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Story Hour
We're Still not Quite Dead Yet, a Planescape Story Hour (updated 11-21-07)
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<blockquote data-quote="A Crazy Fool" data-source="post: 3899713" data-attributes="member: 28598"><p>update, school ate me, sorry.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>Penance chuckled, "What a black cloth of insight you weave, Sir Canzonzabar! Hmhmhm...However, I do have a question: Which service intrigues you most? Surely, a courtly and canny devil such as yourself has a singular passion from among his other interests." He pauses for effect, "With one so eloquent, I'd guess the market of mortals has a sharp competitor within the ranks."</p><p></p><p>Pleased with the compliment, Canzonzabar responds to Penance’s inquiry, “My passions lie with the central dogmas in diplomacy: Making your subject believe that he has achieved what he wished for, when in fact it is your own agenda you have furthered. Or the maneuvering of words in relation to a superior, so that you make your ideas seem like his own – having others unwittingly put your own projects to work. In either case, it is delightful when your quarry realizes the real order of day – too late, of course. There are many games that can be played with words; I have a hard time picking a favorite.” The baatezu sips his wine, savoring the exquisite vintage. </p><p></p><p>“Or perhaps you are interested in concrete cases? I can recount for you a tale of how I helped convince a passionate eladrin of how inappropriate a life it has lived… it now serves faithfully in the Iron City…” The devil smiled malevolently at the memory, an endeavor that gained him a great deal of prestige. “Yes, I deliver my fair share of souls to their rightful destination… rightful by rightful standards, of course...”</p><p></p><p>Between the frequent nods and occasional arch of an eyebrow, Penance seems fully invested in the conversation, absorbing the information given. "An eladrin, you say? Yes, that would be quite the tale...but what of their slipperier cousins, the archons? I'd be interested in seeing how you turned their codices around to bind them." Flecks of golden zeal surface in his irises as Penance continues to give Canzonzabar his full attention.</p><p>Canzonzabar leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers. </p><p></p><p>“Actually, I would say the archons are a lesser challenge to corru… enlighten to our cause than the eladrin, being at least an orderly species. Our own lord of the 7th is testimony to their inclination. </p><p></p><p>Gesturing with a smile to Penance, the devil allowed Penance the opportunity to respond: “I think I have spoken enough of my methods and professions for now, but then again we would not be having this conversation were we not where we are. What of yourself, Mr. Penance? You are no stranger to how things work on the Planes, such is easy to tell. Surely there is more to you than being another sell-sword? Pray tell.”</p><p>"Ah, ‘good’ old Baazebul," Penance smiled wryly at his own joke. "I am a also a proprietor of arms, though I enjoy the arena of negotiations as well. I'm based out of Thuldanin. If you ever travel by that way I'd be rather pleased to have such enlightening company stop by...rust dragons are a rather dull dinner guests.”</p><p></p><p>"Please excuse my interruption,” said Yebena quietly, “I was...distracted, but this seems a good time to return to the conversation. I think what I am explains sufficiently what I do, although I often find myself dealing in obscure information and knowledge specifically,” </p><p></p><p><em>…And Blood War troop movements and blackmail and forged papers and spells and souls and poisons…, </em> </p><p></p><p>“No apologies necessary, Ms. That is quite an interesting trade. How did you come about your brokerage?” </p><p></p><p>Min’s ears twitched at the sound of whispered voices outside the tavern.</p><p></p><p><em>You are late. </em> </p><p></p><p>Again, she gave the impression her mind was elsewhere for a few seconds before answering: “Natural aptitude–obviously, dumb luck, personal preference, and…competition in other areas.” </p><p></p><p>Drum, who had only just realized his hired goons had made themselves scarce, looked around him. His face shifted from confusion to anger as he realized they had too much of a head start.</p><p></p><p>“I’ll deal with them later,” he mutters before looking around for more people to ‘amuse.’ </p><p></p><p>Drum’s thoughts and those of the other patrons were interrupted by a brilliant flash of teal light. When their eyes had adjusted, they could see the bar was surrounded by a brilliant hemisphere of teal energy. After a puzzled silence, many of the patrons rose, confused and indignantly demanded answers. Many drew whatever weapons were on hand. Assuming the worst, nobody tried to cross the crackling barrier that surrounded the tavern. </p><p></p><p>“Shall we continue to have these interruptions?” Growls Penance, drawing his blade from its silver and onyx scabbard, murder gleaming in his eyes. </p><p></p><p><em>Teleport denial. This wasn’t supposed to happen. </em> </p><p></p><p>Yebena calmly stood, also drawing a longsword from an extradimensional pocket in her bone-colored robes. The crossguardless sword was made out of greensteel and adorned with elaborate and tiny writing on the blade. With a few quick gestures, she sent her skeletons off. The undead stood on either side of the stairwell, swords raised above their heads. The exaggeration of pose was comical. The blades were not. </p><p></p><p>The patrons’ attention quickly shifted as the Crossed Dagger’s heavy steel-reinforced doors were kicked open. The offender could not be seen. Chaos ensued. Many patrons sought cover behind their tables or the bar. After a confused delay, the security detail downstairs moved to surround the door and hem in the invisible intruders. The better part of the downstairs security staff was felled by blades to the back as they pressed forward to tighten the circle around their invisible foe. The invisibility that had been protecting the unseen attackers faded. Each of the roughly twenty attackers wore steel grey cloaks. Their faces were similarly obscured by matching scarves. Each carried a highly polished silver longsword that shone with more than just the reflected light of the room. </p><p></p><p>“Holy weapons!” yelled one of the hamatulas to what was left of his soldiers. Most of them had noticed already. </p><p></p><p>Upstairs, Drum grinned. HEHEHHEHEHE, What fun we're going to have ladies! Drum thinks to himself on hearing something about holy weapons before vanishing himself. Canzonzabar reached into the pocket of his jacket, gracefully withdrawing a scroll. He skillfully speaks the necessary arcane words–allowing him to see the unseen.</p><p></p><p><em>“Trift, cover the stairs and be ready to shoot for an invisible aggressor on my mark. Have Brimstone scout for any hostiles, but do not let it touch the field around the inn. Stay close,”</em> Canzonzabar commanded his bodyguard as he moved to a good vantage point. He held his staff apprehensively–ready to use it on any enemies. </p><p></p><p>Yebena also muttered a spell to increase her agility and walked purposefully towards the stairs along with Penance (who now ‘wore’ a crimson jerkin and ornate scale mail), and the invisible Su’ore Drum. Trift stood at the top of the stairs, longbow strung. </p><p></p><p>A lone cornugon who had been absorbed in his drink rose without warning, effortlessly hurling the thick oak table he was sitting at across the room. It struck one of the attackers in the chest. With the sound of crushing bones, the unfortunate bent at almost a ninety degree angle. The heavy table showed no sign of stopping, continuing until it pinned the grey-clad assailant’s body against the wall. If the snapped spine failed to kill the attacker, the stone wall finished him off for certain. The cornugon unwound his spiked chain from his shoulder and swung, clearing a wide arc in front of him. The chain swept aside tables, chairs and patrons, hurling them into the air and leaving a clear path to the attackers. The cornugon’s display helped to rally the remaining devils and patrons. The defenders redoubled their efforts, but were rebuffed effortlessly by a highly efficient enemy who now stood surrounded by bodies. </p><p></p><p>Having disposed of the closest threat, the attackers spread out and turned their attention to the cornugon, which was menacingly advancing towards them. The greater devil swung his chain again, swatting the maimed remains of another two guards aside. Realizing the urgency of their situation, several of the grey-cloaked assailants broke into a full run, hoping to reach the cornugon before he had another chance to swing the chain. The rest of the guards fanned out, casually dispatching the patrons of the bar—most were too drunk to fight back effectively. The bar’s two erineyes (the bartender and the chief waitress) had returned from a back room behind the kitchen carrying armfuls of crossbows that originally belonged to the security detail. They also carried their own weapons. The two erinyes began distributing the crossbows and organizing the defenders behind the bar. Amazingly, the well-coordinated but horribly inaccurate hail of fire managed to drop several of the grey-cloaks who were advancing towards the bar. Many overturned the heavy tables, taking cover from the hail of crossbow bolts. They slowly pushed their tables forward to advance. </p><p></p><p>The cornugon bit, clawed, and swung his chain, trying to swat aside the attackers and the painful stings of their silvered blades. The devil’s flailing was in vain. Though he was surrounding by a heap of dismembered bodies, the cornugon also lay dead and still bleeding profusely. The handful of surviving attackers scurried to escape the arrows and bolts. Most of the wounded were too slow and never made it more than a few feet, but the less seriously wounded ones made for the corner of the bar furthest away from the bar. They took positions around an overturned table at the far corner of the room, evidently protecting it.</p><p></p><p>Yebena allowed her newfound allies to step past her and then followed her skeleton bodyguards down the stairs and into the melee. She also allowed Bruce, who had only just gotten to his feet and run to the stairs; enter the fray ahead of her. Nobody–except, perhaps Bruce–was in any particular hurry to rush into such a risky situation. Penance was the first to step off the stairs. Several defenders fired at him–thankfully missing–before realizing whose side Penance was on. He slowly and skillfully picked his way through the carnage and moved behind the nearest grey-cloak’s table. Su’ore Drum deftly rolled and leapt over the rubble, moving to cut off the door and study his enemies. </p><p>Raising his sword, Penance whispers to the grey-cloak in the same magic-laced voice he used earlier: "Combat is a thirsty business. You might want to get some drinks for your companions." His ploy was unsuccessful, and the grey-cloak spun to face his new adversary. The falchion flashed downwards. </p><p></p><p>Yebena stepped off the stairs, overtaking Bruce. She searched through her component pouch and found a small green gem that glowed with a flickering internal light. She spoke an elaborate string of arcane syllables and raised the soul-gem above her head. Threads of shadowy soul-stuff wove themselves together into a nightmare of a creature: gaunt, ten feet tall with claws the size of shortswords. The internal light of the soul gem was extinguished. The insubstantial creation shambled mindlessly towards the nearest enemy, claws held high.</p><p></p><p>“Hide in the corner will you?” sneered Yebena telepathically, advancing with her sword raised</p><p>Bruce looked around the room and raised his right hand. A tiny, pinpoint of blue light appeared in his palm and a wave of blue light leapt from his hand, engulfing and slaying grey-cloaks and patrons alike. The area of the blast is covered in frost and everyone is relatively silent.</p><p></p><p>"Now that I have your attention, I figured I should let you guys know that if you don't leave now, you're going to die." He says this as though he is reminding the grey-cloaks that you had to breathe through your nose if you wanted to smell something. His threat had little effect–the pinned-down grey-cloaks weren’t going anywhere. “Very well,” he says, charging forward with his gauntlet raised. It was wreathed in flame. He slams the nearest grey-cloak in the chest. Knocking him out of his cover with an unnatural force. The opportunistic defenders finished his work for him. </p><p></p><p>Canzonzabar quickly looked at Trift and his shape shifted to an identical copy of his bodyguard.</p><p></p><p><em>“Move up so you can get clear shots of the enemy force and kill any hostiles approaching us or my table guests,” </em> he commanded, following his bodyguard to the top of the stairs and then halting as the real Trift advanced further. </p><p></p><p>Penance continues his original plan and walks up behind the next closest enemy: "There's a secret entrance at the back. Take a squad there and you'll remove the bar's advantage." This time, his magic worked. The grey-cloak gave a series of sharp hand gestures and he and several of his comrades crawled along the floor towards the door. As the last one exits, Drum pursues them—his invisibility has faded—flailing his swords above his head and shrieking. The guards break into a run through the glowing barrier and down the street pursued by the tenth most wanted man in Sigil.</p><p></p><p>Trift calmly fired four arrows at the nearest foe. None strike anywhere vital because of armor; though all but one all inflicts some damage. After a fraction of a second’s pause to readjust his aim, Trift fired another four arrows to far greater affect, brining his target staggering down.</p><p></p><p>Inside, Penance hefted his falchion and his appearance shifted yet a third time. He wore a cloak and scarf like the grey-cloaks,’ except for it’s crimson red color. “Perhaps you aught choose a fashion few can mime, fools...besides, grey is for the deaders!” Penance brings his blade to bear against the closest opponent but the two heavy blows are deflected. He glares at another foe and bellows, “There's an assassin creeping around here. Protect your boss!”</p><p></p><p>"That would be quite a long walk, berk. Your tricks won't fool me," countered the grey-cloak as his left hand is wreathed in purple light. He shoves penance and the wounds he has sustained are transferred back to surprisingly little effect.</p><p>"You speak premature, sod," says Penance. “Why don’t you speak your master’s name while you still have a tongue in your head,” he adds in a tone laced with magic. </p><p>“Dream on you...” The grey-cloak’s insult was cut short by a falchion’s blade to the gut. “Tell it to the deaders, sod,” Penance followed Yebena’s lead and closed with the cowering wizard.</p><p></p><p>Yebena, who was steadily advancing towards the corner of the room, dropped one of the two enemies in her way and then followed through with a second less powerful strike to the other. He staggered backwards and gave a hand signal to one of his comrades. His eyes glow and he is replaced with the unwounded ally he signaled. </p><p></p><p>"Now, unlike some other people here, I just want to talk. Depending on what you say, I might not kill you. So, what do you say? Time for a chat?" asks Bruce.</p><p></p><p>"I tire of this game. Out of my way," Yebena growled, taking two more sweeping but well-controlled strikes at her new enemy. The first severs his head. The second misses for lack of a target. Kicking the headless body out of her way, she continues her advance.</p><p></p><p>“Now, wizard, let's see you escape from a teleport warded building,” says Min, turning towards her real objective.</p><p></p><p>Following the lead of the others, Bruce also makes for the table. As he does, he snaps his fingers and the heavy table is smashed against the wall by a silent concussion. blast. </p><p></p><p>At this, Yebena growls in displeasure “This one is mine.”</p><p></p><p>“Though I'm all for being courteous, I would rather discover who paid this house call before you get your fun...of course, you could go on and live without knowing the reason behind this attempted murder.”</p><p></p><p><em>Oh, but I do know the reason.</em></p><p></p><p>Penance turns to the mage, “Why don't you make it easy and tell us why you are here and who sent you? It'll speak better for you in the end,” again aiding his command with magic.</p><p>"We work for a dream…" Replies the wizard. He catches himself after he realizes what he's said, "…A dream of a better world," the wizard adds. He makes an effort to sound as though he is still under the influence of the suggestion but fails.</p><p></p><p><em>“I had no intention of actually killing this one,”</em> said Min to all her allies She sounded slightly offended, <em>“If you really must interrogate him in the middle of combat do carry on,” </em> she adds dryly. With a much sharper and angrier tone she adds to Penance: <em>“There is great value in concealing one's true intentions. A wise warrior should know this. You saw his hand move for his dagger instead of his component pouch. My bluff worked.”</em></p><p></p><p>Penance glared at Yebena, "As to intentions, who is he to know if I truly give a cranium rat's ass whether he was hired to kill me or just wanted to face off against a few fiends?” Penance's face turned to a look of inscrutability, as though he just might not care. "Perhaps, you don't fear for your life as much as you should, fool." A burst of energy flashed from the warrior's hand towards the cowering mage, sucking at the life and experience contained in his soul.</p><p></p><p>Yebena smiled wickedly at Penance but said nothing. She spun on her heels to face the enemy who had escaped her once already. </p><p></p><p>“Hello. Shall we try this again?” she said.</p><p></p><p>Canzonzabar, who had now assumed the form of a pleasant-looking middle-aged tuladhara, stepped softly down the stairs and out of cover. </p><p></p><p>“Gentlemen, ladies, allow me to step in here… This man and I can come to an understanding, I am sure of it…” </p><p></p><p><em>“A more subtle approach can give more reliable information extraction, and I daresay I am the man for the job. More aggressive methods can be employed later, as needed… and for entertainment purposes,” </em> he adds to his allies. </p><p></p><p>Canzonzabar walks up to the wizard, keeping a non-threatening distance between them. He signals the wizard to sit. The wizard resignedly complies with the order. </p><p>“Take my word for it: you want to deal with me, rather than the fiends. Now sit.” </p><p></p><p><em>“If he speaks a single arcane syllable or makes sudden movements, start by pinning an arrow through his hand, but leave him alive,”</em> Canzonzabar instructed his bodyguard. </p><p></p><p>“Excellent. Now, time-efficiency is key here, so I implore you to answer without hesitation, or we might have to get…creative…” says the falxugon, folding his hands behind his back and very slowly pacing around the wizard, taking great care to unnerve him while constantly observing his body language. </p><p></p><p>“Let us start with something easy. As a cunning wizard, I am sure you can manage. What name shall I know you by? You’re real name is not important… for now…”</p><p></p><p>"You should call me...three," sneers the wizard, with more conviction now.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="A Crazy Fool, post: 3899713, member: 28598"] update, school ate me, sorry. Penance chuckled, "What a black cloth of insight you weave, Sir Canzonzabar! Hmhmhm...However, I do have a question: Which service intrigues you most? Surely, a courtly and canny devil such as yourself has a singular passion from among his other interests." He pauses for effect, "With one so eloquent, I'd guess the market of mortals has a sharp competitor within the ranks." Pleased with the compliment, Canzonzabar responds to Penance’s inquiry, “My passions lie with the central dogmas in diplomacy: Making your subject believe that he has achieved what he wished for, when in fact it is your own agenda you have furthered. Or the maneuvering of words in relation to a superior, so that you make your ideas seem like his own – having others unwittingly put your own projects to work. In either case, it is delightful when your quarry realizes the real order of day – too late, of course. There are many games that can be played with words; I have a hard time picking a favorite.” The baatezu sips his wine, savoring the exquisite vintage. “Or perhaps you are interested in concrete cases? I can recount for you a tale of how I helped convince a passionate eladrin of how inappropriate a life it has lived… it now serves faithfully in the Iron City…” The devil smiled malevolently at the memory, an endeavor that gained him a great deal of prestige. “Yes, I deliver my fair share of souls to their rightful destination… rightful by rightful standards, of course...” Between the frequent nods and occasional arch of an eyebrow, Penance seems fully invested in the conversation, absorbing the information given. "An eladrin, you say? Yes, that would be quite the tale...but what of their slipperier cousins, the archons? I'd be interested in seeing how you turned their codices around to bind them." Flecks of golden zeal surface in his irises as Penance continues to give Canzonzabar his full attention. Canzonzabar leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers. “Actually, I would say the archons are a lesser challenge to corru… enlighten to our cause than the eladrin, being at least an orderly species. Our own lord of the 7th is testimony to their inclination. Gesturing with a smile to Penance, the devil allowed Penance the opportunity to respond: “I think I have spoken enough of my methods and professions for now, but then again we would not be having this conversation were we not where we are. What of yourself, Mr. Penance? You are no stranger to how things work on the Planes, such is easy to tell. Surely there is more to you than being another sell-sword? Pray tell.” "Ah, ‘good’ old Baazebul," Penance smiled wryly at his own joke. "I am a also a proprietor of arms, though I enjoy the arena of negotiations as well. I'm based out of Thuldanin. If you ever travel by that way I'd be rather pleased to have such enlightening company stop by...rust dragons are a rather dull dinner guests.” "Please excuse my interruption,” said Yebena quietly, “I was...distracted, but this seems a good time to return to the conversation. I think what I am explains sufficiently what I do, although I often find myself dealing in obscure information and knowledge specifically,” [I]…And Blood War troop movements and blackmail and forged papers and spells and souls and poisons…, [/I] “No apologies necessary, Ms. That is quite an interesting trade. How did you come about your brokerage?” Min’s ears twitched at the sound of whispered voices outside the tavern. [I]You are late. [/I] Again, she gave the impression her mind was elsewhere for a few seconds before answering: “Natural aptitude–obviously, dumb luck, personal preference, and…competition in other areas.” Drum, who had only just realized his hired goons had made themselves scarce, looked around him. His face shifted from confusion to anger as he realized they had too much of a head start. “I’ll deal with them later,” he mutters before looking around for more people to ‘amuse.’ Drum’s thoughts and those of the other patrons were interrupted by a brilliant flash of teal light. When their eyes had adjusted, they could see the bar was surrounded by a brilliant hemisphere of teal energy. After a puzzled silence, many of the patrons rose, confused and indignantly demanded answers. Many drew whatever weapons were on hand. Assuming the worst, nobody tried to cross the crackling barrier that surrounded the tavern. “Shall we continue to have these interruptions?” Growls Penance, drawing his blade from its silver and onyx scabbard, murder gleaming in his eyes. [I]Teleport denial. This wasn’t supposed to happen. [/I] Yebena calmly stood, also drawing a longsword from an extradimensional pocket in her bone-colored robes. The crossguardless sword was made out of greensteel and adorned with elaborate and tiny writing on the blade. With a few quick gestures, she sent her skeletons off. The undead stood on either side of the stairwell, swords raised above their heads. The exaggeration of pose was comical. The blades were not. The patrons’ attention quickly shifted as the Crossed Dagger’s heavy steel-reinforced doors were kicked open. The offender could not be seen. Chaos ensued. Many patrons sought cover behind their tables or the bar. After a confused delay, the security detail downstairs moved to surround the door and hem in the invisible intruders. The better part of the downstairs security staff was felled by blades to the back as they pressed forward to tighten the circle around their invisible foe. The invisibility that had been protecting the unseen attackers faded. Each of the roughly twenty attackers wore steel grey cloaks. Their faces were similarly obscured by matching scarves. Each carried a highly polished silver longsword that shone with more than just the reflected light of the room. “Holy weapons!” yelled one of the hamatulas to what was left of his soldiers. Most of them had noticed already. Upstairs, Drum grinned. HEHEHHEHEHE, What fun we're going to have ladies! Drum thinks to himself on hearing something about holy weapons before vanishing himself. Canzonzabar reached into the pocket of his jacket, gracefully withdrawing a scroll. He skillfully speaks the necessary arcane words–allowing him to see the unseen. [I]“Trift, cover the stairs and be ready to shoot for an invisible aggressor on my mark. Have Brimstone scout for any hostiles, but do not let it touch the field around the inn. Stay close,”[/I] Canzonzabar commanded his bodyguard as he moved to a good vantage point. He held his staff apprehensively–ready to use it on any enemies. Yebena also muttered a spell to increase her agility and walked purposefully towards the stairs along with Penance (who now ‘wore’ a crimson jerkin and ornate scale mail), and the invisible Su’ore Drum. Trift stood at the top of the stairs, longbow strung. A lone cornugon who had been absorbed in his drink rose without warning, effortlessly hurling the thick oak table he was sitting at across the room. It struck one of the attackers in the chest. With the sound of crushing bones, the unfortunate bent at almost a ninety degree angle. The heavy table showed no sign of stopping, continuing until it pinned the grey-clad assailant’s body against the wall. If the snapped spine failed to kill the attacker, the stone wall finished him off for certain. The cornugon unwound his spiked chain from his shoulder and swung, clearing a wide arc in front of him. The chain swept aside tables, chairs and patrons, hurling them into the air and leaving a clear path to the attackers. The cornugon’s display helped to rally the remaining devils and patrons. The defenders redoubled their efforts, but were rebuffed effortlessly by a highly efficient enemy who now stood surrounded by bodies. Having disposed of the closest threat, the attackers spread out and turned their attention to the cornugon, which was menacingly advancing towards them. The greater devil swung his chain again, swatting the maimed remains of another two guards aside. Realizing the urgency of their situation, several of the grey-cloaked assailants broke into a full run, hoping to reach the cornugon before he had another chance to swing the chain. The rest of the guards fanned out, casually dispatching the patrons of the bar—most were too drunk to fight back effectively. The bar’s two erineyes (the bartender and the chief waitress) had returned from a back room behind the kitchen carrying armfuls of crossbows that originally belonged to the security detail. They also carried their own weapons. The two erinyes began distributing the crossbows and organizing the defenders behind the bar. Amazingly, the well-coordinated but horribly inaccurate hail of fire managed to drop several of the grey-cloaks who were advancing towards the bar. Many overturned the heavy tables, taking cover from the hail of crossbow bolts. They slowly pushed their tables forward to advance. The cornugon bit, clawed, and swung his chain, trying to swat aside the attackers and the painful stings of their silvered blades. The devil’s flailing was in vain. Though he was surrounding by a heap of dismembered bodies, the cornugon also lay dead and still bleeding profusely. The handful of surviving attackers scurried to escape the arrows and bolts. Most of the wounded were too slow and never made it more than a few feet, but the less seriously wounded ones made for the corner of the bar furthest away from the bar. They took positions around an overturned table at the far corner of the room, evidently protecting it. Yebena allowed her newfound allies to step past her and then followed her skeleton bodyguards down the stairs and into the melee. She also allowed Bruce, who had only just gotten to his feet and run to the stairs; enter the fray ahead of her. Nobody–except, perhaps Bruce–was in any particular hurry to rush into such a risky situation. Penance was the first to step off the stairs. Several defenders fired at him–thankfully missing–before realizing whose side Penance was on. He slowly and skillfully picked his way through the carnage and moved behind the nearest grey-cloak’s table. Su’ore Drum deftly rolled and leapt over the rubble, moving to cut off the door and study his enemies. Raising his sword, Penance whispers to the grey-cloak in the same magic-laced voice he used earlier: "Combat is a thirsty business. You might want to get some drinks for your companions." His ploy was unsuccessful, and the grey-cloak spun to face his new adversary. The falchion flashed downwards. Yebena stepped off the stairs, overtaking Bruce. She searched through her component pouch and found a small green gem that glowed with a flickering internal light. She spoke an elaborate string of arcane syllables and raised the soul-gem above her head. Threads of shadowy soul-stuff wove themselves together into a nightmare of a creature: gaunt, ten feet tall with claws the size of shortswords. The internal light of the soul gem was extinguished. The insubstantial creation shambled mindlessly towards the nearest enemy, claws held high. “Hide in the corner will you?” sneered Yebena telepathically, advancing with her sword raised Bruce looked around the room and raised his right hand. A tiny, pinpoint of blue light appeared in his palm and a wave of blue light leapt from his hand, engulfing and slaying grey-cloaks and patrons alike. The area of the blast is covered in frost and everyone is relatively silent. "Now that I have your attention, I figured I should let you guys know that if you don't leave now, you're going to die." He says this as though he is reminding the grey-cloaks that you had to breathe through your nose if you wanted to smell something. His threat had little effect–the pinned-down grey-cloaks weren’t going anywhere. “Very well,” he says, charging forward with his gauntlet raised. It was wreathed in flame. He slams the nearest grey-cloak in the chest. Knocking him out of his cover with an unnatural force. The opportunistic defenders finished his work for him. Canzonzabar quickly looked at Trift and his shape shifted to an identical copy of his bodyguard. [I]“Move up so you can get clear shots of the enemy force and kill any hostiles approaching us or my table guests,” [/I] he commanded, following his bodyguard to the top of the stairs and then halting as the real Trift advanced further. Penance continues his original plan and walks up behind the next closest enemy: "There's a secret entrance at the back. Take a squad there and you'll remove the bar's advantage." This time, his magic worked. The grey-cloak gave a series of sharp hand gestures and he and several of his comrades crawled along the floor towards the door. As the last one exits, Drum pursues them—his invisibility has faded—flailing his swords above his head and shrieking. The guards break into a run through the glowing barrier and down the street pursued by the tenth most wanted man in Sigil. Trift calmly fired four arrows at the nearest foe. None strike anywhere vital because of armor; though all but one all inflicts some damage. After a fraction of a second’s pause to readjust his aim, Trift fired another four arrows to far greater affect, brining his target staggering down. Inside, Penance hefted his falchion and his appearance shifted yet a third time. He wore a cloak and scarf like the grey-cloaks,’ except for it’s crimson red color. “Perhaps you aught choose a fashion few can mime, fools...besides, grey is for the deaders!” Penance brings his blade to bear against the closest opponent but the two heavy blows are deflected. He glares at another foe and bellows, “There's an assassin creeping around here. Protect your boss!” "That would be quite a long walk, berk. Your tricks won't fool me," countered the grey-cloak as his left hand is wreathed in purple light. He shoves penance and the wounds he has sustained are transferred back to surprisingly little effect. "You speak premature, sod," says Penance. “Why don’t you speak your master’s name while you still have a tongue in your head,” he adds in a tone laced with magic. “Dream on you...” The grey-cloak’s insult was cut short by a falchion’s blade to the gut. “Tell it to the deaders, sod,” Penance followed Yebena’s lead and closed with the cowering wizard. Yebena, who was steadily advancing towards the corner of the room, dropped one of the two enemies in her way and then followed through with a second less powerful strike to the other. He staggered backwards and gave a hand signal to one of his comrades. His eyes glow and he is replaced with the unwounded ally he signaled. "Now, unlike some other people here, I just want to talk. Depending on what you say, I might not kill you. So, what do you say? Time for a chat?" asks Bruce. "I tire of this game. Out of my way," Yebena growled, taking two more sweeping but well-controlled strikes at her new enemy. The first severs his head. The second misses for lack of a target. Kicking the headless body out of her way, she continues her advance. “Now, wizard, let's see you escape from a teleport warded building,” says Min, turning towards her real objective. Following the lead of the others, Bruce also makes for the table. As he does, he snaps his fingers and the heavy table is smashed against the wall by a silent concussion. blast. At this, Yebena growls in displeasure “This one is mine.” “Though I'm all for being courteous, I would rather discover who paid this house call before you get your fun...of course, you could go on and live without knowing the reason behind this attempted murder.” [I]Oh, but I do know the reason.[/I] Penance turns to the mage, “Why don't you make it easy and tell us why you are here and who sent you? It'll speak better for you in the end,” again aiding his command with magic. "We work for a dream…" Replies the wizard. He catches himself after he realizes what he's said, "…A dream of a better world," the wizard adds. He makes an effort to sound as though he is still under the influence of the suggestion but fails. [I]“I had no intention of actually killing this one,”[/I] said Min to all her allies She sounded slightly offended, [I]“If you really must interrogate him in the middle of combat do carry on,” [/I] she adds dryly. With a much sharper and angrier tone she adds to Penance: [I]“There is great value in concealing one's true intentions. A wise warrior should know this. You saw his hand move for his dagger instead of his component pouch. My bluff worked.”[/I] Penance glared at Yebena, "As to intentions, who is he to know if I truly give a cranium rat's ass whether he was hired to kill me or just wanted to face off against a few fiends?” Penance's face turned to a look of inscrutability, as though he just might not care. "Perhaps, you don't fear for your life as much as you should, fool." A burst of energy flashed from the warrior's hand towards the cowering mage, sucking at the life and experience contained in his soul. Yebena smiled wickedly at Penance but said nothing. She spun on her heels to face the enemy who had escaped her once already. “Hello. Shall we try this again?” she said. Canzonzabar, who had now assumed the form of a pleasant-looking middle-aged tuladhara, stepped softly down the stairs and out of cover. “Gentlemen, ladies, allow me to step in here… This man and I can come to an understanding, I am sure of it…” [I]“A more subtle approach can give more reliable information extraction, and I daresay I am the man for the job. More aggressive methods can be employed later, as needed… and for entertainment purposes,” [/I] he adds to his allies. Canzonzabar walks up to the wizard, keeping a non-threatening distance between them. He signals the wizard to sit. The wizard resignedly complies with the order. “Take my word for it: you want to deal with me, rather than the fiends. Now sit.” [I]“If he speaks a single arcane syllable or makes sudden movements, start by pinning an arrow through his hand, but leave him alive,”[/I] Canzonzabar instructed his bodyguard. “Excellent. Now, time-efficiency is key here, so I implore you to answer without hesitation, or we might have to get…creative…” says the falxugon, folding his hands behind his back and very slowly pacing around the wizard, taking great care to unnerve him while constantly observing his body language. “Let us start with something easy. As a cunning wizard, I am sure you can manage. What name shall I know you by? You’re real name is not important… for now…” "You should call me...three," sneers the wizard, with more conviction now. [/QUOTE]
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We're Still not Quite Dead Yet, a Planescape Story Hour (updated 11-21-07)
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