IR Aftermath (Those Dead PCs are back in action! )

On the way to the tavern, Janos replied (:P):

"How ... very ... interesting." And he smiles. "Maybe it is bluff, or maybe you have drawn your conclusion from my eyes and my pale skin. Whatever the case, it doesn't bother me that you know and it doesn't bother me that you have fought undead, for I do not relate myself to them. Most of them are so focused on destruction they don't seem to grasp the concept of power. For destruction brings forth people who, eventually, will prove to be heroes. I do hope you see the wisdom in words, or are you a fanatic whose spectrum does not include grey?"

"I have been informed that a cult of Melkor worshippers was trying to obtain 10th level magic. No one ever spoke about undead. Are you certain your information is correct?"

"And I like a man who doesn't need technology to defend himself. The world should see that nuclear weapons and guns bring nothing but trouble. They are a poor and foolish man's way to mimic The Art, and then only the part focused on destruction."
 

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The Helmed Horror moves its head as Nyovne walks around it.

"I do KNOW what they say about small women. I just don't know if it's true."

"If you wish, my master might build a small house for you tonight, but you will have to ask him personally."

"And further I do not like purple, I do -" The helmed horror remains silent.
 

Ilalielthin finishes his performance, and bows to the audience. As he steps down from the stage, he is suddenly overcome with emotion. He remembers performing so many tunes such as that one, for his fellow Elves in Faerun, Elves of which only a few dozen now remain. Ilalielthin gritted his teeth, and pushed his sudden feelings of sadness aside, as he had done so many times before.


Gathering his wits, his customary confident grin came back to his face, and he casually strolled over to Fyre, one of the barmaids in the tavern.

Ilalielthin grins at her, and says, "Greetings, m'lady. I have heard quite a lot about you. You're quite lovely, if I do say so myself. I see what I heard of your charms was not mere rumor. Might I ask when you are going to be retiring this evening? I would love to have a lady such as yourself show me around the town."
 
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Sanctus decides that an interesting conversation is coming into being and is quick to reply to Janos:

"Try as I might Janos, nothing can be catergorised as black and white, my own common sense leaves a grey area for those in your situation. Quite often these grey areas contain wild cards, and I have seen many unpredictable things happen because of those I catergorise within. Maybe you will turn out to have particularily good qualities to you, or possibly you are here to keep tabs on our movements, but either way people in my grey area make their way into black or white sometime.

"Yes, you may be correct in saying my sources are incorrect in their findings, that is quite rare though. Nonetheless, information given to me always leads to where a good dead can be done.

"Ahh yes, the issue of technology against magics and vice versa. I support my brethren in their choosing to do what they do well, and they do it very well, but I really couldn't be bothered sitting down and finding out how an assault rifle or hand grenade works. My hands are always full concerning the world of the divine. Though I will respect your opinion on the issue I cannot concern myself with a matter so distant from me."
 

<< I was a extra-orbital trooper from the Fleet of Darkness. I had intended to find the True Staff and return it to its rightful owner, Anabstercorian, but he seemed so... so un-Illithid. Of course, today I am un-Illithid as well. When the war began in true earnest, I was in the skies, destroying the ships of war that tore the ground with lasers and antimatter. I am a lancer, a dragoon, and I fight with the lance. When the war ended with the Remaking, I found myself in a world I didn't understand, trapped inside by infinities of death. I am not at ease in this new world I find myself in, but I intend to adapt. My current desire is to find out how Anabstercorian left the Demiplane of Hope without facing the great void left by Melkor's sacrifice. I want to leave this place... It's said that Anabstercorian is searching for Penumbra once more, and I would wish to see my peoples homeland. >>
 

Fyre turns to you

"Arrogant aren't you ? Charming though, I guess I can show you around after I finish up. Meet me here in 4 hours."
 

Ilalielthin smiles, and says, "Arrogant? My lady, I assure you, I am as humbe as the next Bard. I look forward to seeing you on the appointed time." Ilalielthin winks at her and turns around, prepared to stroll back to the group when the Quickling comes up to him.

He responds to her queries with a smile, saying:

"As I said earlier, Valys is almost as hard to gain information on as the Spymaster. I might be able to find out where he lives and if we could meet with him, however. You are free to talk to him if you wish, and hopefully you would be able to gain some useful information."

"I warn you, though, that Valys may be one of the Fae that does not appreciate technology. This area certainly doesn't, and I wouldn't be surprised if he dislikes it as well. He might view you with a certain distaste. Perhaps not. This is all speculation on my part. Traal may be able to find out more about Valys, so I suggest you ask him if you wish to know more."

Ilalielthin glances over at Xarindel, and says to Nyovne, "If you want to go scouting the surface out, you need to talk to Xarindel and Ramus."

"With Janos gone, they are the only ones who can get us the ten miles to the surface in a minimal amount of time. Faysaran and Traal also expressed interest in scouting out the forest above, and I'd like to stretch my legs a bit as well. If Xarindel and Ramus agree, we'll all go up to the surface, once Traal gets back. I'd prefer to keep the party together, but as this is a democratic party, the others are free to disagree."

"And it would be excellent to gain any more information, as information is what we need to succeed in this quest, more than anything else. Political intrigues are rarely solved using brute force. Hopefully you'll be able to find something useful from your technology."

Ilalielthin smiles at the little Quickling as he ends the conversation, dips into a curt bow, and moves back to the group for a while as he leaves Nyovne to consider his words.
 
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Faysaran looks around for where Xarindel wandered off to. He finds him and asks him.
"Xarindel, what is going on? You are never this quiet unless you are planning something. Mind telling us what is going on in that mind of yours?"
 

Ilalielthin casually converses with the patrons of the tavern for a while, realizing that patience is a virtue. Time passes quickly, and Traal comes and goes.

Xarindel seemed to be averse to even responding to the groups request to go up to the surface, so Ilalielthin decided they would just do it tomorrow, perhaps, and for now he might as well go have some fun.

Ilalielthin walks over to Fyre, the appointed time coming at last, with his gray eyes twinkling as he whispers to her, too low for others to hear,

"Well, as much as I'd love for you to show me about town, I have a better idea. I've heard you are a Wizard of quite a bit of skill. If you possess the Teleport Dweomer we might go up to the surface and enjoy the fresh air and the stars. I'm sure it will be a beautiful night. What do you think?"
 

"Alone? I'm not sure thats a good idea. The way you're drooling and all. My father would probably not approve. I'd hate to see you hurt." Fyre says, laughing gently and winking.
 
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