CharlotteOz
Explorer
"Hey there," said Alice in response to Aranel, her tail curling slightly as she smiled. "The priestess? I can go check. They let me in, I'm sure they'll let you in."
Pathfinder 1E IC - Tideruler: The Fall of Laholt
Archon Basileus
First Post
MOSS
Moss overhears the recognizable incantation-muttering coming from the window below him, but it's just for a second. A muffled sigh of relief can be heard, followed by silence. Moss still hears the apprehensive panting of a woman, like a presence lying in wait right underneath his position.
Down below Moss' eyes follow the column that persists, climbing towards the castle. He sees with perfect clarity. They are six, three Firbolgs and three elves, among males and females. They're armed, that's for sure, but their faces do not show anger or menace. They're distressed, and even the agile elves breath heavily, less by the effort, more by the tension. Suddenly, they stop. They now occupy indistinct ruins in front of the castle. A guess would suggest a cemetery, since several stone slabs are aligned amidst the tall grass. They depose their weapons, glance around and wait as they discuss. It's no light conversation, Moss knows. Their faces denounce. They aren't geared for a trip, and they're armed as hunters and farmers would: axes, bows, pitchforks and clubs make the varied arsenal. Still, a frightening prospect in the hands of a Firbolg. Not as frightening, though, as the perspective of Firbolg, Fey by origin, entering the trap laid within this courtyard, specially with foreigners present at the sight...
As they settle, everything becomes clear to the small dragon: a horn in the hand of a Firbolg suggests a rally. Somehow, this group is gathering people under the shadow of the castle. Soon, Moss figures, they'll blow the horn, calling others to a meeting. And the theme is one of controversy: thus the weapons...
ZYARA
Zyara's distrust for the place goes back to her lessons at the monastery. Between dusty tomes and rumbling parchment, her tutors taught her about the dreadful past of Alessia. The castle's bohemian lords did hold suspicious habits in the past, as she knew well, but their conquerors proved to be just the same, for the most part. Under the disapproving gaze of the priestess, many of them mixed up their rituals to the dark things of creation. A party of hunters, it is said, decided to campaign through human settlements, taking lives and celebrating blood during moonless nights. Since their gods wouldn't grant them the power to do so, they turned to demons, turning their practices into wild hunts, following the models of those conducted by demonic forces both in the Nine Hells and within the world, when the stars aligned. Their deeds were terrible, and the monks stood against them, defeating the betrayers and killing them after a harsh judgement within monastery grounds. It seems that many of these rituals are here to emulate those very same practices - and they're being performed right here, at the grounds of their temple!
This might not be approved by the priestess, and would explain her reservations, in fact. Still, these grounds have seen too much blood throughout the years. Zyara remembers her studies. She recalls how the monks taught her about holy grounds, and how they might become desecrated. It might be that forces beyond mortal gaze are in play, trying to overtake this sacred site to themselves, and as people sacrifice to their depraved masters, the gods themselves might turn away. The entire city is in danger, she realizes, and her presence is no coincidence. Sheer will of being, exuding from the world, has brought her this way. And this disease is just a sign.
ALICE/MOSS/EVERYONE
As soon as the tiefling utters her words, one of the upper windows - the one right below moss - moves and twists. The branches surrender, opening up the space that once served as vigil. There, a noble figure stands, pale as the moonlight, with flowing silver hair hanging from a delicate head. For a few seconds, she stands still, laying in silence as a statue of transcendental beauty - and terrible feebleness. Dressed in golden robes and adorned with the laurels of Gozreh, the elfic crone turns a pair of distant, violet eyes towards the arrivals, then beyond the walls, and once more towards the debating group. Her hands rest in front of her womb, fingers crossed, entirely made of a dignified arrogance. Her air of superiority is intensified by her vantage point.
"Zyara the monk. Daxio the errant. Herald." - as she identifies each of the arrivals, she looks at them with a glance that lets out more than mere words would. Hostility and grief are the response to Zyara's presence; Daxio's seen with humorous disdain; and the simplicity of the word herald seems somewhat ominous in it's intonation. So subtle are the expressions that it becomes clear she has been trained for more then a century to operate as one would in high courts of sorcerers and diviners.
Zyara's training immediately recognizes the danger. Her body language is that of one that needs no magic to bend men's will to her command. The monks have dabbled in such arts, but only the longevity of the elves would be capable of delivering true mastery of such arcane arts.
Aranel sees her for the nobility she holds. Certainly this one belonged to the last remnants of noble elfic courts - the social harpies that might take half-bloods for granted. And now she uttered the very word she heard in the past, the one that made her what she is now. Herald. Whoever she is, she holds the key to the inner courts of the elves, maybe even those that sought refuge along with the fey in their distant realms beyond this one. But still, the way she glances at Aranel...
Daxio glances at the old woman and recognizes the attributes of her lost youth. Underneath the garments, this elder holds still the same traces of one that might have been the loveliest of maidens. From her waves of purity flow in droves, as if she remained untouched through centuries of dedication, prayer and reunion with the gods themselves. She might have been the delight of Ministers and the joy of gods. Now, though, she's dressed in dignity.
"I presume you've brought them here, archivist. Alanor's dialogue fails him yet again, I see." - her dignified voice shows small signs of contempt. "Do promise to hold back your temper, Arduniel." - as she talks, the branches blocking the main entrance rescind, allowing a direct vision of the atrium. Behind it, the first lights of the throne room can be glanced, reflected on the water that covers the floor.
"Alice, if you would be so kind? The wards should be harmless, now." - she signals towards the throne room. She then mutters a few words. A flash surrounds her. She disappears, the air imploding to fill the area she emptied.
She leaves without noticing Moss, perched in his hideout...
[If you choose to enter, this is what you see. If not, please, let me know, and I'll adapt the post. I'm doing it like this in order to keep game pacing!]
THE THRONE ROOM
EVERYONE
Within, the entire area portrays the ragged, destroyed seat of the lords of Alessia. Water covers the floor - it demands care as the heroes traverse the hall. Most of it is shallow, but as it approaches the middle the waters become a lake. Water might reach as high as a man's chest, should he decide to try and reach the isle that holds the throne, right in the center.
The windows are broken, letting sunlight inside through ragged curtains. Ivies and branches cover the walls, and the flags of old families still hang, rotten and destroyed, but somehow recognizable. The room is empty now. The Watcher and the Seeress have left. Only the elfic woman remains, seated in the old throne as if she had always been meant to. Her hands rest over the throne's arms, her body aligns perfectly with its' back.
"I am Galena, as Alice and Arduniel can well attest. And you are here because...?" - her voice translates little concern for the matter, and as she falls silent her scrutinizing gaze seems to await for a response. An impeccable response.
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6847138]Charlotte of Oz[/MENTION] [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION]
Moss overhears the recognizable incantation-muttering coming from the window below him, but it's just for a second. A muffled sigh of relief can be heard, followed by silence. Moss still hears the apprehensive panting of a woman, like a presence lying in wait right underneath his position.
Down below Moss' eyes follow the column that persists, climbing towards the castle. He sees with perfect clarity. They are six, three Firbolgs and three elves, among males and females. They're armed, that's for sure, but their faces do not show anger or menace. They're distressed, and even the agile elves breath heavily, less by the effort, more by the tension. Suddenly, they stop. They now occupy indistinct ruins in front of the castle. A guess would suggest a cemetery, since several stone slabs are aligned amidst the tall grass. They depose their weapons, glance around and wait as they discuss. It's no light conversation, Moss knows. Their faces denounce. They aren't geared for a trip, and they're armed as hunters and farmers would: axes, bows, pitchforks and clubs make the varied arsenal. Still, a frightening prospect in the hands of a Firbolg. Not as frightening, though, as the perspective of Firbolg, Fey by origin, entering the trap laid within this courtyard, specially with foreigners present at the sight...
As they settle, everything becomes clear to the small dragon: a horn in the hand of a Firbolg suggests a rally. Somehow, this group is gathering people under the shadow of the castle. Soon, Moss figures, they'll blow the horn, calling others to a meeting. And the theme is one of controversy: thus the weapons...
ZYARA
Zyara's distrust for the place goes back to her lessons at the monastery. Between dusty tomes and rumbling parchment, her tutors taught her about the dreadful past of Alessia. The castle's bohemian lords did hold suspicious habits in the past, as she knew well, but their conquerors proved to be just the same, for the most part. Under the disapproving gaze of the priestess, many of them mixed up their rituals to the dark things of creation. A party of hunters, it is said, decided to campaign through human settlements, taking lives and celebrating blood during moonless nights. Since their gods wouldn't grant them the power to do so, they turned to demons, turning their practices into wild hunts, following the models of those conducted by demonic forces both in the Nine Hells and within the world, when the stars aligned. Their deeds were terrible, and the monks stood against them, defeating the betrayers and killing them after a harsh judgement within monastery grounds. It seems that many of these rituals are here to emulate those very same practices - and they're being performed right here, at the grounds of their temple!
This might not be approved by the priestess, and would explain her reservations, in fact. Still, these grounds have seen too much blood throughout the years. Zyara remembers her studies. She recalls how the monks taught her about holy grounds, and how they might become desecrated. It might be that forces beyond mortal gaze are in play, trying to overtake this sacred site to themselves, and as people sacrifice to their depraved masters, the gods themselves might turn away. The entire city is in danger, she realizes, and her presence is no coincidence. Sheer will of being, exuding from the world, has brought her this way. And this disease is just a sign.
ALICE/MOSS/EVERYONE
As soon as the tiefling utters her words, one of the upper windows - the one right below moss - moves and twists. The branches surrender, opening up the space that once served as vigil. There, a noble figure stands, pale as the moonlight, with flowing silver hair hanging from a delicate head. For a few seconds, she stands still, laying in silence as a statue of transcendental beauty - and terrible feebleness. Dressed in golden robes and adorned with the laurels of Gozreh, the elfic crone turns a pair of distant, violet eyes towards the arrivals, then beyond the walls, and once more towards the debating group. Her hands rest in front of her womb, fingers crossed, entirely made of a dignified arrogance. Her air of superiority is intensified by her vantage point.
"Zyara the monk. Daxio the errant. Herald." - as she identifies each of the arrivals, she looks at them with a glance that lets out more than mere words would. Hostility and grief are the response to Zyara's presence; Daxio's seen with humorous disdain; and the simplicity of the word herald seems somewhat ominous in it's intonation. So subtle are the expressions that it becomes clear she has been trained for more then a century to operate as one would in high courts of sorcerers and diviners.
Zyara's training immediately recognizes the danger. Her body language is that of one that needs no magic to bend men's will to her command. The monks have dabbled in such arts, but only the longevity of the elves would be capable of delivering true mastery of such arcane arts.
Aranel sees her for the nobility she holds. Certainly this one belonged to the last remnants of noble elfic courts - the social harpies that might take half-bloods for granted. And now she uttered the very word she heard in the past, the one that made her what she is now. Herald. Whoever she is, she holds the key to the inner courts of the elves, maybe even those that sought refuge along with the fey in their distant realms beyond this one. But still, the way she glances at Aranel...
Daxio glances at the old woman and recognizes the attributes of her lost youth. Underneath the garments, this elder holds still the same traces of one that might have been the loveliest of maidens. From her waves of purity flow in droves, as if she remained untouched through centuries of dedication, prayer and reunion with the gods themselves. She might have been the delight of Ministers and the joy of gods. Now, though, she's dressed in dignity.
"I presume you've brought them here, archivist. Alanor's dialogue fails him yet again, I see." - her dignified voice shows small signs of contempt. "Do promise to hold back your temper, Arduniel." - as she talks, the branches blocking the main entrance rescind, allowing a direct vision of the atrium. Behind it, the first lights of the throne room can be glanced, reflected on the water that covers the floor.
"Alice, if you would be so kind? The wards should be harmless, now." - she signals towards the throne room. She then mutters a few words. A flash surrounds her. She disappears, the air imploding to fill the area she emptied.
She leaves without noticing Moss, perched in his hideout...
[If you choose to enter, this is what you see. If not, please, let me know, and I'll adapt the post. I'm doing it like this in order to keep game pacing!]
THE THRONE ROOM
EVERYONE
Within, the entire area portrays the ragged, destroyed seat of the lords of Alessia. Water covers the floor - it demands care as the heroes traverse the hall. Most of it is shallow, but as it approaches the middle the waters become a lake. Water might reach as high as a man's chest, should he decide to try and reach the isle that holds the throne, right in the center.
The windows are broken, letting sunlight inside through ragged curtains. Ivies and branches cover the walls, and the flags of old families still hang, rotten and destroyed, but somehow recognizable. The room is empty now. The Watcher and the Seeress have left. Only the elfic woman remains, seated in the old throne as if she had always been meant to. Her hands rest over the throne's arms, her body aligns perfectly with its' back.
"I am Galena, as Alice and Arduniel can well attest. And you are here because...?" - her voice translates little concern for the matter, and as she falls silent her scrutinizing gaze seems to await for a response. An impeccable response.
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6847138]Charlotte of Oz[/MENTION] [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION]
jmucchiello
Hero
"We are here to uncover the origin of the disease afflicting the peoples of this land," Zyara says, fixing her eyes on the woman. "But perhaps we are also here to discover what evil works to undo all life here."
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Neurotic
I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
|
As the priestess turns away, Moss moves slightly, spreading his wings slightly to become visible to those at the front. He points toward the organizing peasants. Realizing they probably cannot see them from the ground he motions downward and small hand appears writing on the dust.
"The people gatherin. Prepared for trouble. Agents of the temple may turn the mob against us. Dangerous if the castle occupants need live people for the rituals. Be careful. Can any of you casters cast some communication spell on me? If I'm separated and hidden I don't like to reveal myself like this."
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Archon Basileus
First Post
ZYARA
Galena turns a raised brow towards the monk, her purple eyes shining contempt.
"How pertinent that Zyara the Wise is here to lend her counsel in our time of distress!" - the mockery in her voice can only be matched by her own distrust. Her eyes study every inch of Zyara's apron, from the bells to the hidden treasures, from the loose robes to the adornments. "I am sure that such a crisis will bring the very best out of that monastery of yours. Who else would save us?" - she turns a mocking smile towards Alice Chalk and Arduniel.
"And who, might I ask, called you here? Certainly, not I, since I already have capable hands taking care of the matter." - she points towards Alice once more. Her body language translates a mild hostility, bred from the cautious posture of a ruler. Apparently, she considers herself the leader of this settlement, no doubt a controversial allegation, to say the least...
@Neurotic @KahlessNestor @MetaVoid @Shayuri @Charlotte of Oz @Kaodi
@Neurotic, the window remained open, yes. If you want to, just edit your post. I'll hold the answer back a bit, in order to adapt it to your choice. Also, jmucchiello, can you give me a name for the monastery?
]
Galena turns a raised brow towards the monk, her purple eyes shining contempt.
"How pertinent that Zyara the Wise is here to lend her counsel in our time of distress!" - the mockery in her voice can only be matched by her own distrust. Her eyes study every inch of Zyara's apron, from the bells to the hidden treasures, from the loose robes to the adornments. "I am sure that such a crisis will bring the very best out of that monastery of yours. Who else would save us?" - she turns a mocking smile towards Alice Chalk and Arduniel.
"And who, might I ask, called you here? Certainly, not I, since I already have capable hands taking care of the matter." - she points towards Alice once more. Her body language translates a mild hostility, bred from the cautious posture of a ruler. Apparently, she considers herself the leader of this settlement, no doubt a controversial allegation, to say the least...
@Neurotic @KahlessNestor @MetaVoid @Shayuri @Charlotte of Oz @Kaodi
@Neurotic, the window remained open, yes. If you want to, just edit your post. I'll hold the answer back a bit, in order to adapt it to your choice. Also, jmucchiello, can you give me a name for the monastery?
]
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jmucchiello
Hero
"Most of us were requested to investigate at the behest of Goliath, whom I'm sure have something witty to say about," Zyara responds. "Mock me all you want. All it shows is your own contempt for your own people. The wise ruler treats those who voluntarily wish to help her people with disdain and mockery, right?" Zyara turns to her companions. "I'm sure we will learn nothing here."
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Neurotic
I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
|
Moss slips through the window behind oblivious priestess wary of hidden watchers, but going regardless.
[roll0]
[roll1]
Arduniel starts at the appearance of the dragon, however small. He looks toward Aranel. Than back up. Reading the message, he frowns.
"I don't think they would do that. But the strangers are not welcome here. And worse it is for those who enter uninvited."
After they enter into Gallenas presence, he bows slightly to the priestess, but remains silent until she asks who called them. Ziara says Goliath...but it was he who lead them here.
"It was I who invited them here with me. As you know, I'm investigating this wasting affliction. And I was wondering if I could speak with you and your healers, see what you tried against it and offer my own knowledge and arcane power to the cause. These people offer much. And...not to put to fine point to it, demonic or part-demonic help...my apologies, miss Alice...in the disease that may as well have outside source...must be suspect until such time the agent is cleared of doubt. I'm sure everyone has heard of miss Alice, but did anyone actually met her before?"
"I don't think they would do that. But the strangers are not welcome here. And worse it is for those who enter uninvited."
After they enter into Gallenas presence, he bows slightly to the priestess, but remains silent until she asks who called them. Ziara says Goliath...but it was he who lead them here.
"It was I who invited them here with me. As you know, I'm investigating this wasting affliction. And I was wondering if I could speak with you and your healers, see what you tried against it and offer my own knowledge and arcane power to the cause. These people offer much. And...not to put to fine point to it, demonic or part-demonic help...my apologies, miss Alice...in the disease that may as well have outside source...must be suspect until such time the agent is cleared of doubt. I'm sure everyone has heard of miss Alice, but did anyone actually met her before?"
OOC: @Charlotte of Oz, just to make joining more interesting
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Archon Basileus
First Post
EVERYONE
Gallena waves away Zyara's observations."The Dawn's Sorrow would know about it, wouldn't it, now? How many sought counsel on matters of war and peace? How many were brought to disaster by the words of your brothers?" - she continues, keeping the same spiteful, yet controlled, tone of voice. "So deeply concerned with the well-fare of your fellow men... And yet your pleads for peace fell on deaf ears, when humans sought to attack us! No matter. We shall see if, for once, your kin is willing to help the wildlings." - her eyes narrow as she studies the monk.
"Put your mind at ease, Arduniel" - the priestess goes on - "I have hand-picked her to my service. My word ensures her loyalties." - the imperious tone of her voice denotes confidence, but not necessarily wisdom. It is also noticeable that she didn't detect Moss, comfortably perched up above, nearby the opened window.
"Now... To share experiences, as you've requested." - she points towards Arduniel. "My healers and I have attempted to identify the disease through herbalism and farmaceutics to no avail. Our strongest spells were of no use as well. By then we already suspected a magical force behind the disease. We assked the gods for guidance, all was fruitless. Even the most powerful divinations couldn't shed light on the matter. From then on, all we could do is watch as our brothers and sisters became weaker and weaker, their minds turning feeble as we waited in silence for a miracle from the gods." - she pauses, her voice trembling as the circumstances are retold.
"No doubt you have tried to extract some semblance of truth from Alanor by now... All for naught, I'm sure. You have seen the fragile state of one's mind once the malady settles. All others suffered the same fate, some of them even sooner than Alanor."
"And now, everyone's suspicious of all the others. Particularly of those with access to powerful magic and hidden incantations."
@Neurotic @Shayuri @KahlessNestor @MetaVoid @Charlotte of Oz @Kaodi
Gallena waves away Zyara's observations."The Dawn's Sorrow would know about it, wouldn't it, now? How many sought counsel on matters of war and peace? How many were brought to disaster by the words of your brothers?" - she continues, keeping the same spiteful, yet controlled, tone of voice. "So deeply concerned with the well-fare of your fellow men... And yet your pleads for peace fell on deaf ears, when humans sought to attack us! No matter. We shall see if, for once, your kin is willing to help the wildlings." - her eyes narrow as she studies the monk.
"Put your mind at ease, Arduniel" - the priestess goes on - "I have hand-picked her to my service. My word ensures her loyalties." - the imperious tone of her voice denotes confidence, but not necessarily wisdom. It is also noticeable that she didn't detect Moss, comfortably perched up above, nearby the opened window.
"Now... To share experiences, as you've requested." - she points towards Arduniel. "My healers and I have attempted to identify the disease through herbalism and farmaceutics to no avail. Our strongest spells were of no use as well. By then we already suspected a magical force behind the disease. We assked the gods for guidance, all was fruitless. Even the most powerful divinations couldn't shed light on the matter. From then on, all we could do is watch as our brothers and sisters became weaker and weaker, their minds turning feeble as we waited in silence for a miracle from the gods." - she pauses, her voice trembling as the circumstances are retold.
"No doubt you have tried to extract some semblance of truth from Alanor by now... All for naught, I'm sure. You have seen the fragile state of one's mind once the malady settles. All others suffered the same fate, some of them even sooner than Alanor."
"And now, everyone's suspicious of all the others. Particularly of those with access to powerful magic and hidden incantations."
@Neurotic @Shayuri @KahlessNestor @MetaVoid @Charlotte of Oz @Kaodi
KahlessNestor
Adventurer
Laholt/Alessia
Afternoon
Round 0
Daxio turns as the priestess emerges. He gives her a gallant bow, noting her power and typical fey arrogance, but also beauty.
Daxio moved to follow, but then caught Moss’ message. He took a moment to cast the message spell on Moss and the rest of the party, which would allow them to communicate quietly to one another.
He followed Galena into the throne room of the castle, noting the small lake that had accumulated here, the tattered and decayed banners. He shook his head, wondering why they hadn’t kept the place up.
As the others spoke, Daxio made sure to scan the throne room for magic, just in case.
[sblock=Actions and Rolls]
Move:
Action: Cast Message
[/sblock]
[sblock=Ministats]
HP: 122/122 NL: 0
AC: 19 FF: 14 T: 15
CMD: 20
Fort: 10 Ref: 10 Will: 13
Armed: Dagger
Arcane Reservoir: 9/15/day
Consume Spells: 5/5/day
Conditions: Detect Magic (117 r), Message (1200r)
Spells Prepared
0 (9): Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic
1 (4/4/5): Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Magic Missile, Vanish
2 (4/4/5): Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3 (4/4/4): Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4 (4/4/3): Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5 (4/4/2): Dominate Person, Hold Monster
6 (2/2/1): Mass Suggestion
Spell Book:
0: All
1: Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Enlarge Person, Featherfall, Grease, Liberating Command, Magic Missile, Obscuring Mist, Ray of Enfeeblement, Shield, Silent Image, Vanish
2: Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3: Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4: Black Tentacles, Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5: Dominate Person, Feeblemind, Hold Monster
6: Greater Dispel, Mass Suggestion
[/sblock]
Afternoon
Round 0
Daxio turns as the priestess emerges. He gives her a gallant bow, noting her power and typical fey arrogance, but also beauty.
Daxio moved to follow, but then caught Moss’ message. He took a moment to cast the message spell on Moss and the rest of the party, which would allow them to communicate quietly to one another.
He followed Galena into the throne room of the castle, noting the small lake that had accumulated here, the tattered and decayed banners. He shook his head, wondering why they hadn’t kept the place up.
As the others spoke, Daxio made sure to scan the throne room for magic, just in case.
[sblock=Actions and Rolls]
Move:
Action: Cast Message
[/sblock]
[sblock=Ministats]
HP: 122/122 NL: 0
AC: 19 FF: 14 T: 15
CMD: 20
Fort: 10 Ref: 10 Will: 13
Armed: Dagger
Arcane Reservoir: 9/15/day
Consume Spells: 5/5/day
Conditions: Detect Magic (117 r), Message (1200r)
Spells Prepared
0 (9): Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic
1 (4/4/5): Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Magic Missile, Vanish
2 (4/4/5): Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3 (4/4/4): Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4 (4/4/3): Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5 (4/4/2): Dominate Person, Hold Monster
6 (2/2/1): Mass Suggestion
Spell Book:
0: All
1: Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Enlarge Person, Featherfall, Grease, Liberating Command, Magic Missile, Obscuring Mist, Ray of Enfeeblement, Shield, Silent Image, Vanish
2: Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3: Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4: Black Tentacles, Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5: Dominate Person, Feeblemind, Hold Monster
6: Greater Dispel, Mass Suggestion
[/sblock]
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