Kuzan reeled suddenly, as if struck. He stumbled backward and reflexively swung an arm up over his face. I expected that, he told himself, I really did. But I guess you can never be prepared enough for some things.
"Mmrph," he mumbled. He blinked his eyes repeatedly while staring at the floor. After a moment, he looked up, but seemed to be looking at something unseen to everyone else. His eyes seemed glazed and distant, as if he couldn't see the physical world at all.
"This room," he said, "Is extremely well-protected. There are layers upon layers of magic here. So many that I can't make sense of them all. Mostly protection spells, but if you can imagine it, it seems to be ingrained." His gaze slowly passed over the rest of the people in the room. As he spoke, his eyes gradually became clearer. "It fills this place so completely that I cannot even sense most of the lesser auras. I think I can find some stuff, but it would take a little focus and effort."
Absently, the priest rubbed one of his earrings.
Thomas, everything okay out there? We're doing fine so far, just hitting seven snags. We'll be out as soon as we can, just need to find our way past some more tough spots.
The Eye of Anubis: Book Eleven
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Kaitou Kage
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NeoTiamat
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The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 1:23 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"I want this fiend out. Out of this tomb, out of Muhar, and out of the Wastes. Forever." Fassahd said, then smiled momentarily. "And if in the process we help ourselves to a demon's burial trove... it is desecrated by association already. I am not a good man, my sleep will not be troubled unduly if Beherit has not the greatest treasures in his afterlife-in-life."
"If Menetnashte has a plan to slay the Fiend, then why has she waited a thousand years to put it into play? If her plan is anything other than massively risk-filled, the Demon-Pharoah would have done it an age ago. Or perhaps she does not plan to slay Beherit after all... either way, Menetnashte cannot be trusted." The scrawny Akiri spread his hands. "The stakes, as Effendi Kuzan has said, are simply too high. Beherit can be imprisoned, and though Lord de Casteele is an unpleasant man, I do not think he will use the Eye, nor even know how. But I do not know that Beherit can be destroyed, and on this I cannot trust Menetnashte's word."
"As for my fear of violence." Fassahd sweeped the room with a gesture, encompassing without a word the dark room broken only by a few rays of sunlight, the grasping shadows, the balefully glowing Eye. "Look about you, Effendi. This is not a good place in which to shed a man's blood."
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"And why did I need those pardons? Pardons that were only good up until the point where we left?" Samael said, his voice a cold hiss. The Borcan's knuckles were white where they gripped the needle-like stiletto. "We needed them because the oh-so-honest-and-aboveboard Dementlieuse government framed Guy, and other less than savory reasons."
"Iosef, it's alright." Lily said softly. "It's past and done with."
The look the reporter cast Kuzan was decidedly less than friendly at the moment. Please do not make this situation worse. Was what it said.
"Look, Andre's right. De Casteele won't want to be Beherit's slave, and from the sounds of it he and Ambassador Vedarrak won't be happy with Cavendish either." Lily said, flicking a stray blond hair from her face. "Let them worry about it. Either way, they're likely to be better equipped to handle this than us."
"If not... well, let's try a compromise." The green-eyed reporter said. "We take the treasure and give the Eye to Lord de Casteele. Get our payment, get in the Brotherhood's good books, and go on our way."
"Then, if you're so insistent on it, you can steal the Eye away from Lord de Casteele, after the rest of us are free and clear. After everything you've gone through on this trip, it shouldn't be that hard."
================================================
Even across the medium of the Sending Stone, the intonations and accent of Markos Vedarrak's words were unmistakeable.
August 30th, 761, 1:23 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Thank you." Fassahd said quietly. "I am glad he is safe."DocBeard wrote:"Fasshad, what exactly is your plan, here? You're talking a good game, and you are sincere, but your actions are contradictory. Professor Devereaux said this thing should work-I trust him, and I trust that Meneshante has a legitimate reason to want Beherith dead." Tomas's eyes narrow. "So what is the other option?" Apparently Lily's 'let's give it to an evil wizard' idea is being ignored. "Because if there was ever a time to lay your cards on the table, including why you are so worried about what the Eye'll do if a fight breaks out, it's now."
A pause. "Your grandfather's okay, by the way." Tomas offers, perhaps as a peace offering. "He was out of town when Muhar was occupied."
"I want this fiend out. Out of this tomb, out of Muhar, and out of the Wastes. Forever." Fassahd said, then smiled momentarily. "And if in the process we help ourselves to a demon's burial trove... it is desecrated by association already. I am not a good man, my sleep will not be troubled unduly if Beherit has not the greatest treasures in his afterlife-in-life."
"If Menetnashte has a plan to slay the Fiend, then why has she waited a thousand years to put it into play? If her plan is anything other than massively risk-filled, the Demon-Pharoah would have done it an age ago. Or perhaps she does not plan to slay Beherit after all... either way, Menetnashte cannot be trusted." The scrawny Akiri spread his hands. "The stakes, as Effendi Kuzan has said, are simply too high. Beherit can be imprisoned, and though Lord de Casteele is an unpleasant man, I do not think he will use the Eye, nor even know how. But I do not know that Beherit can be destroyed, and on this I cannot trust Menetnashte's word."
"As for my fear of violence." Fassahd sweeped the room with a gesture, encompassing without a word the dark room broken only by a few rays of sunlight, the grasping shadows, the balefully glowing Eye. "Look about you, Effendi. This is not a good place in which to shed a man's blood."
================================================
Kaitou Kage wrote:He glanced at Charles, then back to the Conspiracy as a whole. "Clearly something you were doing is illegal -- why else would you need official pardons?" He held up a hand. "There is no need to explain, but you also have no claim to high ground here. However."
"And why did I need those pardons? Pardons that were only good up until the point where we left?" Samael said, his voice a cold hiss. The Borcan's knuckles were white where they gripped the needle-like stiletto. "We needed them because the oh-so-honest-and-aboveboard Dementlieuse government framed Guy, and other less than savory reasons."
"Iosef, it's alright." Lily said softly. "It's past and done with."
The look the reporter cast Kuzan was decidedly less than friendly at the moment. Please do not make this situation worse. Was what it said.
"Look, Andre's right. De Casteele won't want to be Beherit's slave, and from the sounds of it he and Ambassador Vedarrak won't be happy with Cavendish either." Lily said, flicking a stray blond hair from her face. "Let them worry about it. Either way, they're likely to be better equipped to handle this than us."
"If not... well, let's try a compromise." The green-eyed reporter said. "We take the treasure and give the Eye to Lord de Casteele. Get our payment, get in the Brotherhood's good books, and go on our way."
"Then, if you're so insistent on it, you can steal the Eye away from Lord de Casteele, after the rest of us are free and clear. After everything you've gone through on this trip, it shouldn't be that hard."
================================================
Ah, Sadhu Kuzan, you've found the traitors. Excellent. Feel free to execute them. Your friends are well. I'll go ready the troops for your return.Kaitou Kage wrote:Thomas, everything okay out there? We're doing fine so far, just hitting seven snags. We'll be out as soon as we can, just need to find our way past some more tough spots.
Even across the medium of the Sending Stone, the intonations and accent of Markos Vedarrak's words were unmistakeable.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Kaitou Kage
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"You all may not have it so easy," Kuzan said quietly. His tone was actually somewhat regretful. "Vedarrak is ready to kill the lot of you when you leave the Tomb. Even if we did bring the Eye out, how will he be stayed? He knows what happened to Pelletier, too, and...he is a Hawk-man. In any case, how can you be certain de Casteele won't try to make a pact with the Eye? Let us assume our best course right now is to take it back to the University. Better-trained or not, what do we do if he does begin his reign of terror?" Kuzan paused, paling slightly. "He's also already confiscated everything from the others. It seems they play insurance again, so it may be best for us to do what Lily suggests..."
The priest looked across the room to Fassahd once again. "You know what these shadows mean," he said. It wasn't a question. "At the very least, you can make a good guess. What are they?"
The priest looked across the room to Fassahd once again. "You know what these shadows mean," he said. It wasn't a question. "At the very least, you can make a good guess. What are they?"
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Nathan of the FoS
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“I…”
Charles is about to say…what? Some soft word, something placating, something essentially meaningless beyond “You don’t need to resort to violence.”
And then, a phrase rings again in his mind.
“One of Dominic’s knives…”
***
The scene, Dominic d’Honaire’s town house in Port-a-Lucine; the time, so late that it has become rather more like “very early”. The cock will crow within another glass—these short summer nights…
“I understand your studies are progressing satisfactorily, M. Martel,” Dominic d’Honaire said, smiling slightly and offering his snuff box. “Mathematics! Quite the branch of study for a young sprig of the nobility!”
“You’re too kind, Councilor,” Charles replies, bowing slightly and taking a pinch of snuff. He doesn’t much care for the stuff, but one doesn’t refuse a man in d’Honaire’s position when he offers you gifts—or look them in the mouth, either, if it comes to that. “I doubt I’ll be gated, at any rate, for failure of academic performance, though all this studying is very trying at this time of year…the Festival of Lights, the opera...one does wonder if the academic life had been created primarily to restrict one’s social activities at times. Which is why I was so grateful for your generous invitation to the fete; truly an astonishing array of entertainments.”
D’Honaire waved away the thanks with one economical motion of a well-manicured hand and continued, his deep-set eyes intent, “Oh, of all the various perquisites which service to the state have won me—and they are considerable, I wouldn’t have you misunderstand me on that point!—I feel the greatest is the company of the young and accomplished. I would hardly deprive myself of such a thing, if it were possible to do otherwise!” Smiling just the correct amount to flatter his young visitor, the statesman then allowed himself a wink and a segue to a more jocular tone. “Now, then, you’ll not be sent down for failure of academic performance, you’re your father’s son after all! But what’s this I hear of dueling? Can it really be possible in this enlightened day and age that our young bravoes are taking the field to settle affairs of honor by steel? Or lead? As recently as last week, even?”
Charles bows and wonders, not for the first time, how on earth the old fellow can know what he knows. “I suppose all things are possible, Councilor. Human nature remains largely immutable, despite the best efforts of the priests and the philosophers.”
For some reason d’Honaire finds this statement highly amusing. “Indeed…the intractability of man is quite shocking. Like dogs to their vomit, or pigs to wallowing in the mud. One cannot erase one’s upbringing, nor jump off his own shadow. Like that young fellow…Boritsi. Why, he made some quite insolent remark about me this very night…something about how he wished he might avail himself of the converse of my own diplomatic abilities, as my charms were effective on all but the young ladies…a group he would particularly desire to hold sway over, if he had his way.”
Something roils in the politician’s face as he speaks—something which does not reach the voice, which recounts a merely amusing anecdote—albeit with peculiar emphasis on certain points, on certain words…something in the phrasing that communicates more than is actually being said. Charles, somewhat bored by this recitation (though his mask of polite interest never slips), does not see it—or does not understand. Or, perhaps, has understanding taken from him, in the moment in which it is born.
“A very knave, the young rogue!” d’Honaire continues, chuckling and rubbing his jowls. “If you should ever meet him on the field of honor, give him a bullet for your old friend’s sake, do!”
Charles smiles slightly at this jest and bows. “I remain, of course, your humble and obedient servant, Councilor,” he says.
Laughing, d’Honaire claps Charles on the shoulder and, taking his arm, leads him to the stairs. “I know, my young friend. I know.”
***
Charles stands facing Guy, silent, eyes empty, face slack, posture slumped, as if he were a marionette which had by some miracle stood on its feet after having its strings cut.
Charles is about to say…what? Some soft word, something placating, something essentially meaningless beyond “You don’t need to resort to violence.”
And then, a phrase rings again in his mind.
“One of Dominic’s knives…”
***
The scene, Dominic d’Honaire’s town house in Port-a-Lucine; the time, so late that it has become rather more like “very early”. The cock will crow within another glass—these short summer nights…
“I understand your studies are progressing satisfactorily, M. Martel,” Dominic d’Honaire said, smiling slightly and offering his snuff box. “Mathematics! Quite the branch of study for a young sprig of the nobility!”
“You’re too kind, Councilor,” Charles replies, bowing slightly and taking a pinch of snuff. He doesn’t much care for the stuff, but one doesn’t refuse a man in d’Honaire’s position when he offers you gifts—or look them in the mouth, either, if it comes to that. “I doubt I’ll be gated, at any rate, for failure of academic performance, though all this studying is very trying at this time of year…the Festival of Lights, the opera...one does wonder if the academic life had been created primarily to restrict one’s social activities at times. Which is why I was so grateful for your generous invitation to the fete; truly an astonishing array of entertainments.”
D’Honaire waved away the thanks with one economical motion of a well-manicured hand and continued, his deep-set eyes intent, “Oh, of all the various perquisites which service to the state have won me—and they are considerable, I wouldn’t have you misunderstand me on that point!—I feel the greatest is the company of the young and accomplished. I would hardly deprive myself of such a thing, if it were possible to do otherwise!” Smiling just the correct amount to flatter his young visitor, the statesman then allowed himself a wink and a segue to a more jocular tone. “Now, then, you’ll not be sent down for failure of academic performance, you’re your father’s son after all! But what’s this I hear of dueling? Can it really be possible in this enlightened day and age that our young bravoes are taking the field to settle affairs of honor by steel? Or lead? As recently as last week, even?”
Charles bows and wonders, not for the first time, how on earth the old fellow can know what he knows. “I suppose all things are possible, Councilor. Human nature remains largely immutable, despite the best efforts of the priests and the philosophers.”
For some reason d’Honaire finds this statement highly amusing. “Indeed…the intractability of man is quite shocking. Like dogs to their vomit, or pigs to wallowing in the mud. One cannot erase one’s upbringing, nor jump off his own shadow. Like that young fellow…Boritsi. Why, he made some quite insolent remark about me this very night…something about how he wished he might avail himself of the converse of my own diplomatic abilities, as my charms were effective on all but the young ladies…a group he would particularly desire to hold sway over, if he had his way.”
Something roils in the politician’s face as he speaks—something which does not reach the voice, which recounts a merely amusing anecdote—albeit with peculiar emphasis on certain points, on certain words…something in the phrasing that communicates more than is actually being said. Charles, somewhat bored by this recitation (though his mask of polite interest never slips), does not see it—or does not understand. Or, perhaps, has understanding taken from him, in the moment in which it is born.
“A very knave, the young rogue!” d’Honaire continues, chuckling and rubbing his jowls. “If you should ever meet him on the field of honor, give him a bullet for your old friend’s sake, do!”
Charles smiles slightly at this jest and bows. “I remain, of course, your humble and obedient servant, Councilor,” he says.
Laughing, d’Honaire claps Charles on the shoulder and, taking his arm, leads him to the stairs. “I know, my young friend. I know.”
***
Charles stands facing Guy, silent, eyes empty, face slack, posture slumped, as if he were a marionette which had by some miracle stood on its feet after having its strings cut.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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yalenusveler
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Andre..nearly shuddered at Kuzan's revelation of the situation. Shuddered, and spoke profanity in the entirety of the fifteen tongues he was familiar with that had a known spoken component. From the simplicity of both forms of Mordentish, to the near psychic pain brought about by obscenity in the tongue of dreams, a feeling not unlike having the best dream of your life only to see it turn into horror.
"Jervis, you've already murdered one potent wizard. Want to add a second to the list? This one might even be able to fight back."
I should have when I had the chance. Oh, it likely wouldn't have worked, but oh would it be so satisfying to hold the Ambassador's heart in my hand and crush it like an overripe grape.
"And..if the anubite's ritual IS trustworthy..we can't perform it here. Natural sunlight's fallen here, rendering it ritually useless. So it's out through a small horde of Falkovnians."
"Jervis, you've already murdered one potent wizard. Want to add a second to the list? This one might even be able to fight back."
I should have when I had the chance. Oh, it likely wouldn't have worked, but oh would it be so satisfying to hold the Ambassador's heart in my hand and crush it like an overripe grape.
"And..if the anubite's ritual IS trustworthy..we can't perform it here. Natural sunlight's fallen here, rendering it ritually useless. So it's out through a small horde of Falkovnians."
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
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Kaitou Kage
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Kuzan shook his head at Tomas. "No, if it needs dealing with, we will deal with it. We know how. But the only way I see to end this with the others safe is to bring the Eye out in one piece."
He turned to Andre. "Don't forget Vedarrak has some forty-odd troops under his command. Even if all of us here fought as one and could get the rest armed and going, it would be a tough fight." Shoulda killed him when we had the chance.
That said, the priest moved over next to Harris and put a hand on the large man's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, "You all right? What do you see?"
He turned to Andre. "Don't forget Vedarrak has some forty-odd troops under his command. Even if all of us here fought as one and could get the rest armed and going, it would be a tough fight." Shoulda killed him when we had the chance.
That said, the priest moved over next to Harris and put a hand on the large man's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, "You all right? What do you see?"
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The Whistler
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Otto shudders, involuntarily. “It seems as if we are having two constants with which to concern: the Eye must be…rendered useless, and the situation of Vendarrak must be…dealt with.” The man could barely hold onto his Mordentish—compartmentalization will only take one so far.
“…That is…ah…if you are considering Lord de Casteele to be being secondary at the moment. Which I am: he being rather…ah…further of away. One problem is at a time…” The gunsmith produced a handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed at the sweat on his brow. “Two constants. Ehem. The single variable of which is being time of action: to disable first the gem, and return to Vendarrak with empty hands, or to return the gem to Vendarrak with the hope of disabling both later….”
“…Perhaps it is best to assume that no mortal can be assured of how to disable the gem, neither Vendarrak nor we? If it must be disabled nonetheless, then at least our motives are…ah…somewhat more positive. A view perhaps overly self-reliant, but…I should think unwell of our chances at disabling Vendarrak and gem working in concert, if the Ambassador chooses to use it to malign ends. Especially since the gem itself is our sole bargaining chip.”
Otto looks around the room with an air of restrained panic. “…At least, this is the opinion of one man. We could always transport the gem out first, then deal with it directly *before* entirely surrendering it..."
“…That is…ah…if you are considering Lord de Casteele to be being secondary at the moment. Which I am: he being rather…ah…further of away. One problem is at a time…” The gunsmith produced a handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed at the sweat on his brow. “Two constants. Ehem. The single variable of which is being time of action: to disable first the gem, and return to Vendarrak with empty hands, or to return the gem to Vendarrak with the hope of disabling both later….”
“…Perhaps it is best to assume that no mortal can be assured of how to disable the gem, neither Vendarrak nor we? If it must be disabled nonetheless, then at least our motives are…ah…somewhat more positive. A view perhaps overly self-reliant, but…I should think unwell of our chances at disabling Vendarrak and gem working in concert, if the Ambassador chooses to use it to malign ends. Especially since the gem itself is our sole bargaining chip.”
Otto looks around the room with an air of restrained panic. “…At least, this is the opinion of one man. We could always transport the gem out first, then deal with it directly *before* entirely surrendering it..."
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Nathan of the FoS
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Looking into Charles' face is like nothing so much as staring at an abandoned building gutted by fire. He does not look frightened, or angry...it is more as if the carefully maintained mirror which he has held to the world has been shattered, and the space...the vacuum...behind it revealed.
"Puppets," he says, and giggles...a high uncanny sound that echoes eerily throughout the chamber. "Puppets."
His laughter gets louder, and marginally more human, and he steps back, slips on a small pile of loose coinage, and falls to the floor, where he rolls, beating his fists on the floor and howling with laughter.
"Puppets!" he screams, laughing fit to kill. "All....puppets. Me! All of us! Puppets!"
Struggling to his feet, he grins a manic grin at Guy, his eyes gleaming with something past sanity. "When puppets cut their strings, it never goes well. Tell them, Guy. Tell them what happens. What vengeance the puppet-masters take on the ones who get free."
"Puppets," he says, and giggles...a high uncanny sound that echoes eerily throughout the chamber. "Puppets."
His laughter gets louder, and marginally more human, and he steps back, slips on a small pile of loose coinage, and falls to the floor, where he rolls, beating his fists on the floor and howling with laughter.
"Puppets!" he screams, laughing fit to kill. "All....puppets. Me! All of us! Puppets!"
Struggling to his feet, he grins a manic grin at Guy, his eyes gleaming with something past sanity. "When puppets cut their strings, it never goes well. Tell them, Guy. Tell them what happens. What vengeance the puppet-masters take on the ones who get free."
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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NeoTiamat
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The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 1:28 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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================================================
================================================
"We're not going to fight half a company of Falkovnian troops." Samael said suddenly, breaking from his reverie. He didn't look at Kuzan, however. "Otto's right in that we've got two problems, the Eye on one hand and Vedarrak and de Casteele on the other, but sorry Otto, de Casteele is the more important."
"Vedarrak I can talk out of killing us, if need be, and the same with de Casteele, if I have the Eye to give them to show that yes, we are doing our jobs. I think I can do it." The grey-eyed Borcan favored Lia with a rather manic grin. "After all, I'm a very good liar."
"If you want to rig the Eye to make it harder for De Casteele to use it while you get ready to steal it back, be my guest. We've got supplies to stay here for a while."
"But if we don't give de Casteele the Eye, he will find us, and he will kill us." Samael continued. "And I can't let that happen."
================================================
August 30th, 761, 1:28 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"I do not know, Effendi, as I have said." Fassahd said, watching the gem from the corner of his eye. "But I think it is the touch of the fiend upon you."Kaitou Kage wrote:The priest looked across the room to Fassahd once again. "You know what these shadows mean," he said. It wasn't a question. "At the very least, you can make a good guess. What are they?"
================================================
"It's her heart." Edmund said, his deep voice thoughtful. "Whatever else that gem is, it's also her heart."Kaitou Kage wrote:The priest moved over next to Harris and put a hand on the large man's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, "You all right? What do you see?"
================================================
"Sounds fun." The stocky mercenary said. He grinned, flashing white teeth in his tanned, olive face, and ran a finger along the edge of his blade. Jervis's sword wasn't as beautifully forged as Ivorsen, or possessed of the same dark elegance as Shadowfinger, but it was an eminently workman-like blade. "Stupid, but fun."YalenusVeler wrote:"Jervis, you've already murdered one potent wizard. Want to add a second to the list? This one might even be able to fight back."
"We're not going to fight half a company of Falkovnian troops." Samael said suddenly, breaking from his reverie. He didn't look at Kuzan, however. "Otto's right in that we've got two problems, the Eye on one hand and Vedarrak and de Casteele on the other, but sorry Otto, de Casteele is the more important."
"Vedarrak I can talk out of killing us, if need be, and the same with de Casteele, if I have the Eye to give them to show that yes, we are doing our jobs. I think I can do it." The grey-eyed Borcan favored Lia with a rather manic grin. "After all, I'm a very good liar."
"If you want to rig the Eye to make it harder for De Casteele to use it while you get ready to steal it back, be my guest. We've got supplies to stay here for a while."
"But if we don't give de Casteele the Eye, he will find us, and he will kill us." Samael continued. "And I can't let that happen."
================================================
"They burn the puppets that break their strings." Guy said, voice deathly soft. "Till nothing's left but dust and ash."Nathan of the FoS wrote:Struggling to his feet, Charles grins a manic grin at Guy, his eyes gleaming with something past sanity. "When puppets cut their strings, it never goes well. Tell them, Guy. Tell them what happens. What vengeance the puppet-masters take on the ones who get free."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Nathan of the FoS
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Rock of the Fraternity
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"Even with the finest binding spells ever crafted and incanted by any creature in any world," Lia says, "there is still a chance that they may be broken. Even if de Casteele would eventually lose interest, he has a brotherhood around him. Someone is bound to take up the torch.
Also, there is Menetnashte. If we remove the Eye from this place, who wishes to bet that she will not follow and act out her frustrations on us? She is probably at least as powerful as de Casteele, perhaps even stronger, considering the way our luck runs. And even the finest liar in the world wouldn't be able to dissuade her, I fear. We --"
Lia falls silent when she hear Edmund speak, and the look in her eyes grows suddenly ... intent. "Captain Harris," she says, her voice gone soft again. "Would you kindly repeat the Vistana's reading to you once more? The one concerning you winning the heart of your destined love."
Also, there is Menetnashte. If we remove the Eye from this place, who wishes to bet that she will not follow and act out her frustrations on us? She is probably at least as powerful as de Casteele, perhaps even stronger, considering the way our luck runs. And even the finest liar in the world wouldn't be able to dissuade her, I fear. We --"
Lia falls silent when she hear Edmund speak, and the look in her eyes grows suddenly ... intent. "Captain Harris," she says, her voice gone soft again. "Would you kindly repeat the Vistana's reading to you once more? The one concerning you winning the heart of your destined love."
Things...seem to be calming down. A little part of Tomas still hangs on to Fasshad as a suspect, but ultimately the man has been a voice of reason. And there's a more immediate problem. Tomas gives the respective groups a 'I'll be right back.' expression, before walking over to Charles and Guy's bizarre embrace.
There's a nonchalant wave at Loup, before Tomas grabs both men by the shoulder. The sheer pressure of Tomas's divine aura might cause the static electricity building up in the room to spark and shudder along the pair, "Look at me."
"This needs to come out, now." Tomas's eyes are as relentlessly honest as ever, somehow implying that the conversation will be private despite the plethora of people just to the left. "I'm here. Talk to me."
There's a nonchalant wave at Loup, before Tomas grabs both men by the shoulder. The sheer pressure of Tomas's divine aura might cause the static electricity building up in the room to spark and shudder along the pair, "Look at me."
"This needs to come out, now." Tomas's eyes are as relentlessly honest as ever, somehow implying that the conversation will be private despite the plethora of people just to the left. "I'm here. Talk to me."
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NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
The Tomb of Menetnashte
August 30th, 761, 1:28 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"And for this reason it is wisest to give up the Eye to those who can protect it as quickly as possible. Menetnashte is powerful, but she is not omnipotent." Fassahd said. "Your unsavory University President has more power than any other mortal I know of, and likely enough to guard the Eye from Menetnashte.
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"I've thought of it too, soon as I heard about her own curse." The tall Mordentishman said. "And maybe I'm wrong. But I'm afraid to think it would be this easy."
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"You and me, Charles... we can turn this country inside out. We'll pull the nobles from their ivory towers with their own strings." Guy clasped the DMI spy's shoulder with his hand, forming a circle. He grinned without joy, without humor or pleasure, but bared his teeth like a wild beast. With his free hand, ex-Captain Benoit fingered the axe at his belt. "We can make it a world where people can be free. Where they can live and die on their own. Where this sort of thing can never happen again."
"They killed Aloise, and she never did anything to them." Guy said quietly. "Well now they get to deal with us instead. We can do it together, Charles."
"Sometimes... the only way for something to good to grow is to chop down and burn all the old growth that's blocking the way." Guy reached his free hand down to grip the haft of his weapon, the axehead gleaming coldly in the watery sunlight. "Sometimes... the only way to get justice is with the axe and the torch."
August 30th, 761, 1:28 PM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"The fallen one is not given to vengeful urges. If we no longer have the Eye, I do not think she will follow us." Fassahd said after a moment. "I do not know this to be true, Effendi, this I admit. But I think it."Rock wrote:Also, there is Menetnashte. If we remove the Eye from this place, who wishes to bet that she will not follow and act out her frustrations on us? She is probably at least as powerful as de Casteele, perhaps even stronger, considering the way our luck runs. And even the finest liar in the world wouldn't be able to dissuade her, I fear. We --"
"And for this reason it is wisest to give up the Eye to those who can protect it as quickly as possible. Menetnashte is powerful, but she is not omnipotent." Fassahd said. "Your unsavory University President has more power than any other mortal I know of, and likely enough to guard the Eye from Menetnashte.
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"It's been two hundred years, Lia. And the curse was never written down, just what was told." Edmund said with a regretful smile. His eyes went to the Eye, and then back to Lia. "But I'm pretty sure I had to win her love, not just her heart."Rock wrote:Lia falls silent when she hear Edmund speak, and the look in her eyes grows suddenly ... intent. "Captain Harris," she says, her voice gone soft again. "Would you kindly repeat the Vistana's reading to you once more? The one concerning you winning the heart of your destined love."
"I've thought of it too, soon as I heard about her own curse." The tall Mordentishman said. "And maybe I'm wrong. But I'm afraid to think it would be this easy."
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"Yes..." Benoit's smile owed very little to humanity just now. It was how a wolf might smile, coming across the hated shepherd without his sling. "They made us. The puppetmasters earned this when killed my Aloise. They made us. Let them reap their rewards."Nathan of the FoS wrote:"Yes," Charles hisses, clapping Guy on the shoulder, still with his peculiar fixity of expression. "If we don't want to end up on the fire we had better pull all in the same direction, don't you think? After all...the strings go both ways, don't they?"
"You and me, Charles... we can turn this country inside out. We'll pull the nobles from their ivory towers with their own strings." Guy clasped the DMI spy's shoulder with his hand, forming a circle. He grinned without joy, without humor or pleasure, but bared his teeth like a wild beast. With his free hand, ex-Captain Benoit fingered the axe at his belt. "We can make it a world where people can be free. Where they can live and die on their own. Where this sort of thing can never happen again."
"They killed Aloise, and she never did anything to them." Guy said quietly. "Well now they get to deal with us instead. We can do it together, Charles."
"You're a good man Tomas. A just man, an honorable man." Guy said, turning to the Lamordian. "How you survived with Dementlieu, I don't know. The whole country's rotten, and the people who rule it are no better. They're dead inside, nothing more than rotted wood, choking the life out of everything good and pure that tries to grow beneath it. We'll burn it down."DocBeard wrote:"This needs to come out, now." Tomas's eyes are as relentlessly honest as ever, somehow implying that the conversation will be private despite the plethora of people just to the left. "I'm here. Talk to me."
"Sometimes... the only way for something to good to grow is to chop down and burn all the old growth that's blocking the way." Guy reached his free hand down to grip the haft of his weapon, the axehead gleaming coldly in the watery sunlight. "Sometimes... the only way to get justice is with the axe and the torch."
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6844
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
"What if we could find a way to drive the fiend out of the Eye and kill it without destroying the stone itself?" Lia suggests. "Who is to say what happened to the power inside? With some quick talking, we could possibly squeeze through.
But we need to know what the ritual will do to the emerald -- and we really do need to know whether the ritual itself will work. We need information. Andre ... please summon your patron. If she can't help, then I will try the BloodThorn. We can ask whether those two have the knowledge, at least, can we not? No price need be paid until a deal is struck."
But we need to know what the ritual will do to the emerald -- and we really do need to know whether the ritual itself will work. We need information. Andre ... please summon your patron. If she can't help, then I will try the BloodThorn. We can ask whether those two have the knowledge, at least, can we not? No price need be paid until a deal is struck."