Eye of Profane Truth

[Nephtys]

Moreth: as you changed your form, half the crowd - including Vince - ran away in terror, screaming. Others fell to their knees in prayer. You notice that they, too, are terrified. The marketplace is in sudden riot as more and more people saw you.

Amidst all this chaos, a middle-aged man in fine clerical garb approaches you, a grim look on his face. He bows, then speaks:

"I greet you on behalf of the Church of the High Lord, master arcanist. I ask that you dismiss your spell. Impersonating a Legionnaire is a grave offense on imperial soil."

Lessa, Rhakzan: your questions fall on deaf ears, as a terrified Vince runs away.

/ooc: everyone has read my post in the ooc section, yes?

Moreth looks around, his angelic face radiating a joyous satisfaction. Stepping closer to the cleric he flexes his wings, before shifting back into human form*. Returning the cleric's bow he answers, "A lesson of respect has been taught and, it seems, has been taken to heart. Fear will do them good in the times ahead."
He shakes his head slightly and smiles, "But now, no more talk of threats and offenses. It seems my display has attracted a person of substance, and we do have some questions that need answers. First of all, one for my lady companion. She would know who rules here. Who is the King, or does an Emperor rule the Empire? It seems clear, from the universal presence of the Church and the power of the Legion that the Church also holds considerable influence here. So is it perhaps the Father of the Church who is the true ruler of the Empire?
Secondly, one for myself. How goes the War? Does the power of Naramyr still hold the Legions at bay?"



*but still keeping the Shapechange spell activated.

--
Active spells:
Mindblank
Shapechange

 

[Rkhet]

The priest offers no reactions at your first remark. [sense motive: he does not think much of your 'lesson', but he is determined not to show it.] As you ask your questions, he looks at you, a little surprised. Perhaps he did not expect you to ask something so obvious. But he humors you nevertheless.

"I am but a humble priest, I'm a fraid. Hardly a person of substance. This is Vinecastle, and King Sarim II reigns. He is, of course, but a vassal to the Holy Empire, one of many. Our most benevolent Emperor Xervus sits at the crystal throne."

"We of the Church are concerned only with spiritual matters. We would not deign to interfere in the mundane administrations of the state, nor does the state concern itself overly with our affairs." [sense motive: these words are well-rehearsed.]

"The war goes well. We may have suffered setbacks from trickery most foul, but even now the devout and brave souls of the Empire are heeding our call to arms. Next spring, we will launch the counter-offensive. Heed my words: the Defiler's armies shall be scattered, and he shall be driven from our lands." [sense motive: well-rehearsed, but he speaks with conviction.]

"As for the Legion... well. It would not do for us mortals to question the ways of the Holy Ones." He studies the three of you. "You are not from these lands, I take it? If you wish to learn more, our Oracle would surely love to speak with you."

 

[Albedo]

Cann surveys the tower and then leaves. Then he cast greater invisibilty on himself, and finds a peasant thats in a back alley or other secluded place and kills him. He will then throw the corpse in the street and watch.

OOC: I don't know if you want me to make any rolls for this, so just tell me what you want in order to make this happen.

 

[Rkhet]

/ooc: you're level 30. you can kill a commoner without screwing up. I'll assume that you did this in front of the tower.

The corpse is noticed almost right away. There was some commotion, and as with all things morbid, onlookers quickly gather. A noblewomen daintily presses her handkerchief to her nose, looking horrified, but is nailed to the spot. Somewhere a baby is crying. The man who first discovered the corpse looks pale and nauseated.

A few moments later, the tower guards take notice. Several of them disperse the crowd and seal off the road, redirecting people to use an alternate entrance. One covers the corpse with a large piece of cloth. They take notice of the fresh wounds, and are looking around warily. One guard leaves the scene, presumably to notify the proper authorities.

A mortician and his apprentice, pulling a cart, arrive a few minutes later. They briefly examine the corpse, converse with the guards, then cart the corpse away.

Two dozen watchmen arrive shortly after. Their leader converses with the tower guards. The rest spread out to do a sweep of the area.

 

[Pyrex]

Lessa watches Moreth's antics with a blend of amusement and irritation. As she sees the townspeople flee in terror she feels, almost hears, a sweet singing. The Fires Below call to her; begging, pleading to be released. She may be cold, but she has to power to make things beautifully warm; at least for a time. Lost in the call of the Fires, Lessa raises her hand, preparing to rain Fire down upon the fleeing townspeople. Then, the heat blistering at her fingertips, Lessa sees the older man walking towards them, and a momentary echo of the visage of the Perfect stays her hand. She releases her grasp on the Fire and shivers violently for a moment, almost as if by denying the Fire it's release it fled from her completely.

"You are not from these lands, I take it? If you wish to learn more, our Oracle would surely love to speak with you."

Lessa looks at the man and speaks quietly "Yes, I have many questions."

 

[Albedo]

The hunt is on. Cann will wait for one of the guards and stalk him. While he is doing so, he is going to load a twinned force orb and a split rayed polar ray into his sword. He is also going to cast sadism on himself. Afterwards, provided he hasn't been seen by the guard, he will cast a timestop and cast a moment of prescience and then a quickened true strike (on the last round). Before the timestop ends, he will ready an action to make an attack with his longsword (+44) for 1d8+9 damage with an additional 1 negetive level and 2 con damage. He will add his 6d6 sneak attack if applicable. If he successfully deals damage, he will release his stored spells into the guard (Force Orb = 20d6 damage, Polar Ray = 21d6 twice). Should the guard still be standing, he will cast a quickened twinned force orb on the him (ranged touch attack +23) using his rod of empower on it to deal 20d6x1.5 damage.

 

[Nephtys]

"Yes, show us to the Oracle. We are new to this world, and would hate to suffer..." A sudden stab of intense pain hits him causing him to grab his head with both hands and moan quietly trough clenched teeth. Looking at the cleric, his eyes tearing, he too imagines the Perfect before him. Whispering hoarsely he asks the hapless cleric, "Why, Father? Why were we made to suffer? Is that the gospel you've sent us here to preach? Or is there truly no meaning to it all, like you told us? How can I believe that when my entire being burns?..."
Snapping out of the fit of delusion he once again stands on the brink of genocide, and backs down. The pain subsides, but never quite goes away. Breathing heavily, he smiles. "Yes, there is still time to ask questions."
.

 

[silentspace]

"The war goes well. We may have suffered setbacks from trickery most foul, but even now the devout and brave souls of the Empire are heeding our call to arms. Next spring, we will launch the counter-offensive. Heed my words: the Defiler's armies shall be scattered, and he shall be driven from our lands." [sense motive: well-rehearsed, but he speaks with conviction.]

"Next spring.... when is that? What season is it now?"

 

[Rkhet]

The priest diplomatically pretends that he did not notice Moreth's outburst. To Rhakzan, he replies: "It is now the heart of winter. You won't notice, for the weather is quite mild in these parts, but to the north-east where the war is fought, the cold is such that not even the Despoiler is mad enough to push his armies onwards. As for when the counter-offensive will start... frankly, I know not. Such things are closely guarded secrets. Now, if you will all come with me..."

The priest takes you to the Church of the High Lord. It is a grand and imposing cathedral, and even from a distance you can feel divine power radiating from it, concentrated by the force of faith.

The Oracle is an old and matronly woman, blind, but moving with an unearthly grace. She greets each of you in turn. Then she asks:

"To what ends have you come here, travellers? What do you seek?"

*

Cann:

/ooc: did you kill one of the tower guards, or one of the watchmen?

[hit roll: 18]

You drive your blade into the man's neck, and he is instantly slain. Your spells activate and his wound bursts, showering blood and bits of flesh everywhere. The rest of his body is frozen solid, shattering when it hit the ground.

You realize that you have just wasted much of your magic on a weakling.

If you search his body, you find nothing of interest except a love letter to a girl named 'Mordia'.

 

[Albedo]

OOC: It was a watchman

Cann will take the letter and teleport away. Since he hasn't been seen yet, he will then dispel his spells and go to an inn to gain lodging. Cann is gonna fiddle with his spells prepared list once he rests and then read the letter.


OOC: I'm going on a little trip for a few days, and I don't know what kind of internet access I'm gonna have so bear with me ok. I should be able to post within three days, but if I can't its just a temperary thing.