Invasion of Mori - IC [3.5][CE/NE][planar]

[moritheil]

The kobold looks, if anything, more confused than before by Gabriel's query, and writhes in Snargle's grasp as the troll bends to devour giblets of meat. "Great one always with us! Great one use magic to turn worm."

The new arrival, meanwhile, peers about. "Which one of you is in charge?" it asks in Abyssal.

 

[Dichotomy]

Rose looks at the newcomer. Without saying a word, the tiefling bursts into a fit of nasty-sounding snickers.

 

[Dog Moon]

Vedak turns to the newcomer. No one seems to be inputting anything, such as suggesting anyone else to be the leader or stepping up to take that position. "I don't know," he responds, speaking honestly, for the moment, to the robed figure. "Is there something you wish to say?"

 

[Shayuri]

"Ahh, the fundamental weakness of the Abyssal hordes," says a quiet, amused voice from the shadows behind the newcomer in the Abyssal tongue.

"Take away the strong leader, and the whole thing just falls to pieces."

Another figure in dark clothes glides in behind the first. The gloom within her hood seems impenetrable save for a pair of red-irised eyes that regard the other cloaked person narrowly.

"Well this won't do...we're practically wearing the same thing. Allow me." With a sweep of her black-gloved hand, the speaker's form shivers, the erupts into a white-robed figure of great beauty and stern mien. Eyes that burn with celestial fire. Hooded still, though her features now perfectly visible due to the aura of light she emits, and instead of a cloak, folded feathered wings spread over her back.

Yet, the ironic smile that curves her lips is too cruel to belong on anything angelic.

"Better, no? You may all call me Silhouette. If that's too many syllables for you to be comfortable with, you may contract it to Sil. I have just come through the gate to accompany you."

The angel turns back to the masked figure.

"Forgive my interruption. I didn't want to miss what you had to say."

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Gabriel looks up and gives a genuine smile at the white figure. "My pardons Silhouette, I am in charge of this motley crew. Snargle!" he snaps suddenly at the eating troll. "Stop that at once! Find me any kobolds that are still living amongst the fallen any bring them to me. And don't eat them. As for you," his voice drops as he turns to the kobold he had been speaking to. "Where does the 'Great One' lair?" he asks in a mild voice.

 

[moritheil]

The figure whispers after a moment, regarding Silhouette with a moment of intense scrutiny. It turns away to look at Gabriel, stepping forward and favoring him with a deep bow.

"Dark lord, I bear greetings from the far-off land known of Al-enuin, known amongst mortals as the Festering Realm. Word of the doings here has reached us even there, and I have been dispatched with all haste to offer any small aid I might render. All we wish in return is your . . . consideration.

"I sense that this may be an inopportune time for conversation, so with your kind permission, I will await a more favorable time to talk." Giving another deep bow, the figure steps back, once more bracketed by ghouls.

Gabriel, Rose, and Silhouette are just near enough to catch the figure's whisper:
[sblock]"One after my own heart, it seems."[/sblock]


Snargle searches, but finds no live kobolds, only meat. Meanwhile, the kobold captive begins a rambling explanation of crude landmarks such as tree stumps, the shadows of mountains, and obscure battles, concluding with a very rough depiction of where the great kobold lives.

 

[Voadam]

Snargle turns to the apparent celestial who spoke in what he assumed was abyssal and taps his head with a clawed hand. He says in the mortal tongue "Talk to Snargle this way or in mortal or troll tongue."

 

[Ringmereth]

As three of his skeletal kobolds arm themselves, Arxas watches the dark figure morph into her angelic form. How uncommon.

Pocketing the potions he found and resolving to identify them later, the tiefling mage approaches his fellow 'dark lords'. "This constituent of your motley crew," he sneers, "would learn what he could from that beast and be gone from here. The caster we fought is no mere kobold. A walking worm is a challenge to any of us."

 

[Dichotomy]

Rose's gaze shifts to Gabriel. "Well, since you are in charge of this 'motley crew,' perhaps your lordship would like to decide our next course of action. Oh, and if that might happen to include some more healing," he points to the gaping wounds he still bears, "I'd really appreciate it," the tiefling hisses.

 

[moritheil]

The echoes of a murmuring voice precede the arrival of Roillard, flanked by two robed cultists. Upon seeing the newest visitors, he stops abruptly. Cutting short his conversation, he offers a very deep bow.

"Roillard," says the still-veiled diplomat in a neutral tone. "I heard you had been deposed."

"You honor us with your visit, Lieutenant," replies the human carefully. "I have not been deposed, that I am aware of," he continues, glancing at Gabriel. "Merely outranked." His gaze shifts from the bard to the angelic figure standing in your midst.