After the shopping trips came to an end, the party gathered in the center of the shopping center, although Askia and Koan took significantly longer to catch up. Once everyone had gathered, Cynthia led us out of the shopping center and on to the residential area to a tavern. The tavernmaster immediately noticed Cynthia and ushered the group to a private backroom where we could discuss our plans.
The map that Dyn had bought was brought out, and we all took a look at it. The Verdant Stream was, for lack of a better term, to the South, while our boat floated freely in a bubble of air to the North. Based on the scale of the map, the Verdant Stream itself appeared to be a half day's journey away. As all of us had come prepared for an extended journey per the request of the Theullai, it was decided that Reemes and Hana would return to he ship to inform the others of our progress. Cynthia seemed keen to make progress on the journey to the Verdant Stream, but warned us that it was not a journey to be taken lightly.
Dyn'yer'zhead, Jill, Nemiea and Cynthia were the first of the crew to arrive to the bar, though the Beholder was rather sure Koan could figure they would be here, if only to annoy him with her presence. Prior to the arrival of the other folk, the four engaged in idle chatter, their subjects drifting from drink recommendations (Ladybones Road was the best drink out there, if one asked Dyn. Who would not want a drink with over half of it being pure alcohol with cucumber and lime for added taste?) to future plans through a quick summery of everyone's abilities to the newcomer.
Eventually the rest arrived and Dyn presented their map to the table. After a passing mention of how they could turn this endeavour into even more profit if they gave it a bit of time, they got to taking a more thorough look at the map itself, the Beholder insisting to be the one to manipulate the projection. Their boat naturally did not appear on the map on its own, but with a quick comparison of the landmarks they had seen on approach, it was easy enough to locate it in the opposite direction of the stream. They would be staying the night here most likely... with the exception of the newcomer Dyn had actually had some hope for and the ghost of a pirate to make sure she would be believed back at the ship.
The rest spent some time drafting their route for the next day, but eventually chose to leave the bulk of the work for the time they would actually be out there since then they stood a chance of remembering what direction they were supposed to take. The rough draft gave them a sense of direction though. "I will need to prepare a different array of spells for tomorrow... I've mine prepared for fighting from a ship, not under water", Dyn shared, expecting others to agree with him to take a longer rest. Besides, the kobold was bleeding. That was a vote he could easily count for him.
The labyrinthine tunnels were finally behind the duet, as they crawled further into the convoluted coral city. The inn which housed their rendezvous, alcohol and cots for the evening approached into full throttle. The fictitious Kor woman and bleeding kobold soon bellowed into the tavern, within the center of the shopping district. And lo, and behold, the majority of the party, pouring over the cryptic atlas of the area, swiveled their chins or, in Dyn’s case, a myriad of pupils, to ogle over their anti-climactic entrance. The pair merely walked into the bar, without any hint of sensationalism.
“What are y’all looking at?” The jester inquired, with a cocked hip.
To not disappoint, the pale mountaineer quickly provided an entrapped prestidigitation within her closed right fist. Holding it out in front with both hands, as if keeping a bird from flying off, she gradually revealed an illusionary monocle, the size of half of her face, in which to better gauge, with her own erratic visual senses the map that laid naked and vulnerable before all.
“Ooooooh. Let me see!”
After an interval, the comic commenced to understand the orientation of the diagram, cementing her bearings of the SS Lady Slipper and the Verdant Stream, almost polar opposites in both direction and in regards to safety and adventure. Before dissipating the eyeglass, the comic realized that her future bed mate was slowly exsanguinating. The crimson drops, circumventing the troupe in an effervescent current manipulated by the blanche geisha, oozed into a circular smiling Ouroboros consuming its own end. The snowy comedian then encased the ring of plasma into ice, granting it more of a scarlet hue, as she rapidly donned, wiggled and oscillated her pelvis attempting to employ it as a hula hoop.
“Askia, those wounds definitely need some loving attention.”
The cog-like thrusting continued its frequency as she performed with disjointed grace, ultimately grabbing and pirouetting the rosy girdle to and fro until she suddenly hooked the mystic with a sweeping motion.
“Come!” Koan’s bold word orgasmed into the silent fray, viewing their discourse.
Taking the neck of her now new prized companion, the gashes of the kobold began to heal magically as the pair cha-cha’ed upstairs, led by the crazed clown. The fool kicked a random door in, which luckily opened a vacant room. Looking over her sinister shoulder, she beckoned a command to the rest, who watched in amazement and disgust.
“Please. Do not disturb us. Nurse Koran has some mending to do.”
With that haphazard mandate, a white bonnet with a red cross magically materialized upon her head as she tossed the gory disc below to the Beholder, as four dancing lights illuminated their portal of pending passion, changing in color with every subtle moan perceived.
Prestidigitation was used to conjure a fake monocle to view the map with. Later, several instances of Shape Water are utilized to mold and freeze the blood into an Ouroboros, hinting of the impending innuendo. Koan has a passive Performance of 18, to which she twirls it as a hula hoop, hooks Askia, and dances her upstairs. She also casts a 3rd Level Cure Wounds for 16 and a 1st Level Cure Wounds on herself for 8. Yes. You know where. Minor illusion is used to conjure a nurse’s cap. Finally, she tosses the gory ring at Dyn after kicking a random door open, to eventually close it with Dancing Lights, triggering a color change when sounds escape.
Time passed almost imperceptibly in the room of the tavern. Food was served, and room keys were dispensed, courtesy of the merfolk with them. Due to the state of the crew, combined with the late hour once someone finally managed to ask, it was decided that our journey would continue the following day.
We split into rooms and rested for the evening. Not upon pillows or mattresses, but in beds made of underwater plants or bubbles or shells, depending on the room we inhabited. The beds were nearly spherical in shape, ensuring we did not unintentionally drift away in our hydrated slumber. It was more comfortable than I expected, and definitely more so than the ship.
In the morning (as much as morning can be ascertained from the middle of a coral miles from the water's surface), we gathered our spells and blades before finding Cynthia waiting for us. She lead us out of the city and we began on our merry way, unaware of what was in store.
>You now may spend Hit Dice, etc. Remember, in this RP, we do not fully heal on long rest. You do regain half of your max HD, and Jill will play a Song of Rest as well.
See how it dances across the surface of the waves, glittering and glistening like shimmering magic over the seafoam's froth. By the shore the crystal waters of paradise ran clear as the sunshine sparkled over the rolling tides. And so too by night would the great sea mirror the stars and moon above as a map of the cosmos above charted below. This was the light by which the sailors relied, the certain stars and their movements across the sky kept to the rhythms of the heavens. Each celestial sphere giving the course and direction of which way and which when. Was it not also light that steered the weary captain away from the danger of the rocky cliffs? A blazing beacon of burning brazier from a high tower, which like a bright and wary eye scanned treacherous path? Was it not by the same principle that a traveler would light a lantern in the dark woods for fear of death around the corner? Or a even wander with a waning waxen candle in one's own house? A home of which ought to be familiar, a place of comfort and dominion for the lord or lady of the domus. So small wonder why he or she would bother with such a dim and lulling light. And yet the answer in all three cases was not out of fear of death perhaps, but something far greater, something which gave death such fear proper. There the answer lurked beneath the frolicking waves, under the forest canopy, and infesting one's very home.
Darkness.
Darkness, unknowing darkness. A black blindness that conceals and steals from the sense of sight. The abyss which gapes open like the emptiness of the skull which whispers memento mori or the pitiless gaze of the reaper who cloaks the body in the uttered shroud. Death is the promise of morality, a fear all mortals bear in the harrowing of their life. But it is darkness, ancient and foreboding that symbolizes the veil that even the immortals fear to cross. It is nothing, a void of existence, and yet it exists as a paradox of itself, as something made out of what is not. It is the never-was, always-is and yet-to-be. It was the mystery of a mystery, the boundary between the known and unknown. The darkness formed the very edges of reality, and the limits of fantasy where no god or writer could continue threading past. Where the mind ended and cannot comprehend, that is the truth and heart of darkness. For this reason the light must guide, however dim a glimmer it may be. And yet, while the great philosophers may delve and delve deep into the concept of the concrete nothingness and all of its abstractions for all the nihilism's worth, fewer still threw themselves into it. It was those souls who stared into the abyss and found the abyss staring back with its hollowed eyes.
Fire.
His eyes watched her. Burning beneath the shadowy cowl which masked his visage, tracking the movements made across the inn. Wading through the lake of tables, her movements slinking about to lure his eyes as the tavernmaster took them in. Who was she? So far and few who bore the torch of the heavens still, and she came not alone for the rest followed thereafter. And with the innocence of another patron giving the new arrivals a look over, he looked back down to cast those fiery embers away. What was she doing here? An agent of Varda? One who had come to bring him back into the service of the uncaring celestials? Or was she just another tourist in a tourist town? One that decorated itself not by the scales of the merfolk but by the coins that clinked within the pouches of visitors. The gold and silver chain that tethered them all, a weave interconnecting the exchange that binds them. And as he lowered his amber-bright gaze to glance upon his hand in this friendly game of chance played with the mer hunter across the table, he could feel them still, the astral collar around his neck like a proverbial albatross. It was from upon this chain that he hung, strangled like a puppet in suspension as his body cast a long shadow. They still tugged him so, even as the hands reached out from the fell to claim him. Strung now in every direction as each pulled his pale body asunder. And the pain was evermore delectable to a dead man. After all, to endure pain meant you still lived, even as they branded your flesh an outcast. And to soothe those burns, it was too easy to fall for an inviting drink even if no amount of mortal distractions could ever erase the strangle upon his tainted soul.
Water.
And how does one order a drink in a tavern underwater? What ways would the beerfroth flow in the currents and tows? Life underneath the waves was curious, a city of coral and thus so aptly named. A city far flung into the depths of the plane of water, carved into the reef as beautiful as it was sharp. A thousand and one cloisters tucked away with each wayward cave of living crystal, bastions of culture within the vastness of the wettest desert. What could be found was no question, but rather what was missing, for all pleasures from simple to the extraordinary. Weathered driftwood aged well from years of wave and waters erected themselves before each cave, spiraling and fanning shells became doors that opened and closed. And around each portcullis a frieze or placard depicting scenes of what could be found in exotic underwater artworks. Thus without language each visitor could know which were houses of ill repute and which such places were holy temples. Although often it was difficult to ascertain given the nature of being underwater made the locals seem so scantily clad by terrestrial standards. With their piscine graces and aquatic features, their forms were well adapted to the life in water eternal just as the warlock was attuned to life in the shadows. The umbral essences coalesced around his otherwise naked form, constituting themselves as an impressive armor set which fading wispy strands of inky blackness. Twas his cloak that concealed much of his shadowy manipulations and peppered white hair, keeping all within the edges of the ray's wraps. And twas also only the cloak he carried that allowed him to reside without drowning.
Air.
Without the cloak he must surface, breaching like the cetaceans to take the air, but first traverse the winding corridors of the coral maze. Higher and higher, following the luminous markings to the left to ascend the labyrinth network of undersea shops and coral buildings. It was a small irony that even in the depths so many miles down that such bioilluminescent light would exist in this abyss. Thus still even in the airless city, light still sought to cast out the dark and perhaps that for all their differences, even the mer and sea creatures still feared the primordial darkness that the umbral one could penetrate through with those infernal eyes. True he had come to rest and recuperate at the tavern, but he was here on business rather than pleasure. and despite his fall for vices and pleasures of flesh, the stalker had found his quarry. It was his game, his trade, finding that which needed to be found, and imprisoning them as required. The target was gullible for a wizard, convinced to cast a myriad of spells which rendered him powerless before a supposed impressed aspirant. A few words of flattery and encouragement was all that was needed for the arrogant fool to waste it all in a spectacular display of arcane powers. And to finish the show, the ecstatic wizard was goaded into doing the impossible: eschew the protection of his enchanted necklace and cast a spell of water breathing to prove his speed of spellcasting. Of course the very moment he attempted to do so, the smiling warlock dropped his false pretenses and evoked a counter. And thus alas, thrown to the mercy of the suffocating waters the wizard was forced to cut the dimensional anchor that tethered him to the plane of water, and there was instantly regrounded upon the prime material plane he could pose no threat to the warlock's employer any longer.
Earth.
Thus were the high and mighty humbled by a lowly shadow. Such was the might of words, the magicless magic from which so many sealed their fates with. Though it creeps low across the ground, the shadow was powerful. Few were blessed with its secrets, but those who knew its intimate arts could find themselves an eternal ally that shall follow them loyally. Thus come the sunless morning, from the ground his shadow rose and split off as it took form, darkness folding upon itself like a black sheet of origami. A muzzle, ears, legs, a tail, like shifting squid ink though invisible to all without a form of truesight as the shadow hound rose to the summons of its master and partner. Shaking the shadow mass that composed it like a canine would before sense the warlock's will and desire to watch her more. The Other Aasimar, before they left the public tavern for whatever and wherever it was they would venture. Slink into her shadow, and lurk there, let her feel the chill of fear, the dread of being hunted. What business did they have here? A fellow stalker visiting on assignment wondered the same thing thinking such a group had something to do with the fallen aasimar's arrival. Their card game interrupted the other night by such considerations, and they played for a greater wealth than coin. And with that knowledge won, there was something overheard in hushed towns about their former lord Marid. Ah a network of assassins, hunters and rogues, throughout all the planes, see how the shadows tempt so many?
Redemption.
Now with the silent bidding of his shadow hound, the umbramancer took his chances with this group with a keen interest in the young aasimar girl. Perhaps he sought to corrupt her too and turn her soul over to the shadows by dark seduction. Or perhaps he cared to warn her about straying from the path? Whatever the intent conspiring in his blackened soul was swallowed swiftly with a batting blink. Could she save him? Could he restore his inner light by following her? Orange eyes watched his shadow hound slink away and fade into her shadow as she left.
Farewell faithful friend. For where once you followed me, Now I follow you.
As the group began to leave the tavern, Jill felt a twinge of dread come over her suddenly, as if some premonition were telling her to change her intended path. She spun around to look behind her, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. With the prevalence of manta ray cloaks in the vicinity (those being one of the more useful means of underwater assimilation, it was hard to pick any one individual out as being particularly shady. In any case, Jill swam aside Dyn and Cynthia, murmuring quietly to the former as the latter obliviously guided them through the tunnels. "I feel... wrong. Like someone is watching us. Or like we're making a bad choice. I don't know; it's hard to explain."
The wizard was the best person she could choose to share her fears with, as he had plenty of paranoia to spare and the magical expertise to know when some mage might be trying to ruin their day. As it was, Jill was already reaching for the magical lute she carried. Even if it were early in the day, the ability to leave town unmolested may be worth the magical energy of a dozen spells.
Koan's hasty display of tomfoolery was nothing new to Dyn'yer'zhead, who chose to tolerate the eccentric woman's unnecessary flourish in her actions. At least, for once, she was focusing on something important and not doing her best to kill a crewmate with a completely, royally and utterly wrong approach to the subject. She didn't seem to maintain interest much longer though, as she fooled around with the blood coming out of the new acquaintance of theirs. He briefly considered hurling a Firebolt at it to make it stop, but before he could get to a solution of any kind the clown was already on her way to "heal" the kobold. If things went as per usual, the scaly thing would be dead come morning.
The night was mostly uneventful, though Dyn made it clear he was not happy with the nonstandard sleeping accommodations for himself. His shape was unusual and he had found that a pile of pillows was the best for him, yet here where obviously many travellers from other realms visited they had neglected to drain the rooms of water and forced their visitors to sleep on these damnable contraptions of whatever they were supposed to be. Much to his annoyance, he had to request some helassistance from his roommates... he needed something for his tentacles to wrap around since they would do that in his sleep, and the bed had way too many sharp edges for him to consider that. And he himself did not have any equipment that could serve as that something. In the end the two fine ladies loaned him their backpacks, so he could sleep soundly and without fear of hurting himself.
Come morning, they were already well on their way to the Verdant stream when Jill whispered a message of utmost importance to him: She was feeling like someone was watching them, or the decision they had made had been the wrong one. "Hrrrrrgggg... Not the latter, I'm sure. You would have felt that yesterday", the Beholder replied as he began ever so not-subtly twisting around in sharp turns, trying to spot whatever it could be that was causing this anomaly. Nothing. "So it has to be scrying then", he murmured and began a ritual to see magic. Whatever it was, it would cease bothering them if it didn't want to taste his blade. He spun his weapon around in elaborate patterns, signalling the obvious spellcasting to anyone versed in the art, especially those well versed in bladesong.
On the Long Rest, Dyn has recovered all of his HP through the expenditure of 3 of his hit dice, which were then returned at the end of the rest. He has also modified his spell list somewhat. As per usual, he casts Mage Armour on waking up. After that, he attempted to spot the person shadowing them, but was ultimately unsuccessful and has begun a ritual of Detect Magic.
Short rest recovery rolls - 6 (1 hit die expended. Ignore the d8, my mistake) and 15 (2 hit dice expended) Perception to see the creeper - 15
The night was filled to the brim with ecstasy, Koan and Askia doing a very dirty dance that satisfied their most carnal desires. Though, the Kobold did manage to get her rest, allowing her mind to rest and relax in between two large cushions.when the supposed morning had come along, the mystic was the first of the two lovers to awaken, and silently did she move from her position on the jester to get her clothing on. She felt much better, between Koan’s healing touches and Askia’s natural healing abilities, the Kobold was in much better shape than when she had stumbled into the bar.
Cynthia was a pleasant sight to see, even if she was simply leading us to the destination where their adventure would begin. Yet, Askia seemed compelled to engage with her once more, ”I don't see you around last night. Was a shame I couldn't take you into my room with me. Maybe next time I can bunk with you.” It was yet another subtle attempt to try and seduce the merwoman, though even Askia was unsure that it would work this time since they were being led to an adventure of a lifetime. However, it was probably Askia's stalkerish breathing or something about her demeanor that probably would make Cynthia cringe.
Belching a loud yawn, the jester marched into full view, still masqueraded in blanche skin, but slightly scantily clad. "That hit the spot! Ooooh! Everyone's awake." Ogling at Jill beginning to prance and strum her lute, the clown yodeled at the top of her drowned lungs.
"DANCE PARTY!!!! Who's in???"
"Nemiea couldn't help but laugh at the woman's mannerisms, finding it just amusing, shy or crass. "I would never turn down a bit of dancing," the Tabaxi replied, "Was thinking of performing downstairs anyway, a nice warm-up would do me some good."
"Poifekto, my Unicorn-Saber Tabaxi friend! Let the jiggling begin!"
Nemiea smiled and followed the woman's lead, pulling off some rather exhilarating acrobatic feats with her current tango collaborator. It had been some time since she had been able to stretch out in such a way, and she was rather pleased. "Jiggling we shall do!"
With that, the geisha leaped, coupled with her mate, the feline sorceress, onto tables and chairs below, daftly tip-toeing, twirling, and high-kicking their movements into a wonderfully erotic ballet.
The enormity of the parlor was vast enough to continue these sensual shenanigans, indefinitely, as the lute further picked up its beautiful melody. The vocal cords of the comical mage soon belted out, in attempts to join in harmony, but unfortunately did not account for the aquatic current to subdue her falsetto. She giggled nervously, almost contemplating that she might have lost her voice overnight from her late night activities with Askia.
"Props are fun, but I guess I'm a little hoarse."
She laughed a little stronger, as a small pony suddenly appeared, stationary, as they hurled onto the next counter surface, the equine idol becoming faint as they pirouetted through the minor illusion, with gradual deep and low dips for one another. Nemiea was undeniably leading their paired routine, but as the musical world was spinning around them, her eyes caught Askia, next to Cynthia.
Lunging out a hand to slap the kobold, she reared the arm in dramatic fashion. "Get your ass in here!"
THWACK!
Nemiea smiled and grabbed onto both Askia and Cynthia, pulling them into the fray of merriment and twisting bodies as people played and boogied. She wasn't above tugging people into the camaraderie, but she also would not force them if they backed out. "Come on you two, stop being bumps on a log and have some fun!"
The formation of the quartet liberated the joker from any hindrance in preventing her from issuing out her flute. She remembered promptly to throw away the dart, loaded in its chamber, as she would commonly use the pipe as a makeshift blowgun. The overarching tunes synchronized superbly with the trots of the troupe, alongside the evanescent string plucking by their talented Jill.
Forgetting to uphold the farce of Dyn as their leader, she barked a comment that might crack the Beholder's false position.
"Hey Cap'n! Let's go! We're almost at the climax of this jamboree!"
And those words shook Dyn'yer'zhead out of his thoughts. What, now they were demanding him to join in? No, the clown had made a mistake. They had spoken to Jill as the captain. While he knew it to be the truth, he was not going to blow their cover right now, not when he had already hidden her real position for so long. He made a sound that slightly resembled coughing before he floated off his seat and opened his mouth in a song.
From his mouth erupted words of a language few spoke or had ever heard, but the most unbelievable thing was his voice. Far was the gurgling, unnatural and abhorrent tone the Beholder usually exhibited, for now his voice was like the choir of angels had joined together with the band of the most seductive voices of the deepest hells. Though a sudden change in language left him slightly stumbling in the pronunciation of some words, it wasn't like anyone would know. After delivering two verses, he drifted back down, not bothering to trouble himself more than that. Koan should be thankful he let her off the hook without any rays of frost to her rear for bringing this upon him.
While Askia was busy tapping her feet and the likes with the other two girls, some eerie alien noise riled her. The lyrics were unrecognizable, but brilliantly eloquent like honeydew on a pine cone. The kobold did not know what the Beholder meant to accomplish; it was a duo of salvation within damnation. The Kobold had her own plans to outdo the tentacled pirate's peculiar verbiage. Askia opened her maw, in competition, and released her own musical declaration, granted she wasn't classically trained in the arts.
All in all, the celebratory carnival was a marvelous fête to appraise, both annoying the other guests attempts to eat and sleep, but invigorating to all those who took part. Once the boisterous gala completed, the Kor warrior provided laudatory applause to their kinky company.
"Y'all made me so proud." She wiped an imperceptible tear, as foam began to materialize upon her lips. "Singing in this shared shower was a lot of fun. Until you get shampoo in your mouth." She babbled on with the punchline. "Then, I guess, it just becomes a soap opera."
She ran over to Askia and jabbed an elbow into her side.
"GET IT? SOAP. OPERA."
She bent over, hooting and hollering, haphazardly revealing a portion of her gluteal cleft for viewing.
"I crack myself up sometimes."
Song of Rest for an additional 4 HP for those who spent Hit Die. A bunch of Performance and Acrobatics rolls were done. See Discord for deets. Koan only used Minor Illusion for the puny pony and the soap, to make it even punnier.
HP: 43/43 AC (15): Cloak of Protection (+1) + DEX Mod (+4) Weapon: None, Rapier is sheathed and Shield is cinched to her back. Arcane Focus: Diamond Tongue Stud Concentrating: Nothing Bardic Inspiration (0/3 used)
Sorcerer Points (1/4 to be used) on Mage Armor, once we leave this shindig
Slots: Warlock First Level (0/2 used) Spell Caster Level = Sorcerer (4) + Bard (3) + Rogue (0) = Seventh Level First Level (0/4 used) Second Level (0/3 used) Third Level (0/3 used) Fourth Level (0/1 used)
As soon as the Bladesinger concluded his elaborate flailing, his multiple eyes opened anew to a world where magic did not hide itself. The mass of people surrounding them, as the party themselves too, had many a person in it that exhibited magical auras. Nothing too unusual there... but as he took a further look at Jill, he noted what exactly was off here. "Jill, I trust you know how to dispel", he mumbled as he swam closer to her shadow, "because I am led to believe our problem is right there." The disgruntled expression on Dyn'yer'zhead's face deepened slightly, the edges of his mouth dipping just a bit further down. He had not seen anything targeting a shadow specifically before this... "and we should make haste. I've no reason to believe we would like to meet the cause of this feeling of dread, other than to skewer it with our weapons. And we don't have the time for that."
If Dyn hadn't heard of such an effect, then Jill could hardly afford to be cautious about it. At least they now knew it was a magical effect, which was easily disposed of. "In that case, I hope you can lead us well, Captain!" She proclaimed, before Dispelling the effect. She then strummed the lute, a magical gift that had been procured on an earlier adventure, and as her steps lead her around a corner in the tunnels, the Invisibility spell concealed her form. It certainly would not prevent all manners of spells, but she knew many effects required one to see their targets. As soon as she was unseen, Jill redoubled her steps, glancing about the inhabitants of the area to see if there was any specific reaction. With luck, she might spy someone following them or trying to cast the spell again.
Jill uses a lvl 3 spell slot on Dispel Magic, then casts Invisibility from her Doss Lute (1/day). She then searches the area, rolling a 22 Perception. What she sees depends on what happens next.
Returned with a whine, the shadow hound was ousted by another magical force. So rudely cast out after being detected by a rather lengthy ritual which had allowed his dark self to follow their stopped trail. The target had not left this plane, but neither had she moved for quite sometime as the mystic bond between man and shadow relayed back direction and distance. They had either stopped at their destination, or else found themselves preoccupied with something else. To which the umbral one stalked his quarry well. They had made quite the performance before leaving, a dance, a song, a flute.And it would not be difficult to track a monstrosity like a beholder down in the city of a thousand recluses, information about them would have already trickled down into the underbelly of even these depths. And then it was a matter of talking to the right people for the right price. Captain… Of what? And what did that make her to him?
Nevertheless, with patient strides, or rather strokes for the water made it easier to swim rather than to walk. The dark figure tailed them blending in with the rest of the denizens and becloaked travellers here and there. What may be seen to a the keen eye, a feat of observation, would be the lack of shadow cast by the fallen aasimar as the dog dwelled with the shadow of his presumed counterpart. Though now the effect dispelled, his burning eyes could see his faithful hound returning to his side. It took the form and nature of the canine, ears dropped and tail low, whelp whipped by a spell with it’s sorry return. They must have found it, and dispelled it, as the warlock stopped to reason, just paces away from a tunnel to the surface. So they were not without skill in the arcane arts, keen enough to sense his hound’s jugular bite against her own shadow. And yet, perhaps he should send the poor dog back out to try another quarry?
A hand to affectionately rub the massless crown of the dog’s head. Made of shadows there was nothing but wispy blackness to its body, and yet even as the ink-like darkness steeped and twisted in the waters, there was a certain satisfaction the shadow had feeling its owner’s touch. A sentience of its own perhaps? Or a shared mind? Somewhere in between for his shadow was both his, but also born of the realm of shadows. Thus maybe it was the only company he kept for so long was this creature that the shadowmancer treated it as something that needed love to grow rather than darkness. Thus was it quaint that, the pair enter the tunnel together, attempting to pass as another traveller headed towards the surface. Hood kept down as his blood-orange eyes quickly glazed over the group. Where was she?
Jill had doubled back to scout those who were watching their performance. The majority of the underwater townsfolk had returned to their daily business, milling about on their various chores or occupations. A handful remained at the tavern, several of whom wore the manta ray cloak that much of her party had donned. Useful as the cloak was, it did make picking out faces rather difficult. And so, the Aasimar captain waited to see if her patience would be rewarded.
Sure enough, a few moments passed and one of the crowd began to stir, his fingers caressing... something. Jill couldn't quite make it out, but there was something off about the figure. She swam up next to him, drawing her pistol as she moved, and whispered in his ear. "Looking for someone?" she asked, her voice playful, almost seductive as she moved to the other side. "Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself. My Beholder friend thinks you are out to harm us, and it would be a shame--" the sound of a safety releasing could be heard-- "if he were right."
A whisper in the ear. Oh such a act had oh so much meaning. Was it the voice of the gods? A herald of angelic truth, uttering prophecy as the gods will, cryptic and mystic in all the ways of mortal minds. A divine diamon that guides and compels the soul to do what is asked of them? Such a sign of zealotry, devotion tested by the words of fanaticism, incited into producing an action. Or was it the voice in the shadows? The unseen ones hidden in the treacherous gloam, tempting and ever tempting mortals to step into darkness. Each sly call beckoning oneself to the edge of the abyss until, lo the abyss could swallow you whole! And yet, there was at least one more dangerous whisper to be accounted for that influenced a man's actions. While the gods may command, and the shadows tempt, it was this last whisper that was the sweetest of all. The seductive whisper of a lover. Yes, coy and playful, bashful but bold. An offer of oral pleasures in intercourse, of listening to that voice so alluring spark the discourse as their fates became entwined. Yes, of course such ears perked an interest as a presence in the water made its way about him even before her voice came to serenade him with her threat.
"Invisibility." The reply came with a calm smile beneath the hood, visible to the other aasimar certainly if she cared to see the warlock's face. "Clever girl." A compliment, although one perhaps too patronizing for a stranger. "If you do not know me, then you are not one of her Agents." Though still there was no introduction yet, which perhaps pressed the patience of female willing and able to shoot at pointblank. Though how exactly would a flintlock, or presumably a flintlock which worked on blackpowder and combustion, function underwater. But in a world of magic, things need not make the most sensible logic, though there was a limit of what silliness the powers that be would accept. "Sauron, and I was merely curious as to what another Aasimar is doing here, so I followed."
And if needed, if she shot that firearm, the warlock had his spells up his sleeve. And there was no need to be so subtle, no need to save spells so early when life was on the line. Was this a test? Would one of them have to die? Could there only be one? What did it take to earn his untarnished wings, and cleanse his soul of the shadows? "My guide may have brought me here to you, and yours to me?"
"Sauron... I see." Despite Jill's best efforts, she couldn't pierce the intents of the cloaked man. Whether he was who he said he was or not did not truly matter, and the name Sauron did not ring a bell with her. More intriguing to Jill was this "her" and the "Agents" he spoke of. "If you believe our allies in heaven joined us together, why did you threaten me with that spell of yours?" Jill asked, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It does not seem the friendly thing to do."
The safety clicked back into place. "I have no intentions of harming someone who is not a threat to our safety. If I did, my gun would be the least of your worries. No, I wish to live unchained, either by my forebears or by those whose paths I cross. I am sure you understand, Sauron." The aasimar's proximity was so close that she could almost be felt, if not seen, her face nearly adjacent to the other's. "Perhaps you would like to join us, and perform your observations in a closer setting, preferably without the threat of violence."
The venom of the serpent had worked its magic. Fangs dripping of toxins in that practiced smile. Disarming charming, despite the quiet intensity of those ember eyes. Like a beacon in the black shadow cast across his brow, a gaze that concealed his intent, hidden by a ring that guarded his thoughts well from prying spells. Twas a ring he bore upon the ring finger of his left hand, a golden band forged and etched with intricate engravings to shield him from efforts to divine his true nature, shielding his mind from all magical means of detection. Yet curiously the ring was, like the girl, invisible to sight though its presence was suggested by the form it bore, the physical presence found just as her form parted the waters around it. What use was invisibility when the water transmitted so much more information? But his hound held no mass, being a creature made of pure shadow like his armor that clung to him like black pyre. More treasured however than this ring's ability to conceal his thoughts and conceal itself, was the ability for it to store his soul. Until it was made pure the warlock could reside within the ring, his body destroyed by his immortal soul sealed within. And the whispers he could give, just like her, a shove into the mind, a suggestion, and a deception just like the one he wove now around her. Sauron... There was no Sauron.
"Forgive me for my methods, but just as you hide from me now, I hid from you." The quick-witted reply, "A need to track you through this labyrinthine city should our paths need crossing." But her words slew him, even as the click of the safety no longer placed 'Sauron' in the path of a woman's wrath. The irony of it all too amusing to not bring a genuine smile, curling itself on the corner of those lips. Unchained? To live free and untangled in the mess of fate and orders directed in the Heavens? Perhaps he saw a bit of his younger self in her, the rebellion in her unseen eyes, the feist she carried against the forces that would see her fulfill her role in the machine. Perhaps she would be able to see it in his eyes, that raging inferno of resentment dimming to a flickering candle of hope. And then in a moment later, it was replaced with a knowing glance as he felt her presence now so close, almost too close.
"Yes, I was once like you... But freedom has a price." A touch of melancholy in the fading trail-off. "And perhaps by following you, I can gain what I have lost."
Jill giggled, a sound that could melt the heart of a beholder. She knew, as she had done so previously. "Welcome to the crew, then," she said as her face faded into view, upside-down and inches from that of the other Aasimar with a mischievous smirk on her face. "Rule number one: don't cast that spell on me, or anyone else you want to be your friend. Rule number two: don't piss off Dyn." She reached for his hand, caressing it with her fingers as they intertwined. "And rule number three: trust me."
A spell was cast, a subtle pulling at the arvane threads that bound the world together, and the world collapsed around them. For a moment, naught existed but the two of them, Jill's fingers still grasping the other's and that mischievous smile beaming from her face. Almost as soon as the spell began, it ended, and the duo were now several paces behind Dyn and Cynthia in the tunnel. "Hey guys!" Jill called out. "I found a new friend. Don't worry, he's just a little shy." Her hand subtly released his, and she swam over to the others, tossing a wink over her shoulder at "Sauron."
Three rules? Automatrons had just as many. The innocent childishness to her persona caught the warlock off-guard. The fallen aasimar had expected a more rigid path, one devout and pious, strict with all the disciple his mentor had expected of him. Perhaps her was far more lax, but alas, what did he know of her? And her of him? His facade as 'Sauron' a name invented and a moniker adopted for his trade as a nom-de-arte. But he looked like a 'Sauron' did he not? A name hissed softly and stretched before ending in a definitive note? The venom injected at the very end as the masqueraded drops? She told him to trust her, and yet never gave her name, but stated another's. Dyn, whoever that was supposed to be. Introductions would be needed to infiltrate this group. But of the first rule, as much as his hound panted and sauntered its way over to her shadow cast below as the girl floated in the waters curiously and intertwined her fingers into the umbramancer's. A touch he nearly drew back from, with a wince but something told him a girl like her meant not to harm him. Not one so... Innocently naive? Or was such an act merely an intricate ploy?
Bubbles.
The rush of water from one end, and the displacement of it from the other. A group before them in the darkness of the tunnel, though the shadows were his friend. A beholder, a kobold, a scaled feline, a drowish mystery, and a native it seemed numbered amongst her troupe. Ones seen from before with casual glances thrown about from his card game. An interesting lot, intriguing indeed as the more radiant of the pair introduced her 'new friend' to the lot. Would they be as easy to fool as her?
"I am Sauron, but I do not believe I was introduced to your name, friend." A closed-lipped smile curled the corners, a move practiced to deceive by disarming charm. And by the feel of things, he was not the only one who knew how to use his dark charisma. How strange that his new friend had such an effect on him. Was he losing himself to the quarry? Or was it just his solitude that made his hound jealous as it slunk about him pacing to see if the master would find new friends and abandon his own shadow and the promises he must keep to the realm of shadows. "I am here to accompany your aasimar on her journey."
Noriam's Deception Roll to assume a false identity: 1d20 + 13 = 11 + 13 = 24 Jill's Insight Roll to catch Noriam's lie: 1d20 + 9 = 11 + 9 = 20 Noriam's Arcana Roll to determine what spell is being cast by Jill: 1d20 + 4 = 11 + 4 = 15
(Chances three 11's were rolled in repetition: 0.0125%. I conclude these dice are probably rigged)
Dyn did not like it when Jill disappeared like that, especially not after they had concluded that they were being stalked by an unidentified opponent, but he would not say a word. No, he would give the captain the opportunity to find out what was going on. It was a risk, but it was a risk she had judged had to be taken. He would trust her, though he did not want to trust that call. No, no, he did not like that at all. He made a mental note to always prepare the incantation of See Invisibility in the future. He needed to know. Wild cards were too wild for him. But with her disappearance, he truly was the leading figure here. "Let's move on. If we are being followed, no reason to cause more suspicion."
After a while of moving on, the water behind them bubbled to life and he spun around, Tradewind already at the ready. As luck would have it, the new arrivals were but Jill and someone he would count as this stalker. He was already prepared to dash at them to thrust the cutlass through the person's ribcage when the true captain's words quelled his anger, if only by a slight margin. "A friend?" he asked with his gargling common and swam closer, forming a rather closely knit triangle with him, the newcomer and Jill as the edges and the vertices as short as he could make them. Of his seven non-eyepatch covered eyes, four or five were focused on judging the character of this fresh arrival at all times, while the rest kept watch on his surroundings.
"Sauron, hmm? Dyn'yer'zhead. Share with me, traveller, what had you thinking it was a particularly excellent idea to send shadowy stalkers at us? A poor first impression, I'll tell you", he laid on the newcomer with dripping, unconcealed venom of scorn garnishing every word. Were it Koan talking (or if she was paying attention) puddles of illusory acid would appear in the air to drive the point further. Had he known what rules Jill had laid out for the newcomer, he would have perhaps chosen his words differently, but even now they should hint that they were dangerously close to crossing the line with rule #2. Dyn didn't really like them.
You only get a first impression once. And all things considered, the one this poor sap had provided had not won them any favours with the many eyed would-be-captain.
The object of the Beholder’s wrath thrusted out from the magical dusk, an eventide to which the jester’s fiendish sight was akin; the moniker mumbled was Sauron, a seemingly adept mancer of shadow puppets and terrible first impressions. However, that sly smile reminded her of the abandoned pretense she so readily summoned at a moment’s notice.
A manacled man fashioned after her own labyrinthine and deranged heart. He would fit nicely in the dungeon of her glass castle, the vision where each playmate had their own room in the magnificent mansion of her sacrilegious mind.
Once the real captain rematerialized and introduced the newcomer, the snowy joker sent tumbling with her foot, a conjured frozen chair, rippling into the waters of the deep, glinted with an abrupt bright and light cerise, thanks to an abused prestidigitation, pushing the edge of attention and annoyance. The rosy throne spindled along the marine trek to the assembled trio, hopefully distracting the audience from the playful magician’s antics, mirroring an additional illusory tornado slowly enveloping her blanche body, leisurely pulling white tendrils away from her, dissolving her disguise and manifesting a Gothic shimmer her drow dermis artificially beamed. She recognized the twigged ruse as a yester Kor, discarded with Askia, the night prior, would provoke draconic envy. The kobold would be jealous, no doubts about it.
This was worth the betrayal.
The stilettos’ moist clicks soon dampened as she trotted to the many-eyed pirate scrutinizing the newcomer, as Cynthia’s tour was waylaid. Her sloughed footsteps left snowflakes in a wake, as her legs performed a swizz waltz aided by the bleached whirling dervish as a façade, sprinkling the surrounding with a hoary blight, a frosty darkness spreading from the shapeshifter's hurricane.
“Wanna drink pink?”
Grasping the seat jerkily from its aquatic orbital, the murky half-elf plopped its four legs next to Dyn. After the verbal diarrhea completed its course from the interrogating tentacled abomination, the now sultry woman formed an eschewed quadrilateral, where her vertex was beginning to abut more and more the position of the warlock. Her steamy bubbles fluxing into his face, cuddling a current of sensual undertones.
Koan had the hots, and it glowed.
Her gloved hands purloined the shoulders of the fallen aasimar, caressing him deeper into the floating cathedra. Her talons gripping his throat, a loose noose enthralling the novel hostage. The jester’s hips began to elude control. Working her twerk orgasmed like second nature, maneuvering the boogie over his lap, as a long slender sliver of a sickle stiffened with rime, its frigidity matched by its blade. The clown pirouetted the shear, to stroke the pale skin of the devil. The li of the stripper was purposeful.
A maniacal sacrament. Since horror and comedy oft are requited lovers.
As exsanguination delicately oozed from the meager bare flesh by its razor, the ritual swelled as the blood coalesced, into a blossoming chalice, molesting and overflowing the brim of the goblet as his freshest future soon to be bed partner persisted to make waves about his flowing locks of hair. The instance became uncapped in light of the tiny theatrical flare, once the skyless sea screamed adultery.
However, the incestuous magma was then poured over both their faces, overhead, intentionally shielding the smooch to be laid upon the cheek of the vampire, before soon breaching the vermilion borders. Her grin harmonized with the burgundy tilt of their now shared pew, until their slimy splashes broke due to the tenacious weight of their scarlet sins. Long illustrious eyelashes burrowed like hungry worms above the bridge of her nose; like trumpets, announcing the angelic ascent of its new queen, the fiery wreath circumscribed the circular void ingesting all sights around the femme fatale. With each triad blink, the inky geisha batted her eyes against the sacrificial damnation. Her watery breath commenced to invade his nostrils as she heaved and sought promiscuous permission to bite, with a tiny tsunami of sound.
“You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Me too.”
Koan is no longer hiding her identity, shedding the Kor mask via Disguise Self, but donning even more Gothic gear.
Shape Water and Prestidigitation were exploited, making a frozen pink chair, snowflakes, scythe, and finally a chalice collecting his quarry's blood, to only pour it over them as she twerked.
Five grapple checks were required to complete the lap dance; Four of them were successful.
Two uses of at will Silent Image, via Misty Visions, to elaborate a dressing room from with a tornado, and eventually triggered a Wild Mage Surge roll of 26.
An eye appears on your forehead for the next minute. During that time, you have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight.
Nemiea was far from pleased about what had just occurred, her clawed flingers curled into her palms and mismatched eyes narrowed on the figure beside her captain. On top of that the Kobold seemed to be annoying her just as much, which was odd considering the Dragon Sorceress had a rather high tolerance for people. Maybe it was just because the being before them had done the very thing they should not have in trying to ask for allies? "I am pretty sure that is enough Koan," the feline hissed, reaching out and grabbing the other female by the back of her neck to pull her away from the Fallen, "Your lack of control is infuriating at best, at worst it makes me wish that it was ok to knock some bloody sense into that empty head of yours. You don't need to try to fuck everything that moves."
Once her grasp firmed up a bit she yanked rather hard on Koan, mostly towards the ground. While she had no want to harm the female, she also did not want to see someone trying to jump the bones of someone they had just met, it was almost like Koan didn't understand what danger was, or did not care. You should never invite someone to your bed until you know they won't slit your throat while you sleep. "Some self control would be nice, Jill I wish you would push the need for self control more," she nearly growled, gods she felt like Dyn right now.
While it was true that she had remained mostly silent during their walk, not really bothering to help much as it seemed Jill and Dyn had it taken care of, she did feel the need to study the newcomer.... without a presumably constantly horny Koan in the way. "The name is Nemiea," she told the Fallen Aasimar, "And as long as you don't pull a stunt like that again I am pleased to have another, hopefully more sane, ally to work with."
A collection of names. To be written into memory. Only two more yet to be named.
Dyn'yer'zhead.
The beholder, one with a voice like grating horses and an attitude against the warlock to match. As ugly as he was tenacious, too many eyes, not enough personality. Nearly foaming at the atrocious mouth from which the thing spat out each harsh dissonance. It was rather difficult to understand without having to rupture one's own ear drums. And for that reason, there was a pause, the longest pause of a few seconds between them. Where the two men, or at least the umbral one believed the creature was a male, saw each other, eye to eye to eye to eye to eye to eye to eye to eye. It was difficult to stare down those eyeballs but in that moment of silence the message exchanged was clear. The bile and venom felt in that godsawful voice, returned with a more soft spoken calm. A sly knowing glance at understanding her warning now about this entity named... Dinner's-Head. Something like that, although the acquaintance easier on the eyes, in more ways than one, had warned earlier of not crossing or getting this being crossed. Hence perhaps any name calling would have to be withheld until someone other than beholder pronounced his full name.
"Forgive me, but beholders are uncommon sights. You must understand my... Caution." Played to amount of ego-stroking. By guile or by charm, with an apologetic nod, the warlock sought to diffuse what animosity the talking head had. To which before it was finished another from the party rushed into the interrogation with a question of her own. A frozen throne appeared, the benefits of being surrounded by copious water was it not? Such a paradise for spellcasters who shaped the waves and seas. A cold-hearted maiden perhaps? As the turns turned into a winter's flurry, the click of daggers for heels dug into the earthly flesh. The fallen's infernal gaze became drawn into the storm approaching. Who was this? This dark lady who melted her shell of ice away to reveal the pallor of drow skin? Ah the cold never bothered him anyways. For what a pair would they make at night? For is it not said that there was never more a perfect pair than cold and dark?
Koan.
Another question posed. Something about drinking pink? Nevermind the luxury of drinking underwater, but the curiosity of who this girl was and the queerness of her question. Illogical as it seemingly came out of nowhere, but a refreshing break from the mangled mess of common the beholder bellowed out. A voice sweet as it was disarming, like the aasimar's but more... Persuasive? Where one had the child-like innocence, the half-drow's voice had the sultry allure that would melt a heart down in a different way. Was this some, hazing rite? A slight confusion raised a single brow as the beholder faded into the backdrop, and the aasimar's touch seemed a distant memory. And soon it was her dusky fingers that gripped his shoulders. Hands clenched around his throat, tight, but not as tight as a collar. Gripped and led to the siege perilous, as his shadow hound melded back into the ground to become a normal shadow. It did not like what was happening evidently, and cared not enough to stay. Or was it the warlock himself that recalled the shadow? In case he needed to escape this... Ritual.
Pink to red, or indeed pink. Pale cheeks flushed in silence, as the strange jester worked her magic. No, not the magic she had used to craft her chair and don her false face, but one that utilized her true face. And perhaps the somatic components of this ritual were, far more erotic than most? The grinding motions made across the shadowy armor, solid but not solid. Indeed with her gyrations, the entertainer may feel the true nature of Sauron's dark armor. It was, never truly there, not all the time at least, but she surely would have understood the moment her hands touched his shoulders that there was more give to the armor than expected. At which, what her rhythmic actions would feel may surprise her, or perhaps even excite her as a surprised Sauron watched half-mesmerized, half-confused.
Then there was the exquisite pain. A cut from an edge of ice, cold but not numbing. A delicious release, inked with crimson as the fallen one's blood washed the waters with its incarnadine taint. His soft gasp of surprise and ecstasy audible only perhaps by the woman bleeding him. Harvesting his blood into the unholy grail, a sacrament of wine, chilled as he watched her with golden glow. It seemed only they existed for this moment, this basking of beautiful pain inflicted upon his red cheeks redder. Yes, strange as she was, this was a more welcome greeting as his scarlet anointment as the sanguine rain showered them with mercy and carnality. A slow nod offered himself to her, transfixed by the moment in their public privacy. Their eyes met his eyes, all three of hers reflecting his own form seated upon his icy restraints. His shadow self in the very pupil of her third eye which opened like a deadly blossom upon her fair drow brow. A kiss drew him into her spell, deeper as she demanded more of him. Yes, a tithe given freely, and in place of a dark shadow, he would have a Queen. Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn, treacherous as the sea! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love her, and despair!
Despair. Reality snapped back, or rather the Koan did. Pulled back by a hand which grabbed her by the nape. Pulled off and peeled off, by a pair of clawed paws. And yet another pair of eyes now dissected Sauron as he sat back in the crafted chair. A deep inhale taken as his cheek still bled away slowly. A superficial cut, and a baptism in blood. His senses returned from the high and stimulation, recollecting his thoughts and hair. What had just happened? Was this not a test they conducted to every newcomer?
Nemiea.
"My apologies. That was... Unexpected." The answer to the feline-lizard came. Her eyes were mixed, an interesting note although perhaps it was expected of one who mixed their blood? Ah to speak of blood while having enjoyed shedding your own. The warlock himself was no proponent of piety and holiness, with all the vices that he had sanctified as the norm. The moment of cold heat gone, as the dark aasimar unfolded himself from his seat with the shadows composing his armor seeming to condense around him tighter. As a man may zip up his trousers and tightening his tie to be more presentable after such a lecherous show and afterglow. Oh that's right, they were doing all this in public were they not? Perhaps the drow would offer to cut more places across his excited body, already waiting to feel her frozen blade lacerating across his flesh. "Please, do not chide her, Koan was it? Enthusiasm Nemiea, it was certainly an experience to enter this group."
Jill.
"So... Jill. Is this the freedom you have found?" A question of his own now posed. A strange lot of friends she had for one so young. But who was in charge? Dyn or Jill? As it seemed one had the bite of a leader, while the other had more the charisma for it. They were drawn to her authority it seemed, or at least that was what the dracofeline suggested with her plea. "It is Unique."
Insight Roll to determine the nature of Koan's antics: 1d20 + 0 = 4 + 0 = 4.
The furious Beholder saw a certain modicum of sense in the response of the new blood, yet he could not let them off this easy. Not after what the had pulled. Besides, there was a slight inconsistency in his explanation, something Dyn chomped down on. "Riddle me this", he grumbled, "if one wants to remain cautious, is the plan to raise suspicion in the other party the best course of action?" The words flowing from his mouth were less venomous and more on the accusing tone now. His tentacles unfurled, spreading to his sides as he slid Tradewind out of their folds. But before they could go further, the jester arrived with her pink throne of condensed nonsense and forced themselves in between the two, not to break the brewing fight apart but to steal the stalker for herself.
Dyn was not happy about this change of events and a few of his tentacles immediately reached for Koan's throat. He was in the middle of something here and interruptions were not something he looked upon kindly. However, the drow proved just a wee bit too slippery for him as they had already twisted themselves to the other side of the fresh arrival. The Beholder groaned and murmured their protests, but instead of embarrassing himself by trying to pull the trickster off the other person he simply decided to see where this would go. With any luck, they would have a repeat of case Abbercroft and they'd be in the clear. No newcomer alive, no trouble at all. This was mostly wishful thinking though...
Wait, but what was that? Dyn almost could not believe his many eyeballs as he registered Koan cutting a wound into the man's skin and drawing blood for her shenanigans. While the third eye was still in its early stages in blooming, Dyn found himself actually approving of Koan's actions, as partial as that approval was. This was a rare occurrence. But past that, he lost interest in the fool's antics and instead followed the reaction of Sauron. And unfortunately enough, the man did not react with the expected disgust. A shame. He and Dyn would not be too likely to get along, unless the new blood was apt at following orders. He doubted that.
The situation developed further when Nemiea rushed to join the grapple and wrested the trickster away before things went too far. The Beholder was always up for seeing Koan put to her place... it was much too common of the drow to not realise when stopping would have been appropriate. A real source of headache, she was. But Sauron defended the clown's actions and Dyn slapped as many tentacles against his face as he could, murmuring a wholly audible protest: "Why does everyone that joins us find that insufferable-" which then turned to Deep Speech, his voice shifting with the language. The gargling, screeching and other unpleasant noises that always accompanied his 'normal' speech were suddenly gone. He spoke in his natural, sonorous voice again. Not that anyone could understand a sentence. But let it be known that the words meant nothing pleasant.
Once done with his tirade, he lowered his appendages and checked his surroundings more thoroughly, his body making a full 360 degree circle horizontally as his eyes scanned any- and everything nearby. Nothing stood out, thankfully. He made a single thrust with his tentacles behind himself to gain some speed, gliding through the water over to Nemiea's shoulder. He whispered into her ear, now once more in the common language with his hoarse and alien voice: "My sentiments as well."
After a moment, Nemiea made a noise and shook her head before turning to Jill and Dyn, "I'm sorry but I can't do this," she told them, "There are certain mannerisms that I can not be around and I fear that I would eventually just lose it and try to do something I will later regret. With your leave Captain I would like to remain at the Inn and simply pass the time as I see fit. I was looking forward to partaking on this adventure with you, but I can just as easily work on earning money for the ship for any communal purchases you may need to make."
The Tabaxi then turned to Cynthia, a questioning look in her eyes, "I do hope you know someone who may be able to take my place in the mission that has been assigned to the crew," she told the woman, "My brand of persuasion is about as effective as a slug with the current people around and I fear that people would see through what I am doing because that seems to be the only thing the females I am around know to do. I apologize in advance for any issues my departure may cause, but I have faith in any connections you may have."
Without really waiting for an answer, other than Dyn telling her that he does not fault her for leaving, the young female simply turned and left towards the inn. Her tolerance had been pushed to its very frayed end and that was that. She would not keep company with individuals that would turn her capabilities into something useless, she rather just dance and earn money at the inn instead.
Jill watched the reactions of the group from a short distance, allowing them to express their enthusiasm for a new recruit in their own ways. Koan was, of course, a touch more aggressive than the situation warranted, nut thankfully it did not seem to bother the other Aasimar. In fact, it almost sermed to Jill that he enjoyed it more than one would expect. She filed that particular piece of information away for later use; Koan could entertain in public, but Jill preferred a more intimate setting.
It seemed Nemiea was of a similar mind, although much more perturbed by Koan's antics. It made sense: the draconic sorcerer had always worked her wiles in a more subtle fashion, and with Koan stealing the spotlight, there was little reason for Nemiea’s subtlety. Jill nodded her consent for Nemiea’s departure, but the circumstances troubled her somewhat. Cynthia had already mentioned the expected difficulty of their quest, and fewer crewmen meant a more arduous journey lay ahead.
"Our freedom has its benefits," Jill replied to Sauron, "and also its trials. But none of the joys in life ever come without a little pain." She watched wih a twinge of sadness as Nemiea departed the group. "In any case, it appears we are suddenly short a person. Cynthia, would you know anyone you can trust who would join us at short notice?"
The merfolk thought for a moment. "There is another member of the watch whose expertise might be useful. She might take some convincing, but most of us watchmen are interested in fixing how things were. I'm sure she would be little different."
At my request, the merfolk led us out of the city to a nearby patrol group, our three-dimensional map in tow. After Cynthia stated her leave, she asked the whereabouts of "the tiger." Soon, we were led to a new person who was surprisingly familiar to at least one in our group...
"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."
As the party left the city they were met by a rather large Tiger at the entrance, the creature prowling the sea floor while wearing what appeared to be an amulet and, oddly enough, a cloak. Upon spotting them the creature ceased all movements and simply stared, it's violet eyes sliding over the group before it before huffing and simply prowling a bit more. However, when Cynthia called it's attention once more it let out a far more annoyed growl and moved over, it's eyes hopping from person to person for a moment before they seemed to settle on the beholder of the group. While she did not move right away it was clear that there was an ounce of recognition in the all to animalistic gaze.
Extending out her claws a bit, the Tiger seemed to kneed the ground for a few moments before she ran at them. It was very clear that she was not able to communicate with them in any verbal manner, but that did not exactly matter as she seemed to shift into a blue finned female who darted straight for Dyn. The action was so fast the beholder did not have any time to react before he found himself locked in a hug with the violet eyed female. “FAR!” she shouted, clearly excited to see the many-eyed creature, “It’s been far too long, when did you get here? Why are you here? Who are they?”
Dyn soon found himself being hugged by what had once been a tiger, but now turned to a somewhat more recognisable shape. It had to be admitted, a tiger with purple eyes and the sigil in the shape of a star on its forehead had very much rang bells in his mind, but only now that she was hanging onto his material body, he could tell for sure. “Far too long indeed, Adrevz…” he muttered, a few of his tentacles finding their way against the merfolk woman’s back and joining the hugging gesture. “As for your questions I could well ask the same from you…”, he continued, the last sentence sounding distinctly like it was missing a word from the end. Dyn spun the syllables in his mouth, not really finding himself ready to pronounce them again after all these years. But eventually he would begrudgingly spit out the word he had nearly omitted: “...child.”
The fact that he seemed to hesitate with the last word greatly amused the woman, it was very like him to hold to his word even if he wasn’t exactly pleased with what he agreed to. “It turns out my studies as a druid eventually lead me here,” she replied with a small shrug while keeping the Beholder trapped in her embrace, “Learned some things about my people, managed to also learn some neat things as a druid even though I’m clearly underwater. I swear I need to learn how to grow gills or something while I’m a tiger, as pretty as the amulet is it is useless to me when I’m not in my wild shape.”
Taking a moment, she peeked around the floating tentacled mass to eyeball the rest of the group, but quickly went back to ignoring them. “Looks like you got yourself a lot of minions this time around,” she commented, “Some of them look kinda weird though.”
The bluish-purple ball of eyes and appendages in her grasp took his turn to speak: “You were brought here by your training, I was by the adventuring business. You know how we always stayed on the move”, he responded, not feeling like telling the whole story of what had led to them climbing the pillar. “But at the end of it, we entered this elemental plane through my magic”, he made a reference to that last point in time he really found important apart from their deal with the theullai, but that could be reserved for when they were further from the potential enemies of said creature. A single tentacle of his wormed its way onto Adre’s head, gently ruffling her hair about. She had liked that when she had been an actual child.
“As for that lot… you would not believe the amount of trouble. I don’t even know half of them yet… there’s been a fair bit of change in them lately”, he turned to whispering, trying to keep his opinions out of the ears of those who would stab him in the back if they heard them, “and that makes me uncomfortable. I cannot tell which I can trust since they. Keep. Changing.” He drew back his tentacles, hoping that would guide her to release him from her hold. “Nonetheless, we were hoping to see if you could join us on this journey to the Verdant stream”, he explained now with normal volume once again.
Heading his movement she released him from the hug and backed up a bit to take in the rest of the group. She was clearly not impressed by the way the group looked, her eyes scrutinizing every individual and drawing small conclusions against each person. The only one she didn’t have an immediate issue with was Jill, but the others just gave her a weird vibe. “Yeah, I can help you,” she responded, “You will have to fill me in on why exactly you are going to the Verdant Stream though, it’s not exactly safe.”
The Beholder made a nodding motion. “I shall……. Child. But not now. It is not for everyone to hear”, he shared with her before raising his volume. “Should we not be on the move now that we have our reinforcements?” he bellowed.
Instant jealousy rent the clown from the aquatic congo line, as Adrevz embraced the tentacled abomination. An adder’s tongue soon flowered behind the pearly gates of her clenched maw, ready to bloom a green-eyed monster from a yellow rosebud in hopes of smothering this new Desdemona. Envy graced the geisha’s mind as the merfolk druid inquired of her mentor’s happenings. Why? For attention? Should she don another coat of many colors, gifted by the very crown she inherited, only to be sold again into slavery by her newly adopted brethren? No. Her insane covetousness breached the ranks of Medea, Kitelys, and Dieanira, dripping with murderous hemlock. Though, the constant shenanigans likely was the rationale behind Nemiea’s departure. To which, the fool was concomitantly forlorn.
Her façade’s mask kept such an emotional pandemonium from poisoning the surrounding waters. No ripples creased her still face.
If only there existed a proverbial cliff, the prankster could launch her body from. Away from this troupe of satyrs. Yet, she needed them, and, oddly, specifically him. The Beholder always remained peculiarly a paradoxical object of desire and source of disdain. The many eyed pirate thwarted many progressions of her chaotic machinations, but righteously so. The expected and exceptional opposition provoked the jester, in turn, to be bolder and even more extravagant. Just to be noticed. Over and over.
And now there were two of ‘em. Hooray!
The silvery buffoon reeled closer to the duo, as her eyes twinkled in the deep ocean.
“Name’s Koan. Please to meet ya. Do tag along. It will be a blast! I guarantee it.”
