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Post by andycd on Jun 20, 2019 11:31:29 GMT
==Jack==
As Celandrine gestured down to the butterfly-winged giant mechanoid dual wielding longbows, declaring the winner of the Amaranthine Games, Jack's jaw dropped off. Scooping it back up and reattaching it, he scowled down at the giant tentacled representation of himself, now powering down after the fierce battle. Jack supposed that it shouldn't be surprising that a group of people supporting his rebellion were not as well trained at coordinated efforts.
He scuttled back out of his box in the stands silently as the roar of the crowd drowned out all other noise, even from his massive frame. Brushing past some attendants, he began merely walking swiftly, but after a few steps he broke into a dead run, tentacles slapping the ground to propel himself forward like a cthulhoid-gorilla. He scrambled down stairways and ramps, shoving elves and satyrs out of his way, sometimes hurling people several meters as he continued to accelerate his escape.
Jack managed to see the sunlight shining through the main exit to the arena ahead of him before manacles sprung up around each of his tentacles. Chains stretched from each on straight behind him, and as they began to pull taut, holding him firmly in place, he cast a few eyes behind him to see Queen Sarastra Aestrumm, the celestial Queen of Night & Magic, casually wrapping the lengths of chain around her fist and forearm like twine. Her impossibly regal countenance never faltered from its placid, superior demeanour as she spoke to him.
"Well, well, Jack. You thought to play me for a fool for once, and you did well, for a machine. But you cannot compete with royalty. Titania has taken this round, but I have my consolation prize at least." Sarastra tugged slightly on the chain and Jack found himself flung backwards towards her with incredible strength. Looking up at her, his tentacles thrashed on the ground as he screamed a deafening bellow that shook the ground around them. At any other time the noise would have been heard for miles, but amongst the raucousness of the crowd in the arena, his cries of frustration reached no one. Dust fell down from the ceiling, though it did not dare touch Sarastra's royal personage, and instead drifted around her. Jack ground his teeth and spat a wad of cogs and gears to the floor at her feet, and then, suddenly, smiled pleasantly, turning all his eyes towards her.
"Your miserable malignant majesty I must merit a medal metal-met-all-me-tall - ," he shook himself. "For you to praise my skills with such glowing terms. Indeed I did well, for a machine. But, might I ask," tentacles shifted eyes into a quizzical expression. "By what right to you hold me? I participated in the Games - I have not served as your knave for some moons now. Surely, you have no further right to my person as per our agreement?"
Queen Aestrumm listened to this coy speech, and then her marble-like face broke into a very soft laugh before composing itself again, now a wry smile just hinted at around her mouth. "This is why you made such a marvellous jester, Jack. Despite all you have been through, you remain a creature of Mechanus and think that the rules should apply to you, no matter how much you cheat or bend those rules." She leaned down to meet his cluster of eyes floating in the air, and her face shifted. Suddenly her skin was taut and ghoulish, and her teeth pointed and sharp - "You forget that I. Make. The. Rules." Regaining composure once again while Jack scrambled back across the floor from that horrifying visage, chains going taut once again. Her calm, almost unmoving face looked down at his cowering figure. "You are a traitor to my court and I will deal with you however I see fit. Come, Jack, and discover what it means to cross the Queen of Air and Shadow, of Night and Magic." She began to stride down the hall, no one daring to be in her way, Jack trailing behind, half-dragged by the chains dangling loosely from her seemingly frail wrist.
==Titania==
She didn't move for some time, sitting on the dusty ground by the Ascendancy Chamber while Sunday and the mercenaries left the arena and were given their various trophies and prizes. Several attendants tried to approach and encourage her to get up and join the celebrations in her honour, but she waved them aside, watching. After her initial outburst of anger and mirth, different emotions kept playing across her face as she mused to herself,
"So seldom action prompts as many'a thought
as these that swim like frightened fish amok,
She dares defy yet for my cause she fought
Be her morals fickle or a steady rock?"
Finally, she stood up, and at last seemed to take in that thousands of people were chanting her name and cheering from the stands all around her. Golden and green banners of her livery were being unfurled everywhere and the summer sun above her had never seemed brighter. Two of her personal guard had been standing beside her as she thought, and she clapped them on the shoulders and celebrated with them, and left the arena to join the victory party.
-
It was... later. Time in the Feywild was already chaotic enough without adding alcohol and excitement to the mix. It *probably* hadn't been more than a few hours or a few days, when the Summer Queen found her table suddenly empty. People had just casually walked away for no particular reason and now she sat alone at a table in a room full of faeries and other beings celebrating her. Despite the countless mugs of mead she had drained, Titania was instantly battle-alert, and her hand rested lightly on the pommel of her sword.
Then the Snow Queen sat down at her table, and Titania relaxed - slightly. "Hail to Morinn, Queen of Frost and Snow," she saluted her fellow queen calmly with a tankard of whatever had last been served.
The Snow Queen smiled, frost cracking across her face despite the roaring heat of the room. "Congratulations, Titania," she replied, also saluting with her own delicate flute of some fine wine. "You certainly played a strong game. Those mercenaries proved invaluable. Perhaps I should have invested my time in those Primers rather than relying on that ice-cursed yeti."
Titania laughed. "I thought that was a bit unfortunate. They just weren't suited to the games here though."
"Indeed," Morinn's icy gaze stared off into the distance beyond her armoured drinking companion. "I have to say I was surprised you let that tiefling girl turn her back on you like that," she said, coolly.
"So that's your game," she replied. "I wish you'd say it straight. Do I now grasp your subtle meaning plain? You think that Sunday should be brought to task?"
"I'm not the one not speaking straight," the Snow Queen muttered into her glass of wine as she drank. Then she set it down and turned to face Titania fully. "She disrespected me personally, Ti, you remember. Now I see her spurn the greatest gift you could ever bestow on her? The little paladin needs to learn that there's more to respect than gods and ideals. There’s also US. People are celebrating in your honour, to be sure, but I've already heard people talking. They say you've lost face, and the whole point of these games is to respect what it means to be one of us - the Lords and Ladies. First Jack, now Sunday. We can't let affronts like this slide, no matter the reason."
Titania looked at her fellow queen for a long moment, glancing around the room at the number of people watching two Archfey, who had never really been cordial with each other, having a quiet chat at a party. What were they whispering to each other? "Perhaps they see my honour with a stain." She leaned across the table, the heat of her internal summertime thawing some of the ice on the Snow Queen's face and shoulders. "All right then Morinn, what do you now ask?"
==Langston==
Elves have a uniquely irritating property to shorter-lived races in that it is almost impossible to tell their age. From about age 100 onwards, they maintain these timeless features for centuries and centuries, while humans, gnomes, halflings and even dwarfs wither and die. So when an elderly elven woman walked with her cane gently down the slope out of the arena, everyone passing by knew she must be a great age indeed, and gave wide passage to one as venerable as she.
She proceeded slowly down the road into the closing festival, turning down one or two kind offers for a lift, until she came to a small, dark alleyway between two larger buildings. Tottering on her little feet, she made her way grimly into the passage.
A few moments later, a cloak-shrouded figure emerged, hood covering their face. Straightening their back and smoothing down their clothes, the figure proceeded to walk briskly, tossing aside a small walking stick they had for some reason.
'That didn't go to plan at all,' Langston thought with a sigh. 'The cannons were so good, but this blasted mote is just too damn unstable.'
He vaulted over a small fence and then vanished, reappearing nearly 500ft further down the slope to nearly the edge of the festivities and close to the large portals directing everyone to their plane of residence.
"What's the point of power you can't use?" he muttered to himself, breaking into a brisk jog. There was no way he was going to let the River King find him today, not with Ulorian's temper. He kept a sharp eye out over his shoulder for any blue-liveried guards searching the city.
He reached the queue at last, a long trail of elves, satyrs, dwarves, djinn and more waiting to be sent home. A large roaring portal ahead was being dialed to different locations one after the other by a group of eladrin mages. A few minutes and he would be on his way. He let out a sigh of relief, which was of course when an electric, ephemeral hand clapped down on his shoulder.
"Don't think I'm going to face the River King alone, Farstep," Ceres said just behind him. He looked ahead at the portal shifting to another location for the next group with longing, and then turned to face her half-fey, half-elemental form with a sheepish grin.
"That doesn't sound like a great time for either of us, Ceres. Neither of us have to go back," he suggested.
She laughed, a buzzing, crackling sound. "Maybe for you, mortal, but I have a few more millennia left in me and I can't avoid him forever. Come now. Let's get this over with."
Langston laughed as well, heartily and then stopped. "You forgot something though, I'm afraid," he said, grinning widely and spread his arms apart. "My name is Langston Farstep! Farstep by name and -" he stepped backwards and vanished, reappearing at the dais where the portal stood, a group just about to step in. "Farstep by nature!" he yelled down to her, across the crowd, and then leapt backwards through the portal, both middle fingers extended.
Ceres screamed as the portal completed its transport and then changed to the next location. Somewhere in the multiverse, anywhere in the multiverse, Langston had just escaped again.
==?==
The crowd was thinning out now. People were gradually, very gradually, departing the arena and the festival for their various planes and abodes. There were still heavy ruts in the ground of one passageway where apparently Queen Sarastra had bound and dragged off Jack the Fool.
On the ground, a small collection of gears and cogs, smeared on the ground from Jack's defiant spittle, slowly began to move, gear locking into metal pin locking into cog, and in a minute or two a very small, 2-inch high, mechanical figure stood up, adjusting what served as a knee and giving it a few test bends. The figure looked about quickly, and then fled into the shadowy recesses of the corridor, disappearing from sight.
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Post by Sunday on Jun 20, 2019 11:57:31 GMT
(For people who haven't played a finale before, we usually do a wrap-up thread, which Andy has amazingly started above. I know there's a game tonight that will also be dealing with post-games activity. Feel free to post write-ups of that separately or on this thread. And obvs anyone else can add post-finale stuff here too [except Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar]. There's a lot more of us this time, so it could get super crowded! Please do try and keep it as coherent as possible - though who is Sunday to say that! Worth having a look at the ones from Season 3 and Season 2 to see how well it has worked before. One thing that worked really well was people having individual private conversations in twos and threes then posting the resultant write-up here. Then we can also spin out any convos/consequences from that. Looking forward to reading everyone's contributions  ) |
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Post by Milo Brightmane on Jun 20, 2019 13:19:00 GMT
(For people who haven't played a finale before, we usually do a wrap-up thread, which Andy has amazingly started above. I know there's a game tonight that will also be dealing with post-games activity. Feel free to post write-ups of that separately or on this thread. And obvs anyone else can add post-finale stuff here too. There's a lot more of us this time, so it could get super crowded! Please do try and keep it as coherent as possible - though who is Sunday to say that! Worth having a look at the ones from Season 3 and Season 2 to see how well it has worked before. One thing that worked really well was people having individual private conversations in twos and threes then posting the resultant write-up here. Then we can also spin out any convos/consequences from that. Looking forward to reading everyone's contributions )
I may as well then copy over this brief interaction from the Hammerfall thread (with one or two additions/adjustments).
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Post by Grimes on Jun 20, 2019 14:53:46 GMT
Sergeant Grimes and the Daring Heights Watch have been enjoying the relative peace and quiet in town for the past few days but he has a bad feeling that the end of the "Games" may bring the start of some new crisis. (Call him an old cynic if you like) :-)
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Post by Nuno (Rholor) on Jun 20, 2019 14:58:31 GMT
==Rholor Part 1==
Rholor & Baine:
*Around half an hour after the end of the epic battle, while shouts, cheers and clamor echoes from the arena a very absent minded cleric of Selûne packs his belongings into a small satchel, almost ready to go home, when an unexpected visitor arrives.
*
Baine: "So who has Frankie? Is he ok? Did he behave? Do you think he missed me? Is he upset I left him at your temple??"
Rholor: "Fran...who? Oh! The dog? I don't know we'll have to find out. Need a ride to Daring?"
*Baine seems confused at the fact that Rholor wouldn't know EXACTLY who Frankie is. Has he MET Frankie?*
Baine: "Yeah, the dog! The best dog in the world. And yes, a ride would be dead nice, mate. I do have a problem tho." -*He gestures to the Large Chair he's dragged with him.*- "I won that, and now I'm kind of just carrying it around. Would it get in the way of... however we're getting to Daring?"
Rholor: "A chair? Really? What… how…? But no... that's fine. Are you ready to go?"
*Baine shrugs, hosts the massive chair on one shoulder and nods.*
"Let's go. I've got a dog to snuggle and letters to post."
*Rholor touches Baine's arm and silvery starlight starts wisping around his Arm, in a matter of seconds those wisps expand to a nearly blinding flash of light and a sense of weightlessness hits them... the next second they're inside a stone building with a large stained glass circular window on the ceiling from where light illuminates the otherwise dark and somber building... the sounds of faint barking can be heard from somewhere further inside*
Baine: "That was quick. I guess magic isn't always fucking awful." -*He winks.*
"Is that my sweet, sweet boy I hear???"
*He carefully sets the chair down. He seems genuinely anxious to get to his dog.*
*From a corridor to the right of the central dais a fair skinned, young human woman with neck-length straight black hair and piercing hazelnut eyes dressed in leather trousers and a white linen shirt emerges carrying a puppy in her arms squirming and barking trying to get out of her hold. She gently puts the dog on the ground and he immediately starts running in Baine's direction tail wagging everywhere!*
Melissa: "Hi Master Rholor, you're back! How did it..." -*she says in a friendly, soft voice stopping when she looks at Baine.*
"Nevermind we can discuss later - I believe we haven't had the pleasure to meet yet good sir. I'm Melissa, carer for the temple when Rholor is off on official business. And you are... the owner of this cute ball of fur I assume?"
*There's a stream of noise coming out of Baine, a constant low mumble of* "Hi buddy look at you I missed you so much how are did you miss me did you behave such a good dog" *as he gently picks Frankie up and holds him to his chest. It takes him a moment to realise he's the one being spoken to.*
Baine: "Oh, sorry, yeah. Hi. I'm Baine." -*The charming smile is firmly in place, and a he reaches out a hand to shake.*- "Owner of the best ball of fluff in Kantas. Thanks for looking after him, I really appreciate it!" -*he looks between Rholor and Melissa once, twice.*
"And it went to shit. We lost, so jot that down."
Melissa: "Oh... I see...." -*an awkward silence fills the chamber.*- "Well maybe it's better if you're on your way then Baine. Have you ever been to Daring Heights? Shall I ask for someone to show you around?" -*she says as she cordially starts directing Baine to the large set of double doors towards the exit.
*
Rholor: "Melissa, it's all right, don't worry about it. If our guest wishes to stay he can stay. Some things are not meant to be! Come all of you, tea? Something stronger?" -*Rholor says attempting a defusing smile.
*
*Baine looks between the two of them before shrugging.*
Baine: "You offer me a drink, I'll drink it. " -*he says as he puts Frankie in the backpack he carries for this very purpose, carrying the dog like a baby on his front.*
"I don't mean to impose or anything, but it's been a long couple of weeks and every time I had a drink in the Feywild I was sure I was gonna like.. lose all my memories or something. Makes it hard to relax, y'know?"
"Shall I just-" -*He looks back at the large chair he deposited in the middle of the temple.*- "Ill just leave that there for now, I guess."
Rholor: "Totally understand - good to be back 'home' uh?" -*Rholor says as he starts walking to a side room that you quickly find out is a cute crossover between a library and a study and begins pouring two glasses of scotch from a fancy glass bottle. He stops, looks at Melissa, raises an eyebrow and pours a third glass.*
*Baine's eyes goes a little wide at the prospect of Quality Scotch. It is noticeable that he's trying really hard not to immediately grab the glass.*
Baine: "A toast, I reckon, is only appropriate at this point, yeah? Go on, Melissa, get in, have one. What are we drinking to? That it's over? That Sunday didn't ascend?? My stellar good looks?"
Rholor: "How about a toast to the only infinite thing in the entire planar cosmos - sentient beings’ stupidity." -*he says as they clink their glasses together, slam the drinks, and he starts to refill them as he sits down*
*Baine looks a little pained.*
Baine: "I think in common we just say 'FUCKING IDIOTS', but that works too I guess." -*slaming his drink as well and looking expectantly at Melissa just to find out her glass is already empty.*
Rholor: "Or that, I guess.... fucking idiots! But hey, I'm all for the silver linings... it could but nothing got better... it also could but nothing got worse. Just a fucking massive waste of 6 months."
*Baine holds his glass out innocently awaiting a refill.*
Baine: "You spent six months on that nonsense? Ascending really was important to you, huh? Do you want a hug?" -*Baine says balancing perfectly between taking the piss and being perfectly serious.*
Rholor: "Well yes and no. It has been something present on my mind for 6 months but just a fraction of what I've been doing. You quickly learn to play on different fronts when everything is as unstable as it is here in Kantas." - *he pauses* - "I've got some other things to try before I give up on this place though - but this was just one step closer to me giving up! The Moonmaiden you know... has plans for me, she's aware of my mortality and wants me to act quicker on other businesses but I keep refusing and postponing it because I actually care about what we're doing here in Kantas." -*he says as his voice elevates slightly*- "But other people don't care, those without power just want to survive, those with power just want to have fun and fight and kill and rend and shred and get rich and eat and drink and fuck."
*Melissa is sheepishly looking down at the floor through this monologue*
Rholor: "Oh would you look at that, I went on a rant... that tends to happen when alcohol is involved! Anyway enough sadness for one day. How's Port Ffirst? Haven't been there for months!" - *he says completely disregarding the hug proposal*
*Baine looks pleased.*
Baine: "Rholor, it seems to me you've been due a good rant. Let it out, mate, this is a safe space. Just you and Melissa and me and my dog. Let us have it." -*he says as he picks up the bottle of scotch and refills everyone's glasses, his own first, then Melissa's with another wink, lastly Rholor's, making steady eye contact as he pours.*- "You know you're one of those dicks in power right? Yeah? just checking." -*he takes a slow sip of his scotch.*
*Rholor lets out a big sigh, followed by taking a big sip from his glass*
Rholor: "Indeed I am. But at least we're doing good things in the council. Aurelia is a good leader. And Daring prospers, just not as much as if everyone helped at their full potential. Get it?"
Baine: "And Port Ffirst is... Port Ffirst. The Lenoir's are running a tight ship, New Town is flourishing, Old Town is a shitty, starving mess. What else is new."
Rholor: "Ah! Maybe I should retire to Port Ffirst? Rebuild Old Town? Buy a boat?" -*he says ironically.*
Baine: "Please. All rebuilding Old Town would do is force us poor bastards to move away. But the boat thing, yeah, sure, go for it. Melissa can run the temple, you can take up fishing. Your life is your own, no? Live it."
*Rholor’s hearty laughter echoes through the room*
Melissa: "M...mmm... me? Running the temple alone? No... I couldn't do that!"
Rholor: "Calm down girl, it's a joke... Going off 'living my own life' would be doing exactly what I criticize... having the power and not using it to improve the world as a whole." -*Rholor says suddenly in a more jovial tone almost as if some weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
*
Rholor: "I've said it once and I'll say it again, you seem like a good hearted boy. I hope you don't lose that just yet. Let's chat again in a few months, I want to hear all about where your adventures took you. But for now, I have some work to do before tomorrow's City Council meeting. Off you go both of you!" -*he says while standing up and gesturing towards Baine and Melissa.*
Baine: "Alright, alright, I'll fuck off now. Thanks for the drink."
*Baine stands, checks to make sure Frankie is secure in the backpack. Stretches a little, sighs.*
Baine: "I'm sorry we didn't win. I wasn't super invested, but you seem decent, Rholski. I reckon you could have done some good. " -*he says as he pats Rholor on the shoulder.*
- "Reckon you still might, actually. Just in a different way than you planned. Let me know if you need something big expertly killed, eh?"
Rholor: "Ah, yes, that's all right, you did well in the end. We probably would've blown up inside that damned Mech if it wasn't for you. Next time we meet maybe it'll be to do something more in your comfort zone... who knows?! Devil, demons, maybe some undead? What do you think?" -*he says jokingly*- "And yeah, I'll do some good all right - you just wait for it!"
*Baine exits alongside Melissa who just stands there smiling at the large half-orc who, in turn, gives her a cheeky wink, a salute, picks up his LARGE ASS CHAIR and struts away.*
Melissa: "What did you do?" -*Melissa suddenly asks as Baine steps through the doors.
*
*Baine turns on the spot.*
Baine: "Sorry, what? What did I do? When?"
Melissa: "I mean... I've only heard him speak like that to me. What did you do?"
Baine: "Does he... does he not speak like that to other people? I didn't know that."
Melissa: "Hmmm... okay. Have a good night then. The Three Headed Ettin is that way." -*she points*- "Best shot at finding a room to spend the night is there!" -*she finishes as she shuts the doors to the temple.*
Baine: "What? Now, hold on a second, Mel!"
*Baine stands there for a second just to let out a big sigh, turn heel and head in the direction Melissa pointed. From the corner of his eye he can still spot candle light seeping out of the study he had just been drinking in. As he looks up, the moon shines bright, especially bright in this part of town - coating the temple in a calm, soft and pale blanket of comfort.*
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Post by theduchess on Jun 21, 2019 7:19:29 GMT
Like a conductor, she waved her delicate hand and with a final flourish the letter had disappeared into a puff of dark blue smoke. It was always a satisfying sight, and always a pleasant arrival for the Duchess's customers. The flow of information was for the Duchess like a symphony. The beat of life making the world dance.
She had tried to help. Sarastra had asked for a favour and she did what she could. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. The Duchess wasn't too upset though, in fact, she was generally the opposite. It was after all, just a game. A game for Fey lords and ladies on a different plane. The Fey were never her favourite anyway. A silly place for silly beings. No substance. No flaws. Flaws are magnificent. Everyone should have at least one. They make the world a much more interesting place. She smiled. There must be nothing more boring than being a Fey noble.
In fact the ending couldn't have turned out better. Both Rholor and Sunday would be staying in Daring (at least for a week or two). Always nice to have a couple of big hitters around, never know when the big bad dragon might come to blow the castle down.
"The balance must be maintained" she murmured as she looked at the two reports on the desk. They had been read and were ready for the burning. The first; 'Unusually high activity in the Hammerfall Smithy' seemed trivial on the surface but the Duchess had learned that sometimes this wasn't always the case when delved deeper. Especially Dwarves with many irons in the fire. Still, might be good to tell Coll where all his trade has been going recently. Could always move the Ettin there.
The second on the cover simply said "OMTC".
She heard the familiar knock of Frederick Allenby at the door. He was as usual not a minute late. Time to consult and plan she thought. The bread and games were over. The natives will get restless.
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Post by Milo Brightmane on Jun 21, 2019 9:19:12 GMT
'Unusually high activity in the Hammerfall Smithy' seemed trivial on the surface but the Duchess had learned that sometimes this wasn't always the case when delved deeper. Especially Dwarves with many irons in the fire. Still, might be good to tell Coll where all his trade has been going recently. Could always move the Ettin there. There's no drinking at the Hammerfall. A) It would be distracting for the work. B) It could get dangerous. C) Milo doesn't have a liquor license. |
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Post by Heret Velnnarul on Jun 22, 2019 23:36:43 GMT
As Titania sits laughing in the dirt and Sunday walks lightly away from her, Heret starts to laugh too. 'Well!' he says, turning to his team-mates clustered around the inert shell of their gold and mithral fighting construct, 'Well, well! Friends, I could not be happier about the way this has all worked out. Well done, well done indeed!' With exuberant slapping of backs and grasping of hands, he takes his leave of Ginead, Traavor, Igrainne, and the other fellow whose name he has forgotten in all the excitement, giving each of them a platinum coin as he does so.
He strides toward the nearest exit from the arena but then catches sight of Ghesh and changes course to approach the dragonborn. 'Friend Ghesh! Well played! It was a fine game, was it not? Listen, please keep the bracers and forget about paying me back the outstanding gold. Ah,' he adds, seeing Pieni and Markas standing near by, 'Friends! A fine game. Please, take these and enjoy yourselves in these festivities. I must get back to the factory. Much to do!' And he turns abruptly and leaves them each with a platinum piece of no opportunity even to say hello.
Yes, thinks Heret as he slips through the crowds toward the portal that goes back to Daring Heights, it was the perfect outcome. Personal success in the most challenging diversion he has ever yet attempted; the mad mechanical creature back on its leash; the Queen of Night and Magic denied any further foothold in the affairs of Daring Heights; and the unpredictable Sunday rejecting any tie to the fey courts. In short, everything just as it was. All possible dangers and disturbances averted. Now he can get back to business.
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Post by Nowhere on Jun 23, 2019 11:05:19 GMT
Many miles away, in the baking hot sun, there is a red wooden door. Damaged and paint peeling, the door no longer fits its frame. Outside the door the air is filled with the acrid smell of burnt coffee mixed with exotic spices. Anyone standing close enough to the door would notice the smell of the markets is masking a faint smell of rot coming from inside.
Past the door and inside the building, it is cooler in the sparcely furnished room. A figure sits on a broken bench staring at the ochre coloured wall opposite. The figures thoughts are broken by a faint but repetitive tap coming from the other side of the red door. Wearily, and clearly struggling, the figure gets up from the bench and walks to the door. He awkwardly opens the door with his left hand, the figures dominant right arm lost months ago.
He looks down to see a very large crow, which stops its tapping on the door. The figure gingerly bends down and takes the cylinder from off of the crows back. Whilst the crow hops into the room, the figure sits back down on the bench, holding the cylinder between its knees as it struggles to unscrew the cap of the cylinder. Finally triumphant, the figure removes a few sheets of paper from inside.
Straining to read in the dim light afforded by the cracks in the wall and roof, the figure reads the news from afar. Finally he finishes, and looks down at the crow.....
"I sacrifice everything, and they decide such things on stupid games!"
The figure begins to grind his teeth...... and decides it is time to leave......
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Post by Sunday on Jun 23, 2019 20:44:07 GMT
Rholor and Sunday A few days after the finale of the Amaranthiad, Sunday is spotted on the back of Elk, her flying elk companion, alighting in the centre of town. Sunday takes a moment to pause beside the monument to those who were lost to the recent pestilence, before making her way towards Selûne's temple, Elk in tow. For maybe only the second or third time that anyone can remember, Sunday is unarmed and unarmoured. Clad in a simple, cornflower-blue tunic that reaches down to her ankles, Sunday is unadorned apart from a chipped dragon’s tooth hanging from a faded yellow ribbon about her neck and a number of daisies woven through her long, blonde hair. After a murmured word or two in Elk’s ear, Sunday starts to ascend the steps to the temple’s front doors as Elk launches into the air and soars away to the east. Knowing the doors to the temple to always be open to the general populace, Sunday enters. Inside, there are a few people praying; others being attended to by members of the Moonmaiden’s clergy - but otherwise it is quiet. A few heads turn at Sunday’s arrival and an acolyte hurries deeper into the temple complex. Sunday leans gently against a pillar and waits patiently. A few moment later, a young woman, no older than in her early twenties steps into the main prayer hall from a back door and makes her way towards Sunday with a cordial smile on her lips. "Hello Miss Sunday, welcome to the house of the Moonmaiden. My name is Melissa and I'm the caretaker while Master Rholor is not around. How can I help you?" Sunday bows slightly to Melissa and says “Thank you for the welcome. Is Rholor not around at the moment then?” "Yes I'm afraid so. He's usually on Council business until dusk. Would like to wait for him? Come back later? Or perhaps leave a message?" “I’ll wait, if that’s ok. Time to think is always welcome.” Sunday looks around, “Is there somewhere I can sit?” "Absolutely, the main prayer hall is open to all. But do let me know if you want somewhere more private to wait, I can direct you to one of the rooms." “Here will be just fine, thank you.” And Sunday sits down by a mural of the moon reflected in the surface of a lake. ***
Hours later, Rholor arrives to a near-empty temple and sits down next to Sunday with a drawn-out, tired sigh. "Hello Sunday, I've heard you wanted a word? How can I help you today - is it related to the spectacle you put up at the Games?" - he says in a calm and tired voice, no hint of judgment. Sunday considers Rholor’s words for a while, staring into the still waters of the mural. When she does respond, her tone is soft and reflective. “Spectacle? The whole Amaranthiad was a spectacle, no? People playing complex and mysterious games for - and being absolutely played by - the Fey nobility. I don’t know why it took me so long to realise; but it felt important to remind everyone watching that mortals and the Material Plane are not playthings for other beings. I hate being played. I wanted to see how you were and that there’s no hard feelings?” -Rholor raises an eyebrow for a second- “No hard feelings, indeed. Of all possible outcomes, your actions didn't lead to the worst and for that I thank you.” -Rholor looks up at the stained glass skylight in the centre of the temple for a moment, right above the main dais, before continuing- “But yes, for some it was a spectacle, a time to play and you're absolutely right... be played. For me it was a tool though, leverage maybe - a chance to bring a piece of their power to our side. But I do respect your guts and your convictions Sunday, it is clear much has changed in you since we last fought in the same battle and I'm glad to say for the better. What you've done was a very grave act of defiance - something you'll have to deal with eventually I'm sure but it might've sparked some sense into some of out fellow adventurers." Sunday smiles at Rholor’s words. “Maybe I haven’t changed that much: I was always good at acts of defiance. I’m just trying to perform them for others now. I guess that’s why I did what I did at the finale. I was surprised to see you representing Queen Sarastra. Truth be told, I did not know I was so close to Titania either. The nomination was unexpected and unlooked for. I’ve felt uncomfortable with the Fey court connection to our home ever since Daring became a literal beacon in their realm and their denizens flock to sit and watch our lives. I wish I’d done something sooner. And that plague.....” Sunday’s form stiffens for a moment. For a moment she makes no noise other than the sound of slow, deliberate breathing. After a minute, her fists unclench. “....thank you for devising the cure, Rholor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help. Did we ever find who was responsible?” -Rholor looks down at the diminutive form beside him- “I was also very sceptical from the beginning to be honest. All this business with the plague in Daring was just too much. I would never condone of that and that's why I worked so hard to aid in healing as many people as I could. It was that dreaded Ulorian who unleashed it... makes sense he would choose that wretched Farstep as his ascendant. And don't worry about not being here, what really matters is you took the time to work on yourself and are making the best of it now. That's reassuring." -Rholor smiles now, further intensifying the bags under his eyes.- "Oh and yes, about Queen Sarastra - I was as surprised as you were to be honest. It all happened really fast - we had mutually beneficial interactions when we were preparing to fight Granny. It was her who helped me find the artefact that locked her in place in the final battle, without it things might've been much harder. Then, when that was over I thought our relationship was also over but apparently the Moonmaiden wanted me to keep pursuing this alliance - probably in anticipation for the Amaranthiad. And so I did, and so I went, and so I fought. Well... for nothing, it ended up being a huge waste of everyone's time but well... at least now I can focus on other things. And you: let’s just make sure we put you to good use now that you're back eh? If I can help with anything don't hesitate to come and see me." Sunday turns to meet Rholor’s gaze: deep, gold-flecked purple eyes looking into piercing blue. "I know we’ve never been close; but I think you and I are alike. In our different ways, we want what’s best for the world. And I do mean the world - both natural and creature-made. We can’t protect all of it: not yet. But we can protect our corner of it. It’s just taken me a lot longer than you to realise that’s what I want to do. I’m sorry for misjudging you previously. I’ve never been good at reading people and their intentions. I always knew what I wanted - or thought I did - and just pursued it. It was the only code I’d ever known. And I won’t pretend it didn’t feel wonderful while I was doing it. But I had no perspective. Has the Moonmaiden given you your perspective?” Rholor responds without a moment's hesitation, “I don't really dwell on the past. It's just a learning tool - nothing else, hope you learn to feel the same way eventually. That's one of the many invaluable lessons I've learned from the Moonmaiden yes. I was once as lost as you were but worse - I was lost without any power and was ready to give up on life like a spoiled brat and it was Her who gave me hope and purpose and for that I will always follow her and be in Her debt." Sunday nods quietly to herself, before seemingly remembering something. “I’m glad you brought up that plague.... It might be something you can help direct my energies towards. Maybe if we could talk somewhere more private....? Melissa mentioned a meeting room or something?” Sunday goes to stand up, but Rholor holds up a hand to stop her. "Sure, no need to move." - he then proceeds to trace silvery sigils in mid-air with his finger while clutching a holy symbol of Selûne with the other and touches Sunday lightly on the shoulder dragging the silvery light with his hand along the way. He repeats the process for himself and smiles. "There, we can speak freely now." - as Sunday suddenly feels like a veil of soft, thin starlight envelops her minute form and feels like no one in the entire world could find her ever again if she so desired. |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2019 16:11:20 GMT
Cwyn enjoyed herself immensely in the days following the final competition of the Amaranthiad. She'd been in the crowd and had aah-ed and ooh-ed, and booed and clapped and cheered along with everyone else. Giant constructs controlled by the players, what a twist! That must have been the idea of the weird lot from Mechanus who had been helping out. The team fighting for Jack had made by far the most interesting construct, with all sorts of different looking arms and legs, so bizarre! Part of Cwyn had even wanted Jack to win, just to see what would happen, but she wasn't sad when Titania won, couldn't be - after all, the Summer Court always threw the best parties. What had that Sunday been thinking though?! Ooo the Summer Queen was going to be so pissed at her for turning down her reward!
Except it had looked like Her Grace had forgotten about it, for a while. She'd drunk and laughed and danced at the party, and Cwyn was almost convinced that Sunday had gotten away with it. Cwyn had been dancing on one of the tables in front of Titania, feet flying, pan flute whistling merrily, when she'd seen Morinn, the Frost Queen, enter the glade and move towards the Queen, and Cwyn was not the only being there who quickly decided to give the two a wide berth. She was so overcome with curiosity she thought she'd burst, but getting caught eavesdropping on two of the most powerful beings in the Feywild was a sure way for your life to continue painfully beyond the point you wished it would end. But even from a distance she could see the Seelie Queen drop her facade of jollity, and become serious. She hadn't forgotten, or forgiven. Cwyn smiled widely. Now she absolutely had to go to the Material Plane - she couldn't miss out on whatever the two Queens had planned for Sunday. Whenever the morning arrived, or the end of the party, whichever came last, she would follow some of the Primers back to their funny little town, and join in with their games.
Right now though, she had a flute in her hands, a rhythm in her feet, a song in her heart, and an audience to enthrall with her music and magic.
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Post by Nuno (Rholor) on Jun 25, 2019 14:54:50 GMT
==Rholor Part 2==
Rholor and Queen Sarastra
-Late night after the finale, at the temple, after Baine left and Melissa went to bed:
Rholor sits in his study signing off some paperwork for the Council meeting tomorrow. He lets out a big sigh, puts down his quill and caps the inkpot.-
Rholor: "Time for this I guess." -he says as he starts drafting divine glyphs in midair leaving a trace of silvery starlight with each movement. Suddenly he disappears from the study with a strong change of air pressure snuffing out the only candle that remained lit-
-He emerges from a small alcove in a garden of neatly trimmed hedges. To his left, the great glass castle of Sarastra, and to the right, water and the tower tops of Equinox, her sunken city.-
-A fairy flies down in front of Rholor's face.-
Fairy: "The Queen will see you, mortal High Priest, if you will follow me."
-Rholor follows the pixie to an adjacent garden where Sarastra sits with her characteristic regal posture gently playing with the pattern on her gown made of night sky-
-He bows deeply as he speaks-
Rholor: "Your Excellency, if I may have a word? I felt the need to come to you as soon as possible to discuss today's events. And by felt, I mean not only in the clairvoyance aspect of it but also out of respect."
"If I may ask... given what transpired but a few hours ago - where does our allegiance stand?"
-He breaks the bow and looks in the Queen's direction awaiting her reply-
-The Queen doesn't look at Rholor as he bows, staring up at the densely packed night sky that mirrored her attire. There's an odd sense that is the sky matching Sarastra rather than the other way around.-
Sarastra: "You were, not quite all I hoped for. Victory in the Games would have secured my throne that much more. As it is, other plans will have to be brought forward." -She sighs and places a hand on her head ever so lightly.-
"Do not fear, mortal diviner. I shall not turn my wrath your way. I have saved that for the fool I now hang in my throne room.
I remain an ally of Selune, and you are her servant. That is our relationship at this time. If these answers satisfy you, my court are still toasting the end of the games in the hall if you wish to join them."
Rholor: "I appreciate your offer for revelry your Excellency but as you have to set other plans in motion, I too have to make arrangements. It was an honour briefly partaking in your ambiance but, as you know, the Moonmaiden has other tasks for me. Perhaps our paths will cross again, if you so desire."
-He pauses briefly, awaiting a reaction that does not happen.-
"I will now take my leave if you'd allow it."
-Rholor waits for a few seconds and Sarastra gently nods without ever turning to look at him. Given the queue, Rholor speaks the phrase 'Path of Moonlight' in Celestial and rapidly but gently, the light emanating from the night sky coalesces at his feet and climbs up his garments. With a soft ‘woosh’ sound Rholor’s form disappears from the garden and slowly the coalesced moonlight returns to its proper place. Sarastra turns her visage towards the spot the High Priest once stood and shakes her head, quickly returning her gaze to the millions of stars shining above her domain. But the thing is, tonight they shine dimmer, for the will of the Queen has not been exerted and the wheels of Fey politics never stop spinning. New plans need to be set in motion and sooner rather than later would be ideal.-
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Post by Markas Virnala on Jun 27, 2019 12:49:15 GMT
~ Markas Part 1: Reunion ~
Markas & Baine
It's about three seconds after the games were officially ended and Sunday turned down the ascension
when Baine spots Markas through the settling dust
. He immediately starts storming towards him, very angry.
As Markas stands with the rest of his team, he turns to see a large angry half-orc storming towards him...
"Oh no, he looks angry.... Baine! You're ok! Where have you been?"
Baine says nothing and just
body slams Markas
into a TIGHT hug
, lifting him off his feet a little to the sound of a few audible cracks
and then sets him down, looking him over, still angry
"Where the fuck have YOU been?"
"Ooof.... well, I've been here! Oh wait.... I did leave for a little while to help Paw with something.... oh Baine, you would have loved that! Ghesh took out over a hundred skeletons on his own!"
”...You left??? You dragged me to the games and then you left?!” YOU FOUGHT WITH GHESH WITHOUT ME?? YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE GHESH!”
Markas flinches at little at the shouting;
"I came back? Besides it was for Paw.... Anyway I heard you've been killing it here!"
Baine doesn’t say anything for a moment.
... Then he punches Markas in the shoulder.
Twice.
"OW!"
“You scared me man.... And stop whining, I’ll give you a potion...Are you alright though??”
Baine looks Markas over, rolls his eyes at the ruined clothes, checks for injuries.
“Gods above, you were in Jack’s mecha?! We fired so many shots at you guys!!”
He looks genuinely pained for a second. Markas sits quiet for a moment, realisation dawning that he did probably make his friend worry.
"Ah..... I'm sorry Baine. I never meant to make you worry. I came here for the games but like I said, Paw needed some help which is why I left. I thought you were busy getting involved with games anyway... But I came back! There was a strong group of us so you didn't have to worry...."
He notices Baine eyeing up the once again torn clothes
"Aha.... so I mentioned Ghesh taking out hundreds of skeletons right? I maybe nearly got overrun by a hoard of undead.... but I mean, you can't be rid of me that easily! And yeah, that was us in Jack's mech.... I thought you'd have guessed since I painted Hoop on the arm I was in!
How did you end up with Rholor again?"
As Markas asks this, they are interrupted by Heret who approaches Markas and Pieni, stood nearby:
'Friends! A fine game. Please, take these and enjoy yourselves in these festivities. I must get back to the factory. Much to do!' And he turns abruptly and leaves them each with a platinum piece of no opportunity even to say hello.
Markas is shocked for a moment, not able to thank Heret before Baine grabs him again in another chest crushing embrace before dragging him away for the celebrations, telling him about a chair he won....
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Post by Markas Virnala on Jun 27, 2019 13:15:27 GMT
~ Markas Part 2: New Friends ~
Markas & Rama
Several days after the games, Markas is heading back towards Port Ffirst when he senses a large figure approaching from behind. It rests a large stone arm on his shoulder and he looks back to see Rama:
"Been looking for you!
"
"Ah Rama! Hows it going?"
"Not Bad, a bit achy after taking an all nighter on silvering this guy"
He shows Markas a sword of similar design to Markas'
own Falchion. His eyes widen as he sees it
.
"Another Falchion? I didn't think they were too common here? Where did you get hold of one?
And you've had it silvered?"
A glint appears in Rama's eyes
"My dad had one of these, but since then you were the only I saw possessed it; I done my own symbol on it though"
He shows the symbol inscribed at the base of the blade, showing a flaming crown with a sword through the middle
"Master Milo was kind enough to forge the blade for me though, while I silvered it afterwards"
Markas laughs as Rama mentions Milo
"I seem to have started a trend for Milo it seems! I've been meaning to drop in on him to see how he was doing but he's been very busy of late, now I see why.... Do you mind if I try it?"
Rama offers it with a chuckle and Markas hefts the Falchion in his hand, feeling the weight. He tosses it back and forth a few times before twirling it through his hands and dropping into a fighting position, holding it high and parallel to the ground
.... After a second, he stands abruptly and offers it back to Rama, hilt first
"It's a beautiful weapon, Milo really is an amazing Smith!"
Rama gives Markas a wide smile
"Glad you like it, cause it's yours!"
".... W.... What?"
"You are a good guy, good guys are hard to come by. And this is a sign of friendship."
He shuffles stuff in his deep Trench coat, takes out a hefty pouch and throws it at Markas
"That's your share from when we were at the shadow fell too"
Markas stands shell shocked for a few seconds, having had a weapon and bag of Money forced upon him is unfamiliar territory.
"Rama, I.... "
He lets out a deep sigh
"I could never accept such a gift... "
Before he can carry on, Hoop interjects
"What!? The nice Red man is offering you a shiny new sword and your saying no!? You know, It would look pretty good in my collection if you don't want it!"
Markas laughs at Hoop's interruption but carries on
"As a token of friendship, I'd be honoured to accept it. Besides Hoop seems to have already decided for me!
But what about this coin? I already had a share of what we found that day?"
"As long as you use it for good when in need... Lycanthropes tend to sensitive to silver so no putting it to be lost down a plate" Rama in a friendly tone but still serious tone that relaxes before he continues "As for the money; remember that cursed bleeding skull necklace? I managed to sell it and this is your share of the gold"
"Hey, I'm not just a plate you know, I have a name! Huh, so much for being nice!"
Markas laughs out loud
"It's alright Hoop, I'm sure Rama didn't mean anything by it.... but we could use something like this anyway... we've seen our fair share of Ghosts, Werewolves and Undead lately... could've really used this when we were helping Paw! But are you sure Rama? I thought you were interested in keeping that thing?"
Rama winks back
"Yes, I thought so too. but no, Brizinger is enough for me plus I got a few other weapons to be silvered for the next few days." while Rama says that Brizinger appears in his hand and disappeares. "Which reminds me, you need to give the falchion a name! “
"Markas, I'm bored now, let me know when we are doing something interesting"
Markas gives a chuckle, Hoop is inquisitive but still a little impatient at times.
"A name huh?" He handles the new sword again, turning it over in his hands while he thinks
"Well.... our first adventure outside of these games was Paw's errand that had all the undead. And Silver is supposed to be good for fending of Undead as well as Lycanthropes...."
He stands for a long moment, watching the light dance off the silver blade before looking back to Rama
"Back in the Monastery where I was trained, we had a Priest who stayed with us a while... There was a lot of sickness in the surrounding villages, being a pretty poor area, and he was helping to sending them on to the next life..."
Seeing the somewhat quizzical look Rama is giving him, he carries on:
"He had a service he performed to help put them to rest, so to speak, as they passed... while I'm not a religious person, I liked what he was doing there. And given the way this has come about after dealing with so many undead souls, I think it's only fitting it be named with the same honour"
Markas holds the Falchion out in front of him, blade straight up with his open hand pressed to the back of the blade, in a display of formal tradition
"Requiem"
"A good name indeed. I'm looking forward to fight along side you and against you sometimes." Rama says with amusement
"Thank you Rama, I'm sure we no doubt will! If not, I will see you in the Pits!"
"In the pits it is shall. Now I am exhausted need some sleep, will see you in the tavern possibly later."
Rama pats Markas on the shoulder then heads off, leaving him with a new sword in his collection.
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Post by Milo Brightmane on Jun 27, 2019 14:45:32 GMT
Milo closed the door of the Hammerfall behind him, and he leaned against it for a moment, glad to be home. Too much time in the Feywild was exhausting, your emotions constantly flying high, like a bird held aloft by thermals - the flying would be incredible, but the only way back to normality was to fall. The last few days - or had it only been hours - had been exciting, tiring, and worrying, for a number of reasons. Taking off his helmet, and resting his shield against the wall, Milo thought back to the final event of the Amaranthiad...
They had been grouped depending on who they were representing. Following his conversations with Igrainne and Heret, Milo had been tempted to switch to representing the Queen of Summer, but still felt that ultimately he could do more good within the Queen of Night and Magic's team. He had been grouped with a few individuals he had never met before - a lithe cat-woman called Paw, which seemed a little on the nose; a half-orc named Kalta based in Port Ffirst; and a small female dwarf who introduced herself as Daisy. Milo had thought he knew almost all the dwarfs in Daring Heights by now, but Daisy had a wilder look about her, so perhaps didn't spend much time in town. Also in Milo's team was Rama, the large red tiefling who had previously made a large commission from Milo. At first when their task was announced - to design a mechanical construct and use it to fight in the arena - Milo had been encouraged. Surely his knowledge as a smith and artisan would come in useful. But they would not have the opportunity to actually build the construct themselves. Instead it was a game of imagination, and Milo's suggestions of focusing on stability and defence, such as an inceased number of sturdy legs and armour cladding, soon fell to the wayside, and the more dramatic ideas of Rama and the others gained traction, resulting in a construct which strongly resembled a tiger, with claws which jabbed in and out.
Once the combat began, Milo realised very quickly that the outcome would rely extremly little on the combatants own abilities. Simply moving these behemoths was a challenge, let alone successfully attacking with them. At that point Milo was able to smile and relax - whether Sarastra won, or Jack, or Titania, it would be almost entirely down to luck. Knowing there was little he could do to personally influence the outcome, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment, and the thrill of the fight. To be a tiger was an exhilarating experience, one which Milo would always remember. Around him, as their tiger attempted to damage the wildly flaily monstrosity created by Jack's team, the other team representing Sarastra loosed bolt after bolt of energy from some kind of adapted giant crossbows held by their three-legged construct, attacking Jack's construct and that of Titania's team, an elegant sprite which flew above the arena with two enormous longbows clutched in its four hands. However much damage the crossbows caused it was to no avail, as Titania's sprite was able to destroy the tripod utterly, thankfully not before those inside were able to escape. The construct created by the River King's team had suffered some fatal fault early on, and exploded impressively, though again seemingly with no casualties. Eventually whatever powered the constructs was depleted, and they ground to a halt. It was judged that Titania's team in their giant sprite had performed best, and so Titania was awarded the victory.
Which solved all problems, Milo thought, as he filled the large iron kettle with water. Whatever Sarastra's plans, there was now no risk of Heret and Igrainne's fears coming true. She had gained no more sway over Daring Heights. Jack would not be made nobility, so his madness would not be granted free reign. The River King would not be rewarded for his poisoning of the town, the so-called Lassitude. In fact Titania had not really benefited either - her champion, Sunday, had rejected her offer of ascension to nobility, making something of a fool of the Summer Queen. Whether that had been her intention or not, Milo couldn't say, but he had picked up on whisperings in the crowd as he queued to return to Daring Heights through a portal - people wondering how seriously they could take Titania now that someone had dared refuse her and had lived. Was her power waning? Might someone take her place? Worrying, to be sure, but Milo was not going to panic unduly over Fey politics. If anything spilled over into Kantas he would step forward - he wouldn't stand for another Lassitude - but until then it was time to settle down again. The Games had upended life in Kantas, and for what? Lives had been lost, and nothing had been gained.
Milo settled down into a chair with a steaming clay cup. Yes, time to get back to normal. He was a smith, and this town always needed arms and armour, horseshoes, nails, tools, anchor plates and more. It was growing every day, and Milo had been getting distracted by adventuring. Moradin had called to him from the forge - to the forge he should return.
Drifting through the cracks around the door, Milo could hear the melancholy sound of a flute, telling a story of hardship and loss.
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