Solarius said:
Don't you worry my dearies, you're in good hands. I was there as soon as I saw it, and your future is... bright and cheerful! Expect many upgrades. You'll all be deadlier than ever.
I weep for the poor, poor NPCs that shilsen has to throw into your slaughterhouse of a game. I truly do.
Yes, Solarius did make some great suggestions for remarkably generous things to do to ... I mean, for your PCs. Yes, definitely 'for'. As did a lot of other people. In case anyone else wants to jump in and make some suggestions, the thread is
here.
And on to the update...
* * * * * *
The Angels – besides Nameless – look curiously at Sora Maenya.
Nothing which makes her giggle can be a good thing. The alienist, instead, says, “Yes, I have heard of Mordain. Of House Phiarlan, a provost of the Twelve…”
“Twelve what?” asks Luna.
“Just the Twelve. It’s the arcane organization created by the dragonmarked Houses at the end of the War of the Mark, fifteen hundred years ago, to study magic. Especially the kind with applications that lets the Houses make their money. Paltry stuff, really,” says Nameless dismissively.
“I know what the Twelve are. I’ve seen their floating tower in Korth,” says Gareth. “But what about this Mordain?”
“As I was saying,” continues Nameless, “Mordain was a leading member, whose studies of transmutation shocked his compatriots so much that he was banished from the Twelve.” He looks at Sora Teraza. “Since you mentioned him, I presume the rumors that he found a home in Droaam are correct?”
“Yes, they are. Mordain dwells on the western border of Droaam, where it meets your home, Korm’akhan. He is perhaps the greatest living wizard in this world, and he specializes in the arts of the daelkyr. Not the kind Nameless studies, I gather,” the blind hag explains, “But specifically the remaking of creatures and the creation of new species by a blending of two or more. Hence the name – Fleshweaver.”
“Yeah,” growls Luna, “That’s the bit I don’t like. Why are we always involved with people who do this icky
?!”
Sora Maenya laughs, and turns to her sister. “So you’re sending them to Mordain? Wouldn’t it just be easier to let me eat them?”
Sora Teraza continues placidly, “I would not do this normally. We do not bother Mordain and he doesn’t bother us. But these are unusual circumstances. Mordain has little interest in Xoriat itself, but he is interested in the daelkyr’s arts, and he is absolutely obsessed with his work. Anything that is a serious danger to Khorvaire is a danger to his work, and so I think he will be interested. With his knowledge and magical prowess, if anyone can find an answer to what it is that you carry, Nameless, I think he is the likeliest. I will contact him and inform him you are going. If you will. What do you think?”
Nameless is silent for a few moments. “All right. We have no other real options right now.”
“Very well,” says Sora Teraza. “I suggest that you spend the night here, and leave at dawn tomorrow. I shall arrange for your accommodation and you will not be bothered. In the morning, I will give you directions and hopefully obtain a map that will make travel easier for you. Travel in Droaam is more complicated and dangerous than in Breland, but I shall do what I can to make your journey easier.” She looks around at the Angels with her sightless orbs, seeming to consider something, and then smiles slowly. “It is a pleasure to have met you.”
“Yes, it was a positive joy!” adds Sora Maenya, with a broad grin, the corpse-light from the skulls gleaming off her fangs. Teraza throws her a disapproving glance, and continues, “Is there any other way in which I may help?”
“I find myself curiously grateful that Sora Maenya is your sister and not a brother,” says Nameless dryly, causing the annis to throw back her head and laugh raucously. “Aaah – little mage, you are truly amusing! If you were really enemies of ours, I would have eaten you last.” The alienist simply nods and says, his tone unchanged, “I will hold you to that, though you might be better off eating Gareth last. I’m pretty sure anything that eats him will suffer mightily from indigestion.” This time Maenya doesn’t laugh, simply glancing at Gareth, licking her lips and saying, “His head does look a little hard to digest.”
“As far as aid goes,” Nameless continues, ignoring the look Gareth gives her, “If you have a library I could peruse. I would be interested in seeing if it has any information relevant to my condition. While I’m sure that you’ve already checked the obvious sources you possess, another set of eyes is often useful and I do have a unique background that might provide additional insight.”
“So I gather,” says Teraza, with a slight smile. “Unfortunately, we have no library here. That is not something which interests Maenya much,” (the annis grunts her agreement) “and I have some difficulty in that area, though I can read when I choose.” She gestures at her blind white eyes. “Katra has a small collection, but less leisure, and nothing that relates to your condition. I believe she will be interested in speaking to you.” Teraza turns to Maenya. “She should be back today, correct?” Maenya nods. “Yes. She’s a little late.”
“Ah, disappointing,” says Nameless. “I had hoped that you would have accumulated a more eclectic library, given the oddities of your positions and the length of your lives. If you’d like, I could procure a larger variety of books for you from Sharn, but I suspect you can already obtain what you wish to get. Speaking of Sharn and your sister, was it her that Gareth and I encountered after our little debacle with the Drug Den?”
“No. We have enough things to busy us here in Droaam without traveling elsewhere. And I appreciate the offer,” says Teraza. “If I can ever think of anything, I will let you know.” She smiles. “I hope we will be able to have a long and meaningful relationship.” Maenya snorts. “Damn! Get a room, you two!” Then she looks back to Gareth. “Would
you like to?”
After an amused glance at Gareth’s face, Nameless says to Teraza, “Aside from that … if you have the time I would like simply to hear what tales you care to tell. There are few who have seen as much as you have and fewer who have actually had the opportunity to listen to your tales outside of Droaam, I’m sure.”
Teraza nods. “I am not much of a storyteller, and I have things to do soon, but I have some leisure now and will share what I can. And I am interested in you too. All of you. The events of our time seem to coalesce around you strangely, and I am interested to see how your futures develop. I have some questions for you too.” Nameless replies, “I will be happy to fill you in on what you don’t know already, where I can without violating other confidences. I suspect you already know more of our business than even most of our other close associates do.”
“Actually, no,” admits Teraza, “My primary knowledge of you has been based on what my visions have shown – and admittedly I had a number of them during your experiences with the Key and the rakshasas – and what I have learned through Daask. I’m quite sure you have many things of interest to discuss that I have no knowledge of. But I shall begin. What would you like to know? If I had met you before you went to the Wastes I could have told you much of it, since I spent decades wandering them in search of knowledge, but I doubt you will want to be returning there any time soon.”
This piques Six’s interest, and he speaks up abruptly. “How did you avoid the corruption of the zone? And how can magic be used to stop the sickness?”
“I’m not sure magic can deal with it,” replies Teraza, “Though if one has enough powerful healing and protective magic, one can survive long enough for it to eventually fade. Which takes months, and maybe years, depending on the individual, I believe. As for how I avoided it ....” She hesitates, but then her sister says, “You can tell them,” jerking a thumb at Nameless. “Genius here worked out what we are.” Her sister’s blind eyes stare at her for a moment, and Maenya shrugs and adds defensively, “What? I used a
horrid wilting on them and he figured it out. How was I supposed to know?”
Sora Teraza continues to stare for a couple of moments, and then turns back to Six. “As Nameless has evidently noted, we are what are called half-fiends. That makes us what the sages call outsiders, and all outsiders, to the best of my knowledge, are immune to the negative elements of the Taint of the Wastes, though they can carry its effects with them.” She gazes around, addressing all of the Angels. “I suggest not sharing the information about our nature with anyone.”
Nameless nods, and Six continues, “So if you could magically become like an outsider, that should protect one from the region? Also, if the taint fades, then travelers don’t need to be killed, like we were told, but just isolated until they are better, right? Would a weak link to another plane keep out the corruption?” At this point, Maenya grunts, stands up and says, “I can see this’ll take a while and I have work to do. Teraza, you sure you’ll be fine with them?” Her sister frowns slightly as she looks up, and says, “Yes.”
Maenya shrugs. “All right. Let me know if you need me for something. Something important, that is. I’ll leave some of my guards outside the door,” she says meaningfully, and then gazes around at the Angels. “It was interesting meeting you. Don’t do anything stupid. Or at least call me before you do.” She chuckles, turns and walks over to the door, and leaves.
Teraza turns back to Six. “The problem with the Taint is that it seems to have a somewhat arbitrary effect on people. And the whole issue of carrying it with one does happen, but rarely. The Ghaash’kala are mostly wrong in their ideas about it, but then their approach is a philosophical one, though they describe it in material terms. They’re a little … rigid … in their thinking.” Six nods. “I noticed that,” he says, and then glances at Gareth, adding, “Not too surprising, considering their link to the Silver Flame.”
For the better part of an hour, Sora Teraza continues to chat with the group about their experiences, and sharing some of hers in the Demon Wastes. She seems genuinely curious about the Angels and gives the impression of quite enjoying the chance to talk with well-traveled people who have had interesting and unique experiences. Her own stories are singular enough, including things like being mistaken (temporarily) by a band of Carrion Tribe barbarians as their hag patroness, having to battle a number of strange creatures, and seeing – but not entering – both Ashtakala, the last citadel of the Lords of Dust, and the Lair of the Keeper.
Finally, Teraza (apparently reluctantly) says, “I should leave you now, since I have some work as well. I will have you shown to your rooms. You will be safe here, though I suggest not wandering around. I also suggest leaving early tomorrow for Mordain’s Hall. It is close to three hundred miles from here. I will try to find you adequate directions and a map. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Having no requests, the Angels follow her to the door, where she hands them over to a waiting guard of gnolls and ogres. They escort the Angels in a different direction to the one they came from, leading them deeper into the complex, till they quickly end up in a large dead-end hallway, which has five rooms opening up off it. Each is small and sparsely furnished, and can hold two people. “Food and drink will be sent,” says one of the gnolls, and then the guards leave, though two ogres and four gnolls remain behind at the doorway ending the hallway. With nothing else to do, the Angels settle down to rest and talk, mostly consisting of relating to Six the nature of his kidnapping and what happened afterwards, and a discussion about the hags and what Nameless knows of Mordain.
There are only two times that someone visits the Angels during the evening and following night. The first is when their food arrives, which turns out to be quite good, causing Nameless to have to request an appropriately rotten food for his idiosyncratic palate. The second is more interesting.
Shortly before the Angels are about to pack up for the night, they hear voices at the end of the hallway, and the guards let a single individual through. As she glides towards them, the Angels see that it is an elf-maiden, the most beautiful that any of them have ever seen. A cascade of midnight hair frames her snow-white face and perfect features, the most distinctive aspect of which are a pair of gleaming blue eyes. While even he is not immune to the effects of the glamer, Nameless sees the multiple magical auras on her equipment, as well as faint illusion and transmutation covering her form, and as she reaches them, he says, “Sora Katra, I presume.”
“Yes,” she replies, in a voice that blends honey and song, and then glances around the group. “It is a pleasure to meet you all.” Though all of them know she is a hag beneath the illusion, each of the Angels momentarily feels a surge of pleasure, as if she had pronounced the finest and most heartfelt compliments that they had ever received.* “May I sit?” she asks, causing a couple of the Angels to hurriedly usher her to a seat. “Thank you. I hope the accommodations have not distressed you too much.”
“Not at all,” replies Korm, even before he realized he was doing so.
“That’s good. I would have hated to be considered a bad hostess, though I was not here when you arrived.” Gareth nods involuntarily, and even as he tells himself that she is just being courteous at best and more likely seeking to manipulate them in some way, emotionally he cannot help appreciating how sincere** she is.
Sora Katra spends a couple of minutes exchanging polite conversation, each of which only underlines the effect her presence has on them, seeming to the hearers as if the simple courtesies and platitudes were an expression of the deepest interest, fascination and good regard towards them. Though the Angels –and especially Nameless – remain aware of all that they know of the hags, especially Katra herself, and her words do not sway them to full acceptance of her pretended form and nature, it is a constant struggle to overcome the words’ effects.
Eventually, she says what each of them has been half expecting – “So tell me, besides this visit to Mordain that you are planning, are you engaged on any other business?” Luna rolls her eyes, thinking
Why do all the evil so-and-so’s want us to work for them? Then Katra turns and looks at her and the shifter feels momentarily embarrassed for the thought.
“Nothing particular right now,” says Nameless politely, “But we always have a number of things we’re engaged in.” Katra nods, causing him to think,
She really is a great listener! “I understand,” she says, “And the reason I’ve asked, as I’m sure you have guessed, is because I wondered if you might consider working for me. And my sisters.”
“Before I answer,” says Gareth, “I would like to try something, if you don’t mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” asks Katra, gazing into his eyes.
“I simply want to
detect if you are evil or not,” says Gareth, already half-regretting the statement, and slightly distracted by the manner in which the light catches her eyes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that blue. “Nothing invasive,” he hastens to add.
“All right,” she nods and smiles, almost making him blush. Gareth focuses and, after a few seconds,
detects not only an evil aura but an overwhelmingly powerful one.
Well, it’s worse because she’s an outsider, he tells himself, half tempted to not mention it, but then he forces himself to say, “I am sorry. I cannot work for you.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” says Sora Katra, disappointment shining in her eyes, and sighs softly, causing Gareth to momentarily feel just the slightest bit more wretched than he had when Lalia rejected his offer of marriage. From across the room, each of the other Angels momentarily glares at Gareth, before thinking,
What the hell am I doing?
Turning to the others, Sora Katra continues, “People with your unique abilities are rare and difficult to find, and considering your activities in Sharn, you and I share some interests. You have had issues with the Boromars, I believe.”
“Yes,” says Six, before asking suddenly, “Do you have any connections with Daask?” Though he is certain she does, the warforged is curious whether she will admit to it or not. The hag-turned-elf looks at him silently for a moment, and says, “Yes. We have some connections.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” continues Six, “Why? You are far away in Droaam and have many other things to occupy you, I’m sure.” Sora Katra smiles and shrugs. “Everybody needs a hobby.” As she continues, Six thinks,
Yes, that makes sense. “Seeing that the Boromars are bothering you, perhaps I could help you deal with them in some way? I am not suggesting you work for me, but we might work towards the same end. And there might be other areas in which that could happen.”
Despite his immediate surge of interest, Nameless fights it down, knowing that it is mostly due to her abilities. “Perhaps,” he says cautiously, “But the Boromars are a minor annoyance at best, and we have more important things to do. If we happen to be passing by and do have a reason to take them out, we will, but I’d rather not commit to such an endeavor.”
Please don’t mind, he thinks, before he can stop himself.
“All right. But let me know if I can help you in any way.”
“Actually,” says Six, reaching into a pouch and producing a notebook. As he leafs through it, he says, “I believe there is one small thing that you probably know about. There was a bugbear named … let me see … ah, here … Dhurmhaac, whose son Rhash’mhaac was killed by members of Daask. He may be dead by now, but if not, I’d like to know, and who killed his son.”
“Interesting,” says Katra. “I actually do not know about that. Being this far from Sharn, I only hear about the major things going on there. But I will see what I can do.” She looks around and says, “But now I should leave and let you rest.” As she rises, the Angels reflexively do so as well. Smiling around at them, Katra says, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I will probably not be able to meet you when you leave tomorrow, but I sincerely hope to meet you again, and I would definitely like to see you again. And best of luck with Mordain. You will need it.”
The Angels murmur a few farewell comments and then Sora Katra leaves them. As she glides away from them, she pauses to bestow one last glittering smile in their direction and then continue away, somehow managing to make the process of walking along the corridor seem like the most seductive of actions.
The Angels silently watch her, and then Luna quietly says, “You know, I don’t swing that way, but if I did, I would so tap that ass!”
“Yeah!” chorus five voices, one emerging from the scabbard behind Gareth’s back. The Angels turn to look at each other, shifter, alienist, orc, warforged and human exchanging surprised glances.
“Okay –
now I feel dirty!”
* That’s what Charisma 30 and a +49 Diplomacy bonus will net you
** 82 on her Bluff check
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
You know, for some of the most powerful indiviuals roaming Khorvaire, they got there owing more the fact they have an uncanny ability to live through multiple situations where they should be dead rather than actually being effective. 
But it's called "The Fleshweaver & my PCs (ideas requested)"
