Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)
- Thread starter Rackhir
- Start date
GoodKingJayIII
First Post
I think you could easily apply one or all of those things to any number of catgirls.
Me, I cowered in fear this entire weekend, trying to avoid some sort bear-mauling reprisal. By the time I went to bed on Sunday I figured the worst was over.
Then I woke up and I was on fire.
Me, I cowered in fear this entire weekend, trying to avoid some sort bear-mauling reprisal. By the time I went to bed on Sunday I figured the worst was over.
Then I woke up and I was on fire.
Seekerofskill
First Post
ajanders said:
FYI - Luna is fat by a special item, her regeneration band has this side effect. She is hairy by the nature of shifters in Shilsen's Eberron. She will be able to change both conditions next level and neither should be pointed out to her at any level.
GoodKingJayIII said:
Well I'm glad to see your health plan covers rezing. Did it spring for True Rez or did you have to suck up the level loss.
BTW. We've just leveled to 12. I'll try and update Nameless soon, though it's mostly just a bump to his skills. The extra summoning slot from lv 6 of Alienist is nice though. Only 4 more till transcendance!
GoodKingJayIII
First Post
Rackhir said:
You're assuming that I died.
shilsen said:Isn't Gareth contemplating Blackguard every second day now?
Everyday now. Every second day is normal for a paladin.
shilsen said:
I thought about it, and then it quickly left my head when I realized most of your mobs are packing 30-40 AC and are damn hard to hit without taking a -4. Sides, Gareth isn't upset that he killed EVIL people. Just because they are associates of powerful evil people makes no difference. Gareth will not cower....sides we will have to fight them eventually - might as well be now.
Now lets say Gareth's sword had the option to do non-lethal damage, Gareth would turn that option off, thank god the sword doesn't have that option.
Anything worth smiting is anything worth killing I always say.
shilsen
Adventurer
GoodKingJayIII said:
Don't you hate when that happens?
Note to self: Have not yet had Gareth wake up on fire. Consider potential methods of making it happen.
AviLazar said:
All buffed up and raging, Halak was at a 24, which isn't too bad.
I don't know. That expression when he first heard of them using no armor had a teensy bit of cower in it
If you insist
The Endless Blade was squarely behind the "smite 'em, smite 'em good" option.
That's like Luna.
Except in her case, replace "worth smithing" with "inflammable".
shilsen
Adventurer
And here is the long promised, extra long saga of what Luna did to the Tain Gala:
* * * * * *
It's Party Time!
Lalia says, “We’re right on time. Lady Celyria hasn’t declared the Gala open yet.” She and Tasra begin to point out some of the particularly well known people already present. A tall, beautiful and incredibly well dressed elf who forms the center of a small group chatting around her is Baron Elvinor Elorrenthi d’Phiarlan, the head of her House. Nearby stands the rotund and bald Lord Mayor of Sharn, Cathan ir’Demell, whom the Angels recognize from the award ceremony at the festival of Brightblade. He looks around the room with pale blue eyes, talking simultaneously with a slim, serious-looking man, whom they saw at the Council meeting – Javan Tomollan, the incredibly rich Council member from Upper Central.
On the other side of the room, having stopped their conversation to look at the Angels is a trio of halflings – Saidan Boromar, Mala, and Ilyra. That is, Mala and Ilyra look, while Saidan glares. The group they are with includes a number of gnomes, among them Thurik Davandi. Next to him stands Thurian/Killian, who smiles brightly at the Angels, looks at Saidan, and grins even more broadly back at them. All except the three Boromars are listening to a nattily dressed gnome who is expounding on something with great gusto. Tasra identifies him as the author and playwright Kessler, famous across Khorvaire for his wit as well as his willingness to aggravate people in authority, as exemplified in his satirical The Battle of the Five Ducks (skewering the rulers of the Five Nations), one of the bestsellers of the last century.
At this point, there is the peal of a bell and the door at the top of the steps opens, to let in an elegant half-elven woman, followed by four younger half-elves. She looks around the chamber and smiles down at everyone below, and perhaps it is a trick of the light, but each of the Angels feels like he or she was given a moment of especial attention. Then she says, “Greetings! I, as most of you may know, am Celyria ir’Tain. I welcome both those of you who are regular visitors and those who are new to my home. Here,” and she indicates those beside her one by one as she identifies them from youngest to oldest, “Are my children Daral, Cariana, Cyra, and my son Hass, taking time away from Parliament to join us.”
Celyria smiles again and continues, “Before I declare the Tain Gala for this month open, let me also welcome one of our irregular but always valued visitors, the ever-entertaining Kessler,” at which point the gnome raises a glass of wine to her, “As well as a group that we have all heard much of in the recent months, the Guardian Angels.” Lalia says quietly, “Bow.” The Angels comply, with varying degrees of expertise, and the lady nods. She again addresses the room, “Please – make yourselves at home,” and descends, along with her children.
The people in the main chamber, most of whom have evidently been waiting for Celyria’s appearance, promptly spread out, many heading for the other rooms, some attempting to get close to one or other of the ir’Tains, and some continuing to speak to those they were engaged with.
“Time to enjoy ourselves,” says Lalia, pulling Gareth towards the ballroom. “Let’s dance.” He follows her happily, but the same isn’t true for Korm, who finds his arm being tugged by Tasra. “Come on, Korm,” she says, “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
If not for his natural complexion, the Gatekeeper would have gone dead pale. Instead, he just goes slack-jawed for a moment, glances helplessly at his companions, and then complies, with a muttered, “Certainly.”
Luna and Nameless follow, after making a quick stop at the food section. By the time they arrive at the ballroom, Lalia and Gareth are twirling around the dance floor, Gareth displaying more than a little training in this area. Not that he can show much, however, since Lalia is plastered very closely to him. Korm, who has actually been putting up a remarkably good show himself, mostly just by following Tasra’s lead and trying to avoid stepping on her, finds her similarly happy to get as close, if not closer, to him. A few of the watching people titter and whisper quietly among themselves at the display. Luna and Nameless, watching, exchange glances, and then say simultaneously, “Don’t even think about it!”
Six, while marginally curious about this human activity of moving in time to music, is also watching the movements of people in the other rooms. He notes that there seems to be an intricate little social dance going on off the dance floor too. People are constantly talking in small groups, which split up, with each individual joining another group, which then splits up, and so on. People seem to communicate with glances, nods, a raised glass, a tap on the shoulder, or even just brushing shoulders as they pass. There is a strange shared code here, one which the Angels do not share.
Meanwhile Gareth, who is enjoying the dance despite his mild discomfort at Lalia’s closeness in public, feels a tap on his shoulder, and hears a voice say, “May I cut in?” He turns to see a muscular elf in a traditional Valenar cloak, who looks past him at his partner and says, “Hello, Lalia.” Lalia looks momentarily startled and then says, “Hello, Caerlyn.” The elf repeats, “May I cut in?” Gareth replies, “It’s up to the lady.” Lalia frowns slightly and then says, “It’s okay, Gareth. I’ll be with you in a bit.” He bows and walks away to join the others.
Korm, seeing Gareth leave, and figuring that he shouldn’t risk it any longer, says, “Let’s take a break.” Tasra, though clearly reluctant, agrees. They join the others too, and watch Lalia dancing quite stiffly with the elf, who is talking quietly to her.
“Who’s that?” asks Nameless.
“Somebody called Caerlyn,” says Gareth, a slight furrow in his forehead.
After a second’s thought, Nameless says, “Caerlyn. Wasn’t that the name of the guy she got in a catfight over at the Gala a couple months ago while we were gone? We read about it in the Chronicle.”
Tasra, who has just arrived with Korm and noted the focus of their attention, looks at him and then says sharply, “There was a disagreement with Daera Sorandal, the Valenar ambassador. Caerlyn Tyrell is an ol… a former boyfriend of hers. He heads the mercenary troop Caerlyn’s Blade.”
At this point, a voice addresses Nameless from the rear, and he turns to see Lord Jairan ir’Dain. The Cyran ambassador greets Nameless and makes a little small talk about how he has heard a lot about the Angels recently and about Corven, who he says is working for Prince Oargev in New Cyre. Then he says, “I believe you have all acquired Brelish citizenship. Is there any reason you changed yours?”
So that’s why he wanted to talk. “We’re going to be staying in Sharn indefinitely,” says Nameless, “So it made sense. We also needed to do it to buy some property here.”
Jairan’s tone is very mildly disapproving as he asks, “So you gave up Cyran citizenship to buy a house?”
“It’s in a very good part of town.”
Jairan’s expression says that somehow the quality of the building isn’t a persuasive factor for him on the subject of changing national allegiances. Before he can say anything, Luna chimes in.
“Anyway, didn’t your country blow up? So what’s the big deal?”
There is a moment of silence, Jairan evidently trying to work out exactly what Luna said, while her companions and Tasra wait with breathless anticipation. The wait is quickly rewarded. “I mean,” says Luna, now getting animated as she explains her point, “Cyre’s all gone now, right? I haven’t been there, but I heard they’re all dead and stuff and the Mournland’s a horrible place to go. So it sounds like time to move on.”
Jairan is enough of a diplomat to keep a (mostly) straight face, but there’s no disguising the horror in his voice. “I beg your pardon?”
“The way I see it,” Luna continues unabashed, “It’s like having a house that catches fire and burns down. You don’t sit there in the ashes and say, ‘That’s my house.’ You go out and get a new one. So I’m just saying maybe you Cyran guys need to get a new place like ….”
She never gets to finish the sentence. Without a word, Jairan spins on his heel and marches away. Luna looks after him and then turns to her companions, who have expressions of varying degrees of amusement. “What did I say?”
Gareth shakes his head and is about to explain, but his attention is drawn by what sounds like an argument, albeit a whispered one, between Lalia and Caerlyn on the dance floor. He quickly walks over and taps Caerlyn on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”
The elf turns with a glare, but Lalia is quicker, swiftly disengaging and smiling with some relief (and a slightly flushed face) at Gareth. “Yes, you may. I was just about to get you.” She steps across and over to his side. Caerlyn’s glare returns to her, and he snaps, “You think this is a joke? You come here with …,” his gaze moves up and down Gareth, “…this?”
“We’re done, Caerlyn,” says Lalia firmly, turning her back to him and raising her hands to take Gareth’s.
The elf continues to glare for a moment, and then turns away. “Bitch!” floats back clearly to Gareth and Lalia. Her expression doesn’t register that she notices it, but Gareth instantly steps away, faster than either she or the other Angels have seen him move, and his hand clamps shut tightly on Caerlyn’s left shoulder, spinning him around.
The elf snarls and lifts a hand to his right shoulder, as if reaching for something that would normally be there, but then it drops. Gareth looks at him, calmly but stone-faced. “Apologize to the lady.”
“What? Are you insane?”
“Apologize. Or we take this outside.”
The snarl turns into an anticipatory smile. “Gladly. And then the bitch can bury you.”
Gareth begins to take a step forward, but suddenly Lalia is between the two of them. “No. He isn’t worth it.”
“But…,” begins Gareth, but she shakes her head. “Do this for me. Let the fool go.”
Caerlyn looks at her, back at Gareth, and at her again. “You just saved this fool’s life.” As he turns away, there is not the slightest indication on Lalia’s face that she even heard his parting comment. “Come,” she says, “We have a dance to finish.”
“But,” says Gareth, though he lets her pull him into her arms and back into the dance, “He insulted your honor.”
“My honor is beyond Caerlyn Tyrell. And I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for me. I’m sure you’d beat him, but Caerlyn is very good. As well as being an imbecile who’s not worth the effort.”
“All right,” says Gareth reluctantly, “But only because you want me to.” He pauses for a moment, and then asks, “Who is he? And, if I may ask, what was he so angry about?”
Lalia blushes faintly. “He is … a past mistake. An old boyfriend.” She chuckles half-heartedly. “Being elven, a really old boyfriend, and, as you saw, one who’s both jealous and has a bit of a temper. Not worth the time of day.”
While the two of them continue to speak, the others are chatting and talking among themselves about Luna’s exchange with the ambassador. The druidess is defending her argument as “perfectly logical,” when she feels a hand, placed perhaps half an inch below her left buttock. She spins around, sees nobody, and then looks down at the owner of the hand.
Kessler smiles up at her. “Lady Luna, I believe. We have not had the pleasure of an introduction. I am Kessler. If you’ll allow me to be crass, I was admiring you from across the room and felt I just had to speak to you. Could I get you a drink?”
Amused at the insouciance of the gnome, whose hand, she notices, is still exactly where it was, Luna says, “All right.” Kessler produces two glasses, somehow managing to hold both in one small hand, and hands one over. As Luna throws back the drink in a couple of gulps, his grin widens. “I get the feeling that we are going to get along very well. Care to dance?”
“Sure. Why not? It’ll be more fun than just standing around talking to boring people.”
“Precisely.” Kessler leads Luna onto the dance floor, followed by the incredulous expressions of her companions.
“Is Luna dancing with a gnome?” Korm says in a wondering tone. “The whole Luna dancing was scary enough on its own, but….” He leaves the sentence unfinished. “Yes,” replies Nameless. “This can’t be good. Then again, it’s Luna in a room full of people. It’s already well past ‘not good’ into ‘who will she flame strike?”
Six, standing nearby and watching, is distracted by a voice, and turns to see Ilyra Boromar standing beside him. “Hello, Mithral Six of Six. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Neither,” she adds, “Was my father.”
“I guess so,” says Six, carefully.
“As you can imagine, he’s not really happy about the Halak incident. Not at all. I can’t say I’m overjoyed either, especially since I thought we had reached an understanding.”
“I thought so too,” says Six apologetically, “But he challenged Gareth and things escalated unfortunately. I would have avoided it if I could. Still, as long as nobody working for the Boromars bothers my friends, I do not think they will be the first to do so.”
“That’s good to know. I’ll do what I can to smooth things over, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you,” says Six. Ilyra nods and walks away. Six watches her go, noting that Kylian is watching from across the chamber. Catching Six’s eye, he winks and raises a glass.
Behind him on the dance floor, Luna and Kessler are putting on a fascinating show. While Luna has little skill at dancing, she is significantly dexterous and very energetic. Her partner, a little over half her height, is significantly dexterous, and has to be even more energetic to avoid being trampled. The result is a fascinating progression around the ballroom floor. Throughout it, Kessler manages to keep up a barrage of banter and flattery. Luna, who had actually been getting fairly bored, finds the little man, whose mixture of complete unselfconsciousness and significant self-confidence (a combination not exactly alien to her) quite interesting, and the fact that he’s the first person to spend a lot of time complimenting her doesn’t hurt.
“And while many of the larger races don’t realize it,” Kessler says as they twirl around, “Gnomes are unusually strong for their size.” He grins roguishly. “Not that we’re necessarily small in every area. In fact, proportionately….”
Luna grins back. “You should show me.”
Without missing a beat, Kessler says, “I would love to. If you happen to be free….”
“No, I meant that you should show me now.”
“Here?”
“Not on the dance floor, of course, but yeah, here. Let’s go upstairs.”
There is the barest second of hesitation and then Kessler’s eyes light up. “Unfortunately, I doubt Celyria will appreciate us wandering off to the family’s private chambers. But there’s the garden through those doors. A very large garden, with many secluded corners. Would that be a problem?”
Luna’s grin broadens. “I’m a druid, silly. You had me at ‘the garden.’”
Kessler’s grin matches her as he stops, takes her hand, and begins to lead her across the floor towards the garden. “No, my dear, you’re being slightly precipitous. I am about to have you at, or more precisely, in the garden.”
As the pair disappears through the doors, the other Angels watch them go. “I really hope they’re just going for a walk,” says Nameless. Korm gives him a dirty look. “Don’t say that. It raises the possibility that they’re not going for just a walk, and if I think of that I’ll have to flame strike myself to make it go away.” As he shudders, Nameless chuckles, “I just meant that I hope she isn’t going to eat him.”
Korm shudders again. “That reminds me. They have some really good food here, Luna said. Let’s go.” The group heads for the banquet hall. There, they settle down with the excellent food and watch the movements of the guests, the twins pointing out more people that they know.
A few of them are also known to the Angels, some personally and some by sight or reputation. They see Sava Kharisa, who walks over to say “hello” and exchange a few friendly words, and Iyanna ir’Talan, who nods from afar as she stands beside an older man with an obvious resemblance, evidently her father Iyan, Lord Commander of the City Watch. Gareth recognizes the Karrnathi ambassador, Syra ir’Taarn, and Sadral d’Deneith, heir to the Deneith enclave. The councilor from Skyway, Evix ir’Marasha, stalks by in a scandalously transparent gown, Lalia commenting that she is also the owner of the Celestial Vista, perhaps the finest restaurant in Sharn. Solirion Torralyn d’Sivis, head of his House enclave in Sharn, walks by talking quietly to Daphane d’Kundarak, who fulfils the same position for the House of Warding, a dwarf who is resplendent in gold and silver, rings gleaming on all her fingers and in the carefully braided locks of her waist-length beard.
Nobody disturbs the Angels, except for one unfortunate fellow, who is slightly less opulently clad than most of the guests, and evidently slightly more inebriated than most of them. He walks over and, without invitation, pulls up a chair near Nameless, and says, “You folks are the Guardian Angels, right?”
“Yes,” says Six, wondering who he is and what he wants while noting that Lalia and Tasra are exchanging amused looks.
“Good. I’ve been hearing a lot and reading a lot about you in the Chronicle, so I was wondering, you folks maybe want to collaborate with a more local and patriotic newspaper?”
“What do you mean?”
The man extends a slightly shaky hand. “I’m Haftak ir’Clarn, publisher of the Sharn Inquisitive. I was thinking we could do some good business together.”
“Actually, we already have a contract wi…,” begins Six politely, but he is cut off by Nameless. The alienist turns and bestows a baleful look from his now permanently blue-glowing eyes on Haftak, and then says, “Did you know that I can cast an empowered disintegrate on you from across this room?”
Haftak, not really comprehending what he’s saying, gulps and asks, “What?”
“Or,” continues Nameless, “Turn you into a toad. Permanently. And make you think you were always one.”
This time it penetrates, and Haftak lurches to his feet with an alarmed grunt. He looks back and forth from Nameless to the others, some of whom are grinning widely, and then quickly turns and marches away a trifle unevenly.
“What did you do that for?” asks Six.
“The last thing we need now is to get involved with that rag,” says Nameless decisively. Tasra giggles and says, “You’re probably right, but that wasn’t exactly subtle. Very … um, Luna-esque.”
“Speaking of Luna,” says Gareth, “Where is she? It’s been twenty minutes since we saw her.”
At that very moment, behind a dark row of bushes in the garden outside, a very sweaty, tired, naked, and especially, happy Luna looks up into the broad smile of Kessler. “Wow! That was just … wow! I take back anything I ever said about gnomes!”
Kessler, his chin resting very comfortably on her bosom, cocks his head. “What did you ever say about gnomes?”
“That they were untrustworthy, scary, freaky little creatures,” says Luna honestly, “But that’s only because of one or two we’ve met. I’d never say that about you.” She grins and stretches languorously, causing Kessler to bob up and down. “Though I might say freaky.”
The gnome chuckles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He glances back at the lit windows of the main building. “We need to be getting back. I have a reading to perform.” Then he slides forward, kisses her passionately, and adds, “Though your performance will be hard to top. That ability to change shape, especially in mid … ahem, performance is just priceless.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” says Luna happily, sitting up as he climbs off her. “I’d never tried it before.”
“Definitely worth it,” says Kessler, walking over to pick up their clothes and hand hers back to her. Luna takes them and then looks down at herself. “Oh
! I’m a real mess.” She looks over and grins. “And so are you.”
“Not to worry, my dear.” Kessler makes the gestures of a spell and a second later, leaves and dirt begin to fall off Luna. “Prestidigitation. The single most civilized spell in the world. I’ll have you clean shortly.” As Luna looks down and smiles, he studies the moons for a moment. “We’ve been out here for about twenty minutes, right?”
“More or less. Why?”
“Because,” he says with a broad grin, “That means I have some more time than I planned.” The gnome turns and dives, rolling Luna, who has been sitting up, over and back onto the ground. She giggles and looks at him with even greater appreciation than before. “Again?”
“Again!”
About fifteen minutes later, the Angels are just rising from the table when they see Luna and Kessler walk through the door. Luna bends over to kiss Kessler and he bows and heads into one of the other rooms, while she strolls over to rejoin her friends.
“What have you been…,” begins Korm, when Tasra, noting the broad smile and the flush on Luna’s face laughs. “So how was it?” she asks.
“Amazing,” says Luna. “He’s damn skilled. And has amazing energy. We went twice, one after another, and I think he might have been able to do it a third time if he didn’t have to do some stupid reading. I’m beginning to look at gnomes in a very different light. Are they all like that?”
Tasra laughs, “I wouldn’t know,” but before she can say any more, Korm says in a horrified tone, “Oh lord – I need a drink.” As he heads for the drinks table, Gareth and Nameless quickly follow.
Luna glares after them and then says loudly, drawing the attention of numerous guests, “Idiots! You’re just jealous because you’re not getting some!”
“No,” says Lalia sadly, “That would be me,” and then stops to smack her laughing sister. “So did Kessler and you really…?”
“Oh, yes!” says Luna, with a broad grin.
“So share already!”
Luna promptly launches into a no-holds-barred narration, until she is brought up short by Tasra looking by her and grinning, even as she notices a scratching sound. Turning around, she sees Six standing right behind her, holding a notepad and scribbling quickly. The warforged looks up as she stops speaking, and says, “Please continue. This is fascinating! I have been trying to find out about your human – and other species’ – mating practices, but Gareth, Nameless and Korm are … useless. I should have been talking to you.”
Luna reaches out to smack Six on the shoulder and then wrings her hand. “Ow! And no, you can’t take notes about it!”
“But you were telling Lalia and Tasra. What’s the difference?”
“It’s just … well, wrong, somehow.”
A grinning Tasra puts in, “Well, you just f**ked a gnome – twice – in the garden of the Tain estate. I don’t think you’re allowed to talk about ‘wrong,’ any more.”
“But it was great!” says Luna. “I had no idea those little guys were so … so …. good! No wonder Kessler said that once you go gnome, you never go back!”
The sounds of Lalia choking and Six scribbling again are drowned out by another ringing bell and an announcement. The entertainment for the evening is about to begin, starting with a reading from Kessler’s latest piece. Lalia and Tasra, joined by the other Angels, proceed into the sitting area, where chairs and couches have been set up around a central space. Luna heads for the mostly empty banquet room instead. “After all,” she says, “I’ve already seen his first performance of the evening.”
While they are waiting for Kessler to begin, a young half-elf greets the Angels. He is Hass ir’Tain, Celyria’s oldest child and currently a member of the Brelish Parliament. Hass chats for a little while with them, commenting on their recent fame, and says that he might want to speak with them before he leaves for Wroat in a week’s time, if they are free. The Angels say that they will be happy to do so, and he continues across the room to join his mother and other siblings in the front row.
“I wonder what he wants,” says Gareth. “Probably politics,” says Six, a little mournfully. “Everything in this city is about politics.”
The entertainment begins shortly afterwards, and the Angels find that Kessler’s fame is not undeserved. The gnome has a great facility for humor and satire, as well as being an excellent reader, and his recitation often has the crowd in stitches.
Meanwhile, Luna – finding herself not as hungry as she thought – decides that she needs something else to entertain her. She looks around the main chamber, now empty, and then up the stairs at the two guards at the top. She remembers Kessler’s comment that the area above is off bounds, and typically, decides that this makes it worth investigation. Without a second thought, she strolls up the stairs and attempts to pass through the door. The two guards, who have been watching her with some confusion, move to bar her way.
“Excuse me, er… ma’am,” says one, “But you can’t go in there.”
Luna notes that both of them are fairly young and looking uncertain. “That’s okay,” she says. “I’m a guest. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Umm, guests aren’t allowed in there.” The guard looks at his partner for corroboration. “Right?”
“I know, I know,” says Luna, “But I really need to use the privy.”
“There are bathrooms downstairs, to the left of…,” begins a guard, but she quickly interrupts. “I know, but I’m already here and I really have to go, and there’s something I need to check on.” Thinking quickly, Luna says, “You can ask Lady Celyria, if you want,” and then steps towards the door.
The guards exchange panicky glances. Luckily for Luna, both of them are new and inexperienced, and have been given this post because there is no possibility that anybody would attempt to enter the living areas of the Tain manor. Unfortunately, such considerations do not hold true where Luna is concerned. She steps through the door and closes it behind her. As she does, she hears the clatter of feet hurrying down the stairs behind her. Despite realizing that one of the guards must have gone for a superior, Luna’s interest is much more squarely on the deliciously forbidden nature of what is in front of her.
She stands at one end of a large corridor, with doors on either side, which opens into a corridor at right angles to it, running left and right. Ornate carvings and a number of beautiful art pieces line the walls and stand in alcoves. Light globes illuminate the area with a soft but Luna opens the closest door and steps in, finding herself in someone’s office. The druid wanders around, opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up and reading things. An ornate silver inkstand catches her eye, but after an initial, “Ooh, shiny!” she decides not to take it.
With her preternatural hearing, Luna detects the sound of multiple footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Deciding that it will probably be inconvenient to be caught here, she quickly slips out the door. As she does so, she sees the main door beginning to open. Instantly, Luna transforms into a remarkably ornate poodle, with a fountain-like tuft of hair on the top of her head. The door opens to reveal numerous guards, who rush in. Ignoring the poodle, they fan out and begin to open various doors. Behind them, through the open door, Luna sees a guard in an officer’s uniform beating one of the two young men outside over the head with a cap.
This, of course, is a perfect opportunity to slip outside, down the stairs, and transform back into her original form, one which you would never ignore. Unless you’re Luna. Hearing the sound of voices around the corner, she nonchalantly turns and trots down to the turn and around it. The voices come from a nearby room, and Luna noses the door open. Walking in, she sees two women – serving maids, from their apparel – talking to each other.
One says, “Hey – where did this dog come from? It’s not one of ours.”
“Grab it quick,” says the other. “The lady won’t be happy if strange dogs are wandering around. And what’s that noise outside?” As she steps outside to investigate, the other moves towards Luna. The druid-dog bares its teeth and growls, but the maid just says, “Quiet, you!” and tries to pick her up. And is promptly rewarded with a nip which, while delivered with the dog’s diminutive teeth, has Luna’s skill and her permanent enhancement to strength behind it.
The maid yells and waves a bleeding hand, causing the other to turn and grab a broom. Luna considers hurling a bolt of flame at her, just to teach her some manners, but reconsiders and simply jerks the broom out of her hand and then runs out the door. The woman rushes out behind her and says, “Stop that dog!”
A nearby guard looks up from his search and makes a half-hearted effort. Luna darts out of the way and behind him, and sinks her teeth into his rump. As he screams, she runs around him and head-butts another guard in the knee, before bouncing away. This is FUN!
Meanwhile, downstairs, a couple of the Angels notice a movement of guards towards the stairs, including a few people in Deneith livery and one of the Medani operatives. “I wonder what’s going on?” asks Lalia. Knowing that she is the likeliest to hear something, Korm turns to Luna, and then remembers that she didn’t come with them. “You don’t think Luna’s done something, do you?” Nameless grimaces at his question, looks around, and then places a hand to his head. “Why were we stupid enough to bring her?” He looks back at the passing guards. “We’ll find out soon.”
A floor above, Luna is having the time of her life. More and more people appear to try and stop her, including more maids, serving-men, guards, and others. The poodle just runs around, biting people here and there and running circles around them all. Whenever she gets a chance, Luna works her way towards the stairs. Not those leading down, but instead those leading to the higher levels of the mansion. Over the course of the next few minutes, she climbs all the way up the next three floors, leaving a trail of bitten, bleeding and thoroughly exasperated people behind her.
Eventually, she ends up on the top floor, and makes her way into an empty room, momentarily leaving her pursuers behind. Knowing that there’s no real option for escaping on foot any more, Luna transforms back into shifter form and then into that of a large owl. With a hoot of triumph, she soars out the window. For a moment she considers returning to the garden and changing back, but she’s finally feeling a little tired. So she just wings her way over Skyway and towards the city below, heading back to the Gray House. Maybe I should have told the others. Nah! They can take care of themselves. The owl smiles mentally to itself. That was a great party!
Back at the Tain Gala a Deneith guard, wearing the insignia of a senior member of the Defender’s Guild, walks up to Lady Celyria and whispers to her for a few seconds, and then heads over to the Angels. “Can I speak to you outside?” he says, though the tone is not that of a request.
They quickly follow him, and are soon in a large room near the main entrance, with a number of guards (a young one of whom has a black eye, they note) and one of the Medani members. It is the last who speaks. “We have a minor problem. Somebody went into the living quarters upstairs and then disappeared. From her description, she is your companion Luna. What do you know about this?”
“Oh lord,” mutters Nameless, “Maybe I should just cast disintegrate on myself!”
Gareth hurries to explain and apologize, saying, “I’m sorry this happened. We didn’t know what she was doing or we’d have stopped her. She is a druid, so that may be why you can’t find her.”
“That could be it,” says their interrogator. “There was evidently a strange – and very vicious – poodle which ran around biting a number of people upstairs and climbing further and further up the different floors, till it got to the top, went into a room and, to the best of our information, flew away.”
Nameless shakes his head and continues to mutter. “No, maybe an empowered disintegrate would be better.”
It takes some detailed explanations – and conjecture – on the part of the Angels, but eventually the combination of Gareth’s diplomacy and the presence of the two Sentinel Marshals persuades the Deneith and Medani members that they had nothing to do with, and no knowledge of, the intrusion.
“Very well,” says the Deneith captain. “You may go. Thank you for cooperation.” As they are rising, the Warning Guild member adds, “I think it would be much better for all concerned if you left now. To search for your missing member, of course.”
“Of course,” says Nameless. The Angels and the twins quickly make their departure, with Korm detouring to grab a few choice pieces from the dining hall on the way out. A few minutes later, they are back in the skycoach, descending quickly towards Sharn.
“That was … interesting,” says Six.
“Yes,” says Nameless, “Just like it was interesting to meet those rakshasas. For a given value of interesting. So, tell me again, why do we keep Luna around?”
“We keep running into people who need to be clawed, bitten or flame striked.”
“Oh, right.”
“On the bright side,” says Korm, “We got out alive and should be done with all our excitement for the evening. Though, with us, you never can tell.”
Gareth, eyeing Lalia speculatively, thinks to himself that the scariest part of the evening hasn’t come up for him yet. Flame give me strength!
* * * * * *
It's Party Time!
Lalia says, “We’re right on time. Lady Celyria hasn’t declared the Gala open yet.” She and Tasra begin to point out some of the particularly well known people already present. A tall, beautiful and incredibly well dressed elf who forms the center of a small group chatting around her is Baron Elvinor Elorrenthi d’Phiarlan, the head of her House. Nearby stands the rotund and bald Lord Mayor of Sharn, Cathan ir’Demell, whom the Angels recognize from the award ceremony at the festival of Brightblade. He looks around the room with pale blue eyes, talking simultaneously with a slim, serious-looking man, whom they saw at the Council meeting – Javan Tomollan, the incredibly rich Council member from Upper Central.
On the other side of the room, having stopped their conversation to look at the Angels is a trio of halflings – Saidan Boromar, Mala, and Ilyra. That is, Mala and Ilyra look, while Saidan glares. The group they are with includes a number of gnomes, among them Thurik Davandi. Next to him stands Thurian/Killian, who smiles brightly at the Angels, looks at Saidan, and grins even more broadly back at them. All except the three Boromars are listening to a nattily dressed gnome who is expounding on something with great gusto. Tasra identifies him as the author and playwright Kessler, famous across Khorvaire for his wit as well as his willingness to aggravate people in authority, as exemplified in his satirical The Battle of the Five Ducks (skewering the rulers of the Five Nations), one of the bestsellers of the last century.
At this point, there is the peal of a bell and the door at the top of the steps opens, to let in an elegant half-elven woman, followed by four younger half-elves. She looks around the chamber and smiles down at everyone below, and perhaps it is a trick of the light, but each of the Angels feels like he or she was given a moment of especial attention. Then she says, “Greetings! I, as most of you may know, am Celyria ir’Tain. I welcome both those of you who are regular visitors and those who are new to my home. Here,” and she indicates those beside her one by one as she identifies them from youngest to oldest, “Are my children Daral, Cariana, Cyra, and my son Hass, taking time away from Parliament to join us.”
Celyria smiles again and continues, “Before I declare the Tain Gala for this month open, let me also welcome one of our irregular but always valued visitors, the ever-entertaining Kessler,” at which point the gnome raises a glass of wine to her, “As well as a group that we have all heard much of in the recent months, the Guardian Angels.” Lalia says quietly, “Bow.” The Angels comply, with varying degrees of expertise, and the lady nods. She again addresses the room, “Please – make yourselves at home,” and descends, along with her children.
The people in the main chamber, most of whom have evidently been waiting for Celyria’s appearance, promptly spread out, many heading for the other rooms, some attempting to get close to one or other of the ir’Tains, and some continuing to speak to those they were engaged with.
“Time to enjoy ourselves,” says Lalia, pulling Gareth towards the ballroom. “Let’s dance.” He follows her happily, but the same isn’t true for Korm, who finds his arm being tugged by Tasra. “Come on, Korm,” she says, “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
If not for his natural complexion, the Gatekeeper would have gone dead pale. Instead, he just goes slack-jawed for a moment, glances helplessly at his companions, and then complies, with a muttered, “Certainly.”
Luna and Nameless follow, after making a quick stop at the food section. By the time they arrive at the ballroom, Lalia and Gareth are twirling around the dance floor, Gareth displaying more than a little training in this area. Not that he can show much, however, since Lalia is plastered very closely to him. Korm, who has actually been putting up a remarkably good show himself, mostly just by following Tasra’s lead and trying to avoid stepping on her, finds her similarly happy to get as close, if not closer, to him. A few of the watching people titter and whisper quietly among themselves at the display. Luna and Nameless, watching, exchange glances, and then say simultaneously, “Don’t even think about it!”
Six, while marginally curious about this human activity of moving in time to music, is also watching the movements of people in the other rooms. He notes that there seems to be an intricate little social dance going on off the dance floor too. People are constantly talking in small groups, which split up, with each individual joining another group, which then splits up, and so on. People seem to communicate with glances, nods, a raised glass, a tap on the shoulder, or even just brushing shoulders as they pass. There is a strange shared code here, one which the Angels do not share.
Meanwhile Gareth, who is enjoying the dance despite his mild discomfort at Lalia’s closeness in public, feels a tap on his shoulder, and hears a voice say, “May I cut in?” He turns to see a muscular elf in a traditional Valenar cloak, who looks past him at his partner and says, “Hello, Lalia.” Lalia looks momentarily startled and then says, “Hello, Caerlyn.” The elf repeats, “May I cut in?” Gareth replies, “It’s up to the lady.” Lalia frowns slightly and then says, “It’s okay, Gareth. I’ll be with you in a bit.” He bows and walks away to join the others.
Korm, seeing Gareth leave, and figuring that he shouldn’t risk it any longer, says, “Let’s take a break.” Tasra, though clearly reluctant, agrees. They join the others too, and watch Lalia dancing quite stiffly with the elf, who is talking quietly to her.
“Who’s that?” asks Nameless.
“Somebody called Caerlyn,” says Gareth, a slight furrow in his forehead.
After a second’s thought, Nameless says, “Caerlyn. Wasn’t that the name of the guy she got in a catfight over at the Gala a couple months ago while we were gone? We read about it in the Chronicle.”
Tasra, who has just arrived with Korm and noted the focus of their attention, looks at him and then says sharply, “There was a disagreement with Daera Sorandal, the Valenar ambassador. Caerlyn Tyrell is an ol… a former boyfriend of hers. He heads the mercenary troop Caerlyn’s Blade.”
At this point, a voice addresses Nameless from the rear, and he turns to see Lord Jairan ir’Dain. The Cyran ambassador greets Nameless and makes a little small talk about how he has heard a lot about the Angels recently and about Corven, who he says is working for Prince Oargev in New Cyre. Then he says, “I believe you have all acquired Brelish citizenship. Is there any reason you changed yours?”
So that’s why he wanted to talk. “We’re going to be staying in Sharn indefinitely,” says Nameless, “So it made sense. We also needed to do it to buy some property here.”
Jairan’s tone is very mildly disapproving as he asks, “So you gave up Cyran citizenship to buy a house?”
“It’s in a very good part of town.”
Jairan’s expression says that somehow the quality of the building isn’t a persuasive factor for him on the subject of changing national allegiances. Before he can say anything, Luna chimes in.
“Anyway, didn’t your country blow up? So what’s the big deal?”
There is a moment of silence, Jairan evidently trying to work out exactly what Luna said, while her companions and Tasra wait with breathless anticipation. The wait is quickly rewarded. “I mean,” says Luna, now getting animated as she explains her point, “Cyre’s all gone now, right? I haven’t been there, but I heard they’re all dead and stuff and the Mournland’s a horrible place to go. So it sounds like time to move on.”
Jairan is enough of a diplomat to keep a (mostly) straight face, but there’s no disguising the horror in his voice. “I beg your pardon?”
“The way I see it,” Luna continues unabashed, “It’s like having a house that catches fire and burns down. You don’t sit there in the ashes and say, ‘That’s my house.’ You go out and get a new one. So I’m just saying maybe you Cyran guys need to get a new place like ….”
She never gets to finish the sentence. Without a word, Jairan spins on his heel and marches away. Luna looks after him and then turns to her companions, who have expressions of varying degrees of amusement. “What did I say?”
Gareth shakes his head and is about to explain, but his attention is drawn by what sounds like an argument, albeit a whispered one, between Lalia and Caerlyn on the dance floor. He quickly walks over and taps Caerlyn on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”
The elf turns with a glare, but Lalia is quicker, swiftly disengaging and smiling with some relief (and a slightly flushed face) at Gareth. “Yes, you may. I was just about to get you.” She steps across and over to his side. Caerlyn’s glare returns to her, and he snaps, “You think this is a joke? You come here with …,” his gaze moves up and down Gareth, “…this?”
“We’re done, Caerlyn,” says Lalia firmly, turning her back to him and raising her hands to take Gareth’s.
The elf continues to glare for a moment, and then turns away. “Bitch!” floats back clearly to Gareth and Lalia. Her expression doesn’t register that she notices it, but Gareth instantly steps away, faster than either she or the other Angels have seen him move, and his hand clamps shut tightly on Caerlyn’s left shoulder, spinning him around.
The elf snarls and lifts a hand to his right shoulder, as if reaching for something that would normally be there, but then it drops. Gareth looks at him, calmly but stone-faced. “Apologize to the lady.”
“What? Are you insane?”
“Apologize. Or we take this outside.”
The snarl turns into an anticipatory smile. “Gladly. And then the bitch can bury you.”
Gareth begins to take a step forward, but suddenly Lalia is between the two of them. “No. He isn’t worth it.”
“But…,” begins Gareth, but she shakes her head. “Do this for me. Let the fool go.”
Caerlyn looks at her, back at Gareth, and at her again. “You just saved this fool’s life.” As he turns away, there is not the slightest indication on Lalia’s face that she even heard his parting comment. “Come,” she says, “We have a dance to finish.”
“But,” says Gareth, though he lets her pull him into her arms and back into the dance, “He insulted your honor.”
“My honor is beyond Caerlyn Tyrell. And I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for me. I’m sure you’d beat him, but Caerlyn is very good. As well as being an imbecile who’s not worth the effort.”
“All right,” says Gareth reluctantly, “But only because you want me to.” He pauses for a moment, and then asks, “Who is he? And, if I may ask, what was he so angry about?”
Lalia blushes faintly. “He is … a past mistake. An old boyfriend.” She chuckles half-heartedly. “Being elven, a really old boyfriend, and, as you saw, one who’s both jealous and has a bit of a temper. Not worth the time of day.”
While the two of them continue to speak, the others are chatting and talking among themselves about Luna’s exchange with the ambassador. The druidess is defending her argument as “perfectly logical,” when she feels a hand, placed perhaps half an inch below her left buttock. She spins around, sees nobody, and then looks down at the owner of the hand.
Kessler smiles up at her. “Lady Luna, I believe. We have not had the pleasure of an introduction. I am Kessler. If you’ll allow me to be crass, I was admiring you from across the room and felt I just had to speak to you. Could I get you a drink?”
Amused at the insouciance of the gnome, whose hand, she notices, is still exactly where it was, Luna says, “All right.” Kessler produces two glasses, somehow managing to hold both in one small hand, and hands one over. As Luna throws back the drink in a couple of gulps, his grin widens. “I get the feeling that we are going to get along very well. Care to dance?”
“Sure. Why not? It’ll be more fun than just standing around talking to boring people.”
“Precisely.” Kessler leads Luna onto the dance floor, followed by the incredulous expressions of her companions.
“Is Luna dancing with a gnome?” Korm says in a wondering tone. “The whole Luna dancing was scary enough on its own, but….” He leaves the sentence unfinished. “Yes,” replies Nameless. “This can’t be good. Then again, it’s Luna in a room full of people. It’s already well past ‘not good’ into ‘who will she flame strike?”
Six, standing nearby and watching, is distracted by a voice, and turns to see Ilyra Boromar standing beside him. “Hello, Mithral Six of Six. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Neither,” she adds, “Was my father.”
“I guess so,” says Six, carefully.
“As you can imagine, he’s not really happy about the Halak incident. Not at all. I can’t say I’m overjoyed either, especially since I thought we had reached an understanding.”
“I thought so too,” says Six apologetically, “But he challenged Gareth and things escalated unfortunately. I would have avoided it if I could. Still, as long as nobody working for the Boromars bothers my friends, I do not think they will be the first to do so.”
“That’s good to know. I’ll do what I can to smooth things over, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you,” says Six. Ilyra nods and walks away. Six watches her go, noting that Kylian is watching from across the chamber. Catching Six’s eye, he winks and raises a glass.
Behind him on the dance floor, Luna and Kessler are putting on a fascinating show. While Luna has little skill at dancing, she is significantly dexterous and very energetic. Her partner, a little over half her height, is significantly dexterous, and has to be even more energetic to avoid being trampled. The result is a fascinating progression around the ballroom floor. Throughout it, Kessler manages to keep up a barrage of banter and flattery. Luna, who had actually been getting fairly bored, finds the little man, whose mixture of complete unselfconsciousness and significant self-confidence (a combination not exactly alien to her) quite interesting, and the fact that he’s the first person to spend a lot of time complimenting her doesn’t hurt.
“And while many of the larger races don’t realize it,” Kessler says as they twirl around, “Gnomes are unusually strong for their size.” He grins roguishly. “Not that we’re necessarily small in every area. In fact, proportionately….”
Luna grins back. “You should show me.”
Without missing a beat, Kessler says, “I would love to. If you happen to be free….”
“No, I meant that you should show me now.”
“Here?”
“Not on the dance floor, of course, but yeah, here. Let’s go upstairs.”
There is the barest second of hesitation and then Kessler’s eyes light up. “Unfortunately, I doubt Celyria will appreciate us wandering off to the family’s private chambers. But there’s the garden through those doors. A very large garden, with many secluded corners. Would that be a problem?”
Luna’s grin broadens. “I’m a druid, silly. You had me at ‘the garden.’”
Kessler’s grin matches her as he stops, takes her hand, and begins to lead her across the floor towards the garden. “No, my dear, you’re being slightly precipitous. I am about to have you at, or more precisely, in the garden.”
As the pair disappears through the doors, the other Angels watch them go. “I really hope they’re just going for a walk,” says Nameless. Korm gives him a dirty look. “Don’t say that. It raises the possibility that they’re not going for just a walk, and if I think of that I’ll have to flame strike myself to make it go away.” As he shudders, Nameless chuckles, “I just meant that I hope she isn’t going to eat him.”
Korm shudders again. “That reminds me. They have some really good food here, Luna said. Let’s go.” The group heads for the banquet hall. There, they settle down with the excellent food and watch the movements of the guests, the twins pointing out more people that they know.
A few of them are also known to the Angels, some personally and some by sight or reputation. They see Sava Kharisa, who walks over to say “hello” and exchange a few friendly words, and Iyanna ir’Talan, who nods from afar as she stands beside an older man with an obvious resemblance, evidently her father Iyan, Lord Commander of the City Watch. Gareth recognizes the Karrnathi ambassador, Syra ir’Taarn, and Sadral d’Deneith, heir to the Deneith enclave. The councilor from Skyway, Evix ir’Marasha, stalks by in a scandalously transparent gown, Lalia commenting that she is also the owner of the Celestial Vista, perhaps the finest restaurant in Sharn. Solirion Torralyn d’Sivis, head of his House enclave in Sharn, walks by talking quietly to Daphane d’Kundarak, who fulfils the same position for the House of Warding, a dwarf who is resplendent in gold and silver, rings gleaming on all her fingers and in the carefully braided locks of her waist-length beard.
Nobody disturbs the Angels, except for one unfortunate fellow, who is slightly less opulently clad than most of the guests, and evidently slightly more inebriated than most of them. He walks over and, without invitation, pulls up a chair near Nameless, and says, “You folks are the Guardian Angels, right?”
“Yes,” says Six, wondering who he is and what he wants while noting that Lalia and Tasra are exchanging amused looks.
“Good. I’ve been hearing a lot and reading a lot about you in the Chronicle, so I was wondering, you folks maybe want to collaborate with a more local and patriotic newspaper?”
“What do you mean?”
The man extends a slightly shaky hand. “I’m Haftak ir’Clarn, publisher of the Sharn Inquisitive. I was thinking we could do some good business together.”
“Actually, we already have a contract wi…,” begins Six politely, but he is cut off by Nameless. The alienist turns and bestows a baleful look from his now permanently blue-glowing eyes on Haftak, and then says, “Did you know that I can cast an empowered disintegrate on you from across this room?”
Haftak, not really comprehending what he’s saying, gulps and asks, “What?”
“Or,” continues Nameless, “Turn you into a toad. Permanently. And make you think you were always one.”
This time it penetrates, and Haftak lurches to his feet with an alarmed grunt. He looks back and forth from Nameless to the others, some of whom are grinning widely, and then quickly turns and marches away a trifle unevenly.
“What did you do that for?” asks Six.
“The last thing we need now is to get involved with that rag,” says Nameless decisively. Tasra giggles and says, “You’re probably right, but that wasn’t exactly subtle. Very … um, Luna-esque.”
“Speaking of Luna,” says Gareth, “Where is she? It’s been twenty minutes since we saw her.”
At that very moment, behind a dark row of bushes in the garden outside, a very sweaty, tired, naked, and especially, happy Luna looks up into the broad smile of Kessler. “Wow! That was just … wow! I take back anything I ever said about gnomes!”
Kessler, his chin resting very comfortably on her bosom, cocks his head. “What did you ever say about gnomes?”
“That they were untrustworthy, scary, freaky little creatures,” says Luna honestly, “But that’s only because of one or two we’ve met. I’d never say that about you.” She grins and stretches languorously, causing Kessler to bob up and down. “Though I might say freaky.”
The gnome chuckles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He glances back at the lit windows of the main building. “We need to be getting back. I have a reading to perform.” Then he slides forward, kisses her passionately, and adds, “Though your performance will be hard to top. That ability to change shape, especially in mid … ahem, performance is just priceless.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” says Luna happily, sitting up as he climbs off her. “I’d never tried it before.”
“Definitely worth it,” says Kessler, walking over to pick up their clothes and hand hers back to her. Luna takes them and then looks down at herself. “Oh
! I’m a real mess.” She looks over and grins. “And so are you.”“Not to worry, my dear.” Kessler makes the gestures of a spell and a second later, leaves and dirt begin to fall off Luna. “Prestidigitation. The single most civilized spell in the world. I’ll have you clean shortly.” As Luna looks down and smiles, he studies the moons for a moment. “We’ve been out here for about twenty minutes, right?”
“More or less. Why?”
“Because,” he says with a broad grin, “That means I have some more time than I planned.” The gnome turns and dives, rolling Luna, who has been sitting up, over and back onto the ground. She giggles and looks at him with even greater appreciation than before. “Again?”
“Again!”
About fifteen minutes later, the Angels are just rising from the table when they see Luna and Kessler walk through the door. Luna bends over to kiss Kessler and he bows and heads into one of the other rooms, while she strolls over to rejoin her friends.
“What have you been…,” begins Korm, when Tasra, noting the broad smile and the flush on Luna’s face laughs. “So how was it?” she asks.
“Amazing,” says Luna. “He’s damn skilled. And has amazing energy. We went twice, one after another, and I think he might have been able to do it a third time if he didn’t have to do some stupid reading. I’m beginning to look at gnomes in a very different light. Are they all like that?”
Tasra laughs, “I wouldn’t know,” but before she can say any more, Korm says in a horrified tone, “Oh lord – I need a drink.” As he heads for the drinks table, Gareth and Nameless quickly follow.
Luna glares after them and then says loudly, drawing the attention of numerous guests, “Idiots! You’re just jealous because you’re not getting some!”
“No,” says Lalia sadly, “That would be me,” and then stops to smack her laughing sister. “So did Kessler and you really…?”
“Oh, yes!” says Luna, with a broad grin.
“So share already!”
Luna promptly launches into a no-holds-barred narration, until she is brought up short by Tasra looking by her and grinning, even as she notices a scratching sound. Turning around, she sees Six standing right behind her, holding a notepad and scribbling quickly. The warforged looks up as she stops speaking, and says, “Please continue. This is fascinating! I have been trying to find out about your human – and other species’ – mating practices, but Gareth, Nameless and Korm are … useless. I should have been talking to you.”
Luna reaches out to smack Six on the shoulder and then wrings her hand. “Ow! And no, you can’t take notes about it!”
“But you were telling Lalia and Tasra. What’s the difference?”
“It’s just … well, wrong, somehow.”
A grinning Tasra puts in, “Well, you just f**ked a gnome – twice – in the garden of the Tain estate. I don’t think you’re allowed to talk about ‘wrong,’ any more.”
“But it was great!” says Luna. “I had no idea those little guys were so … so …. good! No wonder Kessler said that once you go gnome, you never go back!”
The sounds of Lalia choking and Six scribbling again are drowned out by another ringing bell and an announcement. The entertainment for the evening is about to begin, starting with a reading from Kessler’s latest piece. Lalia and Tasra, joined by the other Angels, proceed into the sitting area, where chairs and couches have been set up around a central space. Luna heads for the mostly empty banquet room instead. “After all,” she says, “I’ve already seen his first performance of the evening.”
While they are waiting for Kessler to begin, a young half-elf greets the Angels. He is Hass ir’Tain, Celyria’s oldest child and currently a member of the Brelish Parliament. Hass chats for a little while with them, commenting on their recent fame, and says that he might want to speak with them before he leaves for Wroat in a week’s time, if they are free. The Angels say that they will be happy to do so, and he continues across the room to join his mother and other siblings in the front row.
“I wonder what he wants,” says Gareth. “Probably politics,” says Six, a little mournfully. “Everything in this city is about politics.”
The entertainment begins shortly afterwards, and the Angels find that Kessler’s fame is not undeserved. The gnome has a great facility for humor and satire, as well as being an excellent reader, and his recitation often has the crowd in stitches.
Meanwhile, Luna – finding herself not as hungry as she thought – decides that she needs something else to entertain her. She looks around the main chamber, now empty, and then up the stairs at the two guards at the top. She remembers Kessler’s comment that the area above is off bounds, and typically, decides that this makes it worth investigation. Without a second thought, she strolls up the stairs and attempts to pass through the door. The two guards, who have been watching her with some confusion, move to bar her way.
“Excuse me, er… ma’am,” says one, “But you can’t go in there.”
Luna notes that both of them are fairly young and looking uncertain. “That’s okay,” she says. “I’m a guest. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Umm, guests aren’t allowed in there.” The guard looks at his partner for corroboration. “Right?”
“I know, I know,” says Luna, “But I really need to use the privy.”
“There are bathrooms downstairs, to the left of…,” begins a guard, but she quickly interrupts. “I know, but I’m already here and I really have to go, and there’s something I need to check on.” Thinking quickly, Luna says, “You can ask Lady Celyria, if you want,” and then steps towards the door.
The guards exchange panicky glances. Luckily for Luna, both of them are new and inexperienced, and have been given this post because there is no possibility that anybody would attempt to enter the living areas of the Tain manor. Unfortunately, such considerations do not hold true where Luna is concerned. She steps through the door and closes it behind her. As she does, she hears the clatter of feet hurrying down the stairs behind her. Despite realizing that one of the guards must have gone for a superior, Luna’s interest is much more squarely on the deliciously forbidden nature of what is in front of her.
She stands at one end of a large corridor, with doors on either side, which opens into a corridor at right angles to it, running left and right. Ornate carvings and a number of beautiful art pieces line the walls and stand in alcoves. Light globes illuminate the area with a soft but Luna opens the closest door and steps in, finding herself in someone’s office. The druid wanders around, opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up and reading things. An ornate silver inkstand catches her eye, but after an initial, “Ooh, shiny!” she decides not to take it.
With her preternatural hearing, Luna detects the sound of multiple footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Deciding that it will probably be inconvenient to be caught here, she quickly slips out the door. As she does so, she sees the main door beginning to open. Instantly, Luna transforms into a remarkably ornate poodle, with a fountain-like tuft of hair on the top of her head. The door opens to reveal numerous guards, who rush in. Ignoring the poodle, they fan out and begin to open various doors. Behind them, through the open door, Luna sees a guard in an officer’s uniform beating one of the two young men outside over the head with a cap.
This, of course, is a perfect opportunity to slip outside, down the stairs, and transform back into her original form, one which you would never ignore. Unless you’re Luna. Hearing the sound of voices around the corner, she nonchalantly turns and trots down to the turn and around it. The voices come from a nearby room, and Luna noses the door open. Walking in, she sees two women – serving maids, from their apparel – talking to each other.
One says, “Hey – where did this dog come from? It’s not one of ours.”
“Grab it quick,” says the other. “The lady won’t be happy if strange dogs are wandering around. And what’s that noise outside?” As she steps outside to investigate, the other moves towards Luna. The druid-dog bares its teeth and growls, but the maid just says, “Quiet, you!” and tries to pick her up. And is promptly rewarded with a nip which, while delivered with the dog’s diminutive teeth, has Luna’s skill and her permanent enhancement to strength behind it.
The maid yells and waves a bleeding hand, causing the other to turn and grab a broom. Luna considers hurling a bolt of flame at her, just to teach her some manners, but reconsiders and simply jerks the broom out of her hand and then runs out the door. The woman rushes out behind her and says, “Stop that dog!”
A nearby guard looks up from his search and makes a half-hearted effort. Luna darts out of the way and behind him, and sinks her teeth into his rump. As he screams, she runs around him and head-butts another guard in the knee, before bouncing away. This is FUN!
Meanwhile, downstairs, a couple of the Angels notice a movement of guards towards the stairs, including a few people in Deneith livery and one of the Medani operatives. “I wonder what’s going on?” asks Lalia. Knowing that she is the likeliest to hear something, Korm turns to Luna, and then remembers that she didn’t come with them. “You don’t think Luna’s done something, do you?” Nameless grimaces at his question, looks around, and then places a hand to his head. “Why were we stupid enough to bring her?” He looks back at the passing guards. “We’ll find out soon.”
A floor above, Luna is having the time of her life. More and more people appear to try and stop her, including more maids, serving-men, guards, and others. The poodle just runs around, biting people here and there and running circles around them all. Whenever she gets a chance, Luna works her way towards the stairs. Not those leading down, but instead those leading to the higher levels of the mansion. Over the course of the next few minutes, she climbs all the way up the next three floors, leaving a trail of bitten, bleeding and thoroughly exasperated people behind her.
Eventually, she ends up on the top floor, and makes her way into an empty room, momentarily leaving her pursuers behind. Knowing that there’s no real option for escaping on foot any more, Luna transforms back into shifter form and then into that of a large owl. With a hoot of triumph, she soars out the window. For a moment she considers returning to the garden and changing back, but she’s finally feeling a little tired. So she just wings her way over Skyway and towards the city below, heading back to the Gray House. Maybe I should have told the others. Nah! They can take care of themselves. The owl smiles mentally to itself. That was a great party!
Back at the Tain Gala a Deneith guard, wearing the insignia of a senior member of the Defender’s Guild, walks up to Lady Celyria and whispers to her for a few seconds, and then heads over to the Angels. “Can I speak to you outside?” he says, though the tone is not that of a request.
They quickly follow him, and are soon in a large room near the main entrance, with a number of guards (a young one of whom has a black eye, they note) and one of the Medani members. It is the last who speaks. “We have a minor problem. Somebody went into the living quarters upstairs and then disappeared. From her description, she is your companion Luna. What do you know about this?”
“Oh lord,” mutters Nameless, “Maybe I should just cast disintegrate on myself!”
Gareth hurries to explain and apologize, saying, “I’m sorry this happened. We didn’t know what she was doing or we’d have stopped her. She is a druid, so that may be why you can’t find her.”
“That could be it,” says their interrogator. “There was evidently a strange – and very vicious – poodle which ran around biting a number of people upstairs and climbing further and further up the different floors, till it got to the top, went into a room and, to the best of our information, flew away.”
Nameless shakes his head and continues to mutter. “No, maybe an empowered disintegrate would be better.”
It takes some detailed explanations – and conjecture – on the part of the Angels, but eventually the combination of Gareth’s diplomacy and the presence of the two Sentinel Marshals persuades the Deneith and Medani members that they had nothing to do with, and no knowledge of, the intrusion.
“Very well,” says the Deneith captain. “You may go. Thank you for cooperation.” As they are rising, the Warning Guild member adds, “I think it would be much better for all concerned if you left now. To search for your missing member, of course.”
“Of course,” says Nameless. The Angels and the twins quickly make their departure, with Korm detouring to grab a few choice pieces from the dining hall on the way out. A few minutes later, they are back in the skycoach, descending quickly towards Sharn.
“That was … interesting,” says Six.
“Yes,” says Nameless, “Just like it was interesting to meet those rakshasas. For a given value of interesting. So, tell me again, why do we keep Luna around?”
“We keep running into people who need to be clawed, bitten or flame striked.”
“Oh, right.”
“On the bright side,” says Korm, “We got out alive and should be done with all our excitement for the evening. Though, with us, you never can tell.”
Gareth, eyeing Lalia speculatively, thinks to himself that the scariest part of the evening hasn’t come up for him yet. Flame give me strength!
Last edited:
ajanders
Explorer
Seekerofskill said:
I beg your unenlightened pardon?
The word "fat" never even crossed my mind, much less trickled down to my fingers, poured on my keyboard, and splattered all over the Internet.
"Rubenesque" is the correct expression. Particularly if you don't have items of Flame Resistance.
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