Pathfinder 1E IC - Tideruler: The Fall of Laholt

[Archon Basileus]

THE PLAZA

As the heroes brew a plan, the conversation at the Plaza unfolds. Right after sounding the horn, the Firbolg moves forward, declaring his intentions. "Bad omens cover that castle as never before..." - he speaks - "Anyone can see how deep we have been betrayed! We need new leadership, and we need to rid our land of those ruins!"

Commotion overtakes the crowd, partly unconvinced. A small debate brews, but one of the elfic diviners comes forth. "We should rid ourselves of all doubt! A simple test would suffice! Let us seek the gods one more time... They can attest for the priestess pure intentions, or condemn her wickedness!" - the crowd motions in favor. In here, even the most heated debates seem to be solved with a strange detachment, with focused passions and contained manifestations of will.

The priestess produces a crown of thorns, which she promptly elevates to the height of her head. "Ask, Grom, and Gozreh will provide the answers we seek" - she says to the Firbolg. A glance of magic detection shows a bright, solar aura, covering the crown in tendrils, as if to make it flourish. A powerful incantation has been placed upon it, one that will allow the priestess to commune with the god for a short while - an honor, beyond any doubt, but a short way to offend the god, should the host prove unworthy...


[Ok, you still have a few seconds before she dresses the thing, time enough to work an action per character.]

THE HONEYDEW

Calliope smiles at the way the knight treats her. She shrugs a lock of hair away from her face and seats, serving from the food the knight refused and sipping from a goblet, as if to provoke a reaction. She's bound to abandon her attempts soon, leaving the table set for the knight to eat alone, if he so chooses. But for now she indulges in conversation, seemingly pleased by his sudden interest.

"The plague, as you might know... It made everyone nervous. Even our usual patience no longer does it." - she rolls a grape around her fingers, her wide eyes claiming a semblance of misplaced innocence. "Now they decided they had enough. The satyrs gather at the pastures to decide whether to stay or leave; the encampment gathers to find a new leader; the Spiral..." - she interrupts herself, fearful of crossing a line by speaking of the mages. Once their apprentice, the habit of secrecy seems to cling to her still. "The Spiral communes with the Planes in search of guidance... And the gods seem silent lately." - she contemplates the small grain of fruit before mouthing it quickly. "You've chosen quite the time to come here, bat."
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION] [MENTION=6847138]Charlotte of Oz[/MENTION] [MENTION=1231]Kaodi[/MENTION]

 

[jmucchiello]

"Let's just approach the crowd and see what they are doing," Zyara agrees as she starts walking toward the crowd. "I agree, they may have information we need."

 

[Neurotic]

"Maybe let those known here talk before bursting down on them. It seems non-fey are not welcome here. I'll be around." Moss flies off (unless someone stops him) disappearing into the growth.
[roll0]

 

[Shayuri]

"My apologies, Zyara," Aranel says, "But I think the time to wait and watch has passed."

With a murmur of invocation, the oracle summons a tiny sliver of draconic charisma to bolster herself, then moves forward, past the mob, and leaps nimbly up onto the same platform as that odd, vaguely draconic statue to stare down at the crowd with her strange amber eyes.

"Lords and ladies, and citizens of Laholt," she said...and despite speaking in a measured tone and volume, her words had a kind of weight that made them audible to everyone. "Good evening to you."

She let her words settle onto the crowd, let her unusual appearance stoke their curiosity.

"I am Aranel Amandil, and as I'm sure you can tell, I am new to this city. Far be it from me to get involved in local affairs, of course. For all I know, you have a long list of perfectly legitimate grievances to bring before the Priestess of this place. By all means, proceed."

She lifted a hand, pointing a finger upward in an 'ah ah ah' gesture.

"But." She focused her attention onto the Firbolg, and the priestess each in turn. "Invoking a god, over a matter such as this, is incredibly unwise. You may think you have problems now, with this strange affiction plaguing you, but I assure you...this is a warm bath in milk next to the kind of vengeance a god can wreak over mortals who forget their place."

Aranel turned slightly to address the crowd. "You are a good and reasonable folk. You would not invite catastrophe into your midst, especially while dealing with another problem. This is a time for everyone in Laholt to support and help one another. Put old enmities aside, for the moment. The plague cares nothing for the divisions between you...and to fight it, you must do the same."

"You are not alone in your struggle. I, and other capable individuals, have come to render aid. We will find the roots of, and end, this curse upon your city. All you have to do is hold on, a little longer. Faith in the gods is a good thing, but faith in one another...well...that has a power all of its own. A power that may save you yet, if you can embrace it."

(Casting Enhanced Diplomacy orison, then making speech. Diplomacy: [roll0])

 

[Kaodi]

"Excitement does seem to have a knack for finding me," says the Batknight. Plague. He took a moment to slowly look around and really appreciate his surroundings. Would this all one day be abandoned? "I regret that sickness and disease fall somewhat outside my area of competence," he adds solemnly. "If it comes to an evacuation I could help with that - I know a thing or two about becoming scarce. But otherwise I am not sure what good a blade will be in these times."

Pausing a moment the Bat turns his gaze back fully to Calliope. "What about you? What are your plans for if worst comes to worst?"

 

[Archon Basileus]

THE PLAZA

Aranel moves forward while Moss hides and the others study the situation. Indeed, the crowd's more scared than enraged, but it has already reached a height of excitement, turning the situation into a potential source of conflict. The elf's brief words are enough to catch the attention of the crowd, though, inciting a distinct form of reaction. Still nervous, they are at least willing to hear.

It's the Firbolg, Pelanor, that comes first towards the heroes.

"I recognize you... You are the half-elf from the settlement near south." - he bends his head. "My respects, Aranel. And I see you bring the lady monk with you - we've heard good things about you as well. And you... You are traveling companion to Goliath, aren't you?" - the giant smiles, clearly softened by Aranel's respectful and calculated words. "You are more satyr than man, some say!" - some subtle laughs can be heard around. "And Arduniel is also with you, I see..." - he glances sternly at the elf, showing respect and fear at the same time. He glances at Alice with a dubious expression, allowing the silence to enunciate his doubts about her identity.

"Allanor called you. We listen. We are bound to listen."

The priestess follows him, lowering the crown slowly.

"Pelanor, please! The foreigners might mean well, but we have lost Allanor, and now Mawdir falls ill as well..." - she glances sadly at the crown. "He'd be the one donning the crown and communing with the gods, if not for his condition. I know the consequences of a mistake, but how else would we uncover this? You ask for time, but how much longer can we wait? We know patience, we live by it... Our years have taught us so, as you've certainly seen around yourself. But there's time to wait and time to act." - she measures Aranel, studies her words. The crowd is silent, contemplating the dialogue.

Finally, the priestess sigh heavily.

"Can you solve it? Can you end the plague?" - she says, clearly asking for a promise. None of the present, from Zyara to Arduniel, doubt the weight of a choice and a response. The Fey and their associates take words and vows very seriously.


THE HONEYDEW

"What about you? What are your plans for if worst comes to worst?"

"Run away with you, of course! I've always had a thing for mysterious men!" - she smiles, amused. "But I think you might be more useful than you give yourself credit for. And in a very simple sense, really. Being an outsider of sorts, you can move about without creating great disturbance in anyone's business. To be honest, there are inquiries I wouldn't dare do anymore. But you... Well, you're in a better position than I am. For example" - she points beyond the branch screen behind her - "that fella over there is one of the adepts at the Spiral. Considering their secretive ways, I bet they know something we don't about all of this. The same goes for the pair on the other side - they're druids. And that gnome lady over there... She's in charge of traffic within the caves, or so I hear..." - she winks at the knight.

"Care to give it a try?"
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION] [MENTION=6847138]Charlotte of Oz[/MENTION] @ Shayuri [MENTION=1231]Kaodi[/MENTION]

 

[Kaodi]

"I suppose I have been letting on that I am a bit of a spelunker myself, haven't I?" says the knight, hoping he is not reading too much in that wink. "Very well. I will see if the woman is up for talking shop."

The Bat puts his gauntleted hands on the table and pushes back on his chair before drawing up to his full height. He is clad from head to toe in black metal enameled metal that shadows seem to cling to. His rounded helm has two small pointed nubs, one on either side, almost suggesting ears, and a full mask that seems like it may have been fused shut. Even his eyes are obscured by a thin, mesh-like substance. On his chest is an insignia of what appears to be a bat in deep, deep purple. It would be more ambiguous were it not that the black shield strapped to his back over his large, heavy black cloak appears to have the same insignia in starker relief: a stylized purple bat with outstretched wings. A sword hangs from his belt, the scabbard also in... black.

He smiles, not that Calliope can see, and politely says, "If I may take my leave momentarily."

Gently pushing the screen to the side the knight steps out into the sunlight, wincing ever so slightly. Long years on the surface had still not accustomed him to the brightness of a nice day. There was no helping it though; even the covering that obscured his eyes did nothing to block out the light by design.

The Bat slowly approaches the gnome woman, then greets her. "Good day, madame," he intones. "How fare you today?"

 

[MetaVoid]

Arduniel nods at the firbolg and actually bows to the priestess.
"You know mortals cannot promise such things, priestess. But if it is in my power - I dare not speak for the new group - I will end it. Or die trying. By the sacred runes of the foundation of reality thus I swear.." short phrase in true language, yet everyone understands it is a bond.
He straightens up.
"Please everyone, take the time and tell these people what they need. You never know when some insignificant detail may make a difference. Something we overlooked because we're familiar with the city. New eyes, new perspective. Then come with us to Honeydew, I'm buying first round and tell me your grievances. I was isolated for some time, I may hear something I didn't know of the new developments."

 

[CharlotteOz]

"Solving things is what I do, and this time I have help. If there's a solution, I'll find it or die trying."

 

[Archon Basileus]

THE HONEYDEW

The Bat slowly approaches the gnome woman, then greets her. "Good day, madame," he intones. "How fare you today?"

The gnome woman nods in acquiescence, turning to acknowledge the knights presence. The cave gnomes tend to keep to themselves - a reserved people of dark skin and shifty habits, not unlike the drow, as the knight noticed as soon as he arrived.

"And good day to ya, ser knight." - she speaks on a low tone, pushing a goblet of ouzo towards the man. "And what can I do for ya today?" - she seems to be a dealer of sorts... At least, considering the way she talks and signals. Clearly, though, she doesn't deal on widely accepted merchandise. Otherwise, she'd do it outside, on a stand, under a pillar, or somewhere within the camp.


THE PLAZA

The priestess seems satisfied with both Arduniel's and Charlotte's answers. "Well, both of you know the consequences of not following through..." - she says, lowering the crown. "An elf would know better than to break a sworn in here... And a demoness..." - she smiles for a moment - "...well, yours is a tricky kind, but even the demon-blooded are bound to respect certain pacts... And that is something I can respect" - she turns to the Firbolg, as if to allow him to talk.

"The humans are perfectly capable of swearing..." - he says in a rough tone. "They're just unwilling. Good. That's our way as well. A sworn is sacred, but it follows the heart."

Inexplicably, the faces around seem to soften at their presence, willingly accepting the strangers, even the humans.

"Allanor is gone to the plague... He can't speak a solid phrase anymore, and his vitality is lost. Without him, the Fields of Honor are closed to us, and no pact can be enforced through the Root of Wisdom. Because of it, we are divided. The Satyrs consider leaving. The priestess holds no sway over what happens, and rumor has it that she deals in dark magics and deals with demons." - he points out to Charlotte. "Can you say that such things are lies? We care not if she wants to deal with the lower planes. But as she does it, the gods refuse to answer. Our oracles are silent. The sacred oaks are silent. The sacred birds are gone. We need guidance, and we need answers. And if the priestess has, in fact, offended the gods... She needs to pay." - he falls silent, giving an ample idea of the problems.

All heroes are somehow familiar with the peculiar aspects of the Fey law. The Fields of Honor are inhabited by magical forces that would take a heavy toll upon those inclined to break vows taken there. Blood would be spilled over the Root of Wisdom and, as legend goes, a pact broken would lead the involved to be cursed in strange and unique ways. Considering the erratic nature of the Fey, the Root of Wisdom is basically the only thing to keep them united. Otherwise, intrigue and uncontrolled desire would be the downfall of Alessia. As for the priestess, the Fey tend to indifference as far as dark forces go. Their usual neutrality allows for a wide range of alliances, and demons are a peculiar lot as far as desire goes. Still, profaning sacred soil or breaking sacred vows would still bear truly negative effects...


[Sorry for the delay, guys. Last doctor appointments of the bunch... :/]
[MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6847138]Charlotte of Oz[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=1231]Kaodi[/MENTION] [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION]