain't nothing. Besides, who wants to grow up? You get old and wrinkly and stuffy and sometimes even decide to ask vague and mysterious and menacing questions of perfectly reasonable and adorable travelers. Nobody wants that."
Westwind nods rather sharply, "Yes yes, so I think we can skip to the end of this song and dance." He finishes his wine, "The ritual and what you we need to know about it?"
The elf sighs slightly, "Only a courre. I suppose that is your great strength." He snaps his fingers and the elf from before comes out, carrying a book. He gives all of you long, careful looks but says nothing, giving it to Westwind.
"Thanks!" Calleigh says to the intern, "Have you considered being nicer to courres? I have a pamphlet." Calleigh does indeed have a folded sheet of colorful paper, which she offers to the lackey.
The lackey sighs and takes the paper.
"Fantastic," Westwind says, "Are we ready to get back now? I've had enough rustic forest for the year."
"I suppose." Calleigh says, then turns to the elfy questioner, "Unless you've got some super secret quest you've been waiting to offload on a bunch of awesome and cute adventurers?"
"Go on," The elf says, "I think you've gotten up to enough trouble for today."
Plan is to head back now?
"No such thing!"
Barring any random encounters or finding a wild Hanna, yeah.
> roll 1d100
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 73 > [d100=73]
Okay, return'll go without incident. Next move?
Let's check out that book!
What languages can you two read?
Tryll can read Common, Auran, Celestial, Infernal, Demonic, Draconic, Ignan, & Terran. As he is telepathic, he can converse freely with any creature that has a language.
Calleigh has Tongues, and presumably can read any language Tryll can. If not, Celestial & Common.
The book is well written and complex. The material requires a lot of understanding and...
Make the following checks.
2 K:A checks.
1 K:P checks.
1 Spellcraft check.
Taking 10 for all, Library bonus applied to Knowledge skills.
K: Psionics: 65
K: Psionics: 65
K: Planes: 53
Psicraft: 52
- The ritual is complex. It will require a great deal of work to set up. It requires the following: 50,000 gold in reagents, a bit of blood from the creature (or similar bodily fluid if the creature does not have blood) and one week of preparations and purifications.
- The ritual itself will require several K:A, K:P and Spellcraft checks. Failure results in the ritual failing and the reagents being wasted. The person conducting the ritual does not need to be the person seeking to become a paragon.
- The goal of the ritual is to define yourself as a paragon. As such, you must have what you represent as a paragon prepared and distilled to its utmost.
- The ritual is not guaranteed to work. Even if you succeed on everything, the question may not be sufficiently meaningful to your race. Alternately, there may be another paragon who already covers this. If so, you will learn the name of the paragon and the plane he is on. Finally, sometimes the ritual simply fails for reasons the author isn't certain of. It's hard to tell if a proposed question was not meaningful enough or if an unseen factor did it, after all.
- If they are available, taking levels in a racial paragon class (such as human paragon) helps somewhat, but it doe snot guarantee success.
"Awwwww, maaaaan! Why's it gotta always be complicated? Why can't it just be: Push button, receive awesome?" Calleigh whines.
"Unfortunately," Sage Vul'lath comments, having been pressed into helping in the library, "Worthwhile things are rarely easy to obtain, or everyone would be powerful mages. The money will not be a concern, I would donate to see the ritual attempted, so long as we can study and analyze it."
"How the heck are we gonna get Tryll's blood? He doesn't have any blood! Or a body!" Calleigh grouses.
"That..." Vul'lath says, "Does he shed ectoplasm? That might work as a substitute." He frowns, "Do you, Tryll?"
'I don't, normally. I've never tried.'
"Try," Sage Vul'lath says rather shortly, "We have nothing to lose and much to gain if you can."
'That's like asking you to shed ectoplasm. I've never just shed skin before.' There is a grunting-squelching noise, and Tryll's squiddish form turns inside-out. 'This didn't work.'
"Then the answer is child's play: design a spell that will allow you to shed ectoplasm or blood," Sage Vul'lath says dryly.
'Maybe I'll excise a tendril or something...'
"Do you have any sort of bodily fluids?" Vul'lath asks, sighing, "Blood, sweat, saliva, urine? Something else we have no name for? What about procreation, there's usually fluids involved in that."
'Vul'lath, I'm essentially a ghost. Stuff doesn't flow like it once did.' Tryll replies, 'I might look healthy, but I've been a disembodied soul for a very long time.'
"Well, can you get a body again?" Vul'lath crosses his arms, giving you a steady look. "That friend of yours has an entire scheme about cloning your race, does he not?"
'I rather like the way I am. And anyway, a god did it. I'm rather leery of anything that could make whatever vestige of the Triune that still remains out there upset with me. Not that Triune. The other one. They did us a favor by making us what we are. Were. Either way, I'm not inclined to imply to any god that I could improve on their work. That's for others, like Gytha.'
Sage Vul'lath slowly exhales, two fingers going to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Merely providing your blood is supposed to be an easy component of ritual spellwork. Can you produce and store any sort of essence or energy? Something that is undeniably you?"
'I probably could, it may just require a bit of cleverness in all honesty. Scrapings of spectral ichor or something. I can manage. Shouldn't take me more than a day or so.'
"Then will you be partaking of the ritual instead of your courre?" Vul'lath says, lowering his hand and giving you an even look. "From the noise that djinn made when he passed by, I got the impression she was to be a sparkling paragon princess."
'My original intent had been to seek the ritual for my own sake, but Calleigh's become so enamored with the idea of it that she wants to try it too. I believe that her attempt may fail simply as there are other courre paragons in the planes, whereas there are very few of us. I see no reason why the both of us could not attempt it, though.'
"I have my doubts as well," Vul'lath says. "The fact that this ritual exists and paragons are vanishingly rare suggests it is far from certain success." A glance at Calleigh, "I should council you that your race may be insufficient in its current form, I know not. Assuming the ritual works as written, the book does not elaborate the underlying forces and names called on. However, the draconic name for Lathander is mentioned once, which suggests that a new birth or new beginning may be implied by a successful ritual."
'Truly? I'd not noticed that. That's...less than ideal. Does it say anything else?'
"I do not recognize most of the names called on, so they are likely ancient and disused names or names in languages I am not familiar with," Vul'lath says, "It suggests the ritual is old, millions of years old." The old sage gives you a long look, "I can only infer from the names I do know, as it speaks not on the underlying forces or what the names it calls on are. It is also possible it is translated or transcribed and has somewhat degenerated through lingual drift. This is something that can be corrected, though fortunately, immortal languages seldom change, but may instead have words powerful and eldritch, seldom known save to those with great power in what those languages represent. I believe you are familiar with the Words of Creation?"
'Vaguely.'
"Sit," Vul'lath gestures, "Or float. Regardless." He stands before you, hands hidden in the sleeves of his robe. "Be quiet and listen."
"The Words of Creation represent the language that created everything in Creation, or so many celestial scholars claim. I cannot ascertain that, but I can ascertain that the language is incredibly perilous and virtually impossible to speak unless you are devoted to Good. Even then, most mortals and many spirits can only manage a smattering of words in it. I believe Ebony and Moore use them in their bardic music. You must understand these words describe aspects of Good, such as love and forgiveness. It does so in the most primal sense, putting the concepts themselves into a mere shell of sound and language."
Vul'lath is silent a few moments after, "When you speak the Words of Creation, you are hardly speaking normal words. You are speaking of an aspect of good merely wrapped in sound. The Dark Speech of the fiends is similar, representing primal concepts of evil. There are said to be others that can command the elements and more yet, though it is not a point of great study for me. Nor for you, I presume."
"Now," Vul'lath begins to slowly pace, "These words are incapable of changing. One can change language, fiddle and manipulate it endlessly like a bard's lute, but the underlying things cannot be. The truths and realities that these languages call on are far beyond being changed in such a way. Therefore, if one comes across them, one is assured that they are what they are, no matter the age of the material you work with. Interestingly, they have no power in the written form, though the form which they are represented in as writing is static."
In the short time that Vul'lath takes to explain, Calleigh has: Examined a book on mushrooms, gnawed a small bit on one of the corners, and then fallen asleep in the crease of the opened book.
Meanwhile, Tryll is attentive. 'I see. Yes, that makes sense.'
"Yes, in other words, these written words are the same in any language and cannot be changed. The transliterations of them are consistent, even when logic suggests otherwise. They are a useful reference when come on, sort of a marker-stone that is always true. Immortal languages, such as Infernal or Auran, are also highly resistant to change, but not as immutable as those languages of primal power. Lingual drift can be measured in lifetimes in a typical human society, while the same is in eons in an immortal society. It becomes more interesting in certain cultures, as outsider pressures further conform the language."
A moment to pause and stop pacing, turning to you, "For example, Infernal is one of the slowest changing languages. The devils are murderously precise about its usage, failing to use it properly is grounds for a devil to be punished. The slightest mispronunciation is an insult. Thus Infernal changes vastly slower than even other immortal languages, with the rare exception of certain names when there is a regime change in Hell. Of course, any right thinking devil will quickly always parrot that it was always this way."
"Ahem," Vul'lath pauses, "In contrast, a language like Slaadi changes faster relatively, but far slower than you would expect. While each speaker has a good deal of lingual drift, shared lingual drift is far rarer, as the slaad seldom agree on the same changes enough to make it a universal change. Therefore, while not as useful as words of power, the immortal languages are still useful in these matters, and even lingual drift can be invaluable for determining an approximate age of the writing."
Muffled snoring is staunchly ignored. 'I see. That would explain why our travels in Limbo were so smooth.'
"Oh?" Sage Vul'lath asks, "Elaborate." His voice is cool, curious. "How would that impact travel?"
'We traveled Limbo extensively for a number of years. When we initially set out, I'd wondered how slaadi communicated. Imagine my surprise when they all spoke roughly the same language. But please, continue.'
"Yes, not even slaad are immune from the unity of a racial language - such as it is." Sage Vul'lath grimaces, "A miserable mongrel of a language, but a language nonetheless."
'We are digressing.'
"Yes. To the point, we need you to produce some sort of bodily fluid," Vul'lath says, giving you a look.
'While I'm certain that such a thing can be done, I'm more concerned with possible changes wrought by the ritual.'
"Mmm," Sage Vul'lath says, "I suggest divinations then, the strongest ones you can manage."
'Perhaps we should see Balyss then. I believe she is good at them. I can perform them, though I am by no means specialized.'
"I am as well," Sage Vul'lath says, "I am a diviner, if you did not know." He smiles slightly, "The future is open to me, when needs must, and the past is but a book waiting to be read."
'Oh! I had no idea. You're just so...private! Yes. Would you mind aiding us, then?'
Sage Vul'lath merely smiles slightly.
What sort of spells are you aiming for here?
Some sort of powerful divination spell. We got anything better than Divination?
Commune and Contact Other Plane come to mind. There may be a few more potent ones as well, feel free to check a few splatbooks for high level divinations.
We'll cast: Commune, Contact Other Plane, Commune With Greater Spirit, Divination, Legend Lore, Path of the Exalted, and Spiritual Advisor. Barring that, we're gonna go find Lathander again.
We'll start with Commune. Who is casting it?
Vul'lath!
Okay, formulate the questions you want him to ask. You get as many as his caster level, which is 25th for divinations.
Also note the XP cost, which is converted to a GP cost.
1. In utilizing the ritual, would Tryll be forced into another body?
2. If so, would he lose access to the benefits that his current body provides?
I'd like to add additional questions as the responses arrive, if possible.
Unfortunately, the spell text prohibits that. So gimme a list of questions instead, it's built so you can't really sit back and discuss the answers.
We'll stick with those two, then., I can't think of any others right now. Can always recast.
Post the expense in loot for subbing the XP component. That's 1000 gold if you haven't already. If you have, ignore this.
Also Vul'lath mimics Commune with wish. Being an archmage is nice.
Vul'lath kneels and bows his head, silent magic flowing from him. The air hums with spellwork, as hundreds of voices are heard at once, then they solidify as one. For one terrifying moment you are in the presence of Other, of something beyond you. Something beyond you as you are beyond mortals.
"It is done," Vul'lath announces. "The answers are no and irrelevant. The second because the first negated it, I believe."
'Well that's a relief.' Tryll replies, 'The irrigo had a natural inclination toward psionics and pursuits of the mind, and I would hate to lose that.'
"Quite," Vul'lath murmurs, "Which spell is next?"
'It occurs to me that the question posed was very narrow. Instead, what if I am given a choice? Convert to something else and become that paragon, or perhaps worse, regain my original body, or else the ritual simply fails?' Tryll muses, 'Let's see if we can't get an answer there with a spell of Contact Other Plane? Can you cast that?'
"I can, but what plane and manner of entity do you wish to contact, if you choose an outer plane?" Sage Vul'lath says, "The risk grows as you accost more powerful deities, and I have no desire to be reduced to a simpleton for weeks on end."
'Drat, you being reduced to a drooling idiot doesn't help anyone. I hadn't thought of that. I'm not used to this, contacting other gods and potentially being punished for it. What would you suggest?'
"Content yourself with contacting a lesser deity and understand there is a risk of the information being unknown or mistruth being told, depending," Sage Vul'lath says. "Treat it as useful information to be collated and confirmed, rather than unquestioned gospel."
'My first inclination would be to reach out to Morwel or Lathander. I'm not too familiar with any of the lesser gods.'
"Yes, because lightly bothering greater powers ends well for the impudent," Sage Vul'lath gives you a long, steady look. "I have had fortune in contacting the Red Knight for matters of tactics and planning before, so long as I am properly respectful. Auril is willing to answer questions about winter so long as you make an offering to the coldest season before the spell is cast. Lliira is aidful and kind, but I have been overwhelmed by her before solely by her sheer joyous happiness."
The githyanki clears his throat and coughs into his hand, "A factor that is not widely known but true is that whom you contact and any relations you have with them do matter. Were the caster a devout worshiper in favored standing with the deity contacted, the spell may act more like Commune and with no chance of insanity. Were we stupid enough to contact a Lord of the Nine, our minds would be devoured like ants."
'Well, that's less than pleasant. I suggested Morwel because she likes us, and Lathander because he's the one that set us on this path. Do you have a god or being you would prefer to reach out to? A sort of go-to god?'
Sage Vul'lath's expression becomes cooler, "The githyanki are ill advised to worship, as it draws the ire of Queen Vlaakith. Few survive this ire, and those few wish they did not." He pauses to cough into his hand, "Nonetheless, I have enjoyed some success petitioning the Red Knight and Auril, as I mentioned, Lliira as well. In this matter I feel we must reach out to whom the spell would direct it to, for I am not wholly clear on who would have dominion over paragons, if any deity does."
'I get the inclination that there isn't any one god that governs paragons, but allowing the spell to find its own way may be best.'
"Very well, we're agreed. Do you have your questions ready?" Vul'lath asks.
'I do have a few: In the process of completing the ritual, would such a completion convert me into another being if I agree? Would it instead place me back into a living irrigo body? Would a detached bit of ectoplasm suffice in place of blood? Also, are there any hidden costs in the ritual that we have not yet discerned?'
Cool. OOC one sec, any other questions or are we good here. Next post will be resolving it if so.
Yeah I think I'm set on the questions. Alswers w2ill tell us where to go next.
> roll 1d20+10 Int check
<Serith> Kotono roll for Serith < 30 > [d20=20]
Aced it. I won't show the rolls for truth for spoiler reasons.
Sage Vul'lath rises. "Your answer are, in order: No, no, yes, unknown."
'Acceptable. Those are all the questions I have for now, I believe. I must consult a trusted linguist. If we have one.'
"Tepen is excellent, though I am capable as well," Sage Vul'lath says, going to sit after the spell.
'Yes, but you've already been over the text. I want to make sure nothing's snuck by us, you see. I don't doubt your capabilities, but over caution is easier than disaster.'
Okay, next move then?
Tepen!
A quick refresh on the linguistic specialties you desire here would help, my brain's still a bit fuzzy from that whole ordeal over the weekend and early week. Basically lay out exactly what you want out of this.
I'm trying to ensure we haven't missed anything on the translation of the text for the ritual.
> roll 1d20+55 Tepen Decipher Script (assuming a wished in +15 booster, a reasonable spell that I just don't feel like looking up or making on the fly, since it is in his wheelhouse)
<Serith> Space_Cat roll for Serith < 61 > [d20=6]
Tepen studies it a time. When he is finally finishes he sits back, "I have good news for you. Any details missed are minor. The translation is good enough. Magically, this appears sound and is the real thing, as far as it goes into the root causes and magic. Unfortunately, it is not much."
'Go on.'
"There's little to say that Vul'lath didn't," Tepen remarks, "Based on what your divinations have revealed, it suggests the ritual is stable and not seriously trapped."
'Thank you, Tepen. I don't suppose you have a spell that can extract ectoplasm from an incorporeal form?'
"No, but a wish should suffice," Tepen says, "I'm certain that ghost touch magic would do so, if it's merely only incorporeal." He sits back with a smile, hands on the arms of his chair. "This is lazy mage-craft, such I would scold my students for, but I can hardly see the point of making such a specialized spell for one use. Not when so many other projects loom."
'Perhaps, but such high-level mage-craft is ultimately what inspires more specialized abilities. Something that could be used to extract ectoplasm could be adapted to disrupt incorporeal undead. Say, a spell that causes a shadow's dual nature to split. Negative energy splitting from shadow-stuff.' Tryll points out.
"Possible but difficult, perhaps," Tepen murmurs, "Regardless, when do you need to do this?"
'The shadow thing? Hopefully never. Have you ever seen a shadow? No thanks.'
"The ectoplasm," Tepen replies, slowly. "What you asked for."
'Oh! Yes. Of course. Around the time of the ritual, I would assume. Ectoplasm doesn't last long, you see. Dissipates.'
"Let me know when," Tepen says, "I am willing to cast that."
Next move then?
Now for the actually hard part, we need stuff that represents the very essences of Tryll & Calleigh.
Things we need:
1 part bottled pure water
2 parts bottled raw chaos
2 parts bottled good stuff from Arborea
1 parts bottled squid
1 parts bottled book of jokes
Okay, and how do you plan to get them?
the water is easy. We go to Walmart
Well yes, but serious mode, what are you doing and how do you plan to achieve it?
For example pure water's easy to get in Aurora itself, it's used in potions and other things.
oh wow autocorrect
It was supposed to be Water
Purest water from Water
Chaos from Limbo
Maybe a few leaves or heartwood pieces from an old tree in Arborea
Find and slay some sort of Kraken in Balmuria
Contract our book finder to find a quality joke book
I get the feeling that the quality of reagents here is really going to matter. I want to do it correctly. Besides, if nothing else it will make for a few interesting interactions.
Okay, make 5 K:A checks and 5 K:P checks.
Library Bonus!
Knowledge: Psionics[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+55 : 15 + 55, total 70[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+55 : 10 + 55, total 65[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+55 : 2 + 55, total 57[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+55 : 2 + 55, total 57[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+55 : 17 + 55, total 72[/blockquote]
Knowledge: The Planes[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+43 : 17 + 43, total 60[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+43 : 5 + 43, total 48[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+43 : 15 + 43, total 58[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+43 : 17 + 43, total 60[/blockquote][blockquote]Rolled 1d20+43 : 9 + 43, total 52[/blockquote]
There's lots of sources of pure water in Water. It really depends on the risks you're willing to take to get pure water and the magical power it has. That begs the question: How much are you?
Whichever source is reliably valuable and pure, as well as infused with the essence of water. That's what I'm really after here. Essence of Water.
There's many options here, but the safest you can find is this:
The Maharaja's Spring. Despite the name it's a fountain within the palace of the Padisha of the Marid. The water there is exceedingly pure and charged with the magic that comes from the Coral Throne. The Padisha is generally willing to barter for it or trade favors, or redeem a favor for it. It's high quality for all sorts of magical uses and valued for making powerful magical items.
We're on good terms with them via Afina, yes? Let's go check that out.
If we're going to court, Calleigh will need new clothes! Is Bubbles available?
Sure, I'll intro you.
Bubbles is found in her room, whistling away as she works. As you enter, "Oh, Afina d-oh." She pauses, "My mistake, I assumed when I saw your wings, Calleigh." Bubbles puts on a big smile and says, "What can I do for you?"
A half finished dress is before her, being sewn together as she talks, hands working deftly, not even needing to look at her work.
"We're going to Mahagubra-no wait. I have that sideways and upside-down. We're going to go visit the Padisha of the Marid to ask for a favor, and I need a new outfit!" Calleigh says.
"I see," Bubbles laughs ever so softly, "Have you been invited or are you hoping to win an audience with her?"
Bubbles puts aside her half finished dress and beckons you closer. "It depends on which you are doing and what manner of favor you wish to curry with her."
"We're just gonna show up. No invite needed! Cuz we're awesome. We need some water from the Maharaja's Spring." Calleigh says, "I figured I could use the chance go get a new dress!"
"Hm. What colors do you want then?" Bubbles asks, then leans in and faux-whispers, "Does Tryll want a cute dress, too?"
Casting Percussion, manifesting Control Sound
Tryll manifests as a tall, buxom man with a lantern jaw. A luxurious bears mixes well with fine ocher locks of hair, but contrasts sharply with feminine hourglass figure and ample breasts framed by hairy and muscular arms. Its mouth opens far too wide and a voice like thunder and ice cracking says daintily,
"I TOO WISH TO BE A PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS."
Make an Intimidate check, +10 circumstance bonus.
[blockquote]Rolled 1d20+20 : 1 + 20, total 21[/blockquote]
> roll 1d20 jus ta 1 check since she can't really lose this otherwise
<Rei-chan> Space_Cat rolled : 1d20 jus ta 1 check since she can't really lose this otherwise --> [ 1d20=7 ]{7}
Your appearance gets a look as Bubbles says, "Well, there was that one really confused shark-blooded elf," she finally says, "I could work something out, sugar."
Tryll's form fades from view as Calleigh cackles. 'No, thank you. My form is malleable, and my base form is not conducive to clothing. Also, the cost would be prohibitive.'
'Oh, don't be like that," Bubbles says with a gentle, encouraging smile. "If you want to be pretty, we'll find a way to make you pretty, dearie. You and Calleigh can be pretty together."
"Oh!" Calleigh interjects, "I'm actually a princess now!"
Tryll is probably glad for that conversational interrupt.
Bubbles smiles, "Then you'll have to get much fancier and more expensive dresses, but I can help you with that. What's your budget, honey?"
Tryll lacks the gender stigma that most humanoids have. If Bubbles wants to drape a pretty dress on Tryll's giant squiddy shape and make him pretty, he'd let her.
Calleigh is all cheerful smiles, "I have no idea! What's a good budget for this?"
"At a minimum? 500 gold a dress, and dearie, I'd suggest more. Let alone the jewelry and finery that goes with it," Bubbles says, smiling. "I'm always open for business."
"Ten THOUSAND GOLD PIECES!" Calleigh shouts. "Let's make it AWESOME!"
"Oh my," Bubbles titters, "For that I can use some of the finest materials, especially at your size. With your ethereal ball form, you'd do lovely with ethereal silks and satins. Things so soft and beautiful that they're downright ghostly. Combine that with...hm, do you prefer silver or gold?"
"Silver!"
Elena pops in, "Hey, combat situation. Get out to the court yard and be ready, both of you. No time to argue." She then vanishes, Bubbles sighing.
"Well then, another time." She gets up and walks ahead briskly, "War waits for nothing, not even fashion."
Calleigh makes a face, turning incorporeal with a soft pop and bypassing the walls
Tryll remarks to Bubbles as he follows behind Calleigh, 'The forces of...whoever's attacking us wait for nobody. That was much more impactful when it was just in my own head. Oh well. Let's go blow stuff up.'
How fast are you two going? It'll matter for when you get out there, since when precisely you do impacts things.
60ft/round bee line toward the courtyard, taking portals where expedient.
The three of you emerge into tension. The entire courtyard is at the ready ,soldiers near the gate out, several formations of them. Elena pops back in, "That way," she points, as you see the entire Astral outside shudder and shake.
Tryll and Calleigh head toward the gates, over the soldiers' heads.
As you do, you see Gisfal and Moore in a stare down. Then -
"Move! Everyone inside," Gisfal bellows, "We're retreating to Elysium! Elena, tell Tepen or someone who can cast Sending as fast as possible to tell Jaela or Afina to meet us in Elysium! NOW!"
As Gisfal says this, the Astral begins rocking harder, people moving as fast as they can. "FASTER!" Gisfal calls, "Or you may not live to regret it."
Chance to react and do things.
"Whozawhat?" Calleigh questions.
Meanwhile, Tryll takes the opportunity to Greater Teleport all the things.
Okay, cool. Where are you teleporting them to? Aurora's a no teleport zone, remember. Hence why you don't get teleporting devils dropping in past your defenses.
Anyone outside to the entrance.
Okay, how many can you get per casting?
8
Tryll reaches out and moves the farthest away along, granting you precious seconds. Seconds you need as Aurora begins to move. The portal opens before you as you go in, a horrid shaking and a moment of unreasoning fear -
-
!!!
Elysium. Aurora stands on the sacred grounds of this holy land, no sign of the devils.
Well chosen. Aurora was 1 round behind and you made it up with your teleports.
Hurray for psionics! The spammable magic!
'Elysium. Not as nice as Arborea, or as interesting as Limbo, but third best is still quite far from the worst.' Tryll muses to those nearby.
Meanwhile, Calleigh is badgering a random refugee. "What the who thy why the where the when the did I cover everything? Yeah. What the heck?!"
The refugees have been by and large moved back and out of the way of active combat, so Calleigh has little luck there.
Canderella glances in your direction, 'Better than Hell.'
'That would be the worst, yes.' A dry response from the ethereal squid.
Meanwhile, Calleigh begins harassing Gisfal. "What just happened!?"
Let me pause you for now, since it late and Moore's reply here comes before yours and may affect this.
Gisfal is turning already, going to bark out commands, "Secure the perimeter. 8th unit, do a sweep with the air elementals to make sure the outer sphere and defenses are intact."
The eladrin general pauses when you fly up and ask him that, "New intelligence of a possibly unwinnable situation," Gisfal says shortly. "Tend to your master for now, familiar."
"That's rude!"
Gisfal's lips twist but he lingers a moment. He starts to say something, pauses and takes a breath. "Calleigh. Wasting time answering your questions may not matter on Elysium, but in another time it might. Lives could ride on it. Lifasa could ride on it. Better hurt feelings than dead bodies. Dismissed." He then turns and goes off, calling out another order.
Calleigh makes faces at Gisfal's back as he walks away.
What are you two going to do as this all goes down? Anything or just going to see what develops?
Observe for now. I see nothing to do at present.
Tryll and Calleigh wait. The two of you see Moore going about, talking to Adrian and Gisfal, then Elena appearing and vanishing as people hurry to him. First Dana and then nearby you hear Elena pop in, "Canderella, go with Moore. You're heading to Lifasa in support," she says, and then vanishes.
Canderella chuckles, "Well, well," she murmurs to herself, starting to go. "Wish me luck, everyone."
"Good luck, Candy! Don't get caught by devils! I like you!" Calleigh waves.
As Canderella goes off, Elena pops back in. She's harried, quickly casting you, "Can either of you divine at all? We need all diviners."
"Yep! Where do you need us?"
"Get somewhere you can cast as quickly as possible and ask divinations about Afina and Jaela's immediate safety," Elena says, "We have word Bel was about to attack Aurora on the Astral, and we're worried he might redirect to Lifasa instead."
"Oh. It was Bel?" Calleigh wonders, "That's...awful. Okay. Huh. Whatever. LEt's find a casting spot.
Any spots on the Aurora that have accelerated casting?
Nothing like that, unfortunately. The go to for casting a spell like this is reality revision or wish and eating the penalty for an hour. Usually best when it's a non combat problem that requires haste or an emergency.
Incidentally, a faster version of things like that could be developed, Aurora certainly has need for them.
Sounds like a new project! Or: A room that mimics the effects of the Astral.
Tryll elects to head back to their room, and manifests Reality Revision for a Commune spell (I guess, since that's the best divination spell we got?)
You just browsed divinations, you tell me? It's the gold standard for a reason, epic divinations tend to be centered around a problem or niche, since it's really hard to outdo that one.
Sort of looking for a spell where I can ask both "Are they safe?" and "Where are they?" And get an answer to both.
Commune does that, yes.
Let's go with that, then.
1. Are they safe?
2. Where are they?
3. Can they be reached by a small team?
4. Is it dangerous there?
5. Are they being pursued by devils?
You get your answers.
1. No.
2. Lifasa, unclear.
3. Unclear.
4. Yes.
5. Yes.
"Well that's not good. Let's go find the others and report!" Calleigh says, and they head out.
You report back to Adrian quickly. He nods, "That's what's going around. Something's blocking divinations around what's happening there, it's too concerted and widespread to be anything else."
'Then we'll need to go there directly, I assume.' Tryll replies.
"We already have a team there," Adrian says tersely, "Plus a rescue team. Unless we have a real chance to destroy Bel with 21, we won't be risking more forces." His expression is grim, face pinched like he just bit into a lemon. "We're on full alert for now, but...losing Afina, Jaela and Baleruk would be crushing, but Aurora would survive, the Crusade would survive. Losing even more and it might not."
"So you're just gonna abandon them!?" Calleigh shouts.
"That's why we sent a rescue party, but we can't all risk being wiped out against Bel. If the worst happens, we'll save them, like we saved Lief and Muirfinn," Adrian says evenly, "I promise."
"Well, I don't like it!" Calleigh retorts.
"Neither do-" Adrian stops as a cheer go up. From a portal outside of Aurora, you see Afina, Surraruthru and a strange human emerge.
Adrian exhales, "That's a few of them," he says, starting to stride forward. "If you're worried about them, come with me. Afina could use a huge from someone her size."
"Yay!" Calleigh is already well ahead of Adrian.
Over to Afina's thread, Tryll.