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Kiira’Tiru II; The tower's tricks
Topic Started: Jan 2 2007, 10:12 PM (3,164 Views)
eocine
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Post here when ready... ;)
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Darkwind
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That did it for the monster, though for a crazy moment Greg envisioned it leaving with a "my Master will avenge me..." of its own. Imagining a creature that could be its master proved beyond him, though. As he watched it assume gaseous form, though, he felt compelled to do something to prevent it from fleeing--who knew where its coffin would be, or whether it would even have one, and in a few hours it would be good as newly dead. Having a vampiric wyrm for an enemy was the stuff of nightmares.

"You're not going anywhere!" He fished out the piece of glass and focused his will upon it and the energies of the Weave he channeled through it at the cloud that was a dragon. Maybe he could force it into statue form, then they could statter it and expose it to sunlight. Or maybe it would expire on its own since it would be prevented from reaching its sanctuary for many hours. This was truly a shot in the dark, he had no idea how the spell would affect it, or if it even would.

He lowered his bow and sheathed the sword it then became, then sprinted toward the others. "Who's the worst hurt? We should see to those wounds--I still have a few potions on me. Anyone else have any healing magic? We don't know what's out there. That damned fey'ri mage could be outside the door, just waiting for us to step out. Hope not, though."
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Castamir
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Skafloc swung his axe a few more times, in his derangement he looked around feverishly for another enemy, there was none, and he felt the heat of his anger fade, a great fatigue washing over him as his lungs screamed for air and stitch kicked in as his muscles were punished for their superhuman exertion and his wounds started to hurt.

He knew the rage would return if called, and he knew it would never truly leave him. Like a blessing and a curse, it called forwards all the emotion the northman kept locked up, and fed on them, allowing him to externalise them, but refreshing them too, like a vicious cycle that was perhaps slightly more vicious than the norm..

He cast his eyes around at the carnage as the dragon's corpse dematerialised in front of him. He knew it wasn't truly banished, and he spat at it in disgust, emptying his mouth of the bile and gore that it had been filled with in the struggle before wiping it with his forearm, an act that simply made him look more feral as he merely smeared more of at least two kinds of blood over his face. He turned at the elf's question and then a terrible thought struck him.

"Llana." he answered flatly and breathlessly as Avelaer approached, unsure as to his next move. He was rather monofunctional as a group member, his useful skills limited to what he did best.

He looked away from the elf and over at Karosin, and then turned his head away to search out the others, seeking out the Fey'ri, the Drow, the Tiefling, the werewolf and the pale sorcerer, counting heads to take away his attention.

He had no interest in knowing if the assassin was truly capable of human emotion or not, for if he was, it was a little too close to the barbarian's personal experience for comfort.
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Mistress Elysia
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Fade lay back for a moment clutching her side, gritting her teeth at the damage the dragon had managed to inflict upon her. She did allow herself a small, slightly cruel smile at the sight of the dead beast, though; a smile that she dropped very quickly as the draco-pire's corpse began to fall in on itself and dissipate. She supposed she should have known something like that was going to happen. Hopefully, a dragon corpse that big shouldn't be too hard to find... hopefully. And then there was the matter of finding a 20ft long stake...

Upon hearing the others she staggered upright and made slow progress over to them, all the while acutely aware that Llana's voice was not amongst them.

"This damned fey'ri could use a potion..." she quipped to Avelaer. For a moment she dared to look over at Karosin, but decided it was best to stay out of his way - people reacted differently in these situations, and as antagonistic as she had been to the assassin in the past, she had no desire to make this awful situation even worse for him, or for any of the others.

"Maybe we should split up" she said quietly "some of us try to find the amulet and maybe finish off the vampires if possible, whilst the others go and... well, you know... " she trailed off, not wanting to finish that particular sentence.
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eocine
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Cold eyes surveyed the fall of the dragon, and watched carefully as the body of the beast began to virtually dissolve before his eyes. In seconds it appeared that the monster had gone, though Greg made a valiant attempt to pin it in place with a spell, but even in its gaseous form it still seemed to have sufficient strength to resist the power of the arcane energies, and continue its drifting path back towards the far side of the swampy dominion that they found themselves in.

This though was hardly a real concern to the assassin, and he simply turned away as the others discussed whatever they chose to discuss.

Taking a breath he tried to steel himself for what he was about to see, but found that it was a true challenge of his mental resources to do so. He’d seen death, and handed out more than his fair share, but this of course was a vastly different case to all the others, because for perhaps the first time this time it was someone he loved.

Finally he stepped silently to the side of Llana, who in death resembled nothing less than a broken bird. Forcing himself to pull away even more from his emotions, that just for a second threatened to boil up form him, he allowed his gaze to settle on the arm that had been torn away by the vampire.

Gently he removed the ring that he had given her long ago, and closed her perfectly manicured fingers into a fist.

That done he moved his gaze to the rest of her forcing himself to see his wife through the horror that the dragon had wrought upon her. As if in a trance he pushed a lock of vibrantly red hair away from her eyes, and then gently slid her eyes closed so that he would no longer have to avert his eyes from her lifeless stare.

Momentarily, and surprisingly for any who happened to be watching the spectacle, a glimmer of a smile crossed his lips for the merest of seconds as he considered that this wasn’t the first time that he had seen Llana stretched out and lifeless.

In keeping with the rather curious nature of the romance that had developed between the Sunite cleric and the one time Zhent assassin one of the most pivotal moments in their relationship had been an occasion that Karosin had been there when she had awoken after a prior resurrection. An exchange of insults had followed, but strangely from there something had connected between the pair, and they had gone on together from virtually that point onwards.

Back then though there had been a few pivotal differences… The first being the situation of her death, back then she hadn’t been virtually torn limb from limb, the second being that there hadn’t been love then, only a strange relationship that had eventually become it.

Now though there was, and what the assassin was learning was that love hurts.

He reached down and tenderly slid the ring onto her other hand, then straightened and turned his head towards the still giant sized Drow priestess, who had watched the display with something that could be considered dismissive bemusement.

“I take it that you can bring back the dead?”

The assassin’s voice was flat and measured, but a practiced listener would perhaps have been able to detect a certain timbre in his tone that hinted that he was close to the edge.
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eocine
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At the male’s question Anaara openly sneered, her lips curling back with mockery at the fact that he presumed to question her at all. For where she had come from there was no way that a mere male would dare make such a request. Of course she was dimly aware that things worked slightly differently on the surface, but the only time she’d ever met a surfacer before had been at the time of her coming of age, where she and her house had made a raid on an Elven settlement, and slaughtered all that they had found.

Perhaps it could be considered fortunate for her though that she rapidly managed to rein in on those traditional Drow responses, and remembered that perhaps her only chance of making sure that she survived this was in being useful to the group. That and of course making smart bargains for herself.

“I can bring her back it’s true, but in return I…”
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eocine
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“In return you live…”

Interjected the assassin across her words…

“And if you don’t, I promise that I will kill you with as little regret as I would show putting down a rabid dog.”

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Darkwind
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He handed Fade one of his potions, wondering if she took offense at his choice of words. Perhaps he should just have said "damned mage", rather than involve his heritage as well. Still she did not seem all that offended, so perhaps she was just making a jest. Then, he overheard the conversation between Karo and the drow, listening increduously until he made his threat.

"Karosin! You can't expect to compel her cooperation. What's more, I'm not about to let you kill her in cold blood." He took a step toward the two of them, hand drifting toward his blade. "You're not thinking clearly. Right now, we have two options: raise Llana now if our new companion--I never did catch your name, by the way, sorry about that--agrees to help us, or raise her later, when we get hold of a cleric. Or druid. But if you kill her, our options are down to the harder one. And I'm sure you're not one to limit your options."

"Now, what were you going to ask for?" And hopefully, her requests would be reasonable.
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Mwa13
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Jonas stood in his place, watching the dragon finally fall and start to melt. It was a disgusting sight, but not as disgusting as to see a Lemure melt. Now there was a horrifying sight.

Jonas looked at the others, not really paying any attention to their talk. He did know it was about Llana, but it wasn't his thing to bring people back to life, so he left it to the professionals. He was sure they'd be able to bring Llana back. He started sorting his items, first counting all the bolts he had, then checking all his wounds and everything else. He did walk closer to the others while checking himself.
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eocine
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If the assassin was in any way surprised or concerned by the words from the Blade-singer his face betrayed no such message, and he kept his gaze affixed onto the ebon skinned cleric whilst he spoke. “At times such as this the only blood I have is cold”, he responded in a dull and flat tone. “The option I give her is a simple one, either do this one thing for us, and I will consider myself personally indebted to her if she chooses to do so.”

“Or”, he continued, “she can choose to not do so, which instantly negates that option, and renders us in need of your second option, that of tracking down another Cleric, and one that is prepared to bring her back.”

“In forcing us into that path though she keeps my wife locked in the afterlife for far longer than is necessary or even prudent.” As he spoke he continued to stare at the Drow, and started to click the joints in his hands idly, as if loosening them.

“That course of action would make her my enemy, and I would not be able to suffer her to live knowing that she could help, but decided not to do so.” Finally now his stare moved away from the priestess and across towards Avelaer, “still I’m curious as to why the prospect of a Drow being killed is an issue for you, surely your people don’t need a reason to kill such an ancient enemy, and she’s done nothing to prove herself to be any different to the majority of her people.”

“This though would give her a chance to prove that she was worth the mercy that she has been shown…”
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Mistress Elysia
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Fade accepted the potion with a grateful smile, but almost choked upon it at the bladesinger's next comment.

"For the love of... this is his wife we're talking about here, Avelaer!" she hissed "Are you saying you wouldn't do the same if that was your heart and soul lying there? Rationale doesn't figure much when it comes to your loved ones." she then looked from Karosin to Anaara. "Anyway, I can't see why she'd have any qualms about doing this - we rescued her from certain death, and Llana was the one who healed her... why would she refuse?" Other than that bitch goddess of hers refusing to grant the spell, of course... "Anaara?" the fey'ri's tone rose, now directly addressing the drow "have you got the necessary spell prepared? Or do you need time and rest to get it ready?"
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Castamir
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Skafloc, who had been trying to keep out of it, turned his head towards the drow first, a frown adorning his face. Considering she owed them her life, a remarkably ignoble act.

He was firmly behind Karosin on this one. He didn't really like the assassin but at the same time he didn't dislike him - he recognised his worth in the party and that was enough. In this instance though, Skafloc admired his restraint. Had the drow been present when Skafloc had knelt beside the smoking remains of his loved ones, and then withheld her aid, his threat would not have been limited to words.. he probably would have been rendered incapable of speech.

He then looked at Avelaer. A noble defense of the drow indeed. Surprising considering his initial attitude towards her, but he was a man of principle. Skafloc could admire that too, except in this instance he thought it misplaced. When it came to getting the job done, sometimes diplomacy and reason had a place, but sometimes you could get somewhere much quicker with a threat.

He didn't enter into the discussion, Karosin's next statement was more diplomatic than Skafloc could have managed, and gave the drow a way out that would make her feel she'd achieved something rather than just backed down from a threat. Instead he fished out a healing potion of his own, pulled off the stopper with his teeth and spat it at the ground before drinking the bitter conents, feeling a creeping warmth flood over his injuries.
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Darkwind
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"Fade, I can't answer that because I've never been married. But as I stand now, I would rather wait to bring my beloved back from the embrace of the Seldarine than soil my hands with murder, and have her despise me after she returns. I didn't sacrifice one of my precious potions to a complete stanger giant in a bargain for her life just to see another murder her. And especially after she'd contributed to our victory here so much--more than I was able to. Or you, for that matter, Karosin." He cracked his fingers and laid a hand on Avelas' hilt as the assassin warmed up.
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Mistress Elysia
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Crossing her arms, Fade quirked an eyebrow at Avelaer.

"I'm not saying I want to see her dead - far from it" she countered, keeping her voice low, barely above a whisper "But at the same time, if that was me, having to watch someone I loved die..." For a moment she looked away from the bladesinger and into the distance before refocusing back "... then I think my reaction would be the same. In fact, I don't think I'd be this reasonable. If that was my loved one... in all honesty, she'd have a blade to her throat right now. Sod honour - I wouldn't even have asked." she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm hoping it won't come to that, but on this one... I guess I can see where Karosin is coming from. You can't expect him to think rationally about this now - I don't think anyone could." As she spoke, she watched the elf crack his knuckles and noticed how his hands travelled towards his sword hilts and rolled her eyes. "And you can pack that in. This isn't a matter of honour and never will be - it's a matter of a man dealing with the grief of just having to watch his wife being torn to bits." she offered the elf a wry half-smile that had little to do with amusement "Whether you like him or not is a different matter... but just don't expect him to act as a rational man right now. You go for him, challenge him - be it for 'honourable' reasons or not - and he won't back down; that I can guarantee."
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Castamir
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Skafloc threw the empty vial over his shoulder and turned away shaking his head. He was going to distance himself from it. He wanted to join in but by now his heart was pounding and he felt sure he would only inflame the situation, besides which he had no intention of exposing such a raw nerve to anyone else. He was sure the drow was loving this show of unity, just as he was sure she would raise Llana anway.

He trudged over to where Caine sat, a bloody mess despite his amazing healing capacity. Without that supernatural ability he would surely not have survived at all. The brawny barbarian shifted his axe to his left hand and with his right he offered the werewolf another of his precious supply potions.

"You fought like a demon my friend." he said with the reverance of one who appreciated bravery above anything else, "Do you want this, it might help speed your recovery?"
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eocine
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Caine had been far too busy with his own problems, including the fact that if he continued bleeding there would be more blood outside his body than inside it, to listen to the ongoing dispute between the others, and in fact even had he been healed he probably wouldn’t have listened. To him the thought of caring for another was entirely alien except where it pertained to keeping people alive to aid him in the future.

Still he could appreciate aid when it was given, and more than that he could accept when another had excelled himself on the field of battle, as Skafloc most certainly had done so in the recent battle.

That being the case he considered it to be no shame to accept the offer of the healing potion from the human, as he might have done so had it been offered by one that he had considered a weakling or a coward. That had been his way for as long as he could remember, you took from the weak, and accepted from the strong.

Rather than bother to open the bottle the werewolf simply tossed the vial into his mouth and bit down hard, spilling the bitter liquid down his throat, there was an audible crunch as Caine chewed the remnants of the bottle, before spitting out the remains of it.

“As did you”, he responded, and his voice seemed to get stronger and stronger with each word as the magical effects of the healing potion took effect. “You’re like me, you love the fury and the chaos…” Observed the werewolf, before coughing once and bringing up a series of glass slivers, “it is what I live for.”
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eocine
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All the while this discussion was going on the Drow cleric who was the cause of the strife smirked to herself at how malleable this group was. Clearly they had been thrown together into this, and were not friends by any means, and that lack of any particularly strong bindings was something that she suspected she would be able to take advantage of in the future. Ahh it was so nice to fall on one's feet from time to time, and who knew to what best situation she could turn this mess…

The Fey’ri’s words on Lolth possibly not granting her the means to raise the other cleric from the dead weren’t ones that she was going to be concerned about, for her Goddess cherished chaos and staying on the right side of this group for the time being represented a wonderful chance to sow dissention and strife amongst them…

She knew that Lolth would see the possibilities inherent, and had faith that the Spider-Queen knew that long term planning was often the most devastating way to spread pain and suffering.

“Stay thy hand Teu'Tel'Quessir”, she said to Avelaer as the elf dropped his hand to his blade. Better to work on separating them in less dangerous conditions, and after she had prayed for her spells she would be able to be more confident of her skills, and of course she would be able to arrange a magical way out should they all turn on her.

Until we have rested I shall play along, promised Anaara to herself.

It was at this point that she remembered Fade’s question, and decided that it would be prudent to answer it, despite the fact that she would soon enough be proving it. She turned her crimson eyes towards the Fey’ri woman and smiled as a practiced lothario might smile to a bashful teenage girl, “I do indeed have the spell memorised”, said Anaara in a modest tone, “and would have revived the A’Tel’Quessir already had not her mate interrupted…”

“As for what I was going to request”, she turned back towards Avelaer, “It was to be nothing more than escort back to one of the entrances to the Underdark. For I do not feel safe here amongst the judgemental and bigoted humans,” said Anaara smoothly…
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Mistress Elysia
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Anaara's smile didn't go unnoticed by the fey'ri, and she answered it with quirked eyebrow and a curious lop-sided half smile of her own.

"Excellent. Then there's nothing to argue about regarding that, is there?" she glanced to Avelaer and Karosin in turn. At the drow's desire to re-join her Underdark kin, though, Fade frowned a little, but caught herself before questioning her reasons for wanting to return - this female was not Keita, for all her superficial similarities. She supposed in a way she had again met someone like her - a rebel, fighting against her own kind - but snorted away that rather romantic presumption away with wry amusement at her own silliness. It ain't gong to happen, chick she told herself firmly Only once in a life time, and you've had yours.

Since Anaara's cooperation had been confirmed, the fey'ri decided to turn her attention to the other important matter in hand - finding the amulet... and any loot she might 'discover' in its company.

And another amulet brought her closer to Vaerilmor.

Although she was still injured, she figured that the immediate danger in the area was pretty much nil; anything nasty lurking in the swamp would most likely be under the thrall of the dracopire, and therefore would have been called into the battle as soon as it felt threatened. For a moment she surveyed the area into which the vampiric dragon's gaseous form had fled.

"I'm going to see if I can find the amulet - we need it, and standing here's not going to get it for us" she said simply as she turned to leave the group.
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Castamir
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"It is what I live for." answered the barbarian. It wasn't a proud boast, nor was it a shameful admission, more a blunt statement of fact, and a true one. He lost himself when he was hewing at an enemy. At all other times he was usually playing his part, holding his tongue, drunk, or doing something else to occupy his mind and stop him brooding.

He turned and eyed the drow as she spoke. She was loving it, just as he thought she would. For one so full of bravado to be claiming to have been about to do good deeds regardless smacked of falsehood. As before, the cracks in the unity of their group were showing. Skafloc noted that it was when times were hard and they were in danger that they pulled together like professionals. It was when they were allowed the luxury to talk to each other they clashed.

He looked back at the werewolf and grinned "There will be more blood and chaos where we are bound, it won't be boring."
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Darkwind
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Greg had chosen this time to materialize next to the elf, taking advantage of the active spell to avoid sloshing through the swamp and at the same time make a bit of an entrance. He'd missed the entire exchange between the men.

"I have healing magic, for anyone whose wounds cannot wait. After that, I suggest we withdraw elsewhere, and hope that the vampires don't follow us. I would even be in favor of forgoing a search for the dragon's hoard." He grinned. "Well, alright, maybe a quick one. Who's first?"
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eocine
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Given that arguments in his presence were hardly uncommon the vehemence of Avelaer’s disagreement didn’t worry him in the least, were the Elf to attack he would have been confident in his abilities to defend against the attack and retaliate with fatal force. Though of course he would expect the blade-singer to feel the same way. Still that was a bridge to be crossed as and when it was reached.

It had to be said though that the fact that some of the others were prepared to back him up on the issue was a genuine surprise, after all he was more used to being the sole antagonist in this type of situation…

It was a position that he intended to get back to with all haste, but for the time being ensuring that Llana was brought back overrode any matter of personal pride.

The smooth words of the Drow were met with an unsurprised raised eyebrow, it would be fully expected that the priestess would falsify the truth, and frankly he knew that there was a certain amount of her doing it for a amusement, and another amount doing it to try to keep the group off their mental balance.

“If you continue to toy with us verbally I assure you that you will be unsafe amongst the ‘bigoted humans’,” replied the assassin as he once again carefully and slowly made his way towards the side of his wife, carefully and tenderly removing a bag of diamonds from the hip pouch of her riding skirt, and then lifting the rose-headed staff of healing from by her side.

A gentle underarm toss towards the Drow sent the bag of diamonds flying though the air, and with the dexterity that was typical of her people the Spider-Cleric snapped them up. The staff quickly followed, and to catch that Anaara had to juggle with her borrowed blade to give herself a free hand, but she wasn’t quite quick enough and so the white wood rapped sharply against her knuckles before she grabbed it at the second attempt.

“You’ll need the staff”, he pointed out, “because she will not suffer unnecessarily”.
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eocine
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In response to the dark haired human’s continued words Anaara swallowed her pride and simply smiled at him in return, it was a smile of such offensively saccharine nature though that it could never be mistaken for anything other than a look of loathing. Still, and it wasn’t easy for her to do, she continued with her plan of reviving the Sunite, and then seeing what could be gained from there…

As she moved closer Karosin moved to the other side of Llana, stating clearly through his body language that he would be watching her like a hawk through the entire spell casting, and most likely beyond as well.

Her slender fingers dipped into the bag of diamonds and emerged holding a decently sized handful. As she was doing this the assassin was wrapping her cloak around the stump of her shoulder tightly, hiding the visibility of the wound. That done he picked up her severed arm and considered tossing it into the lake, until he remembered that leaving a body part in the hands of a group of Necromancers was never likely to prove to be wise…

“Sorcerer”, he shouted across to Greg, “Can you please reduce this to dust before she awakens?” Stretching out a hand he pointed in the direction of the brutally amputated limb.

Once that was complete he looked up once more at the Drow cleric, who had by now shrunk back to her normal size, then took Llana’s hand and nodded. No sooner had he done that than the casting began, and the diamonds were poured out from the priestess’ hands onto Llana’s heart. The prayer began quietly, but over a minute built into a crescendo of half sung and half spoken words…

Suddenly there was silence, and Anaara raised her hand over her head and brought it down hard onto the pile of diamonds. Cold light flared for a brief moment, and Llana’s body jerked upwards once, before falling still again.

When the Cleric lifted away her hand the diamonds had all gone, subsumed in the spell…

But Llana’s eyes were fluttering open.

“Now, heal her”.

Said the assassin quickly, as the Drow straightened, before holding her in an embrace and allowing the ebon skinned woman to touch the rose headed staff to Llana’s head, where it glowed red for a moment, and the Sunite’s wounds started to heal.
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Pamela
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Brilliance was the first impression. It was instantaneously followed by the green, swampy smell of the marshes blended with blood and sweat; then a wave of physical pain. The intensity forced her to open her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the pale throat and black braids brushing across her aching, bruised face. Karo, Llana thought, and a slew of emotions was behind the word, but her senses were still too beleaguered to form coherent thought.

A moment later, an ebon hand rested upon her shoulder and she was awash with the first wave of healing. She sighed, and again encountered the now-familiar sting of broken ribs. She bit her lip to contain her instinctive desire to groan, not wanting to wrack her chest again. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to die down and to gather her wits. At the second use of the staff, she sighed, and finally began to recall herself. “Karo…save the staff- I’ll do it myself,” she said, still dazed. “Is everyone all right-are you?”
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Mwa13
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Jonas was squatting down, staring at the argument and conversation with new interest. He had put his item checks behind to concentrate on the on-going debate.

He was happy that they got things resolved. It was understandable for the way Karosin had acted, it was a pain to a loved one, although Jonas really didn't know of such a thing. He never had met someone special to his heart yet.

He watched closely as Anaara chanted to get Llana back to the world of living and smiled widely as Llana woke up. He carved slightly on the ground with one of his daggers as he spoke. "I don't know about you all, but... I'm hungry." He lifted his gaze and smiled at the others.
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Castamir
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Skafloc watched from a distance, sat on his haunches. Soon as Llana's eyes fluttered his jaw set firm and he stood, turning away, face a mask.

He was relieved, happy even, but he was also burning with an irrational jealousy, a feeling of great injustice. A strange and uncomfortable feeling.

He banished the thoughts, of them all Llana probably most deserved to live. Like a silent sentinel he sling his axe over his shoulder and stared off into the mist, in the direction the dracgon's etheral form had purposefully drifted.
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Mistress Elysia
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At first, the fey'ri considered just following the dracopire's gaseous form into the swamp, but after a moment’s deliberation, she decided to make her way back to the laboratory first, just in case there was anything there that could for some kind of rudimentary stake. Just in case.

Since the others were occupied elsewhere, Fade had a good chance to search the whole area thoroughly without distraction; therefore it was with great surprise when she slid open the first drawer and found exactly what they had been looking for all along – the amulet.

Wrapping it around her wrist do that it joined the others so that it created an odd and slightly gaudy looking charm bracelet, the rogue took a quick cursory look at the other things the drawer contained – scrolls, mainly, and a few quills. She then looked through the second drawer and found more scrolls; the third, jars containing body parts. Deciding that the jars would be of little to no use to them, she left them alone, but did take the scrolls just in case. She had no idea what they said, but had little doubt that others in the party would be able to decipher and make use of them if they proved useful.

That still, however, left the subject of the dragon’s hoard… with a wry smile, Fade looked back over to the party. She felt a jolt of something akin to joy upon seeing Llana moving, confirming that the resurrection had indeed worked and that Anaara had proven true to her word, at least in this. With that, Fade decided that she could now legitimately search for the loot with a clear conscience, and so began to pick her way through the swamp, following the direction the defeated vampires had retreated by.
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eocine
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“We’re all fine”, he reassured her quietly, able to breath something of a sigh of relief as she came to and the magical energies of the staff did their work on her. She still looked like hell of course, but there was a noticeable improvement as wounds shrank and bruising faded, though not completely. “It has to be said that the surroundings were vastly improved last time we did this”, said the assassin with a faint smile, obliquely referring to her previous resurrection and his presence moments afterwards.

At her inquiry as to his own health he nodded, though it was actually far from the truth, the dragon’s massive power had left his back and legs aching, and he knew that he’d been lucky to escape a broken spine when the huge wing had slammed into him, but until now his mind had been able to easily push such things aside as he instead focused on the revival of his wife.

Now though there seemed to be pain creeping across most of his body, but he managed to keep it from being reflected in either his demeanor or his facial features. Besides which after the Flesh-shiver spell he had more or less re-written the book on personal pain, and after that this really wasn’t all that debilitating.

“Just lay still and save your strength…” He ordered her, holding her close and still before gesturing that the Drow cleric should continue with the healing, and she did so, another pulse of healing energy flooding through the red-head’s body and bringing her slowly closer to full health.

In virtually every way he truly hoped that she was unable to remember all of the events that had led up to her death, hoped that the first of the draco-pire’s blows had somehow rendered her insensible. Yet there would be one thing that would be positive if she were able to remember those last terrible moments, that way he wouldn’t have tp tell her that she had been maimed by the beast.

Turning his dark eyes towads the Cleric of Lolth he fixed her eyes with his own, and said a pair of words that hadn’t often come to his lips in his previous years, “thank you.” In truth he knew that her motives for this were not so much shady as pitch dark, but she had brought back Llana, and if anyone ever deserved thanks it was, in this moment at least, her.

“You may go now”, were his next words, and he tilted his head to the side to gesture that she should stand elsewhere. With a slight smirk Anaara bowed once before dropping the staff at Llana’s side and turning away.

“I’m afraid that she doesn’t have any way to return your…” He stalled for a moment as he tried to find some way of speaking gently, but there really wasn’t one now, “arm”, finished the assassin rather lamely.
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eocine
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Caine’s own reasons for his love of battle weren’t identical to those of Skafloc, but they came from a no less powerful source, rather in the werewolf’s case it was simply a genetic disposition towards violence, coupled with an upbringing that embraced its use in terms of getting what one desired.

In his tribal world the strong won out, and the weak were at best slaves, and at worst prey. Those who could rend their enemies gained the most attractive mates, and could pass on their genetic material to the next generation. In several ways this half man/half animal set up was crude and brutal, but it was undeniably effective in churning out a certain breed of character, and Caine had been the strongest member of his tribe, the alpha male if you would.

Which meant that inevitably he would probably attempt to assert some dominance of sorts over the rest of the group in the same way that he would do in his homelands. Perhaps fortunately though for all concerned for the time being this instinct was being well suppressed by his desire to slake his blood thirst on the fey’ri that had imprisoned and tortured him.

The healing potion that Skafloc had handed him had gone some way towards curing some of his wounds, but his back was still carved into bloody ribbons, and in healing was agonizing as the blood congealed and pulled at his pelt, and hair poked into the gaping wounds. Despite that though he couldn’t bring himself to ask for the sorcerer’s aid, for it was an admittance of weakness, and as such entirely shameful.
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eocine
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As she proved to be unable to resist giving the pair a goodbye sneer it was probably for the best that neither Karosin nor Llana were looking at her anymore. She walked a few paces away before running her hands through her white hair in an attempt to shake the clods of dirt that had stuck to it free. As most of the Drow tended to be Anaara was excessively proud of her appearance, and hated things that threatened to mar her beauty, a beauty that she was well aware of.

For a moment she considered approaching the Fey’ri woman, who was busy going through the desk by the autopsy table, instead though, remembering what the Tiefling had recently said she approached the shadowdancer, swinging her hips and smirking seductively as she did so.

As she moved to stand level with him she turned to whisper softly in his ear, close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck, “mrigg ussa, lueth dos xal cal ussa ussta olath jaluk”, with that done she continued in her path towards the far end of the swamp where the gaseous draco-pire had fled.

OOC; translation; Inspire me, and you may eat me my dark male :blink:

Jonas however doesn’t speak Drow… :P
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Pamela
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Llana smiled, then gave a low laugh which turned into a groan as again her sides protested the motion. Her smile had however widened and she said, eyes shining, “Yes, but the company was much ruder then…” She nodded relieved at his insistence on the staff, and closed her eyes.

Many of those raised had no recollection of death, but that wasn’t usually the case for clerics. The Sunite drew herself away from that precious brief glimpse; there’d be time later to consider it. “I’m sorry,” she found herself murmuring, aware how foolish it was but finding no other way to address the pain of that departure, unintended as it had been. She then cut herself off, remembering that they weren’t alone, and that Karosin would hardly want to discuss the matter with an audience. Let it wait, she thought, dreading the topic. They’d attempted previous ‘retirements’ from this way of life, especially after particularly nasty missions. Restlessness and chance eventually lured them back. Their sojourn in Silverymoon had been the latest, vain effort. She recalled his protectiveness over Ellinda, and both bridled and quailed. She was amused to find out that she was annoyed with herself over being the first of them to have died in combat; an unconscious contest both had been determined to lose.

Her eyes briefly flickered to her right side, where Karosin had strategically positioned himself. As the pain lessened, her thoughts became clearer, and she was able to track the waves of healing energy going through her body. Her aching shoulder was now infused with a warmth that extended no farther. Her left hand’s fingers began to rub themselves in a sympathetic effort, and she briefly made a fist before relaxing it. She brought it up to her husband’s face, grimacing to see that the tips of his braids were now dabbed with her blood.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to fight the urge to giggle at the surreal circumstances, and then losing. “I can get another one…” She knew she was in danger of falling into hysteria, and began to awkwardly pull herself into a vertical position, hoping that would help to shake the strange mood. The remaining injuries helped. “I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat, and then grimacing as the clots of blood that had pooled behind her gums and beneath her tongue began to dislodge themselves. She reached for a handkerchief in one her pockets, and discretely began to spit into it. “At least I can walk, and there are ways of casting spells with the…” the giddy laughter began again. “Handicap…

“And you’re not ‘all right’,” the redhead said as she found a topic that was legitimately able to distract her and force her to turn back to their present circumstances. She looked around at the scattered party, and saw with stunned joy that they were for the most part in good shape except for Fade. She closed her eyes as she went through her mind, and frowned. She looked apologetically at the ex-assassin. “Blessed goddess, Karosin, I barely have anything left magically. I didn’t want to rest here if we could help it but I don’t really see any alternative. I'm sorry.” She leaned forward to rest her forehead on his chin, closing her eyes. I'm sorry...But I'm here.
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eocine
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As Fade and Anaara moved off into the deeper parts of the swamp in search of the horde and the resting places of the vampires they were instantly aware of just how much life there was in the area, because everywhere they looked there were snatches of movement and rustling undergrowth. Suddenly from above the Fey’ri a serpent dropped down into the water, no more than two feet from her, but it made no move to attack, and simply swum away, hardly leaving a rippling wake behind.

The mists back here seemed to come in sparse pockets rather than the great pool of fog that had confronted them by the door, and this at least meant that, if you picked your path, it was possible to stay out of any places where the footing could be even more perilous than usual. Of course wading through knee-high water was hardly a pleasant thing to do, especially when one considered the fact that the glutinous mud beneath their feet seemed to always be attempting to suck the boots off their feet.

“We have nothing like this in my homeland”, pointed out the Drow Cleric with some disgust as she wrenched her foot out of the dirt and moved onwards. “Perhaps the closest we would have would be one of the fungal groves, but even they are not so grotesque as this mockery of nature.”

Before long they found the area that the draco-pire’s mists had seemed to head towards, and were instantly stuck by the large pole that stabbed upwards from the ground, no less than four feet into the air. As they moved closer to it they could see that it’s circumference was no more than that of a fist, and furthermore they could see that it had been hollowed out.

“I should imagine that it leads down to an underground crypt”, speculated the cleric as she walked forwards. “Clever of them to”, there was a sudden thud as she stepped forwards, and then a loud curse in under-common as she hopped backwards, swirling up the water.

As the water moved around her Fade suddenly caught sight of the corner of a large chest that was tucked away beyond the waterline…
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Mistress Elysia
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As much of a champion the fey'ri had been for the drow recently, this was one occasion where Fade wished that Anaara had decided to stay with the others. It wasn't as if the rogue was greedy; she was quite willing to share what she found. Well, she was after she had had the opportunity to appraise what was there first...

The going was slow - slower than usual, for Fade was still limping from the injuries she had sustained in the battle, her left arm cradled protectively over her injured torso - it was really only the rebel's love of gemstones and other sparkly baubles that kept her going; that particular love was something that had developed early on in her life, and had never left her. So it was with barely concealed irritation that Fade merely grunted in reply to Anaara's constant chattering as the fey'ri carefully surveyed her surroundings, looking for any inkling that there was anything stashed in plain sight.

Upon seeing the makeshift pipe, Fade groaned inwardly. She didn't need the cleric to point out its use - she had already guessed. And so that probably means the loot is also und... hang on...

Her own thoughts were interrupted by the glimpse of a large chest, just submerged under surface of the scummy water. Not caring one whit for the state of her surroundings, the fey'ri hunkered down and tried to pull the chest clear enough out of the mud so she could inspect its lid. She was aware that there could be a trap connected to the chest itself and that by doing this, she could set it off, but the murky water meant that her chances of finding anything was miniscule to nil... and, well, she was with a cleric, wasn't she?

Fade tugged and pulled at the chest for a while, but to no avail. At times like this, a Bulls Strength potion really wouldn't go amiss... she quipped to herself as she straightened herself up.

What she really needed was some muscle...

Turning back towards the rest of the party, Fade cupped a hand beside her mouth.

"Oh, Skafloc!" she called "Feeling strong? Got a job for you here..."
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eocine
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“True, those cretins you traveled with then never did have any hold on basic manners”, he smiled down at her, but his own grin was edged with a very genuine concern, for he was hugely concerned that she remained as she had been before her rebirth. More than that though he worried irrationally that there could be some cruel prank played whereby she was snatched from his arms once more. Of course as a rational being he knew it to be mere foolish fear thinking in his stead, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

At her murmured apology he looked down at her, cocking his head, unable to comprehend truly what she was actually apologizing for, because in his mind it was he that should be begging forgiveness, because whilst he was out of the battle she was slaughtered, and he should have been there for her. To not to do so was a grievous failure on his behalf.

He was glad when she stopped herself from continuing on, for his chief worry was that she should take a time to recover herself fully and not overtax herself just yet. In truth of course his true wish was that she would leave the mission and the danger and return to their home until she was well rested and fully recovered, but he knew that such thought was stupidity, and her reaction to such a request would only make things significantly worse.

After all such thoughts were crimes that both had been guilty of in the past, and the results had never been good…

As Llana began to giggle and try to sit up he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up as well, keeping on her right side as the lack of a limb there would surely affect her balance. The laughter that followed caused him to look into her eyes to see if they were dilated, but he suspected that it was more likely caused by mental rather than physical issues at this time, and wished that they were virtually anywhere but where they were.

”Shhh”, he whispered into her ear as she leaned forwards, feeling momentarily off balance as his left arm encircled the area that her right arm should have been. He tiled his head to press a kiss onto her forehead before turning towards Greg, “Does the offer for healing still stand?” Asked the assassin, before leading Llana over towards where the black-robed martyr stood.
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Greg replied, a bit flippantly. "You're asking me if I've changed my mind about showing off my ability to break the divine monopoly on healing? No, I have not. Llana, you've fought heroically, and made a huge contribution to our victory. I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you earlier--the dragon's attack was so massive..." Once again he channeled the energy he drew from the Weave into a synostodweomer, transforming it into pure positive energy, and sending it out through the hand he gently laid on her shoulder. "I hope this helps. I can't do this many more times, unfortunately. Only twice more, in fact. We'll need to rest, and soon."
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Llana bit her lip at Karo’s gentle request, then smiled at the kiss on her forehead. She winced as she stood, trying to figure out the wisest use of her remaining spells to deal with the remaining injured. “Let him save his potions,” she mumbled in protest, then smiled as they approached the sorcerer. Her eyebrows raised at Greg’s first words, and she then smiled, and said teasingly, “Show-off…”

His next words however brought the ready tears to her eyes once more, as again the strange sense of guilt arose. “I was in the air, and it was more important to bring it down,” she began, then silenced herself as he touched her and a new wave of healing soothed her. She sighed in relief, and replied, “Thank you, it does. But let me use my own spells to heal us and the rest. Keep yours in case we’re attacked while we do rest.” She nodded her head in the direction of the swamp where the others were gathered. “I’m still able to heal several of us at once,” she said, and realised she was still staring at him. She shook her head, and smiled apologetically as she began to move towards the swamp.

The thought of the deathless man still filled her thoughts. How could he have come back after that? A loved one, I could understand, but a cause? There was a twinge of regret as she brushed against that wonderful memory, that inexpressible sense of fulfillment, and then realised the source of her guilt. It hadn’t been the death itself, but the reluctance in the return. It was much easier to blame the cause of the incident than her own feelings on the matter. Sweet merciful goddess, forgive me…

She looked up at Karosin as they walked, who had armed himself once more with his professional nonchalance and personal disdain. But you came back, and that is all that matters. Some regret is normal, in the face of that… But now is not the time. She leaned against her husband who now stood on her left, and squeezed his hand. She cast a morbid glance at her right side, grimacing a little. I am definitely getting that spell tomorrow…

As everyone seemed to be heading towards the discovery, it spared her the effort of having to call them all together. She paused when those in the swamp were in range, waiting for the others to come closer before laying her hand on her holy symbol and awkwardly reaching out to complete the necessary gesture. Definitely… she had time to think as she completed the chant, and positive energy filled her and move outward. Her smile turned triumphant as she vividly recalled that last wonderful use of a similar, more powerful spell. And it was still worth it… the redhead thought, with an affectionate glance towards the barbarian.
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"Aye?" answered Skafloc as he walked quickey over to Fade and Anaara, the hard going of the swamp not apparently slowing him too much. He's been watching them get deeper into the mist and was prepared to go to help them, though he hadn't been figuring it was manual labour that he was needed for.

He stopped and looked down at the chest, and then looked at Fade, raising an eyebrow.

"Did the lady's last servant die of a broken back?" he asked with a smirk. It wasn't just the size and undoubted weight of the chest, it was the fact that it was embedded in the swamp, and gravity in this instance would be greatly aided by suction.

Of course Skafloc felt up to the task, and it was also true that the presence of testosterone in his blood meant that despite the fact that he'd already been more than demonstrating his brute strength just moments before, he was compelled to do it again because there were women watching. Men eh?

He handed over Brainbiter, itself a heavy and cumbersome chunk of steel and steel clad wood, and then crouched down in the swamp, bracing himself against the chest, a hand on each side. He paused a moment, a thought striking him..

"You will tell me if it looks like it might explode or something right?"

He didn't wait for an answer, he just heaved, the noise of the chest being dislodged from the mud accompanied by a slight grunt of effort. Then the barbarian stood there, both him and the chest dripping with swamp water.

"Suppose you want me to carry it back over there too?" he asked through his grin.
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By the time the barbarian joined them, Fade was beginning to feel decidedly impatient. Even though it had taken him a minute or so to join her and Anaara, it felt like half an hour, her anticipation for what might be stored in the chest was so great.

For a moment, as he looked down at the chest and then back up at her, she wondered if he would refuse to help her due to the recent seriousness of events and felt her temper flare slightly, but it was quickly smothered when it became apparent that this was not the case. At his quip, she couldn't help but smirk back.

"No, exhaustion" she quipped back as he handed over his signature weapon to her - a weapon she nearly dropped as its sudden weight dragged her arms down. "Bloody hell, Skafloc; this thing weighs a ton!" the fey'ri exclaimed at she straightened herself up, hoisting the weapon with her. "And to think I was going to snap it up and try to give it a swing if that dragon had decided to have its terminal way with you..."

At his next question, the rogue glanced at Anaara and then shrugged, watching as he braced himself and lifted the casket with apparent ease.

"Look, I won't lie... I don't know if it's trapped - but I'm guessing not. If it is trapped, I'm suspecting it'll be on the lock. If I suspect something, I'll yell, okay.... WHOA!!" Fade pointed excitedly to the area just beyond them. "Did you see that? More! More chests!" Realising what she had said about yelling if there was a trap, her grin of exultation took on a much more sheepish cast. "Uh, sorry... didn't mean to yell... I, errr, think there's more under the waterline..."

Fade's grin widened at Skafloc's final question. "Yes, please" she answered, a hint of almost girlish excitement about her as she trailed after him back to what equated to dry land in the swamp. As he lowered it to the ground and straightened himself up, she offered him a winning smile "So... will you go back and get the others? Please? Pretty please?" she glanced covetously at the chest they had already recovered. "Anaara - why don't you help him?" she thought for a moment and then looked up to the rest of the group. "In fact, it's probably best if everyone backs off... you never know what traps a dragon might assign to it's hoard. Last thing we need is all of us to get injured again..."

The rogue then made a great show of checking the chest. At first, she was genuinely searching, but it became apparent to her very quickly that the chest was safe - apparently, the dracopire thought itself the greatest of deterrants. Glancing slyly back to the others, she decided to continue going through the motions of checking. She didn't want this moment ruined - in her opinion, the anticipation of an unopened chest and that first, tantalising glimpse of what lay within wasn't to be shared.

"I don't know" she said, not looking back to the others for she was unable to lose the stupid excited grin she had plastered across her face "I think it's okay... best stay back, just in case..."

She then retrieved her lockpicks and inserted them into the lock. The lock clicked open almost immediately, which came as a bit of a surprise to the fey'ri; she hadn't even needed to concentrate. "Blimey..." she muttered to herself. "Okay... going to open the lid... now we find out if it's trapped..."

Turn away, turn away, turn away, PLEASE turn away... she repeated to herself as she opened the chest lid a crack and took her first peep at what lay inside.
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eocine
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In return for Greg’s flippancy Karosin favored him with a flat and decidedly unimpressed gaze, but that did not negate his own sense of gratitude that the sorcerer had the power to heal, and the willingness to share it with the other members of the group.

As he hadn’t seen her fall he hadn’t truly known bow she had died, and it was something that he would sooner die himself than ask her about, because the last thing in the worlds that he wanted to do was force her to re-live the experience ever again. All he could hope for was that it was a quick death, and thankfully from the way that the sorcerer was describing it that’s what it had been.

Once Llana and Greg had shared their brief words he moved around to her other side so that he could take her remaining hand in his own, both of them moving towards the furthermost part of the bank where the others were stood. As she cast her spell he reached his arm across behind her and held her close by the hip, waiting for the touch of the spell to fall on him as well, and feeling relief as he felt his wounds seem to melt away.

Having utterly no desire to get dirty, not for all the gold in Thay in fact would he have gone into the stagnant filth at this point, Karosin was more than content to watch the goings on from the shore. It was form there that he was witness to another great feat of strength from Skafloc, as he easily hefted something that looked as though it would normally need three men to drag, and when he laid it down on the dry land it landed with a wet thud that truly spoke as to its weight.

Fade’s childlike glee didn’t go unnoticed by the ex-assassin, but other than shake his head in a genuine bemusement at her magpie ways he said nothing, just continuing to watch the show from a distance with Llana by his side.
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eocine
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Whilst Karosin and Llana may have been more or less immune to the lure of treasure and shiny things Caine was not, for the simple reason that money often equated to power, and it was better to have more than less of both. Of course this went double for Anaara, for whom the chance to turn a profit from her imprisonment was a very seductive opportunity, that done though they both only moved far enough away to avoid getting blown up, but they still watched Fade carefully as she made to open the first of the chests… After all there was no need to trust any of them yet, and in the case of the Drow frankly she wouldn’t trust any of her own family not to try and cheat her.

And perhaps nor should she.

From their position, when Fade eased open the chest all that could be seen was a golden glow…

The Fey’ri though could see coin after coin of thick coins, all marked with varying symbols and flags and all of them gloriously bright and shiny.

There was a lot more to come though, as Skafloc and any others strong enough and willing worked to lug back a series of other chests and bizarre items that had been secreted in the swampy depths. Clearly some kind of dweomer had been cast on all of the items, as they appeared to instantly dry off and be none the worse for their watery confinement, which was a good thing as there were clearly a lot of valuable items contained in the chests.

Perhaps though the most unusual item was the fully life size marble statue of a human paladin of Tyr…

Either that or the crystal hookah…
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Skafloc shook his head at Fade's further request, but once he'd put down the first chest, he turned an went back for the rest, sparing Fade a glance, muttering with good humour, "Exhaustion it is then."

He trudged back and forth, until everything possible had been retrieved, plopping each item into the turf next to the first, until Fade was surrounded. He'd ignored the request for distance as he did all this, but after the final item was deposited - the statue - he left her to her tasks, not before patting the statue on the shoulder.

"Don't mess with this one, not when she's surrounded by shiney things.." he warned the inanimate figure, before picking his axe up from where Fade had propped it and moving off to the requested distance.

Skafloc wasn't excited by the prospect of riches, even during his long years out of his natural environment money had never been an end itself, mearly something to barter for something else he needed more, and Skafloc didn't need much, he had no plans to retire, so he needed no pension, and baubles did nothing but weigh him down.

On one of his trips back he felt a wave was over him, soothing his remaining aches. He caught the eye of it's source and raised his hand and smiled a silent acknowledgement, glad of the help and more glad to see her well, even if she were temporarily maimed. He kept his distance though, Karosin was rightfully glued to her side.
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Upon opening the first chest, Fade couldn't help but run a decidely covetous hand over the gold. "Oh, baby..." she murmered to herself, lost for a moment in the golden glow of the coins. Digging around, she managed to identify a few gems - the sapphires particularly caught her eye - and the odd item of value.

So lost was she in her appraisal of what she had discovered that she near ignored the others; instead, she set herself to giving each chest a cursory check for traps and a quick poke with her lock picks. Each chest proved as easy as the first to pick, and by the time she got to the last chest, she was so practised at it she was opening them as if she had the key.

"Ooooh, you slut..." she crooned at the last chest as its lock clicked open and she raised the lid "so easy... just popped right open, didn't you? Going to show me all you've got?" she grinned again, the discovery of yet more gold not dampened one bit by familiarity, and raised an eyebrow as she pulled a crystal hooker pipe from this one. "Well well well...".

Once she had scoured through the contents of the last chest, the fey'ri sat back on her heels, crouching in the middle of a vast pile of wealth, her smile not unlike the proverbial cat that had got the proverbial cream. Occasionally she picked the odd bauble up and cradled it in her hand for a moment and then almost lovingly set it back down again. Slowly - almost reluctantly - she stood up, dusting her hands together at a good job well done. She looked up to the others.

"Quite a bit here" she remarked, unable to keep the satisfied purr out of her voice "Hope there's a few Bags of Holding around... I doubt any of us have the pockets for this lot". She then stopped down again and retrieved a silver tube from the pile, and then took a sheaf of what looked like parchment from her own belt pouch. Hopping over the pile of gold in front of her, she made her way over to where Llana and Karosin were standing.

"Found these - scrolls and a scroll case. I think that's a religious symbol" she pointed out the crest engraved upon the tube "So I figured you'd be the best to have this." She then handed to the scroll case and scrolls to the Sunite and made her way back to the pile of treasure.
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Molly
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Llana waved back at Skafloc before going to approach the werewolf. “I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured, as she touched Caine’s arm and cast a spell, dealing with the remainder of his wounds. She smiled warmly at him as she excused herself to approach the rogue; his actions had been hasty but his bravery was still to be lauded.

She paused as she saw Fade’s delight in the treasure; there would be time enough to deal with her injuries. She spared a glance at the door and the silent hallway, praying they would be spared any visitations by Vaerilmor or his cohorts. She didn’t relish resting here, not when their enemy knew full well where they were. There was also the matter of their now-vanquished foes; it would take them time to return, but they would soon enough, and she wanted to be long gone before that eventuality.

Still, she pushed the matter aside for the moment. The others also seemed content to take a few minutes to relax and savour their well-earned break. Why disturb it yet with a potential argument? She leaned against Karosin, and quietly remarked, “It looks like we’ll be in Silverymoon a little longer than we’d expected. I don’t think we’ll have too many problems renewing our lease for another month.” She looked up, and teased, “Ming will be glad to know that you’re staying…”

She laughed at her husband’s look, then looked over at Fade as she approached. She let Karosin reach out to take the tube. “Open it up, please, and unroll it,” she asked with chagrined embarrassment, blushing slightly. She turned back to the crimson-haired rogue, saying, "But first..." She touched the fey'ri's arm, and cast one last spell, smiling to see the last of the bruises disappear from her companion.

She then looked at the parchment with eagerness. Perhaps it’s a mass healing, or even better, another means to raise the dead... She had no qualms about using the scroll if it was useful; compensation would be made, one way or another. Her eyes widened as she read it, and she began to laugh. “It’s a miracle- literally,” she replied, “Similar to a wish, but granted by the deity.” She looked around at the others excitedly. “I can pray that we be able to continue the mission rested and restored without any further delays…?” She hoped it might restore her arm, but even if it didn't, it would grant her the means to do so. If we can continue immediately, it'll be wonderful...No need for arguments or staying here any longer than we need to...
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eocine
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As Fade and the others who were interested veritably dove into the riches that they were in the process of looting from the dragon, Karosin simply stood watching the events through distracted eyes, pondering as he was what the future would hold, and concerned by how much the combat had taken out of the party. Admittedly everyone was now back to full health, but even that healing had been expensive magically, and had drained Greg and Llana of spells, as well as eroding the magic of the Staff of Healing.

Idly though he squeezed Llana’s hand tightly, reflecting that it had all been worth it in the end.

Her mention of the need to extend the lease brought a rueful smile to his face, he’d be prepared to bet that they wouldn’t mind adding another month onto their time there, they paid enough for the place after all. Not that he minded overly much, he had the place just about set up to his own tastes, and besides which returning to any of the cities with a particularly strong Sunite presence brought temple duties and other such responsibilities into comparatively sharp focus…

Pity about the damn cat though…

He was distracted from such thoughts by Fade’s approach, to be frank he was more than a little surprised that she’d been able to pull herself away from the gold, such was her obvious desire for it. Honestly he’d always found that kind of blunt avarice to be vulgar in the extreme, as such he wasn’t exactly shocked by the fact that it manifested in the Fey’ri, the demonic host and their kin never knew how to behave…

Nevertheless, he thought grudgingly, they had proved their bravery in battle with the undead, and deserved some respect for that.

Not that it would ever be admitted of course, and bravery only took you so far. Besides which he suspected that in a few cases it was lack of intelligence and understanding of the danger that they faced… So yes, credit for their ‘bravery’, but any fool could be ‘brave’.

As Fade held the scroll case towards Llana he cursed internally at the fact that the rogue was clearly distracted by the gold and thus didn’t think about his wife’s injuries, but rarely he said nothing, simply because he was still watching out for Llana rather than indulging his antagonistic side.

Snapping the scroll tube from her hand he unscrewed the mithril lid and pulled the scrolls free, waiting then he idly shuffled through them whilst Llana brought Fade back to full health. He then unfurled them all and held them out so that the Sunite could read them, knowing full well that she couldn’t actually hold them properly herself.

When she explained the potential use of the spell he himself smiled slightly, recognising the good that the scroll could do for them. “That’s a prayer that I can certainly agree with…”
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eocine
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Once everyone had given their consent there was a momentary pause after Llana had offered up her prayer to Sune, before a red circle appeared before the party, expanding in the air and then shimmering into focus, showing a beautiful landscape on the other side of it. Through this portal stepped a being of surpassing beauty, though a beauty of a distinctly fey cast. Short and slender, clad in a diaphanous red robe the being was a Nymph, and one of the handmaidens of Sune.

Her eyes were a brilliant green, and she turned her gaze onto all the members of the party before they settled on Llana, with a dazzling smile she dropped into a curtsey before straightening up and brushing a lock of blonde hair from her forehead. “I bring you greetings Ardent one, greetings and tidings both.”

“Your request is granted, but a cost is called for, for others of Sune’s heart need help, but of a differing kind…” Curiously the Nymph then turned her gaze towards Jonas, the virtually ever smiling Tiefling. “Jonas of Sigil, your aid is needed elsewhere more than here, and you must follow.” She then turned to the others, “I promise you that we do not ask this lightly, and he shall not be needed long, but neither can you be told of this in expanse.”

Jonas cocked his head to one side as if judging the situation, his face neutral. “Will there be danger? Dashing deeds and fights to be won?” The Nymph nodded to the horned figure, and a smile began to break out across his face finally, and he tapped the handles of his punch daggers, before asking one more question.

“Will you help them if I leave?”

“To leave now will aid them more than to remain, I swear it.”

His orange eyes were turned to the others, he hadn’t known them long, but there had been some fun to be had, and he would hate to see them hurt. Yet the Nymph had promised that it would be more help to leave than remain….

“Then let us be gone, and the spell be completed.”

Lightly Jonas stepped to her side, before stepping into the portal and vanishing from sight.

“We shall keep him safe, on the warm heart of Sune we shall”, She then gestured into the air by their side, and there was a sudden golden glow as a doorway was formed in the very air. “Through this door lays a safe haven where you may rest, removed from the stream of time and free to recover and do as you will. In twenty four hours time the magic will end, and you shall return here as if no time had passed in this world.”

Lightly she stepped forwards to embrace Llana, releasing the woman a moment later. “When next you return to us ensure that it is your time please?” She then smiled before stepped back into the portal, which closed moments later, leaving the group stood next to a glowing golden portal, and a heaping mound of treasure.

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eocine
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Caine shivered slightly under Llana’s touch as she bestowed a healing spell upon him. Though perhaps given how long he had gone without any kind of feminine company this wasn’t any kind of a surprise. Mindful though that this wasn’t the place to give into those particular urges, and also aware that he would be filleted, disintegrated or turned into a statue if he were try anything at all.

Though the temptation was undeniable…

Instead of virtually condemning himself to a painful death he just walked away from the rest of the group and started to rake his claws through one of the coin filled treasure chests, searching for something to distract himself from any potentially dangerous feelings. Finally towards the bottom of the chest his fingers brushed against something more substantial that mere coins, and he raked it free of the gold.

Pulling out an anatomically correct statue of a kneeling naked Elf.

Clearly there was some kind of a conspiracy here.

Angrily he hurled the object back into the chest, sending coins scattering before slamming the lid closed. The lycanthrope stood up jerkily, as if fighting some kind of internal battle, and turned away from the chest, dimly aware that the others were conversing behind him.

This meant that he wasn’t expecting Llana to have cast her miracle, and for a scantily clad Nymph to step lightly out of a portal, wrapped only in a thin layer of silk that left utterly nothing to the imagination. Red eyes glazed over as the beast gazed at this figure of beauty, and it was quite possible that it was only his surprise at being suddenly presented by this image that stopped him from leaping her there and then.

As it was though he somehow regained himself, and plunged his claws into his thighs to give himself something to focus on other than the fey. Whatever she said he wasn’t listening to , instead he gouged deep holes into his legs, and let himself focus on the pain.

Finally she vanished, apparently taking the Tiefling with her, and he could bring himself out of his self enforced fugue state. His chest was heaving by now with the effort of bringing his muscles under control, and a long tongue lolled out of his mouth for a moment before he drew it back in and snapped his jaws closed, finally pulling clear of his heat…
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Pamela
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Molly
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Llana watched with a pang in her heart as the nymph appeared, trying to keep her eyes away from the tempting glimpses of Brightwater, as memories began to stir. She curtseyed in turn and smiled, temporarily speechless at the greeting. Her wonder began to dissolve as Jonas was addressed, and she briefly panicked, wondering for a moment if the rogue had had some past run-in with the temple. It was not alleviated when his departure was required but she kept her worry to herself. Why doubt, she chided herself, you of all people…

The Sunite gladly received the messenger’s embrace, almost reluctant to release her, especially at her parting words. She mutely nodded, watching the air where the portal had been for a long moment before forcing her attention away. She smiled apologetically to Karosin, and forced a smile upon her face. Then the smell of roses reached her, and her smile became genuine, as the chance to rest beckoned in what promised to be comfortable surroundings. “The first thing I’m going to do is have a bath…”

She looked around at the others as she said, “I’m not particularly concerned about the treasure, so take what you want,” she remarked, before stepping into the sanctuary, breathing deeply. A bath, and some peace and quiet...
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eocine
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The magical doorway opened out into a large and airy hallway, decorated with raw silks and tapestries of exquisite beauty. Beneath their feet a mosaic of the Sune holy symbol covered the entire floor, and above their heads a mural of Brightwater resided. The room was warm and cozily lit, in a way that seemed to be natural but was clearly magical in nature. Beneath the bare feet of the werewolf he could feel that the stone was pleasantly warm to the touch, and could scent roses on the air with every breath.

Directly ahead of them two staircases curved upwards onto the landing of the floor above, where a series of rooms lay, presumably in this case the bedrooms for the guests. Along the wall on that floor were various alcoves holding sculptures and other works of art, and a deep and luxuriant carpet had been laid out over the floor.

To the left a dining hall stood by, decorated in a similar motif, with a roaring fire that seemed to give out only a gentle warmth rather than any harsh heat. Again though despite its lack of windows the room was brightly lit and every breath seemed fresh. Against the back wall a huge painting of a sunrise could be seen, stretching no less than thirty feet, and down with truly astounding accuracy and elegance. The walls were perfectly white and elegantly finished with a series of archways and a curious terraced effect before they reached the ceiling.

On the right of the party were two doors, the first leading into a large circular bathhouse, with a deep pool of crystal clear water that caused wisps of steam to float into the air. The very water had been scented with vanilla, and was obviously magically warmed. Around this pool were a series of seats and cushions, as well as a number of magical waterfalls that dropped from the ceiling into a reservoir that ran around the exterior of the room.

The second of the doors on this side led into a dimmer room, filled with a small bookshelf filled virtually exclusively with poetry and songbooks, as well as an array of instruments and other bardic paraphernalia. There were no seats in this room though, just a series of plump cushions laying about the floor.

As the party tried to take this in a voice spoke from the bottom of the stairs, “greetings guests, we are here to aid you in this time, if you wish our presence simply will us to your side and one of us shall be there directly." At first this voice may have seemed to come from the empty air, but once a closer look was taken it could easily be seen that there was a line of virtually transparent figures, magical constructs that were simply advanced invisible servants.

“Luncheon will be served in one hour,” spoke the voice again, “please relax until then”, and with that they vanished, easily summonable with but a thought.
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Darkwind
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As he looked upon the magical doorway, Greg's expression was less than enthusiastic.

"This isn't quite what I thought you were going to do, I must admit. I mean, after we come out fully rested, we'll just have to fight the vampires all over again, probably both at once. Right? And the dragon'll be pissed since we looted its hoard, too. I figured you meant to ask that your goddess miraculously restore us, in one moment, to full capacity so we could leave or go search for the vampires' havens."

"Well, why don't we go look for them now, while we have the chance? True, we're short on resources just now, but if what I've heard about their kind is correct, they'd be completely helpless right now."
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Mistress Elysia
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As the werewolf began searching through the treasure, Fade had to stop herself from pulling him away from the chest as she felt a proprietory flare of greed blossom within her. It pained her to watch him pawing through all that perfect gold without any respect for it... It's not all mine; he has a share; it's not as if he's going to spirit the lot away, is it? And if he does, you can hunt him down chop him into tiny pieces... she kept reminding herself, deciding then that it was time to re-focus her attention on to what was going on around her rather than get into a needless argument with the lythancrope. Well, postpone getting into a needless argument with the lythancrope if he kept slobbering all over her gold...

The arrival of the nymph was a bit of a surprise, the fey'ri had to admit. The departure of the tiefling Shadowdancer was an even greater one. She watched in interest, peering past the nymph to see if she could get a better look at the landscape beyond, but she was denied. However, the prospect of being able to rest without worrying about being discovered and dragged of - and possibly in a bed - more than made up for that.

After the nymph had left, Fade inspected the portal, one ear on the conversations behind her. For a second, she considered checking it for traps, but then shook her head, grinning at her own silliness; Sune had granted them this reprieve - why should she want to hurt them?
Upon hearing Greg's concerns, Fade turned around. "I don't think that's going to be a problem, spellslinger" she grinned. "Didn't the nymph say something about being outside the stream of time or something? That dragon ain't gonna to know nothin'. When he wakes up, we'll have had a good rest and will be away with all this lovely loot... and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it." She then smiled brightly at the others. "Speaking of which... anyone got any means of moving this lot?" she looked over the obviously tired and emotionally battered group and back peddled a bit. "Uh, so we can scoop this lot up after we've rested? Not as if anyone is going to have the time to nick it..." the was a hint of strain in her voice at that - even though she knew the nymph had said no time would pass here, she'd still rather it that the gold was with them. Instead she compromised and looked over the piles, selecting a few choice baubles she could amuse herself with for the time being. After that, she gave the remaining gleaming piles one last, almost loving look and stepped through the portal after Llana.
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Castamir
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Skafloc remained on his self imposed sentry duty, until the portal opened. He turned and stared. Certainly it was something outside of his experience, and he's seen all kinds of wierd things.

He stared open mouthed for a second before recovering himself and frowning, unimpressed by the riddles and mystery with which the creature spoke. When the other portal was opened, and it's purpose explained he was genuinely impressed, though he wondered if it was wise they were given so long to get on each other's nerves and argue.

Fade's comments about her hoard didn't impress him. He was happy to help, but carrying around a sackload of gold wasn't in the interests of the mission, and he had no interest in the stuff anyway. He looked sideways at her as she mentioned moving it, and purposefully didn't respond.

Instead he entered the portal, and looked around with the curiosity of a child.
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Pamela
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Molly
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Llana sighed, relaxing, as she entered the magnificent room, her hands rising unconsciously to form the gestures of devotion as she saw Sune’s symbol gloriously illustrated upon the floor. She lost herself in her surroundings, taking it in silently. She reached towards one of the hangings before lowering her grimy hand. Bathe, and then admire, she thought. She startled at the voice, then smiled at her skittishness, murmuring her thanks involubly to the invisible servants.

She began to approach the steps when Greg’s comments reached her. For a moment, she went stiff, and her hand tightened on the banister. Calmly, she told herself, and turned to the sorcerer as Avelaer began to speak. “No time will pass while we are in here. We will come out fully restored and properly armed.” Her lips quirked bitterly at the unconscious pun. “If you are still interested in trying to find their graves, then I suggest that we discuss it when our heads are cleared and we can properly consider our options. But I will remind you that we were hired to find the sh… certain item,” she said, with a glance towards the Drow. “We were willing to lay aside the rescue of prisoners in the fulfillment of this mission. It would be callously selfish to satisfy our desire for personal revenge, which, believe me, I do share.”

She took a deep breath, then softly added, “I want to complete this mission as soon as possible. We were- at least, I was- planning to go with Fade to Silverymoon to discuss the problem of the fey’ri here. We have no idea as to how easy it will be to find their tombs in that…” She gestured in the direction of the swamp. “That thing’s servants might be easy to destroy, but do you really think that even in his vanity he would leave his grave easy to find, with Vaerilmor’s treacherous kin about? Can you imagine how deeply a dragon that old might bury itself? It might take a few hours alone simply for that.

“I want to be long-gone before it raises itself once more.” A cool smile. “And I will laugh in the safe confines of Silverymoon, knowing how furious he will be, and unable to reach me. And then I will return with more manpower, and bring them all down, and send them back to the hell they’ve long avoided.” Her smile broadened with the ferocious joy of that thought.
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Darkwind
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His temper handed him a response to the uncalled-for rebuke, and he swallowed it. Greg let the majority of what she said slide past him without bothering him. As that took a few moments, the scene featured him locking eyes with her, not glaring but in a classical silent treatment. Then, he spoke up.

"A wizard powerful enough who is determined enough to find someone, will find that someone. Such people as us, I would imagine, are actually easier to find, for how many people have our level of power? I don't care for vengeance, all I care about is completing my mission. Without having to battle an undead mageling on regular basis." He broke eye contact and turned to a nearby room. "But you're probably right about them placing their coffins, or whatever, far out of reach. Oh well." He walked away with that.
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Castamir
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Skafloc remained silent throughout the exchange. He was tired of the way the group seemed far too eager to turn on itself, and though they were both reasonably civilised about it all, and there was no malice as such, there had been plenty of it between other party members in the past. Skafloc figured his involvement wouldn't have helped, he recognised that regardless of the sharpness of his axe, he was a blunt instrument, something to send in to cause havoc, not a diplomat.

Once it was over however he walked over to the Sunite, inspecting the mosaic floor as he approached - without understanding it - and finally raising his eyes to meet hers.

"If you plan to come back and give the dragon a final death, I would be deeply wounded if I wasn't present. I would like to be one of the last things it sees when it dies for the last time. It greatly annoyed me." he broke into a smile and then turned his attention back to his surroundings.

"Thought this place was to rest. It's a bit quiet. Where's the campfire and the ale? We need a skald!" he grinned and then walked away, leaving the Sunite and Karosin alone again. Skafloc liked company,it kept him from brooding, but at the same time he preferred his own thoughts. In company he loved boasting, fighting, joking, rutting, shouting, falling over dead drunk, all the mindless activities. He didn't share his thoughts well, and didn't often enquire about other's thoughts.
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Mistress Elysia
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The exchange between the cleric and the sorcerer did not in any way surprise nor disturb they fey'ri - in her society and experience, such arguments and conflicts of interest were completely the norm. If everyone had been agreeing... well, that was when she'd worry, which oddly enough was the emotion that completely and unexpectedly hit her upon stepping through the portal. The first thing she did was shiver as the demon protested forcefully, angry that she had taken it from a place it liked to this nasty, bright, holy place that stank of goodliness.

Fade had long ago indentified that part of her she considered 'demonic', and had attempted to isolate it to make it easier to control and live with; in the large part, she had succeeded to the point where she could be quite socially acceptable when the mood took her, but if left to its own devices, it sometimes frightened her how easy it was to revert back to her old ways. So it was with apprehension rather than wonder that she regarded her surroundings, her skin prickling, making her feel decidedly twitchy.

Even in her conflicted state, the fey'ri couldn't help but smile at Llana's assertion that she would help her in the future. Her smile broke into a grin, however, with the barbarian's comment at the serenity - a serenity she herself found a little disturbing - of this place... a serenity, given half the chance, that she would have broken with gusto if it wasn't for the fact that Llana so obviously needed it right now.
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eocine
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Given that his very nature had often led him to look into the darkest places in both the human psyche, and sphere of existence, Karosin was not one that was easily able to spot beauty in all of it’s forms. After all most of his life had been spent in the underworlds of society, where ‘beauty’ tended by necessity towards functionality. This wasn’t to say that he couldn’t recognise it when he saw it, he knew well enough of Llana’s beauty, as well as that of a golden sunset, but he was yet to be entirely struck breathless by the physical beauty of something else.

As such he was moderately surprised to find his breath catch in his chest for half a second of the virtually preternatural beauty and grace of the Nymph as she stepped out of the portal and onto the damp and dirty floor of the necromancy chamber. Virtually before he had become aware of it though he had recovered from the momentary jolt, and was able to regard the being with his normally dispassionate eyes.

Eyes that watched as Jonas stepped into the magical doorway through which the Nymph had entered without uttering a word of protest. Given the identity of his wife it was only natural that he should have spent what seemed to him to be a vast amount of time in the presence of other Sunites, and one thing he had learned in that time was that they rarely considered the potential for a double cross, from either side of the deal, and because of that, and of course the fact that to question anything would have been positively ruinous to marital harmony, he said nothing at the apparently short-term removal of the shadow-dancer from the group.

Still though he had recovered almost instantly from the sudden arrival of the Nymph it seemed that the sorcerer and blade-singer had been rather more stunned by her appearance, for they both missed her mention that the magical creation would remove them from the time stream for the next twenty-four hours, and as such they didn’t have to worry about suddenly having to deal with the draco-pire and its minions as soon as they left the sanctity that had been provided them.

Despite the fact that his normal reaction would have been to make some comment or other at the moment he was far more concerned with getting Llana inside and away from any potential danger whilst she was still maimed. The brief discourse between his wife and Greg didn’t bother him in the least, and this time he felt no need to step in other than to direct his wife further up the stairs.
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Pamela
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Llana raised her eyebrows at Greg’s supposed lack of vengeance but saw no reason to pursue the matter. Silverymoon’s mythal and its renowned guards would severely limit the draco-pire’s own direct involvement for the brief while she intended to be away. As a powerful woman, she also had her own alliances and favours to call upon, the first being the Mistmaster himself. The creature would not be pleased to know the shard was gone, with its useful protections, and if it had any idea about the mythal it could form…

She looked down warily as Skafloc reproached, ready for some reprimand at his somber silence. Laughter suddenly erupted at his words, and she finally said, “I wouldn’t even think of denying you the pleasure after today!” Smiling warmly, she added, “I don’t know about a campfire, but there must surely be a grand fireplace, big enough to hold a roasting pig, and our hosts are sure to provide you with whatever ale you desire.” As she considered the barbarian and Fade’s (if she’d interpreted her relieved grin correctly) tastes in relaxation, a memory stirred. “You might actually get some company- I’ll be right back,” she said, directing the last at Karosin as she squeezed his hand and skipped downstairs to the door. She quickly considered those still outside, wondering who’d be most willing to accept the request without offense. She didn’t want to chance stepping outdoors again; portals could be temperamental. She she turned first to the air elementals, before remembering that they only spoke their native tongue, in the absence of anyone else to ask she turned to Caine, who was still looking dazed by the Nymph. “Please- could you tell the dwarfs in the diviner’s quarters to come and join us? They deserve some pleasure after their own long imprisonment. Thank you…”

She returned to the stairs, calling out cheerfully to all those present, “But I personally want a chance to clean up; appearances are important after all…” She took Karosin’s hand once more, and ascended, smiling. By long habit, they went to the end of the corridor, and her smile began to waver then fade.

She blinked when the door opened, and then laughed, tears falling. “Oh sweet goddess…” The bedroom was a duplicate from their old home in Waterdeep, down to the scratchings on the window-sill from the myriad cats which were magically drawn to Karosin. She approached the balcony with its piles of cushions, touched by the illusion of the metropolis’ harbour; it was deep night, and the waning moon left a trail marking its descent. The lamps were lit, and she saw her favourites- Petra Dalik’s sculpture; Vadelas’ Heartlands’ landscape, and in a discrete corner, her lute. She turned to her husband and slipped wearily into his embrace. “I will talk, I promise, but for now- I just need some time to think- to find my bearings…”
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eocine
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Shaking himself from his beauty-enhanced stupor the werewolf, who would normally have responded with a snarl at being asked to do something so trivial, simply turned and loped away, lost in a mental landscape of imaginings that were best left inside the lycanthrope's head.

Caine clasped the door that separated the necromantic laboratory from the landing and pulled it open. As the door opened the werewolf was instantly confronted by...

Nothing, for nothing had occurred whilst they had battled the undead beings, other than a few arguments between the dwarves as to the best uses of the mithril that had been recovered. As Caine opened the door the trio of shield dwarves looked up from what they were doing curiously, and hands drifted towards makeshift weapons as they were confronted and cornered by the slavering beast.

As happened though the werewolf barbarian wasn’t there for blood, and barely seemed to even notice them, speaking to them as if by rote and not really understanding what he was saying.

“We have safe housing”, he grunted towards the gathering, “follow”.

With that he turned away and jogged back into the lab, leaving three bewildered looking dwarves swapping glances that were all along the lines of ‘what the hells just happened there?” Finding no answers on each others faces they packed up their belongings in silence, none of them wanting to pose a question as to what to do, just following the curious werewolf.

The trio walked into the room, and instantly their noses wrinkled at the damp stink of the swamp, which was far removed from the dry stillness that they were used to. Whilst they were gathered by the door of the room they could see a few of the others clambering into the golden portal.

More than that though they could see a lot of gold…

Shining, beautiful gold.

Three jaws dropped open at the sight, and they all took involuntary steps forward towards the chests. Avarice gleamed in all three sets of eyes, and they seemed to be set to race towards the gleaming metal until they managed to just about recover themselves.

Looking now for answers they turned to face the magical doorway, and could see a room beyond. “C’mon then”, said Nalrid to the others, finally able to drag his eyes away from the gold. His two sons however didn’t have the same self control, and so he had to walk back and smack them both around the back of the head to shake them out of it.

“I said c’mon”

The dwarves stepped into the magical mansion, and without looking for nor asking for an explanation instantly began to look around, “any chance o’ some ale around here?” They trio chorused to nobody in particular.
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eocine
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara looked around the edifice with utter distain, which was hardly a surprise when one thought of it. She didn’t bother with the argument between the Sunite and the sorcerer, instead she simply trooped up the stairs imperiously towards one of the bedrooms and tugged the door handle open before stepping inside.

Into total darkness… One of her perfect eyebrows slid upwards as she took in the room, because it was entirely perfect.

Totally pitch dark, with elegant Drow furniture and artworks that could only have come from the finest of dark Elven craftsmen. She stepped forwards, her own eyes fully adapted to life in the underdark, and lightly stroked the cool metal filigree of one of the chairs, momentarily and bizarrely feeling like she had returned to her subterranean home.

In one corner of the room a bathtub was set into the floor, and as she approached it she could sense the heat rising off the water. There was also a tray with a selection of foods and a wine decanter sitting on the side, as well as a large bed virtually swallowed up by the silken sheets that covered it.

Grudgingly she had to accept that there were a few things that had been done correctly here.

She idly stripped out of her filthy clothes before willing one of the servants into the room, “clean those”, she barked at the magical being, pointing at the pile of clothes on the floor, whilst stepping down into the bath tub.

Once the servant had gone she allowed herself to submerge all but her head in the deep waters, before she leant back and sighed deeply, this had indeed been a strange day…
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eocine
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One thing that Karosin had learned to do quickly with Llana was to judge her moods decently well, after all no marriage can really survive well without both partners being able to hazard a guess as to the other's state of mind. This being the case Karosin wasn’t fooled by her cheerful demeanor on the stairs, guessing that it was once again the case of the priestess being a professional about her role as a cleric, and not letting people see when she was feeling low.

As such he wasn’t at all surprised to see tears spring into her eyes as they entered the bedroom. What did though stun him was they fact that it was a picture perfect recreation of the bedroom they had shared during their time in Waterdeep.

Surreptitiously he looked around the room for any further signs of cats, the damn things had never ceased to leave him alone in his whole time there, and the thought of having the next twenty four hours blighted by one of them mewling every time he made to leave the room. Had there been one there he just might have chanced his arm with the undead and waited out there till the spell ended… Thankfully though his cursory sweep turned up nothing, and so he turned back to his wife, just in time for her to turn and sink into his arms.

For want of anything immediately to say he simply embraced her, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of her head before he whispered into her ear. “I understand, it’s alright…” Frankly at times like this he was often stuck for much to say, he was someone that prided himself on having the right answers in virtually every situation, but sometimes there was no answer that could be given, and it was something that he could find infuriating if he didn’t steel himself against that possibility.

After a brief while he released her, and laid a kiss on her head, choosing one of the few spots that wasn’t spattered with mud or blood. “Take all the time you need.”
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eocine
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The bard whistled a distinctly tuneless tune as he sat at the far end of the dining table in Sune’s magical mansion, legs crossed under him and with a set of bongos resting on his lap, that he was beating out a rhythm on with obvious relish, swinging his shoulders and rocking from side to side has he did so. His golden eyes were tightly shut, and his long black hair fell down across his face, having come loose from the restraining headband that normally kept it pushed up and out of the way.

After a few more minutes of thumping the bongo’s with regularity his hands suddenly shot downwards towards his waist, and tugged loose two pieces of metal, lifting them before himself and bringing them together.

They made a ‘ting’ sound.

The self-proclaimed maestro of the triangle had played another perfect note…

Quick as a flash though both the triangle and its stick were back at his waist again, and he threw himself once more into the bongo’s with a gusto that was far more to his credit than was the standard of music he was coaxing from the instrument. He chose this time to stop whistling, and instead began to sing, in a curiously nasal tone.

The words he was ‘singing’ would probably not have appeared in any language on the face of Toril, not through the rest of the planes, but the important thing was that the sounded like they might have, and that was what was all that the Elf was really aiming for, in a bid to prove to himself that the time he had spent in Chult hadn’t been entirely wasted and that he had picked up something from his time amongst the tribes there.

Unfortunately though it appeared that he had somehow left there with even less talent for the instrument than he had possessed previously, and so he dropped the bongos onto the table in front of him and slid his eyelids apart. Instantly the sweat that had run down his forehead started to sting, and so he swiped it away with the heels of his hands, before raking his hair backwards, finally allowing himself to see.

Yep, I’m bored.

It’s official, I’m really, REALLY bored.

I wonder how long I have to wait here before they turn up?


Pondered the Elf to himself idly as he leaned back in the chair and started to try to beat out the same tune on his legs. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t start drinking till the people he was supposed to meet arrived, but it wouldn’t be the first time that he’d broken a promise in his lifetime. In fact it probably wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken a promise that day either.

Frankly he’d always had a bit of a problem in that area, namely that it was far easier to give his word than to keep it, and it often seemed like far more trouble than it was worth…

Boy that bottle on the side looks tempting… I know, I’ll just have one, that’ll sort me out!

It should go without saying at this point that one soon became two, became three, and became four and so on.

And this was how the dining room came to have a drunk and stuporous bardic Elf laying on the floor in the corner, propped up by the wall and with an empty bottle in his hand.
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At the dwarves entrance and subsequent question, Fade stepped towards them, grinning. She was aware that she was splattered in mud and blood and probably stank to high heaven, but she still patted Nalrid on the shoulder nonetheless.

"I'm hoping so, my friend, I'm hoping so." She then turned back, stretched so that her back crackled and grimaced, looking down at herself and to where the dragon had ripped massive holes into her light, supple armour. "But before that, I'm going to have a bath and see if this place will supply a decent set of clean clothes until mine are cleaned and repaired, because I stink and I think we're going to have one of those 'and then all her clothes fell off in the fight' tavern-talk type of scenarios if I end up getting chewed up in battle again. Not that I know how to sew, of course... any hoo, catch you guys in a bit." then, after consciously excluding the doors already picked, she chose one at random and entered the room with a nonchalant flick of her tail, a nonchalance that she didn't truly feel.

Upon entering the room, she felt a little better. There was no obvious Sunite paraphenalia here, and the atmosphere seemed a little more neutral; in fact, the decor was quite to her liking. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep burgundy, and a thickly furred, dark coloured rug made from the pelt of some huge animal covered most of the ebony coloured floorboards. There was no over head light, just a series of softly glowing candlesticks affixed to the wall that gave of enough light to see by, but not bright enough to give one a headache. In the far corner wasn't so much a traditional bed, but more a selection of oversized and well stuffed cushions that she knew would mould immediately to her chosen sleeping postion. Situated upon the wall next to that, a dark coloured robe hung, and further along the wall, an alcove containing, much to her delight, clean clothes. Opposite that alcove was another with a curtain drawn across it; upon drawing it back was a large, deep bath full of nearly scalding hot and curiously, but not unpleasantly, scented water.

"Not bad..." the fey'ri said to herself as she began to unbuckle the front of her armour, her immediate intention to get into the bath and stay there until dinner was ready. "Not bad at all..."
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Skafloc, though covered head to foot in swamp, blood (a large portion of which was his own) and quite long (un)dead dragon gunk, decided not to go to his alotted room straight away. He fully intended to bathe, but his curiosity was in charge.

He turned and grinned when the dwarves arrived, white teeth showing through his blood spattered face. At least there would be some like-minded people who didn't want to just be silent and rest. They had 24 hours, and Skafloc only needed seven or eight to be rested, that left a lot of time to think. Skafloc would prefer to drink and be entertained, and from experience, dwarves were fantastic for that. They probably weighed half he did, but seemed to have an unnatural capacity for ale.

He wondered into what looked like a dining room, and immediately his axe was ready, his stance dropping into a combat ready pose. There was a corpse, an elven corpse. They had been misled, it was a trap.

Skafloc was about to shout, alert the others when the corpse moved, and he noticed it was holding an empty bottle. He approached, lowering his axe, and realised it, or rather, he, was breathing, and even conscious, after a fashion.

The sound of Brainbiter clattering onto the floor rang through the halls, followed by a hearty laughter that didn't often emanate from the warrior. He took a few quick paces across the room and grabbed the stuporous elf by the front of his tunic, dragging him up to his feet and holding him there easily, still laughing.

"You drank it all? You inconsiderate bastard, I see you haven't changed one bit!" - through the layer of vile crap, the barbarian was still grinning.
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Pamela
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Llana nodded mutely, and quickly stepped away into the direction of their old bathroom. She was angry at herself for leaving him like that, but there are some things which cannot be said to a lover, or at least not until both were calmer and able to see beyond their hurts. “Let no sound emerge from this room,” she murmured to whatever servant might be about, and breathed a sigh of relief that she would not have to worry about that.

She quickly undressed, determined to face the moment as soon as possible. She approached the long mirror, and turned sideways, exposing her right side. She shuddered as she saw the empty, unscarred socket beneath her shoulder. “Oh goddess,” she began to cry, and simultaneously laughed at her vanity. Logically she knew it would be a memory in less than twenty-four hours, but emotionally, she was repelled. Still, she forced herself to examine the wound; the flesh was smooth and clear, compared to some of the injuries she had seen. It was better to see it for what it actually was, than to let it fester in her imagination, spoiling the rest of this stay. “Stupid, stupid vain woman…”

She padded over to the magical pool, tossing in a ruby bead, and breathing in that beloved rose scent. Now her crying became more earnest, as she let herself unravel the tangle of emotions wracking her. Guilt over the treacherous regret for leaving behind Brightwater, and Karosin’s shock and grief, no matter how temporary; anger for not anticipating the vampiric dragon’s moves, or avoiding them; fear over that ugly battle and the moment when it had squeezed life out of her. Let it out, let it out, she told herself, and submerged herself in the warm water’s embrace.

Finally the calm of a good cry settled upon her, leaving her limbs limp with weariness. She blew her nose one last time, wiped her eyes, and emerged slowly from the pool. She reached for a towel to wrap around her head and swore to herself as she realised the difficulty of doing that alone. She dried herself as best as she could, then squared her shoulders, bracing herself.

She opened the door, and smiled as she saw Karosin lying on the bed, eyes closed. She quietly walked over to the bed, pursing her lips as she saw one eyelid raise. “One day I will use a spell of silence, I swear,” she said, reiterating a familiar, toothless threat, then narrowed her eyes at his usual response of a smug smile. She went round to ‘her’ side of the bed, and sat down beside him. “And you’re wearing those clothes on a clean quilt,” she nagged, shaking her head. “You’re very lucky that we have magical servants here, you know…”
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eocine
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The last thing that the Elf remembered had been betting himself that he could drink the whole bottle without using his hands once, he’d just about won that bet, through careful balance and a willingness to make himself look like a total fool. Now that he thought of it he could vaguely remember staggering into the corner and sliding down the wall, before convincing himself that he’d get up any minute, all he needed to do was rest there for a second, just until his head had stopped spinning and he could easily pick himself up.

Now though suddenly it seemed that his body had entirely rebelled against his sleepy mind, and despite the fact that he was ordering it to lay still it had apparently decided to stand up.

Curiously he was also laughing, and in a far deeper voice than his own normal range. This could do with further investigation, after all how far would his body go now? Would it now carry him off to enroll in some army or other and put his mind at risk in that way? Perhaps it would try and find a steady job, and if anything that would be even worse.

Fighting against the horror of work he entirely relaxed his body and slumped forwards, only to seemingly remain vertical, when he had expected his head to be coming into contact with the floor.

There was nothing for it, he would have to open his eyes…

Blinking furiously in the light he could just about make out a blur in front of him, but really that could have been anything. Whatever it was though it appeared to be laughing, because his brain had finally come around to realising that it wasn’t actually his mouth that was making that noise.

Of course laughter was usually a good thing, though on occasion it could also be bad, so best to continue the investigation until he was sure if it were good or bad laughter.

With painful slowness he brought up one of his hands to the front of his tunic, and soon identified that there was a massive thing there. Oh gods I’ve been impaled by a tree! Was his immediate, panicked response, until he realised that trees normally had bark on them, and weren’t perhaps quite so hairy.

Ok, so it’s not a laughing tree, he asserted internally, glad to have reached some kind of conclusion. He blinked again a few more times, before bringing up both of his hands and using them to rub his eyes as hard as he dared. Upon removing them again the world was just sparks and lights for a moment, until finally an image swum into focus.

And immediately the Elf assumed that he was even drunker than he had imagined….

It couldn’t possibly be could it?

He blinked a few more times before peering into the barbarian’s face again, or as would perhaps have been a more fitting description given his bardic training, the ‘blood spattered visage of the raging northern warrior’.

Although there didn’t seem to be a lot of raging going on at the moment thankfully.

“Skafloc?” He croaked, a smile finally starting to creep across his still half-drunken features, “No no no no”, he grinned as he thumped the barbarian amiably on the chest, “there’s plenty o’er there”, he then gestured vaguely in the direction of one of the cabinets that were dotted around the room.

“So are you helpin’ on this mission thing? That the Sunitiies, Sunits, Sune tits, or whatever they’re called asked me to help on?” He slurred at Skafloc, and then, pausing only to drunkenly giggle at his accidental ‘Sune tits’, mispronunciation, finally actually put his feet under himself so he could stand without the barbarian holding him up.
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eocine
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Whilst Llana had been bathing Karosin had simply lay flat on the bed with his hands behind his head whilst trying to force some sense of stillness over his thoughts. It was something of a trial because this had been one of the very few occasions where he had truly felt overmatched by something, and the realization of that wasn’t an entirely comfortable sensation for the ex-assassin. Still, thinking about that was vastly preferable to some of the other places that his mind was trying to wander towards, and so he chose to focus on how he could improve in that area.

During his time with both his guild and later on the Zhents, his stock in trade had become humans and other humanoids, like Elves, Dwarves and the like. He was good at it, and it generally paid better than anything else. Since his change of viewpoint and marriage to Llana though he had found himself battling monsters more than people, and that wasn’t a change that he considered to be for the better.

Overtime one adapted to better suit the prey that one chose, and this was very much the case with Karosin, he had become adapted to battling things that he could talk with, push off guard and anger or at least have a vague idea what their capabilities were. What that meant of course was that it was easier to have confidence in the actions that he took in battle, because it meant that he could go on unimpeded by worry that they might perform some act of magic that threw off his balance or negated his tactics.

It wasn’t something that he could as easily do when fighting demons or the like, because he knew enough to know that they had magical abilities that could aid them in battle, but not enough to know species by species what they were. Something he resolved to do next time they were in Silverymoon was to speak to a Conjurer or visit a library to do some research into the strengths and weaknesses of the various things he had been or expected to be, battling.

It’s just not enough anymore to know fifty ways to kill a man I suppose…

As soon as the door had swung open he had of course been aware that Llana had entered the room, and frankly it would have been a hot day in Cania before she would be able to enter quietly enough to take him by surprise. Opening one eye he followed her path across the room, taking in the fact that, everything considered her shoulder didn’t look as bad as it could have done. He’d seen arms removed in the past, in fact he’d removed them from people more than once, and they very rarely seemed to heal as well as hers had done, though he did understand that this was really a side effect of the healing magic rather than the method of removal.

At her nag he tilted his head over to where she now sat, “Exactly, I consider this to be a trial run before I trust them with my own clothing.” He then sat up straight and opened his other eye, before spinning off the bed, then deliberately leaning down to brush any dirt to the floor before shooting a self-satisfied grin to his wife.

He then began to undress, which was a lengthy process due to the various hidden pockets and pouches that needed to be emptied along the way, finally though he tossed the dirty clothes into the box in the corner and set about untying his hair. “Do you need a hand with anything before I go?” He asked well aware that the lack of an arm would be far more of a hindrance for her whilst dressing as opposed to undressing.
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eocine
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Nalrid, Bhain and Azten may not have been exactly famous warriors amongst their kind, but they were never the less still Dwarves, and as such a bloodstained fiend-touched wasn’t going to easily put them off, because if that kind of thing worried you then you were never going to get anywhere in the Dwarven mines. Besides which they weren’t exactly entirely sure how all the surface races looked anyway, for the Citadel Adbar wasn’t exactly renowned when it came to entertaining visitors, and it was very rare for a non Dwarf to make it into the sections of the city that the three spent most of their times.

Of course there was also the fact that the strange Elf woman had been nothing but cheerful and properly blunt with them since they had met, and they could respect that, it was a vast improvement in fact on the normal uppity Elves that they had, in Nalrid’s case met, and in Bhain and Azten’s case, regularly been told about.

“Iffin we beat ye back down we’ll keep a beer on the table fer ye then”, promised Nalrid, before he and the other two made their ways upstairs as well and each picked one of the many rooms.

After a number of years with a dusty mine for a dungeon it was time for a well deserved bath and an opportunity to actually change for the first time in far too long.
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Upon removal, Fade held up the filthy remains of her leather tunic, wondering again -aloud this time - how she would get it cleaned and repaired; however, she nearly had a heart attack and dropped into a defensive pose when a breezy voice answered in a near whisper 'you wish these cleaned? It shall be as you desire'. Realising that is was one of the invisible servants, Fade blushed a little at her own silliness and after a moments thought, nodded. She felt uncomfortable ordering the servant around, but she knew that practicality meant taking advantage of the services offered was a good idea - she desired her clothes cleaned, and this was the best way to achieve that goal with the minimum of fuss.

Stepping into the bath was like stepping into some kind of warm, fuzzy heaven. At first she submerged fully, shaking her head underwater to try to help release the muddy tangles from her crimson hair. She then resurfaced slowly, and lay back in the steaming water, her hands laced behind her head and at last, she allowed herself to think back over the day’s events.Not that there had been much time for reflection…, she thought with a wry, lop sided smile.

Staring up at the ceiling, she conjured up the last time she had been resting. It had been an uneasy experience – frightening, almost – using an old wolf-den to snooze a few hours away. She had come to regret it – it had given Inther and her brothers time to catch up with her – but she wasn’t to know that. She thought she had lost them long before she had rested; indeed, if she had known they were still on her trail, she wouldn’t have risked the few hours’ worth of shut eye she’d managed to snatch. Hearing them discussing her a few feet outside of her hiding place upon waking and realising that they knew she was close definitely counted in her top ten rude awakenings – she still had no idea how she had managed to slip away from them undetected. Shame that she hadn’t thought about the tracks she had left behind; it hadn’t been long before Aurelios had picked them up, and after that the chase had earnestly re-started anew. She still had absolutely no idea why the Brotherhood had so persistently chased her on her escape… she supposed it was simply due to the fact that she proved that they weren’t as infallible as they like to think they were and in that, she was a nasty little loose end that could potentially undermine their authority in Luskan. Then there was the kudos; as far as she knew, she was the only fey’ri ‘in captivity’, as it were - Mirincal in particular had been proud of being able to ‘tame the demoness’, and was a great teller of how ‘the fiendling’ had killed Trann, one of ‘his’ slavers and how conversely, he could get her to do anything for him, such was his influence over her. The rogue’s take on the whole situation was obviously different – she did as she was told because he habitually cast all kinds of hold and dominate person spells on her until she had no choice but to do what he wished – but inevitably, it was Mirincal’s take on things that was widely believed. Her disappearance from the harem would have been a difficult thing to explain away, considering she was supposed to have been ‘tamed’… for a brief second, the fey’ri wondered what tale had been spun to visitors who had inevitably been promised a piece of her, before she shook her head, sat up straight and began to scrub herself vigorously.

“NOT going to think about it” she vowed to herself loudly, making herself turn her thoughts from the past and into the present and the people she’d seemingly just fallen in with.

The day had been so eventful that it felt that she had been travelling with them for a month rather than a day; her rescue from one of Inther’s ‘punishments’ mercifully seemed to have occurred in the distant past. However, upon thinking about each of them individually, she was struck at how little she actually knew of them. They seemed to be genuine… but how did she know they wouldn’t just turn her over to the Silverymoon authorities as soon as they stepped into the city? She paused in her scrubbing for a moment and sighed, drawing her knees up under her and resting her chin upon them.
“Time to stop thinking like that” she chastised herself ruefully. “It’s that kind of thinking that gets you into trouble. Just… go with it. If they betray you… no. Again, stop it.” She sank back into the bath, slopping water over the sides. Fuck it. No point lying here if you can’t shut yourself up and stop being paranoid. Get out, get dried, get dressed, find drink. Best thing to do.

With that thought, the fey’ri stood up, stepped out of the bath and wrapping a warm bathsheet around herself, padded across her temporary bedroom to inspect the wardrobe and selected a pair of loose but well cut trousers (complete with a little hole for her tail, she noted – how considerate) and a flatteringly cut top in a deep blue that appeared black upon first inspection to wear. She then spent a few minutes wrestling a comb through her unruly mane and then, once that major task was vaguely achieved, opened the door and padded off down the corridor in search of beer.
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Pamela
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Llana sighed dramatically, a smile defeating her purpose; this grew into an amused grin as she watched Karosin emptying his pockets and putting away the various poisonous accoutrements of his trade. Their familiar surroundings were doing the job of putting her at her ease; the morning’s events seemed to have taken place hours ago, as she gave into the illusion of evening. It took her a moment to realise that she was not getting ready to go to bed, and she shook her head at herself, suddenly willing the night sky outside to become broad noon. She would probably take a nap later, but now it was important to be a part of life again, and to get herself fully immersed in its own precious charms.

One of which stood before her, and a new desire soon came to mind. “No, not yet,” she remarked, and rose from the bed. There was nothing like a good battle and a return from death to bring basic instincts to the fore. She approached her husband, caressing his pale cheek before tugging one of the undone braids, coiling it about her golden fingers. “I think I’ll join you after all…”



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Castamir
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Skafloc let the bard go and took a step back, glancing at the drinks cabinet.

"Then when I'm back, I'll have a go at catching up. I need to clean myself up first, I must be assaulting your delicate elf nose more than usual eh?"

"Aye," he answered, "I ran into them a while back, and their mission seemed suitably heroic." he grinned, and figured that the bard would put two and two together and figure that would also mean near suicidally dangerous.

"I didn't think we were working for the Sunites, one of our number is one, but.." he paused, he hadn't really been that interested in who the mistmaster was, he just realised it *was* a heroically dangerous, and important mission. "I suppose she can answer your questions, though her husband is as humourless as is possible. Just warning you." he winked.

"Try to leave some for us, we have dwarves, another bloody drow, a demon elf girl, and a werewolf with us, we've just killed a vampire dragon, and it's been a long day."

He turned to leave, then paused for a moment before turning back to the swaying elf bard, slapping him on the shoulder, "Good to see you." he said, before heading off to a room.
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Some time after the barbarian left, Fade approached the doorway, her skin beginning to prickle again. Just before she entered, she realised she could hear someone giggling and talking softly to themselves. Feeling a bit miffed that the others had obviously started the drinking ahead of her, she poked her head around the door of the Dining Room, only to see a complete stranger sat at the table, a bottle of wine in front of him.

"What the..." the fey'ri exclaimed in a whisper, pulling her head back quickly. Who in the hells is that? she asked herself suspiciously, straight away assuming the worst even after all she'd been through with the others recently, the strains of the day and her own discomfort at being one of fiendish ancestry in such an obviously holy place obviously taking its toll on her. Keeping low to the floor, she risked another glimpse.

An elf. Typical. So, they *had* decided to call in the cavalry after all. Well, if that was the case...

Drawing the dagger she kept wth her at all times and sticking to the meagre shadows that the room afforded by mainly using the table and using her ability to turn herself invisible for a short while, the rogue slowly crept as silently as she could towards and then behind the figure. Holding the dagger to bear, she silently covered his mouth with one hand and pressed the dagger to his throat, and dismissing the invisibility, pulled his head back into a position so that the back of his head was almost nestled against her cleavage; a position that could have been considered not unpleasant, had the dagger and the obviously menacing tone not been present.

"If you yell out, things will go very badly for you" she murmered close to the elfs pointed ear in a low voice. "Now who in the Abyss are you, and what are you doing here?"
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eocine
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“Of course, we Elves can barely take a piss without wanting to vomit at the smell, so sensitive are our noses and stomachs, or rather that would be the case if it wasn’t for the fact that only liquid sunshine comes out,” laughed the drunken bard with sufficient gusto that he actually felt his stomach start to heave, fortunately though he just about managed to quell that, thus avoiding adding another stain to the veritable cornucopia that already adorned the front of Skafloc’s armor.

“No no no”, corrected the Elf, waving a corrective hand in the air limply, “Sorry, I’m with the Sune… People, they’ve asked me to help as a favor…”

“Long story as to why I owe one of course, needless to say it involves myself, a titanic amount of alcohol, a temple of Sune and being in the wrong bed at the wrong time.”

At the warning over the Sunite’s husband he just grinned, “she’s married ehh? Love a challenge.” By now he was visibly swaying from side to side, clearly the effort of standing for more than a few seconds was taking its toll…

“A Drow, a Demon Elf, a werewolf and some dwarves?” Repeated the drunkard, “I’ve never managed to sleep with a Dwarf or a Demon Elf, but werewolves and the Drow are both already on my scorecard.”

A slap on the shoulder from Skafloc is virtually akin to a shoulder barge from a normal man, and so, already working at a disadvantage when it came to the whole ‘balance’ issue, it should surprise no one that the comparatively light tap sent him stumbling to the side, and there was an audible thud as his head connected with the wall.

Not that he noticed any pain from it at all…

At Skafloc’s goodbye he sketched off a salute that could at best have been called atrocious, and at worst a decidedly effeminate wave, “You too, and hurry back before I pass out on the table.”

With that, and once Skafloc had gone, he staggered towards the drinks cabinet and pulled another bottle free… “Hey, invisible people things, can one of you open this?” He asked to the world at large, and right on cue one of the servants appeared and uncorked the bottle.

“You know something”, said the Elf, waving a finger at the semi-transparent being, “you are a great… Thing. Here”, he dug inside one of his pockets and pulled a gold coin free, “you’ve earned this buddy”, he flipped the coin towards the magical spell effect, before staggering back towards the table and slumping heavily into a chair.

It was here, a little bit later on that Fade found him, merrily getting further smashed out of his already pretty tiny mind.

In terms of noticing something was actually wrong, the bard’s realization came with virtually glacial slowness, but after a few seconds it dawned on him that there was a blade at his throat, and he sprang into action, by stopping himself from pissing himself in fright. What Fade could see instantly was the colour drain from his face, though this was more due to the face that he was again worried he was going to hurl, and he couldn’t imagine that going over very well at all.

Once she let go of his mouth though his panic subsided, and he took a few deep breaths in a bid to settle his stomach. “Pleased to meet you”, he slurred, seemingly oblivious to her tone and waving a hand over his shoulder in a kind of greeting.

“At the moment my name is Kellindel, and I’m getting drunk on this very very fine wine”, he gestured towards the bottle, but his depth perception wasn’t up to much, and so he managed to knock the bottle, which span around a few times before toppling over, luckily though it had recently been rendered an empty.

The bottle continued spinning on the table for a few seconds before stopping, the mouth pointing towards the crouching figure of Fade, and suddenly Kellindel had to stop himself from asking if she was interested in a game of spin the bottle, and if so that she should be working on losing her first item of clothing.

“Sorry, I’m dreadfully drunk, what did you say your name was?” He asked with that curiously vapid innocence that only the drunk can really achieve.
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Well... if the elves had sent someone to escort her back to Silverymoon, then they'd certainly been shafted as far as she was concerned, because this was in no doubt the most drunk she'd ever seen any prissy fullblood get, ever. Still, appearances - and in this elfs case, the stench of wine - could be deceiving...

"I really don't think you're in any state to be asking questions, do you?" she replied, her voice level still no more than a murmur. She adjusted her grip on the dagger a little, the blade scraping against the elf's neck a little - not enough to draw blood, but enough so that if he was faking, he knew she meant business. "Now, don't make me coax an answer out of you. Why are you here, Kellindel... if that's really your name. Did the fullbloods send you? Or is it just a happy coicidence that you've found your way here after the day I've had today..."

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eocine
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A moment of paranoia… Was his name really Kellindel? After all maybe this person knew more than he did on the matter? It didn’t seem likely, but then it hadn’t seemed likely that the Sharess worshiping Halfling could have been so offended by his Olaf tattoo, and that had happened as well. Fortunately a true drunkard prepares for this kind of eventuality, and so had written down his name, his nominal address and his species and gender on a scrap of paper that had been hidden away in his boot.

Unfortunately he suspected that the person who was trying to shave him might take offence were he to remove his boots, so that put that idea out of the window. He would just have to think it through… Well his parents had called him Kellindel, and surely they would have known if he was really called something else wouldn’t they?

In the end he decided to risk it, “Yep, that’s my real name!” He nodded eagerly, feeling the blade scrape over his neck and wondering if he should ask for her to leave a goatee, before he remembered that he didn’t even grow bristles. However he hadn’t got to where he was by asking too many questions of people, preferring instead to just let life flow where it may, and so he said nothing.

“Ahh… Yes”, he nodded, “sorry damned rude of me, I’m here because the Sune people want me to repay them a favor I owe and help out on something or other with some people,” he waved a finger in the air, “I wasn’t overly eager at first, but it turns out that Skaffer’s is on the mission, an’ he’s a great lad, proper fellow that one…”

“The full who what now?” He asked, struggling to keep up with the conversation, even as slow as it was.
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eocine
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As could probably have been expected Caine’s room was a little on the spartan side, because he lacked the imagination to consider it could be anything more than that. A simple bed covered in furs, a hard wooden floor also covered in a large and thick fur, and a series of weapons and other martial implements on the walls. There were no paintings or artworks, nor was there even a desk, after all it was hardly likely that the illiterate lycanthrope would have need of anything such as that.

What the room did have though were hunting trophies, and lots of them, mounted heads of a variety of creatures looked down at him from the walls, and if he had tried to he would have been able to remember the deaths of each and every one of them. These were his most prized kills, and to look upon them gave him a sense of swelling pride in the magical energies that flowed through his veins.

Padding through the room, his claws clicking as they hit the wooded floor, the werewolf pulled open one of two doors that were on the far side of the room. Instantly he was hit by the startling warmth, which was pouring out of a small brazier and filling the room with a damp heat that instantly caused his mouth to fall open as he started to pant in a bid to reduce his body temperature.

Quickly he stepped out of the room and closed it behind himself before exploring the second room. To the left of that room was a simple pool of heated water, that appeared to be from a volcanic spring of sorts, rich with minerals and salts. To the other side was a deep bath that radiated cold, which was to be expected as it had been filled with ice water.

His lupine features seemed to smile, before they warped and twisted, his muzzle shortening and being drawn back into his face as the hair that had previously coated his form receded and vanished. In a matter of moments the transformation had been completed, and he stood in his human form.

Unlike his rangy hybrid form the human form of Caine was far shorter of limb, and about half a foot shorter, his body compact and tightly muscled, carrying not an ounce of fat at all. Atop his head his hair was a great brown mane that reached to halfway down his back, and his eyes, crimson in his animal states were actually a fairly bright blue. His facial features were well defined and chiseled, and all things considered he was actually a disturbingly good looking fellow, a fact that often worked well to disguise the beast within…

However at this moment the beast and the man both wanted to get clean, and so he headed into the hot room, later to use the ice bath and the spring water.
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"The Sunites?" So, the plot thickened... "From Silverymoon, I take it? Hmmm. Let me guess. You're after some fey'ri, right? They've taken something important - yes, I've heard about that, snatched bits and pieces only, true, but I'm not as stupid as I make out half the time - so you want information... and possibly one to keep locked up so they can ask nice questions of her, hmmm? And then you can... what did you say?"

Fade's paranoid mind caught up with her ears.

"Skaffers? What? You don't mean... fuck me! And I thought that bastard was okay! He never struck me as the type to... okay, let's get this straight." Fade stepped round the elf so that she was facing him, and therefore able to read his expression as he answered her, but kept the dagger point a mere fraction of an inch from his throat just in case. "Are we referring to the same guy? Big fella. Wields a huge greataxe that just screams 'overcompensation'? Got a bellow like bull with sore nads? Loses it a bit in battle? You're here because of him, and not the elves? Or the Sunites? But you are here really because of the Sunites? So how does... " the fey'ri stopped, took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind a little of the nasty, insinuating, seductive voice inside her head that was telling her to gut the elf and then carry on with the barbarian; he's involved, he's been mentioned, no doubt at the instigation of the assassin or his bi...

"Shutupshutupshutupshutup!" Fade muttered to herself in a bid to silence the demon, closing her eyes for a second. She then snapped them open and regarded the elf. "Not you. Me. It's this place. It's too.. no! Nevermind that! Look, just tell me why you're here - leaving no detail out - otherwise I fear I'm going to end up doing something rather silly. So spill. Now."
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eocine
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“Nahh, not Silerymoon”, he corrected, “I’ve bin in Waterdeep of late, but they asked me to help over here as a member of the church was believed to be in danger, an I.. Well I owe a lot to their temple, and also recently managed to have an ‘incident’ at the church, and they promised not to involve the guards if I helped out with this thingy.”

He looked, and indeed was bewildered at the prospect of locking someone up, sure bonds and things were fine in the bedroom between consenting adults, but not other than that…

As Fade stepped around his eyes goggled, which she could easily have imagined was at the fact that she was a Demonic Elf, however it was simply a case of his drunkenly gawking at her rack. Fortunately though he was distracted by her mentioning Skafloc, “yeah that’s the fellow, but I’ll tell you this, I thought he was overcompensating too at one point”, he shook a finger in the air, “b’he’s not! Massive it is! Huge!” He held his arms about four foot apart. “Did he tell you about that vampire he shafted? Skinny thing she was, I’m surprised she didn’t walk bow legged for a week after!”

By now though he was approaching being utterly lost in her various speculations so he just gave up trying, and simply sat there watching closely, and trying to keep his eyes above her neckline. “Sorry!” He apologised to her outburst, perfectly willing to believe he had been speaking out loud.

Frankly he was pretty sure that he already had explained, but he was willing to take her word for it that he hadn’t, after all she was the sober one… “Well I’m Kellindel, pleased to meet you”, he repeated, “An I was there in Waterdeep one day, minding my own business and trying to impress this aasimar woman so I could… Do the business, anyway”, he shook his arms in the air as if to add some kind of gravitas to his words, “then this Sune priestess came in and asked that I followed her, and she was way better looking so I did…”

“When we got to the temple though there was some fat human waiting for us, and he screamed at me, ‘that’s him!’ an then they all looked stern and said that I’d snuck into his bed whilst he was at the temple!” He sounded indignant at the slander, “which I had, but it’s only cause I’d got the wrong room!”

“I was lookin’ for his daughter’s room, but when I explained that they still weren’t happy, and then my debts at the temple were brought up, an’ they said I could pay it all off by giving the temple a hand with lookin’ after one of their priestesses, so I ended up here waiting for the woman.” He laughed, “Spoke to Skaffer’s a few minutes before you came in and he said her husband’s a miserable bastard, I’ll definitely cheer her up!”
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Castamir
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Skafloc picked a room and opened the door. Instantly his eyes had to adjust to the fire lit room. He stepped in, and looked around, feeling at home - almost disturbingly so, though mercifully this was only in the syle of his former home, and in fact it was much larger, a grand place in comparison.

He seemed to be standing in a large roundhouse, low stone walls lined with furs and leathers, huge wooden beams holding up a steep conical roof, with a hole at the very top to accommodate the roaring fire that dominated the middle of the room.

About the floor were wool rugs and bear skins, with winter wolf skins thrown in for good measure. There were windows, but there were skins fastened secure over the apetures, as they would be in bad weather, leaving the space lit only by the flames. The wooden beams were also painted, the decoration matching in style the tattoos and warpaint that adorned his skin, black, blue and white pattens and animals swirling about on the dark wood. If Skafloc had ever gotten around to building his dream home, this would have been it.

Skafloc looked up, slightly awed at the illusion, and saw sky through the hole, dark sky with stars. He even recognised them, it was a northern sky..

Aside from the sound of the fire however, it was completely silent. No bustling village life going on around, no wind, no rain. Silence. If it had been any different, Skafloc would not have been able to sleep there, it would have tormented him. But as it was, it was familiar enough, without stirring any negative emotion, or none more negative than he lived with daily. It was, as far as it could have been, perfect.

He noted the large bathtub the other side of the fire, and leaned brainbiter against the wall, stripping his armour and clothes, leaving a pile on the ground looking rather like a butchered animal. Unashamed and unconcerned by his nakedness the barbarian gestured to one of the near invisible things that seemed to have been waiting inside the doorway.

"Will you please take these, repair them, and if you can, clean them?" he asked, before stepping into the hot bath, and setting about scrubbing the filth from his person.
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Darkwind
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After entering the room he'd chosen, Greg spent a few moments re-arranging it mentally until it was identical to a pleasure palace he'd spent quite a bit of time after one of his adventures, when he was young and alive. Then, after depositing his clothes with the translucent servants to be cleaned, and changing into a spare set, he wandered off. They could stay here for an entire day, so why not explore a bit before resting? He'd heard about extradimensional Mansions archmages could conjure up, but never really had the pleasure of being in one himself.

As he wandered idly around, Greg came to the door he knew led to the room Llana'd chosen for her own. She'd take a bath, first thing, and might even still be there, or perhaps just finishing. Truly, an opportunity of a lifetime--and he was a firm beliver in not knocking opportunities. With a lecherous grin and a magic word, he activated his magic cloak, which he hadn't surrendered to be cleaned by some stroke of genius, and drifted inside. He was a little disappointed by what he found, as he had not counted on the presense of Karosin to spoil his view of his wife, but the sheer gusto with which the two worshipped the goddess of love almost made him wonder if she wasn't loosing her faith--and about to switch to worship of the Sharess...

In due time he grew bored--this sort of thing was so much more fun back when he could react as a normal living male could. Was this what really old men felt like? He shuddered, and drifted out.

After using his cloak again to return, he wandered into another room to find a curious sight--Fade pacing around a drunk elf. He even caught the final bit of her rant. The elf was more than a bit of a surprise, considering that he wasn't really supposed to be there. Concerns that someone found a way to gain entry into their haven were somewhat offset by his obvious inebriation, but Greg still felt this called for an explanation.

"What's this, Fade?"
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Now that the elf was being vaguely coherent - for a drunkard - she felt a trifle silly for jumping to conclusions regarding his presence here. Lowering the dagger, she sat back on the table and chewed a talon like thumb nail for a moment, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. Thank Erevan he wasn't sober...

"So, not Silverymoon?" she said eventually. "Waterdeep. Hmm. And this is more of a... punishment, rather than some kind of crusade, then. Oh." she went back to chewing her nail, slid off the table and began to pace around the elf. "Bollocks. Ah, kind of, errr, mistaken you for someone else, I think... kind of. I think. Y'see, fullbloods don't often like my kind, see us as, you know, blood traitors and everything and so I assumed..." she tried inject a level of self-depreceating humour into her tone "... that you were, you know, one of those elves... that... uh... How was I supposed to know you weren't, huh?" She went back to concentrating on her nail for a second. "I mean, okay, I could have asked, but then if you *were* one of those elves, then where would I be right now? Bound hand and foot and on my way to a Silverymoon prison cell without a by-your-leave, that's where! So, look, you know - sorry. Pre-emptive strike and all that." she held a hand out. "M'name's Fade, by the way. Because, you know, you did ask." She grinned at the drunk elf, now curious despite herself. "How do you know Skafloc? And how do you know... oh, hi Greg." she turned around upon the sorcerer's question. "This is Kellindel. He's from Waterdeep. Definitely not from Silverymoon. Allegedly. He's, uh, here to help?"
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eocine
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“I like you!” Replied Kellindel with the sloppy grin of the vastly drunk, and more than that the general enthusiasm of someone who likes virtually anything of the opposite gender, especially those that possessed as shapely a form as Fade. Frankly he hadn’t actually really been aware of any threat that she had posed, and as such wasn’t going to be bearing a grudge, rather he had just been grateful to have someone there to alleviate the tedium of sitting and drinking on his own. The manner of her entrance and introduction was now long lost to him.

As she made her excuses he nodded, but really he wasn’t following anything, he’d simply found though that nodding through discussions was generally pretty conducive to building good relations with others. Of course you had to watch out for sentences like ‘And then you will storm the barricades’, or ‘you have deflowered my daughter, and as such you must marry her’, but that kind of thing didn’t happen often thankfully, probably no more than once a year anyway…

“My name’s Kellindel”, he repeated for the third time, now certain that it indeed was his name after his brief moment of panic earlier. “We met years ago, on a flying ship in space an I joined the crew an’ he did as well.”

That was as far as he got in his explanation before Greg entered the room, though in keeping with his decided lack of awareness in his drunken state it wasn’t until the sorcerer actually called out that that he even noticed his presence. As Greg asked his question and Fade answered the Elf waved eagerly and pulled out the seat next to himself.

“Yep! I’m here to help you in your battle against…” He searched his memory banks, before realising that he really didn’t know the specifics, still he managed to rally magnificently, “your battle against the forces of darkness and the hordes of evil that threaten to become a plague o’er the lands!”
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Fade regarded her self proclaimed new friend with mounting amused bewilderment. "Well, I'm very flattered. I'm sure I'll, umm, like you too -" Maybe. Eventually. Possibly at a great distance... " - Yes. Hello again, Kellindel. My face is up here."

As the elf beckoned enthusiastically to Greg, Fade surreptitiously rolled her eyes and gave the sorcerer a little shrug, and then went to inspect the drinks cabinet that Kellindel seemed so determined to empty upon his own.

The selection was fantastic.

Upon hearing Kellindel's comment regarding what he knew of their mission, Fade close her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in near despair. Oh, boy.... She reached out and grabbed a bottle of something that looked sticky and highly alcoholic, poured a generous measure into a glass and tossed the contents back with a practised flick of her wrist. Wheezing slightly as the firey liquor burnt the back of her throat, she poured another, equally generous measure and this time, upon inspecting a small metal bucket perched on the sideboard, topped it up with ice. She then sat herself back at the table and regarded the elf once more.

On second thoughts...

Standing back up, she went back to the drinks cabinet and took the entire bottle back to the table with her, now feeling suitably armed against any and all inane chatter, potential or real.

"And what forces of darkness and hordes of evil are these, Kell?"
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eocine
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“Everyone does!” He grinned winningly at the Fey’ri… though he had noticed something odd about her, noticeably her tail. It should go without saying that his first, last and indeed only real thought on the issue was that it would surely be hugely useful in the bedroom, probably making multitasking less of an epic task!

Needless to say though whilst he had been pondering the potential of tails his gaze had, as it would probably continue to do all through the evening, fallen down to her breasts… Something that she had noticed and mentioned. A lesser man would perhaps have been embarrassed at being so obviously caught gawking, not this inebriated Elf though, “Sorry!” He said cheerfully, clearly not meaning a word of it as he, with some reluctance, moved his gaze upwards. “Fair’s fair though, you can feel free to admire my stunning form in exchange!” His arms were thrown out to the side expansively before he pointed to his chest and laughed.

Whilst Fade moved off to look through the drinks cabinet Kellindel was of course moved to look at her ass as she did so, though he looked up enough to admire her choice of drink. Going for the hard stuff was something that he appreciated in women, it generally betokened his sort of attitude towards life.

“Every last one of them!” He cheered to the rafters, before firing an imaginary longbow around the room. “I’m the light that will shine over the darkest of corners and bring ruin onto all those that are of evil ken!” It was a heck of a proclamation, but he ruined it rather by dissolving into giggles before he reached the end.

He then turned to Greg, “And will you join me on my holy quest as a smiter of evil and damnation?” There was something odd about the pale fellow, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, he definitely did look as if he needed a little more sun though…
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eocine
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Shrouded in the darkness of the room Anaara stood up from her bath, finally feeling significantly cleaner than she had done for a good while, there had been a rudimentary way for them to bathe in the magical dungeon that she had been trapped in with the giants, but it was no comparison to this at all. The air was slightly chilled, and she felt a series of goose bumps rise up on her flawless ebony skin for a moment, but it didn’t take long for her to adjust to the cold, and she toweled herself down slowly and carefully, luxuriating in the feeling of true cleanliness.

Once she was fully dry she moved over towards one of the closets, pulling out a pure white spider-silk dress of astonishing sheerness. Cut high on both thighs and slashed down from her neckline to just beneath her navel, it was a dress that left virtually nothing to the imagination, and virtually proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that modesty wasn’t exactly a big part of the Drow culture that the priestess had been raised in.

It was a culture that she missed in a lot of ways, one where she was of the ruling class and gender, and held a position of power that would have the lesser orders sniveling like the lower order filth they were. She had held a place of command in her time dwelling in the magical dungeon of the Conjuration Archmage, and longed to get back to that kind of role. Not that she cared for the people there, merely the power…

Finishing dressing was hardly an arduous task given that she only actually donned a single item, and so she stepped out of the room, instantly shielding her eyes from the comparatively dazzling light. After a few moments her eyes had just about adjusted enough to be able to see without pain, though there was of course a temptation to squint, but she forced her eyes apart before walking down the stairs, her footfalls light due to the fact that she had chosen to go barefoot.

With every step that she took the slit parted virtually exposing her entire leg, and perfectly displaying the vibrant contrast between her onyx skin and the pristine silk. Raising one of her hands that she had painstakingly manicured she pushed open the door that led to the main dining room and stepped inside.

Instantly she spotted the Elf, and her eyes narrowed with a loathing that can only be achieved through years of systematic propaganda and a belief system that was perfectly honed into an object for spreading malice and hatred. Instead of approaching the others though she simply walked over to the drinks cabinet and gathered a glass and a decanter of wine before retreating to the far end of the table, before sitting down with her legs crossed whilst she sipped from the glass, watching the goings on with an entirely neutral expression on her face.
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Castamir
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Skafloc finally felt that if he scrubbed any more he'd start to lose tattoos and skin, so he rose and stepped out of the bath, towelling himself down with a rough woolen cloth that had been placed near the bath.

Once dry he wandered over to a set of wooden chests near the wall, and opened a few. Woad, paint, pigments for his hair and the essential pig fat for that complete barbarian maniac look. Perfect. Though he felt no need to don it immediately, he didn't plan to do battle with anyone for a while yet, now was time to celebrate surviving so far, and to drink to their victories, both past and - hopefully - future. Instead he pulled his dark mane - for without the spikes, that was what it was - back and tied it, as he was prone to when he was 'relaxing' and left himself unadorned, aside from his ever present tattoos, jewellery, and impressive road map of scars - to which a large set of tooth marks had recently been added, despite the healing spell.

One of the cases contained some clothes, mostly made of wool or cotton. He selected some plaid leggings that closely resembled something he had already owned, and pulled them on. This was, he thought, making himself decent, so with only these on, he wandered out of his room - though still stopping to pick up his axe (old habits die hard) and back down to the room he'd left Kellindel, seeking a drink, and if the elf was capable, some boasting and story (ie, lie) telling. Kellindel was always good value.

Once back in the room he took in the fact that only the 'couple' weren't present - from their original group, though neither the dwarves nor the werewolf had turned up either. He figured they probably didn't need any other company, and so made for the drinks cabinet, picking a random bottle of something clear and flammable smelling. He didn't know what the label said, but upon taking a sample mouthful figured it might have been some kind of cleaning fluid.

Realised he had some catching up to do - from the way Kellindel was blatantly, and dangerously, letching over the explosive Fey'ri, Skafloc opted to stick with the hard stuff, and sat at the table, a look of genuine contentment on his face - afterall, he'd just been party to the slaying of a great foe, he was on a dangerous mission, and he had a friend present, and even those he didn't consider friends were powerful allies. What was there not to feel good about?
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Darkwind
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That seemed like a good time to let his holy aura shine, so Greg activated it to support his response. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've already got a quest, and I'm afraid it occupies all my time. I wouldn't have gone along with these people if it didn't also give me a chance to cleanse this plane of fey'ri, as well." He quirked an eyebrow at Fade with a wry smile. "Most of them anyway." He turned back to the elf. "How did you...?" He did not get the chance to finish as the drow made an appearance, complete with a harlot outfit.

Normally, he had no problem with prostitutes, quite the contrary in fact, but on the other hand he didn't have much respect for them either. Considering the likelihood that she chose that outfit with an ulterior motive, his reaction was quite negative. He deadpanned. "Oh, I get it. Is he supposed to be your customer for the evening...? Never mind."

He picked a room, and was pleased to see that it mirrored his room in Evereska--the new one that he had just finished building, as his old one did not quite seem appropriate for a weaponmaster. Stripping off his armor--fortunately mostly undamaged--and his filthy clothing, he gave the whole lot over to the ubiquitous servants and proceeded to the bath, sans clothing. Modesty was not something his people put much stock in, and personal freedom was. If an adult elf chose to walk around naked, who was anyone else to impose themselves upon him? That was the theory, anyway, though in practice they usually chose to wear something. Rebellious teenagers, on the other hand...

For the moment, though, he lacked any clothing to replace the set that he'd just surrendered for cleaning--his captors did not have the foresight to provide him with one. As he climbed into the hot bath, he sighed with relief as every muscle was instantly relaxed and the turbulence of the day began to catch up to him. Eventually he gave up the fight as a lost cause, and having secured himself against drowning, drifted off into Reverie...
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eocine
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"Neither your astounding ignorance nor your ill manners surprise me human”, replied Anaara archly whilst raising one of her narrow eyebrows. “And I can assure you though that even were I available for sale the price I would demand of you would have the shirt off your back long before it came to bedtime.” She dipped one of her finger tips into the wineglass, swirling the dark red liquid around for a moment before looking up at the deathless being, “Besides which the merest thought of having your flesh touch mine makes my very skin crawl, it would be akin to being mauled by a zombie no doubt, in both the sense of disgust I would feel and the clumsiness of the fumblings.”

“Still, I actually didn’t come down here to exchange insults with you dead one, and it is noted that it is your incivility that has begun this little tête-à-tête, not mine.” She smiled at him in the dim light, her teeth standing out brilliantly against their dark backdrop, “of course that is ever the way with you humans, so quick to bandy about insults and the like, is it any wonder that even the surface elves, for all of their preaching of tolerance, are slowly starting to turn against you?”

She smirked at the sorcerer once more before lapsing into silence as the hulking figure of Skafloc seated himself.
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Skafloc looked from Anaara to Greg, then to be quite honest swiftly back to Anaara. He remembered to close his mouth though, and then forced his eyes back to his drink while he gathered his thoughts for a second.

Anaara wasn't really his type, insomuch as he had a type, but he had to admit that she was a sight that his eyes seemed to keep returning to of their own accord - despte Greg's prudish comment. Skafloc had found his soul mate and wasn't looking or another, but he was so long away from her side that he from time to time had to give consideration to the base animal instincts that often boiled away inside him, and then his 'type' was largely dependant upon how strongly he felt these instincts, and how much he'd had to drink. Quite often it was mostly the latter. He rarely felt guilty after such mindless assignations, even then only a little. His tribe were remarkably relaxed about such things, and recreational sex was a separate thing to 'lovemaking', probably because of the amount of time the hunters and warriors spent away from the village during the summer months, and it was generally accepted that even marriages weren't always permanent. Skafloc's was though, and he didn't intend for that to ever change.

"Save your barbed tongue for our enemies. We may be allies by fate rather than personal choice, but as long as we are all useful to each other, wouldn't the world be so much nicer if, when these nasty little comments pop into our heads, we just shut the hell up?" he asked the sorcerer.

"In fact," he continued, raising his voice, and his bottle, "regardless of the absentees, I would like to congratulate everyone on our recent battle. We might not like each other much, but none of us can be accused of being cowards when the enemy shows it's teeth. It was an honour to fight with you all, may we continue to be so victorious!" he said, and then took a long swig of the unnamed firewater.

"I hope you know what you've gotten into old friend." he said to Kellindel with some humour as he sat down again.
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Mistress Elysia
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After watching the elf make his declaration and end up with a fit of the giggles, Fade said nothing and just offered Greg a slightly despairing smile. At his comment regarding the fey'ri, she tilted her glass to him and winked before she took a sip.

"You and me both, spellslinger. Unless they really change their world view pretty damn sharpish, that is."

The fey'ri then settled back in her chair, her legs crossed underneath her, her tail unconsciously flicking back and forth the only expression of her conflicted feelings. She nodded to Skafloc as he entered the room and watched to see if he would greet the elf, still a little wary, despite having her initial little misunderstanding cleaned up. At Greg's obviously hostile greeting to Anaara, she turned to greet her, her welcome catching in her throat at the drow's current appearance.

Once upon a time, it would have been her in something like that - in fact, she probably would have considered herself overdressed whilst wearing it, but experience taught many hard lessons, and over the years had come in a way to despise such blatant expressions of well-crafted sexuality, so often had she been forced into similar outfits. The slavers and harem patrons would have had a field day with Anaara.

They certainly had done with Keita.

They had forced her into outfits like this as well. White silk against ebon skin seemed to be a popular fetish. Fade took a large gulp of her drink and swallowed hard, having to remind herself that this wasn't Keita in any way, even though the drow superficially resembled her. It was hard, though. Anaara herself helped the fey'ri finally make the true distinction between them with her acidic reply to Greg's own barbed comment - Keita would never have replied with such venom, being a far more gentle soul than either Fade or Anaara.

At the apparent toast, the rogue lifted her glass once more and smiled before draining it, a delightful feeling of warmth and wellbeing seeping into her bones even though she had only had 2 drinks and had Anaara's presence and her own decidedly odd reaction to the atmosphere of the magical mansion to deal with. Without hesitation, she refilled it again and settled back, her attention divided equally between the drow and the newcomer.
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eocine
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As Skafloc had reentered the room, Kellindel had held up a half-full bottle in a salute of sorts, and it really was a good thing that it was only half full, because he would probably have drenched both Greg and himself had there been any more inside the bottle. Something he very nearly did moments later when Greg began to glow… Kellindel’s eyes grew wide at the dazzling light, and his alcohol-raddled mind sprang instantly to the wrong conclusion. Fire! He prepared to toss his drink over the sorcerer, until he remembered what had happened the last time that he had thrown booze over a fire… It had taken him ages to re-grow his fringe, and as for his eyebrows…

Thankfully though Greg ended the emanation, and the Elf realised his mistake before he did anything drastic, like diving for the ice bucket. “I see I see!” Lied the Elf as Greg explained his holy mission. In all honesty, as one who was never driven to do anything much more strenuous than finish a bottle of wine, and who frequently had trouble rousing himself from reverie, the whole idea of a quest of that kind of magnitude was entirely bewildering to him.

When Anaara walked into the room it was only a quirk of Elven biology that stopped Kellindel’s eyes from extending on stalks and steam from blowing out of his ears. So blown away was he by this vision of wanton filth (and Kellindel loved wanton filth) that he virtually managed to miss most of the content of what Greg and Anaara discussed, instead choosing to interject with “Ignore the skeptic! It’s a fine dress!” Said with something that again approached drunken abandon, as he once again took up a bottle, any bottle frankly by now, and took a hearty swig.

As Skafloc’s booming voice cut across the discussion he just sniggered, and raised his bottle into the air, “I’ll drink to that and make no mistake! Peace and harmony for all, and just because she’s a Succubus it doesn’t mean that she isn’t fair game does it? I mean honestly”, he continued, apropos of nothing that had preceded, “there I was, primed and ready and that bastard had to tell me she was a succubus!” He looked around wildly for support in his outrage, for clearly this was something that had been bothering him for some time, “I mean of course I knew she was one, but that wasn’t going to stop me… Until everyone else found out, and then there were far too many questions and trying to pull me away!”

“It was an outrage! She was crafted from pure sin for Erevan’s sake, and I could have…” He noticed the others were looking at him curiously, “Well if you could have seen her you’d understand!”

The barbarian’s toast and then observation he nodded, “Nope, no idea at all, but I so rarely do though that nothing shocks me anymore”, was his cheerful, and entirely honest reply. “I’ll tell you what I didn’t get into though, that damn succubus!” Sometimes he struggled to let missed opportunities lay…

“So how long have all you people been together?” Asked the Elf of Skafloc, though given that his gaze was threatening to edge below Fade’s neckline as he asked it probably could easily have been considered to be addressed to her. The Elf was very much in the throes now of that rarely discussed but often experienced condition of breast-hypnosis, wherein a drunken mans gaze will often be drawn to the female form, and no matter how hard he tries to fight it it will always win. The only way out is to be subtle, using mirrors and distractions to achieve the goal, and to fail is to risk ignominy.

And Kellindel was no stranger to ignominious failure…
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Darkwind
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He knew he really ought to apologize, since his comment was motivated by racism more than anything else and he knew it. But something held him back...yes, it was being a male with an ego. He settled for an attempt to recover by pretending his rudeness had been a test.

"Well, well! I'm surprised--I really expected you to start spouting curses and Harm spells, and here you give me a smarting rebuke well called for. From all I've heard of the drow, you people aren't known for tolerating insults that well." Unless they're completely outmatched, which in all fairness was the case now, he qualified entirely to himself. "How many times can I be proven wrong, in a single day? First Fade, then the werewolf, now you? Chalk it up to inflexibility of being dead, I guess." Complete bullshit, of course, but it'd have to do.

He picked up and raised a nearby cup, joining in the toast. "An epic battle, to be sure, and let us hope for all our sakes that something prevents those two vampires from seeking us out. Chaav protect me from any more dragons, I'd take fey'ri and even fiends over them anytime."


Drip...

He was back at the desecrated temple, foul stench and spoiled Elven beauty all around him and water dripping on his forehead with maddening regularity. Something about this didn't add up, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was hard to think, his thoughts advancing at a glacial pace, and always interrupted by the dripping water.

How long has he been here? It seemed like forever, and the logical thought that ought to have dismissed that absurdity was interrupted and never arrived. Who cared what logic said anyway?

Drip...

He'd never been thrown out of Reverie before, but that was the best way to describe it. He came to in the bath, slowly gathering his thoughts up, remembering where he was and why. The Sunite's Mansion... He clutched his head. What was going on? This never happened before, he always found Reverie easily and remained there a full four hours, even when in captivity. Before the water torture.

In the past, he'd learned to seek help with things like that from a wise old priestess of the Lady Goldheart, so he stumbed out of the bath--picking up a towel someone thoughtfully left nearby and wrapping it around himself--in search of someone like that, someone who could help. He hoped.
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Just as Fade finished her own silent toast, the elf exploded into a near tirade of drunken outrage. At first, the force of his conviction surprised her, meaning she wasn’t listening to what he was saying, but as soon as she tuned into the subject, she could feel the sense of wellbeing being pushed back by one of irritation. The stupid bloody fullblood should have been grateful he *was* stopped, because there was no way he would be here now if he’d been allowed to continue with her. For a moment, the fey’ri sat there, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t comment; wouldn’t say anything, but in the end her own pride in her succubi heritage simply wouldn’t allow to her sit without passing comment.

“You should be grateful you have people watching out for you and your wellbeing.” she said. “Succubi are not to be toyed with. Ever.”

It was then that she realised he was probably not listening to her, so entranced he seemed to be by her décolletage. Rolling her eyes and reaching for her glass, she sighed heavily, belatedly realising that that probably wasn’t the wisest of things to do in this situation.

“They also don’t like being openly ogled, you know.” she added, more than a hint of irritation in her voice now.
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eocine
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If Anaara had heard the interjection from Kellindel she didn’t show it, carrying on as if the drunk were a mere vacuum in space to be ignored. Nevertheless, whilst she gave no outward signs of hearing him she did note it, after all one could never tell when one would need assistance of any sort, and she wasn’t’ so foolish as to believe that it was anything other than her body that the stranger was interested in. Not that this in itself was a problem, for she would only choose the most physically attractive to mate with herself, and she recognised well enough that it was a common trait.

There was however no benefit in letting the idiot know that though, but she was more than happy for his gaze to linger on her, simply because snaring some was far easier that way than any other. She had also noticed the eyes of the barbarian fall on her, and pondered idly the havoc that such a destructive brute could wreak if aimed correctly, and thus she added his name to the list of potential benefits that could come from a maintained connection with the group.

The fact that the Elf and the barbarian seemed to know each other only added the idea of tossing jealousy into the mix as well, and that was a powerful weapon when one knew how to wield it right, and Anaara’s typically Drow upbringing had ensured that she had a good grounding in the manipulation of males.

What was also noted though was the way that the Fey’ri kept sneaking glances at her as well… What was unusual here though was that the type of glance varied with each glance, putting Anaara in the unusual position of not knowing at all where she stood with the rogue. When she had first ‘joined’ the party it had seemed like the crimson haired being had been her best method of ensuring that there was some kind of sanctity within the group, but now…?

She took another sip of her wine before she replied to Greg, perfectly happy to seem magnanimous for now, after all her previous outburst could easily have been written off, and indeed seemed to have been by the group at large, as her fighting her corner. Which was useful for her as it firstly meant that she could be seen as being half way reasonable, but she had also replied with sufficient venom to show that she wouldn’t be pushed around… Yes, it was a promising start.

With that in mind, “It is no problem”, she replied, reclining further into her chair, “Whilst we do not tolerate them well we are capable of tolerance when it is required.” Which was strictly speaking true, though as Greg speculated it was really only ever required when insulted by one stronger. This kind of ‘tolerance’ was built up from a base level amongst the Drow, where to retaliate to an insult from one stronger was to invite a painful death. Of course amongst equals an insult should be answered either in kind, or with a later retaliatory attack…
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eocine
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Breathing in short, rapid breaths Caine pulled himself out of the glacially cold bath and stepped onto the wooden floor, the chill water spattering down as he shivered forcefully. From there he virtually leapt into the bath to his other side, a volcanic spring seemingly drawn up into the room and hot enough, when compared to the cold of the ice-bath, to give him them momentary feeling that his skin was melting. Fortunately though this wasn’t the case, and in a short amount of time his homeostatic mechanisms had kicked in sufficiently for it simply to feel pleasantly warm. One of the definite bonuses of being in his human form was that he didn’t have to loll his tongue around in the open air to cool down…

He harshly scrubbed himself with a porous piece of volcanic rock to remove the layers of dead skin before standing up and shaking back and forth rapidly. Clearly the time spent in the form of a wolf had rubbed off on his actions no matter what shape he took. Once he had shaken himself dry as best he could the werewolf stepped from the warm water and towelled himself down to remove the worst of the water. Reaching behind himself he wrung the worst of the wetness from his hair before towelling that down as well and finally stepping out of the room back into the main body of the bedroom.

Where he was greeted by the eyes of a number of slain beasts, though fortunately the magic of the mansion would only stretch so far in the name of comfort, and as such none of the heads on the wall were humanoid, with the exception of one troll, that leered down from just above the entrance door. A door on which was carved a series of scenes depicting the hunting and killing of a buffalo by a wolf pack, proving that there was power in the collective hunt above and beyond what one alone could achieve.

This was evidenced by the presence of a Frost Worm head, which would prove deadly for any of his tribe to tackle alone, but through their combined might they had first entrapped, then tripped and then finally slaughtered. The feasting had gone on long into the night, and even into the early morning. A smile crossed the face of the lycanthrope briefly, allowing his normally stern features to relax as he remembered well the celebrations.

Caine dressed in a sleeveless tunic made of tanned leather, and a pair of trousers made of much the same, his feet remained bare, for though he could assume his hybrid form in the clothes he now wore, it was foolish beyond belief to have a werewolf wearing shoes. Now dressed he pulled open the door and headed downstairs, trying to ignore the sensation of water dripping off the back of his head and down his spine.

He pushed the door open and scanned the gathered crowd, giving a nod to Skafloc, who had earned his respect in the previous encounter, and forgetting for a moment that no one in the party had yet seen him in his human form.
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eocine
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As Fade’s chest expanded so, in much the same manner, did Kellindel’s eyes, but he did at least become vaguely aware of the fact that she was talking, and so looked up at her, just in time to catch the irritated tone, and notice the look in her eyes.

No sooner had he done so than he felt a stirring of something, a feeling that wasn’t unfamiliar to him at all, in fact it was something like an old friend, though no less powerful for that. Even as she watched his face appeared to lose some of it’s colour, and he looked hugely worried for a second as a terrible truth dawned on him.

He was going to chuck.

His internal organs had finally organised a collective to protest about the vast amount of poisons that the Elf had spent all evening pouring down his throat and they weren’t going to stand for it any longer. He retched once, and clamped a hand across his mouth before spinning out of his seat and absolutely peg-legging it towards the door.

The door where Caine stood, watching the newcomer Elf utterly cheesing it towards him. Kellindel blasted straight past the werewolf and up the stairs, unable this time to contain the mighty heave. His cheeks blasted outwards as his mouth filled and he forced his jaw shut, ignoring the towel clad Avelaer that he encountered on the landing.

For a moment the door to his bedroom posed a problem, as he feared taking so much as one hand away from his mouth, but he had to risk it, and wrenched the door open with his left hand before sprinting into the room and virtually diving for the bathroom. Panic in his eyes and vomit in his mouth.

He made it though, just, before a veritable torrent gushed forth and he collapsed onto his knees breathing heavily. Once he thought that the worst was over he rolled backwards onto the floor, “help me!” He mewed towards the invisible servants, who descended en masse on the bard, who even now was swearing off the demon drink.

It was the three thousandth four hundred and fifty second time he had done so.
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Castamir
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Skafloc fixed his eyes on the stranger as he entered, though he didn't feel in any danger - the man was unarmed and though he could be a mage, Skafloc reckoned those gathered would have been able to deal with that fairly quickly. Besides, as always Brainbiter was at hand.

It was only when the stranger nodded that it dawned on the barbarian who it was. Something in his bearing, his alerness, he was a warrior, more than that he was a killer. Didn't matter what form the werewolf was in, you couldn't take that out of him.

"Caine." achnowledged the northman with a nod of his own, though his head swivelled round and then tracked Kellindel as he ran for it. Lucky - in the barbarian's opinion - that Caine didn't react violently to the sight of the stranger running at him.

He laughed, and then turned to Fade, who seemed to have been the centre of the elven lush's attention, shrugging his massive shoulders, then looking at the others making it clear he was directing this at everyone, though it was clear he wasn't *too* sorry from the fact that he was clearly very amused at the elf's exit.

"I apologise for my friend's behaviour. He's actually very useful when he's sober though. Honestly."
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Even after her warning, the elf kept on staring. Readying herself to slap some respect into him, Fade balled one of her fists in her lap, only to see his face drain of all colour and then watch him as he made a desperate flight for the door, obviously trying not to be sick all over himself and nearly cannoning into yet another stranger. She pursed her lips Another one? Wait....

"Fido?!" she near exclaimed incredulously, forgetting for a moment that she had only really called him that in the confines of her head, and then only once out loud when they'd been trapped together in the Fire Room and she had been distracted by the Lava elementals. "Bloody hell... don't you scrub up well?"

At Skafloc's apology to the rest of them, she offered him an odd little facial shrug which settled into a wry, lopsided smile.
"Don't worry about it. Had worse. At least he was just looking... "
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Pamela
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Llana pondered her wardrobe, wondering what would be the best thing to wear without further drawing attention to the maiming. Anything with sleeves was automatically out; she contemplated a cape…till the chiton caught her eye. She pulled it out; folds of soft undyed linen, embroidered with scarlet and golden phoenixes upon its hem. She laughed at the figures as she held it up to herself. Very synchronicitous indeed…. The creatures were however like a totem for herself, and were found throughout her favourite jewellry.

A bit formal perhaps…Then little make-up, and as natural as possible, she decided. She turned to Karosin, who was in the process of dressing, and then paused. “If you will help me,” she said aloud to the air, and a nigh-transparent figure appeared before her, taking the robe from her. “Thank you…and if you could tie back my hair, please…”

The folds of lcloth rose in the air, gently cascading down down over her, then gathered over her right shoulder into a golden clasp. As it occurred, Llana returned to the earlier conversation with Karosin. “I’ll speak to Fade as soon as possible, then. It is only fair… No- just leave it be! I’ll do it tomorrow morning!” she called out as the pale rogue began to do up a small braid. She enjoyed the task, and she intended to get every moment of rest they possibly could before they departed. “Oh…if you really want, then ask our hosts,” she said, nodding her head to the one that was now fitting the peplus over her shoulder; it was little more than a banner, concealing the clasp, and her right shoulder. “This doesn’t look too formal, does it?” she asked with some concern, looking again critically at the mirror before turning to him.

When he looked down at his own fine black shirt and trousers with a sardonic smile, she sighed. “It’s not the same you know. You’re hardly wearing a lace collar, or a tunic…or...” she added teasingly, “Robe. It’s a shame you insist on concealing those legs…”
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eocine
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Kellindel’s charge towards Caine had been less of a problem than it might have been for the simple reason that he had smelled the Elf earlier, and even then he seemed to reek of alcohol, so the only real surprise was that the stranger was still standing. Add to that the fact that Caine had been given ample time to see that Kellindel had previously been seated at the table and, though he wasn’t the brightest, he was at least able to discern that he was in no danger.

That’s not to say though that the wolf side of his being didn’t protest, for it was very much a part of that side of his nature to want to chase down fleeing beings, chase them down and tear into them with razor sharp fangs… Fortunately for all concerned though the more humanoid his form became the more human his thought patterns were, and as such he was able to step down hard on that part of his being.

He greeted Skafloc’s words with a nod, and then frowned at Fade’s ‘Fido?!’ slip, “No, I am Caine”, replied the lycanthrope seriously, in heavily accented common. It seemed clear that the slang term had never made it as far as Caine’s tribal hunting grounds as the werewolf had simply assumed that the Fey’ri had somehow managed to either mispronounce his name, or not grasp who he was.

Not really knowing what to say to her second comment he instead made for the bar and, going against the examples of the previous drinkers, decided simply to start with beer. Having filled a mug he then moved towards the table, seating himself next to Fade, “It ever tastes better after a victory”, observed the wolf-man grimly of his beer.
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Castamir
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Skafloc laughed, "Don't tell him you've had worse, he'll just take that as encouragement to try harder."

He put the bottle to his mouth again, and realised that it was empty. He held the bottle up and examined it, but it really was empty. Perhaps it had evapourated - it was mostly alchohol afterall.. yes, that was it, evapourated.

Skafloc stood again, and went and grabbed another bottle, this one a clay jug with a stopper on it. He pulled the stopper with his teeth, and sat down. One swig, and the familiar taste of dwarf ale greeted his tastebuds.

The barbarian gave a contented nod to himself and took another swig. He wasn't really one for clever spirits, they were fine when there was nothing else to drink, but the way Skafloc drank spirits were only good as a more efficient way of attaining oblivion. Dwarf Ale was different, it was like an old friend, one that even his liver was fond of.

He turned to Anaara, eyes steadily and cooly focussed on hers now, he was perfectly capable of not staring at her assets, for a while anyway. Self control was a big part of Skafloc's life, but he had to let go from time to time, otherwise his temper wouldn't be as controllable, and one day he'd probably end up snapping and going on a rampage because someone accidentally spilled his ale. Well, he'd end up doing it more often than he currently did anyway, though that was only usually when an apology wasn't forthcoming, and people in inns tended to apologise to Skafloc...

"What are your intentions? Though you are a powerful ally, you could just leave and find your way out on your own, you're not defenceless, and with us blundering around drawing attention to ourselves you would likely go unnoticed. We cannot compel you to stay, any debts for plucking you from the giant's larder must be more than repayed now."

"Of course," he added, "I imagine it would be extrememly hard for you to find your way back, the surface isn't exactly littered with places where it's easy to access the underdark, and many of those are guarded. Travelling on the surface would be, not the easiest for you. I imagine that even if you make it below the surface, your journey would then become even more dangerous. Would you even know where to start?"

Skafloc wasn't without sympathy, never being able to return home was like having a hole in one's life, though from what he had learned off the drow renegades he'd met, he couldn't really see the attraction of the underdark, unless Anaara came from a position of power and wealth. That said life on the surface for a drow could be a grim proposition too if they weren't well protected.
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Fade rolled her eyes in mock weariness "Heh, thanks. I'll bear that in mind..."

Refilling her glass, she regarded the werewolf for a while. She nodded at his comment regarding his beer and snorted in wry amusement.

"I've always found it tasted pretty good wherever you find yourself... still, I suppose you're right. After cheating death the way we have done recently, apples fermented in a tin bath would taste good!" she took another large sip of her drink. "Although in trying to bite the damn thing you were being a bit of a mad bastard, you know that?” she grinned. “Not as mad as manhandling my gold I have to admit – you have no idea how lucky you are, by the way - but it’s pretty much up in the top 10 mad bastard things to do.”

For a moment, the fey’ri’s attention slid back to the drow, and she wondered if she should go and speak to her. She understood only too well what it was like being the ‘odd one out’, and could feel a sense of hostility building up… although that could just be the demon playing up she added mentally. She glanced over to Greg to see if the sorcerer was the source, but he seemed calm, outwardly at least. Thinking that perhaps it was just her, she took another swig that drained her glass and blinked rapidly, her lips now feeling more than a little numb – a sure sign she was drinking something far too strong far too fast. Heh heh… whoops. Oh well… I deserve it she reasoned to herself before leaning forward yet again to refill. This time, however, she sat back with the bottle in hand and cradled it in her lap: No point leaning forward all the time…

For a second, she felt an acute flare of annoyance at Skafloc’s questions, perceiving them through the beginnings of an alcoholic fug as needlessly accusatory in tone. Deciding that, as the drow’s somewhat champion before, she would step in.

“Well, it’d be unfair to leave her wandering around the surface on her own, wouldn’t it? The bloody humanses and bastard bastard fullbloods, they have no idea. None. They see what you are and that’s it – poof!” she flung one hand up in the air, narrowly missing Caine by only a few inches “Ooooh, whoops, sorry… Anyway.” She paused and took another long swallow of her drink. “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe the kind of crap I get. Got.” She grinned at Greg. “Is it got or get? Do you still want me dead? I dunno. Anyway. Back to my point. Even if she does just want to go home, they’ll hunt her down like a dirty dog. So we’ve gotta help her, yeah? Only fair!” she drained her glass again. “You know, this is good schtuff…”
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