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Hey Sep, given your obvious knowledge and interest in the early medieval era, I'm curious as to whether you've ever done anything with White Wolf's Dark Ages line of games.

A troubled look passes over Ruathen's face at the celestial's words, and he places a hand on Konstantine's shoulder, whispering to him once he has his attention, "I am no expert on such matters, but if these beings can communicate essentially by telepathy - as would seem to be the case, if we...

Ruathen takes a tentative step forward, bows to the being, and asks, "Ah, if I may ask, please, could you tell us what the the celestial hierarchy hoped to bring about by contacting the Prince, if it was not the Vessel's retrieval?"

Ruathen's shoulders slump as he watches the creature retreat, finally sighing and beginning to search the ledge for his dagger. "How irritating. Well, we will need to be on guard for that thing when we exit the temple, now." He moves over to the eastern ledge to make sure Padraig landed safely.

Ruathen holds a finger in the air, apparently trying to calculate wind interference, and flings his dagger at the beast. Attack +12 -2(wind) -2(range)

Not being one given to bouts of curiosity himself, Fhetek sighs and trudges over to wait beside Vorkhek.

Realizing he's exhausted all of his useful tricks for this situation, Ruathen anxiously shifts his feet, counting on getting in a quick stab should the creature pass within reach.

Ah, good to see the game's still on.

Fhetek draws a sleeve of his robe over his nose, and squints against the stinging smog. "Damned foundry..." he mutters, clearing his throat. "So, is it much further to this tavern you mentioned? The "Mermaid's Cups" I believe you said it was called - hm, no wonder she's in her cups: it can't be...

Not wanting to kill the thing, only to have Padraig plummet to his death, Ruathen waits for the creature to wheel back over the ledge, at which point he'll cast magic missile at it.

Thanks. Regarding the Soneillon connection: I don't suppose Eve at some point seduces Burne under pretenses of achieving some kind of metaphysical antinomian synthesis, does she? :p

Ruathen does a double-take as the ledge behind him becomes a gaping void. Quckly considering his options, he makes his gambit and casts blindness at the beast hurtling toward them, reasoning that an airborne creature that cannot navigate is as good as dead. He then dashes forward, placing his...

Yeah, just provide a little bit of context to guide us toward the plot :)

Noticing the spoor of what is likely something large and unpleasant, and recalling how the group was taken by surprise once before, Ruathen carefully scans the area and nearby cliff faces.

If Abraxis were transcribing, this would doubtless have been followed by: THAT IS WITHOUT QUESTION. Great updates :D

Fhetek laughs sharply. "I'm sure it seems quite reasonable to those whose power derives from keeping absolute control over those around them. I know little of this brain-magic that seems so prevalent across the planes, but I fully intend to effect some way of warding off any invasion of my...

Fhetek raises an eyebrow as he looks sidelong at the genasi, trying to perceive whether or not he's joking. Finally, he shrugs and steps forward to introduce himself. A naive, yet innately powerful associate could be very useful... "Greetings. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation...

Feeling increasingly anxious as yet more "law enforcement officials" file onto the scene, Fhetek decides there may be a smaller chance of being randomly arrested if he doesn't appear to be all alone. Noticing what seems to be an amiable conversation between a genasi, a goblin-kin, and someone...

Staring out at the sleet and gray sky from inside the flap of his tent, going over the events of the previous day, Ruathen suddenly grins. Raising his voice enough for those in the surrounding tents to hear, he says, chuckling, "You know, visiting that druid wasn't a complete waste of time - now...

"Oh, not giants," Ruathen calls after him, scowling slightly at the druid's flippancy. "No, I was using the descriptor "fiendish" quite literally. Take that as you will."