[sblock=As the guests arrive]
Orelal finished donning his adventuring vestments, he felt the familiar tingle in his nethers (a good idea, when he still had the requisite parts), that meant someone or something, was entering without permission...
Viewing the scene from his eye above the tower, Massacre watched an Undead, upon a very angry nightmare, ride straight as you will, through the boneyard maze... Ignore the dense fog... Walk right up to the (switching to the front door view) front door... and... IGOR LET IT IN!!!
Rushing for his door, Massacre grabs the handle and gives it four quick jerks before realizing Igor had to open it... (switching to Teleportation View) The Undead thing walked in and up the stairs, leaving his mount to Igor. The undead creature walked, through the already open door, into the parlor and shouted out Massacre's
real name! That was when Massacre realized it was a Revenant...
*Honey... I thought you would be surprised, but sending a servant to kill me over it?*
(switching to Parlor View)
*It already has it's weapons drawn, is that a... Silver Sword... It's not as though I'm a Lycanthrope... Blasted Undead... *
When Sarenax walked through the door, Massacre did not breath a sigh of relief, he couldn't breath at all... But that wasn't important for the recently undead wizard. What was important was getting out of his tower and escaping...
The dreams, a big black dragon smiting him... Sarenax was like a big black dragon... Good old fractured mind, giving just subtle enough a warning...
Unfortunately, when Sarenax, with odd speed for his size, withdrew and armed his scythe at the revenant, that blew his theory all to pieces...
*I refuse to vacate my most sacred spire, until some comprehension of this debacle comes, besides Igor is welcoming others, and I haven't the ability to open the door until he gets it for me...*
The wizard lay back down upon his marble alter, momentarily flashing back to Igor removing his liver, and exclaiming something or other about it being perfect for his Uncle... Igor.
Then the view of the parlor butted in, rudely, as Kalas,
*Kalas, inevitably that impervious enforcer would be Her chosen hunter...* calmly discussed Massacre's impending doom...
Sarenax then referred to Orelal as serving the Raven Queen,
*I don't serve Her, I've MARRIED Her... well if She hasn't kill me first... Thusly I deduce you haven't yet recieved direct orders to destroy me...* Orelal smirks, well as close as a skull can get to smirking, his teeth clacked at an odd angle...
*Ah, Batin, now we are getting somewhen... kind of...*
Kylek's massive form flowing through the door as if hunting the gods themselves, was no comfort to the undead wizard...
*At least they are all calm, and docile, relatively... well... * a complete slip of the present, Massacre in slow agonizing motion, watched the table coming slowly upwards, or was he going down, either way an impact was immanent, glancing back just in time to see the black mass of...
*Creeeeeak*
Mather, the gueth' are getting impathent...
Igor, good, I appreciate you opening the door, Thither to our guests, insure their comfort, I'm already among them, and you've had the foresight to requisition a broom for the terrible mess...
The door standing open, Massacre pulls himself together, reciting as many defensive spells as he can remember. Working his way through every escape route he could take. Considering the safety of his phylactery.
*they won't locate it, and if they do, they haven't the mental aptitude to break the cipher of it's destruction, and if they do, I'll create one anew, whenever I am...
The Archlich gathers himself up, and begins heading for the stairs
[/sblock]
[sblock=Igor]
[/sblock]
Igor loping down the steps inserts himself between the large
gentlemen with weapons drawn,
The Mather will be with uth thortly, pleathe make yourthelveth comfortable... the scarred servant indicates the weapons still being wielded, the chairs, and finally the hookah, and liquid bars...
Thur, Igor is next to Kalas in an instant,
if what Mather Kylek thayth ith true, ith there any thing I could do for you thurgically thpeaking? I'm very handy with the thalpel, could pothibly be finithed before the Mather arriveth...
Just as Igor finishes his sentence, the bottom of a familiar robe appears at the top of the stairs...
The same quite that always accompanied the old Eladrins shuffling gate is heard. His hood is up, and the six foot figure descends the stairs as if frail with age. Hunched over, the obviously aged wizard positions himself in front of the table bearing the hookah.
Stooping down slowly, Massacre removes the large glass base, and all of the contents of the table, before delibrately turning toward his compatriots...
With the items that were on the table safely to the side, the Archlich hood drops as if a spectral hand had pulled it back.
A clean, bleached-white skull sits where once was Orelal's face... His eyes now glowing purple balls of energy, instead of the lilac orbs that once rested in his sockets.
Cheers, says the skull, pronouncing the word much like Massacre had in life. His oddly textured purple and pink robe, blinked, then smoked over, blurring Massacre's figure with the shadows behind him.
May I inquire as to the condition of my wife?