DM themed play-by-post D&D game : STORY THREAD

[Ameena]

At the sound of Westian's voice, one of Ameena's ears turns vaguely in his direction.
"Bad sleep-visions." she mumbles wearily. "Sent by the Dark One, I suppose..."

[ian_scho]

"I'll pull his horns off for you", Haynuus murmured. He returned to his resting.

[oh_brother]

Sense motive was 16 + 5 = 21

[beowuuf]

Btw, liked you throwing in Westian speaking elven in the dream

The figure bows with a racking cough that no-one in the room seems to notice, nor does it echo. A moment's displeasure is wiped off of the elf's face as he returns to his former upright posture to look over Westian. "Lost your memory?" he asks in a voice that sounds as if he is inhaling as he says it. "A tragic inconvenience that I could aid you with, should I be so inclined. The figure gives a long, hard look at Westian, then shrugs. " As to who I am? I have almost forgotten my true name. However, I seem to have gained the moniker of 'The Broken One', although I do prefer the sound of it in the elvish tongue. So good to meet a fellow outcast, and a fellow speaker of the pure language." The figure stiffles another cough, and clutches at one of his arms - it seems to hang limply by his side.

Westian notes that while he and the elf are conversing in elvish, the elf said 'The Broken One' in human common. In elvish, the phrase (or name) would become 'Dolo Smitre' . The name, or title, is not one Westian instantly recognises. And yet it does stir a very, very vague memory for some reason. Westian shivers, even though he has got used to the cold in this deep part of the dungeon by now.


Feel free to roll any sort of knowledge-based check roll you may want to at this point. Perhaps several! If you suspect you knew the name before, you could always try to recall previous memories with a will save, no matter how dangerous that might be


The elf does not seem to be instantly hostile, but there is certainly a predatory feel to him. Also, Westian feels uncomfortable about the man's name. For some reason, a little twinkle crept into the elf's eyes when he used the human form of it. Again, there seems to be some form of eagerness in the elf upon awaiting Westian's next words.


Decent sense motive roll If your player senses are screaming 'trap', there might well be a reason for that. And if they're not, imagine a metaphorical DM foot kicking you under the table and mouthing the word 'trap.' What exactly is the nature of the trap? And is it one that is beneficial to skirt around or spring? And would Westian even spot the trap?

These are very interesting questions I eagerly await the answers to. As you said in the main threrad, there's no problem with this 'dream' flowing in parallel to the main narrative for a few posts at least!

[beowuuf]

A short time later, there was a lightening of the shadows around the party - or if the imagination were so inclined, a deepening of the shadows in the further reaches of the room. Form the top corner of the room, Soorec reappeared suddenly from inside the wall. He was now dressed in deep blues, and an overlong buttoned shirt gave the initial appearance of him being in a robe. It would take an observer a moment to realise that what seemed like sparkling shadows were infact black sequinnes cunningly woven into the edges of and hems of his clothes. He carried himself a little straighter, and seemed to bustle around less.

"I am so sorry for being so long!" said Soorec as he walked forward, and then took a look at the lethargic group. "Or perhaps I should say I am so sorry for not being long enough." He waved his hands in a consiliatory gesture to stop the party from getting up, even if no one was doing any such thing. "Please, please, relax as long as you require - witin reason. I can occupy myself until you are well rested. After all, you will need to be so very well rested when we go down below. And that rumbling early was so very....disruptive."

One of Soorec's grak-graks came over to help the gnome onto the table. With a look of shock Soorec noticed the flaming scroll and used his own feet to help put out the flames. Gingerly the grak grakplaced the torch and charred pieces of scroll to the floor, while Soorec got his creation to pick up alternate parchments from the floor. Soorec straightened a few out, and hummed a tuneless little dirge quietly to himself while his hands seemed to dance in complex little shapes between various scrolls.

At one point he stopped, and seemed to realise something. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the grak-grak beside Falkor - that had barely retained a recogniseable Farel impression - suddenly looked every inch the twin of the knight. Except, perhaps, for a slightly unpleasant sneer as the creature regarded Falkor.

"Poor boy, I forgot to offer him a chancge of clothes," said Soorec quietly to himself. The gnome then went back to his humming and dancing hands.


And there you go - Soorec is now around, and you have a little less licence to say anythign you want. However, if you guys want to take a longer break (in game time, not real time), feel free to say and we can move the clock ahead by perhaps an hour, maybe even stretchign Soorec's patience two

Of course, remember what I always say... the dungeon is still moving around you. And you guys have had quite a number of effects on it recently... I'm just saying !

Also, of course, the idea is that for any who want - liek Westian - Soorec is now availabel to answer any last minute questions before you guys go below. Perhaps his mood has softened a little since he's been away, who knows with that weird gnome!

[oh_brother]

Westian got to his feet and brushed himself down. "Is everyone ready? Or would we like some more time to rest?"

He looked at the gnome, admiring his sequinned top."So Soorec, what else can you tell us about this priest? The more we know, the more likely we are to be successful. Will he have body guards?" As he was speaking Westian was also taking time to mutter some runes, and refill the groups supply of healing potions. "Speaking of that, it would also be good if you could refresh our memories. It seems to me we met you before, but you have us at a disadvantage. We cannot remember much, perhaps as we walk you could fill us in?"

"Indeed, I have forgotten more than just events, I am working off a limited supply of runes. Maybe we should discuss this, I am sure you would be happy to fill me in. Since we are all friends now"

[oh_brother]

Knowledge (history) was 18 + 2 = 20...trying to see if "The Broken One" is known. Although I imagine that is going to be a more personal memory for Westian rather than a historical one. So I will take my chance with a will save please! It was a 14 + 8 = 22

Westian was a bit insulted at being called an outcast, but he let it go. The offer to potentially help Westian with his memories at first seemed interesting. But something was wrong. He would not be willing to allow this "Broken One" to touch him.

Changing the subject away from offers of help he examines the elf closely. "It is indeed an interesting title you have been gifted. What happened to you to be called the Dolo Smitre?"

[beowuuf]

The dark elf starts coughing again. It takes a while for him to stop, and once he does there is something black on his hand - not blood, something dark and think drips from his mouth that he wipes away. From such a disgusting and worrying sight, it takes a moment to realise the cause of it - the elf was laughing.

"More than you would care to know," hisses the elf, almost gurgling the answer. He spits disgustingly. "More than you could withstand, Westian Dollomain![/i]" The elf clutches his chest with crossed arms, and slowly pulls himself upright, an arrogant twinkle in his eye.

Westian does not get a chance to see the arrogant twinkle become wiped from the face of the elf, nor react to his name being uttered. The stirring in his head at the name becomes a headache. Westina tries to push into his hidden memory, and he feels in terrible pain as if he has split his own head open!

Reverse damage rules since you want to push further. Good will save = memories, but 4 non-lethal damage. I guess you'll shrug it off with a potion. Luckily for you, I'm going to take the good history roll as a sign your brain filtered some of thisd...no more earthquake... for now...

Oh, just so you know, I didn't particularly see an official place for Drow in DM (seems a little to EotB), so assume an outcast elf is a rare thing...they may be called 'drow', but I don't see them as a separate organised race. Infact I imagien that tag might expand to any folowers of Lolth. So this dark elf would still just be an elf. You cna let me know if you feel differently about elves and dark elves in DM...

Westian dimly recalls something about a broken paladin. An elf already driven from his home, finding the arms of some dark religeon. Dolo Simitre - the broken one - because he was betrayed by his new 'family' aswell, destroyed in body.

Westian knew a little about elves who turned from their homes. Elves did not necessarily have to keep Larethian in their hearts, but still many elves at least paid him some small tribute. Lilith was a dark High Lady who hated her brother Corellon. She seemed to attract those elves who wished to actively rebel against their ultimate father. And worse yet, some found themselves pushed into the arms of Lolth, the Demon Queen of the Drow, whom Lilith had formed an uneasy truce with.

This elf was not merely a dark paladin of Lilith, Westian knew this dark elf had turned to become a priest of Lolth herself. And there was something...something important. There was a reason that Westian did not know about this priest's name, even though obviously memory of it stirred in his mind.

"You are no outcast!" screamed the dark elf, breaking into Westian's dizzy thoughts. The elf's features contorted in hatred, his body shook. "YOU were the source of the taint, the light of Corellon that burned into my mind. You, a bastard half-breed, welcomed into the bosom of the elves' most trusted, where I was exiled and reviled!"

The dark elf's spasming body finally gets the better of him. He actually collapses to the ground, half choking on his rage and half because his legs have buckled. Seeing a pure elf decent into the state of a feral dog - made even more surreal by the proud armour the elf wears - is somehow disquietening to the soul. The elf lifts his head, his eyes metaphorically alfame looking ot Westian.

"Puppet of Larethian," literally spits the elf, his twisted inflection pronouncing Westian's god feeling a dire insult. "I see who you are now, and I will make you understand all I have suffered in my life to earn the name you so casually took into your heart." There is a flash again of the arrogance. The elf's eyes are hypnotic, and Westian begins to feel light-headed.

The elf's eyes go wide. "What are you?" he asks in horror.

In the blink of an eye, the twisted elf is gone. Another blink of the eye, and Westian realises that the surroundings are as he left them - except for some odd noises of claws on metal...



And with that, your 'dream' ends. Feel free to ret-con a last cutting remark, etc to Dolo Smitre. Also note that rather than doubling up the information I'll give you guys about the priest, and rather than flood you with it now, Westian's good rolls will earn him a 'lie detector' against what other peopel say, and occasional extra bits of recalled information as you go along.

Right, now for the main thread! I'll move this post once you guys have a couple more posts added to act as a buffer to these posts when they are merged.

[beowuuf]

"The priest?" asked Soorec, breaking himself away from his scrolls. Well, what can I say? Hmm...imagine...well, if you like think of him...you see,if you took...no, that's no quite correct. Hmm, let's take yourself and myself. Now, take all the ways that you are the same as me. Now, imagine their opposites. Yes, that's the priest! Oh my, yes!"

Soorec nods happily to himself, and looks to Westian expectantly, and then to the rest of the group - or at least the ones who are looking. "Do you not see? For all your tall thinking - and it is very, very regrettable, you at least have the love of learning, and a love of the world. You see, I liek the world. I like it so much that over the many years I managed to discover the secrets of tying myself to it, you see?" Soorec gestures happily to his grak-graks. "My little ones - the pinacle of empathetic magic." Soorec's eyebrows then knit. "The priest, in a way like all priests, seems to force the world to conform to his way of thinking. However, he dislikes the world so much he seeks to impose his will to alter it directly. No just like wizards do - who simply...encourage...the world to go a different way. He seeks to know what others know, simply to make them see and think what he wants. Sympathetic magic. You see?"

Soorec again looks to any who will listen, the goes back to Westian. "The priest seeks to beguile with lies and pleasant visions, until he has your interest and your curiostity. The more you think you know of him, the more you let him into your mind, the more he has of yours! Very bad, very very bad. I fear even Gholst has not entirely kept his guard up, I fear the priest slowly gnaws at Gholst's mind, offering one of the few things Gholst truly desires."

Soorec signs. "Body guards? Oh, not as you would imagine. The irony of him knowing so much and yet empathising so little with it is that he trusts no one. He will have any soldiers that he is forced to have close, or that he thinks he can control. And obviously, he loves the undead. He will have anything without thought pulled near him. He almost trusts those automatons." Soorec gives an unpleasant smile. "That is why he hates my little ones so much you see, because the feel and think. Oh yes. Sadly, I do not trust them too close to him though. I would be a fool if I did. So we have an Understanding, enforced upon us by Gholst. I will not go near him, nor let my little ones. That is why I have such need of you!"

Soorec watches with interest as Westian practises his craft, and so for a moment does not catch eactly what Westian says. "Refresh your memories? Met you before?" Soorec looks genuinely puzzled, looking aroudn the room again.

feel free to roll a sense motive, anyone.

Soorec then seems to get what he thinks Westian means. "Oh, no, I have no knowledge of you before we met. "Gholst simply told me he had encounteed a group including a halfling and half-orc, and he wished those two brought to him." Soorec shrugs. "I know you cannot believe this, but really, I had no clue you were a priest when I took you through that room. I took you as a rebelling soldier at first, to be honest. I suppose the elf appearance should have made me suspect sooner. Well, of course, seeing the blood splatter up close made me realise how you gained your armour."

Soorec motions to his own neckline while looking at Westian's, and then waves away the comments as if distasteful.

"Still, if you think you have walked the deeper dungeon area, I can happily talk you through it. I would be most, most interested to hear your memories when you find them! Perhaps you received bumps on the head from the true Trolins lower down. They don't really like...well...people, to be honest. Perhaps that was it. Have you tried looking for lumps on your head?"

Soorec seems a little dubious at the phrasing of 'friends', and gives another odd look towards Falkor as this is said. However, Soorec does, indeed, move scrolls off his desk and tries to draw and speak through basic spellcasting. He is apparently facinated that somehow spellcasting and runes could be 'lost'. To start with, Soorec talks down to Westian irritatingly, and then sudden;y it is likeSoorec jumps a half hour of conversation, and starts speaking of advanced spellcasting concepts. It is almost as if Soorec is speaking of spellcasting in reverse, telling Westian to cast the spell and figure out of the runes once the spell is cast.

To Falkor, he suddenly realises what Soorec is. Soorec must be a sorcerer. These are rare individuals who do not have to study the runes and slowly build up mana. Instead, the mana flows right away. Sorcerers simply find the effects and create them, like a thief who moves the tumblers in the correct manner haphazardly to open a lock instead of using the key to move the tumblers in an ordered consistent manner.

The ways Soorec speaks, the runes are like shadow visions he sees which let him know he has the spell correctly prepared in his mind. He never, infact, pays attention to exactly what they are. No wonder the spell scrolls he preferred were so stranged created! Soorec knows of the runes, and knows the lower orders, but it seems he's absent minded about the higher registers of the runes. Certainly, he is not too much help regarding how to use them to create spell effects.

Heh, sorry OB, after Soorec wafflings away Westian may well suspect that while Soorec can infact cast both wizard and cpriest spells, he does it in some strange way that doens't teach you runes. Listening to Soorec can net you any of the element runes you don't have yet. You also realise he creates most of his powerful potions through plantlore and alcemic crafts! However, feel free to roll a knowledge (religion) to perhaps snag the YA IR DAIN spellshield, as at one point he starts speaking about that spell in detail.

[Ameena]

Though still mostly asleep, Ameena becomes vaguely aware that Soorec has returned. But since she also knows that her friends are nearby, and from the sound of it, at least Westian is awake, she doesn't worry too much - it just sounds as though they're talking about...something. The gnome continues to talk at length about things but she drifts back into sleep again, as murafu do when they know their friends are keeping watch and they know they can, for once, afford to let their guard down.

[ian_scho]

Haynuus continues resting, leaving the spell casters to talk about their trade. Lying there on the ground he realises that soon they will need to rise and recover through rest and those magic potions that Westian hands out. His memories appear to be in shattered pieces again, where he is carefully creating the ordered puzzle from the start of his 'day' to the end, only to have them cast about randomly once more after he wakes up from his sleep. To Haynuus, however, it has less import than perhaps to the others. He has lived a hand to mouth existence for so long that he possesses little of value, including memories of his past actions.

That RAR rune in his head though... THAT seems to anchor in the same spot in his mind from one day to the next.

[oh_brother]

"Of course, the world is here to be enjoyed, is it not? No point living lives in misery. Your outlook on life is most refreshing, Brighteyes, if only more people thought that way then there would surely be less strife in our lives!"

Westian listens with interest as Soorec speaks, making not even the slightest signal that he doubts the gnomes words. "Of course, the tunnel with the undead, I forgot about that. Yes, you could not know who we were, my apologies." Still, the gnomes hatred of Falkor, and the fact that he called Ameena a seer stuck in Westian's mind.

Smiling, he replied to the gnomes next suggestion "No, I have checked our entire group thoroughly. No bumps to the head, I am pleased to report."

"Anyway, I am ready to move on. How about the rest of you? Ameena, feeling refreshed?" As he spoke he faced the murafu, and saw only a bundle of fur on the ground. Perhaps that was a good enough answer.

"How about you, Haynuus? Falkor? Aurek? Shall we proceed?" In truth Westian was in no hurry to proceed, this priest was an unknown quantity, and that worried him. Still, they could not stay here forever and Westian, for one, could not turn back without Deephold.

OOC: Sense motive on Soorec was 6 + 5 = 11.
Knowledge (religion) was 19 + 6 = 25

[oh_brother]

The sight was indeed disturbing, but Westian feigned a cool indifference as the elf spoke, with the biggest reaction being the arching of an eyebrow at the mention of Larethian.

Some relief flooded into Westian as the shape disappeared. Having an evil creature hate you with that intensity is not likely to end happily. Still, at least he had gone, this priest. Hopefully they would not meet again. Though at that thought Westian remembered that the were on their way to confront a priest...if he had time he would have muttered a prayer that those two were not one and the same, but instead the dream ended and he came crashing back to reality.

[beowuuf]

Unaware of Haynuus's odd mental train of thought, and Ameena's general sleepiness, Soorec continued his chattering. Westian could not tell if anything the gnome said was truth or fiction. Surely the gnome believed himself even if he was lying through his teeth, and Westian perhaps had to simply go with his gut instinct on what to believe and what not to.

At least as Soorec spoke of the odd feelings and mental shapes he felt when castign the spellshield, Westian could finally find something useful. Soorec didn't exactly know the runes, but Westian's knowledge of the basic shield spell, and the DAIN rune, combined with the descriptions in a useful way. Westian was able to backtrack from the rune shapes and felt the spell settle in his head. After Westian had endured such huge headaches and strange mental images recently, the mild dizziness of recalling the spell was barely noteworthy.

What was more irritating was that suddenly more spells flooded into his mind - a potion to create a person sheild, and a spell to create anti-poison. Worse yet, on the edges of his mind he coule feel even more healing spells, not relying on potion flasks. All, he could feel, were such basic priest spells he used to know. Spells that all required the basic priestly building block of 'BRO'. He could feel the edges of the rune, a circle shape, and yet the exact rune still eluded him. It was insane!

Soorec did not particularly note the cleric's distress nor achievements, instead only heeding him when he mentioned the group moving on. Soorec leapt down from the table, and hustled and bustled to try and pick up various items from corners of the room and shelves.

However, he patted himself down, kicked his main pile of rubbish in the corner, and then walked over to Falkor.

"Now, I feel I have been very patient with you," he said to Falkor, "what with the not killing you and such. However, I think that your theft of my personal belongings is a little much for anyone to bear. If you would...please hand over...umm...whatever items it was you had taken, " Soorec extended his hand towards the halfling, gesturign with the universal gesture of 'hand it over'. It was perhaps a deliberate accident that 'Farel' stood a little to close to Falkor, nudging the halfling meaningfully in the back with his leg.

Time to give back some of the those items you gained money, unless you or the rest of the group can start fast-tallking. Remember, he's a little bit distractable and it's been a while. You might be able to offload junk (not even his) to keep somethign you think is good. Still, you'll need to make a showing of giving some thigns back, unless you really want to start a fight about it!

Remember Haynuus has a few items (like his compass), Westian still has things like the ring, maybe Ameena has stuff.

[Ameena]

OOC - One little note, OB...Ameena isn't a "bundle of fur on the ground" - she's a bundle of fur, partially tangled in a cloak, draped over Haynuus's chest (since he never objected to her being there so she saw no reason to move since she felt better lying on top of him than beside him) .

BIC - Through the fog of sleep, Ameena hears her name being spoken. She twitches her ears in Westian's direction and slowly (and somewhat reluctantly) opens her eyes. She feels somewhat better after her sleep, though she still remembers the images from the vision she had. But for now, they merely hover in the background of her mind, an unpleasant memory she can ignore for now.
She wriggles around a bit, extracting her right foreleg from within the folds of her cloak where it got tangled up before. She stretches herself out but remains draped across the half-orc she notices she's still lying on top of. She wonders whether she should get off him, but then decides that doing so many not be a very good idea while Haynuus is still asleep - knowing him as she does, he might not quite remember about her and so might think she's something unpleasant trying to eat him or something.
She wriggles forward slightly instead, so that her nose is now closer to his left ear, her whiskers brushing against his cheek.
"Haynuus." she calls softly. "I think we're going to be moving on soon. Umm...I'm still...on top of you, in case you'd forgotten. So...don't accidentally try to...umm...crush me, or anything."

[money]

Falkor turned to the Gnome and burst out into uncontrollable laughter.... "Unfortunately I cannot do that"... he only just got the words out trying to control his chuckling.. "Interesting... Those items are not yours - they are in fact mine. However, may I take this opportunity to thank you for bringing them back to me - one way or another." He turned to Farel... the Grak Grak, "Keep your distance, Things are not what they seem and you would be foolish to make a move" he winked and and then returned his gaze towards the Gnome... "So, is it time to move on?"

[oh_brother]

Sensing trouble, Westian stepped up to the two diminutive combatants. “Now let’s not be hasty, it would be a shame if our alliance and, dare I say, our friendship was damaged for the sake of a few trinkets! Let’s be reasonable here, we are grown...um...humanoids, not children.”

He smiled at both of them as he spoke, hoping to diffuse some tension. In a polite, slightly patronising, way he continued. “Now Falkor, is there anything you have that actually belongs to Brighteyes? I am sure he would be grateful if you gave them back. Isn’t that right, Brighteyes? We could put all of this behind us.”

[money]

Falkor was surprised at Westians intervention, but understood that he was just trying to help.. So he turned to the Gnome, "Ah, yes, I think i have a couple of..." Ammena poped into his head... "drumsticks I kept when we were with your guards, by all means you can have those back". He knew this was not the response Westian was looking for, but he was sticking to his guns!

[beowuuf]

As the three spoke, 'Farel' behind Falkor twisted, until all that remained was the loathesome true shape of the grak-grak, claws looking wickedly sharp.

[ian_scho]

The background banter had kept the half-orc in a lull, and he was able to rest some more. It was almost like when he was an (half!) orcling where there were eight of them living within a single room adobe. Although to be fair, there was much more shouting and punching back then between his siblings. Yet...

Ameena whiskers were the first to alert him to what may well be another interesting situation that the halflings tend to get you into. "Hmmm, now would be a good time to get up, you're right." He looked down the breastplate to the lying Murafu. She seemed to have recovered her senses somewhat. And then, he slowly reached for his sword, just in case.

"Hey Brighteyes!" and he tried a distraction for once (1d20-2=12). "I picked up a murky brown potion off the shelf on the right. Is that what you're looking for?.. What is it by the way?" While lying down he reached with one hand into his rucksack to pull out one of the two (three?) potions and waved it gleefully in the air. "It could be useful, right?"

It was at that point he remembered he had dropped a rather nasty looking potion on the floor before facing off the scorpion. He spied it and made a mental note to pick it up later.

OOC - Uff, I need to remember this stuff, go through the thread again, and update the character sheet.

[Ameena]

On seeing that Haynuus is awake and alert, Ameena wriggles sideways and scrambles off him, careful not to accidentally poke him anywhere sensitive with her hindpaws or tiny claws. She sits just off to his right, rearranging her cloak so that she's no longer entangled in it. She rubs her right foreleg a bit and gives it a shake, then, on all-fours, gives her whole body a shake and a quick grooming. Finally, she turns to see what the others are up to.
From the looks of things, Soorec is asking for his things back. Hmm. This could be tricky - the strange green box she found was used by Falkor, she recalls, and the potions she gave to Westian, so she no longer has anything belonging to the gnome. Still, maybe she can help out anyway...
"Did you lose some of your things?" she asks him. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything of yours. Well, I mean, I've found some things here and there but none of it I picked up in this room. I suppose that doesn't necessarily mean it's not yours, but none of it smells like you. Umm...even if some of your things have been lost, that means you have more room to keep new things you might find, doesn't it? The world is a big place - there's plenty in it. Maybe we'll find some things when we go to find that priest...umm...what's his name, anyway? Is he human?"

OOC - In case it's needed, a Diplomacy roll = 21 (13+8) .

[beowuuf]

Soorec's nostrils flared as Falkor challenged him. The grak-grak's fingers flexed. However, Soorec's expression hardened and became immoveable as the rest spoke. He did not take his eyes away from Falkor, and while his head was locked his eyes followed the halfling's movements as Falkor rocked with laugheter or moved around. Perhaps one of Soorec's eyebrows raised when Westian questioned Falkor. Soorec's eyebrow fell again when Falkor gave his response to the cleric.

Soorec ignored Haynuus's question, eyes still locked towards the halfling.

"Not lost," said Soorec, apparently taking on Ameena's stream of words finally as she kept speaking. He did not turn around. "Perhaps you are correct. All of you. We are...after all...all friends. And possessions are simply possessions." Soorec still did not turned around nor take his eyes away from Falkor. His head tilted and he gave a look with narrowing eyes for a moment longer. Finally the gnome then looked around and gave a bright, brittle little smile across to the group and then back to Falkor. Unlike any other time, his eyes seemed to stay flat and expressionless. If anyone had any doubts before, it was clear now. As far as Soorec was concered, Falkor was a dead halfling walking. The only question was - did Soorec now think of the entire group similarly?

The moment, on the surface, seemed to pass. The grak-grak altered again, though it turned into Westian, who was closest. And the expression Westian gave himself was inscruitable. "Please, let us leave with no further delay," said Soorec, back apparently to his normal self, and walking across towards Haynuus.

However, the moment Soorec's back was turned to Falkor, he mouthed some words. Everyone except Falkor heard Soorec's voice as clear as day inside their head. Three simple words echoed, emotionlessly uttered.

'Do you see?'

Soorec continued moving towards Haynuus. "I would put down that potion, if I were you," he said out loud with a wave of his hand, "A moment's rush followed by many moments of weakness. Actually distilled from the spores and roots of screamers. No no no, if you wish something more suitable, I would take those two blue potions on the right. "

Soorec pointed to an area of the shelves with two flasks that resembled Westian's healing flasks. A grak-grak - Haynuus's double - plucked the earth-coloured potion from Haynuus's distracted hand and placed the potion back on the left hand shelf.


Haynuus still has two earth coloured potions, a red potion, a yellow potion, and it was a green potion Haynuus threw. If you haven't picked up on it, Soorec lied to you about the good and bad shelves, and the three coloured potions frombefore all are translucent and have a pleasant colouring. They might well be beneficial


Soorec then paused, and turned around to regard the group for a moment. His eyes narrowed. "Ah, yes!" he said suddenly, pointing to Ameena. "You asked a question!" Soorec directed the answer apparently towards the rest of the group. "I did not say the priest was human, though feel free to imagine him as such. And I will not utter his name. I would suggest you do likewise if you ever discover it." Soorec turned to Westian. "Sympathetic magic, you see. If you think of him - if you give him a name, a name the world recognises - he can hear your thoughts. And once he knows your name, then his wish will be your command." Soorec turns back to Ameena. "I know you can see the future, but I would suggest you refrain from dwelling on any flashes you see of...well, I suppose I had best say. An elf. Do not spend too much time dwelling on visions of elves, there are none but him and your own priest friend that I know of. And certainly do not think nor speak any names of his your may hear in your visions. Oh my, no."

Soorec shook his head, and then nodded, and finally walked towards the door. In all the tension, it was only as he prepared to leave that the group would have spotted that two more grak-graks had appeared in the room. While two were still remaining, it now appeared four were coming with the group - two, still in their undead form, standing close to Falkor.

"All ready?" asked Soorec with another breezy, brittle smile. "Shall we depart?"


Obviously, the above might need to change slightly if anyone wants to make any instant reactions. The group might have given Sorrec pause, but in this case that might not have been a good thing. As I only remembered halfway through yesterdays's OOC comments, Falkor does have a way to get out of trouble. Unfortunately, Soorec's had the chance to spot Falkor being a little too cocky, and more importantly the group have come to his defense a little too much (to Soorec's mind, Westian was fairly impartial and got sassed there!)

So yeah, having Soorec along was always going to be potentially dangerous and tricky. Now, I hope its clear its just a case of spotting the timeframe of when the hammer will fall, and spotting how wide that will be.

As OB and anyone reading his thread for the last few days might spot - this isn't great timing, as you've might just have lost the drop on the priest. Wacky fun! See you all tomorrow!

Oh, and while Haynuus might not realise - but Haynuus might just try anyway - Ameena and Westian should now they can 'think' a single reply to Soorec after his three words.

[ian_scho]

"Oh I'll just pop on over and get them two blue ones then" he smiled happily. Then he went to retrieve the green potion on the floor, and after that diversion went to pick up the two potions off the shelf.

[Ameena]

Ameena hears a voice, Soorec's voice, inside her head. She shakes her head briefly and then blinks in confusion, looking at the gnome. No-one's ever done that before. She isn't sure what he means by the question - he keeps calling her a "seer". She still isn't really sure what that is. Her eyes work fine - she can see. And now he's asking her whether she can see. Whether she can see something in particular, perhaps?
She decides not to attempt to reply to this odd question, and hopes the gnome won't take offense - the question sounded rather rhetorical anyway.
Meanwhile the gnomish mage continues to talk, out loud, about the priest. Ameena doesn't like the sound of him - getting inside her head? That doesn't sound good. But didn't Soorec just technically get inside her head when he asked her that silent question? Maybe he's the priest. But he said the priest was an elf. But then, he said not to think about elves. Maybe he's not really a gnome - maybe he can change shape. Maybe he's a mage and a priest. But would he be going to look for the priest if he was the priest? Ameena realises she's just getting herself confused, and stops thinking about that. Then she belatedly remembers that Soorec thinks...or thought...that she was the leader of the group. She moves toward Soorec, standing upright when she reaches him so that their heads are almost level.
"Yes, I think we should probably go now." she says to him, politely. "Does the priest have...friends...like your grak-graks? That is, I know you said he has...undead creatures he controls, but...can they tell him things magically? I mean, could he use them to see what's going on elsewhere? To see us coming to look for him?"

[oh_brother]

In response to Soorec’s thought Westian replied in the manner he had learned before. Do not judge too harshly, this can be put right.

Then something the gnome said pushed all thoughts of Falkor and missing items out of his head. Westian was normally good at hiding his emotions, but his two wide eyes shone with fear as the gnome spoke. In the dream, he had seen an elf priest…o gods, that must be the one he had seen. The one who hated him. And if he knows your name he can control…no, that line of thinking was unpleasant, and Westian suppressed it. And best not to worry the party with any information, it was just a dream after all. Probably he had met this elf before and forgotten about it, but it came back to him in the dream. Yes, that was probably it. No need to worry about that anymore.

If Soorec’s smile was brittle, the still-shocked smile of Westian was less natural still. “Yes Brighteyes, let us go.” Then, reversing his own decision, he returned to the topic of the elf. “And…um..if this priest knows your name, you really think he has some power of you?”

[ian_scho]

Haynuus paused for a moment... Brighteye's voice... It had eminated from WITHIN his head hadn't it? He discarded the thought, as unlikely and continued as if the gnome had been talking to him as normal. "Ohh, he's mostly harmless, I assure you." It wasn't a lie as such, as nearly every single halfling he had met had either ignored the half-orc or drank ale with him. Falkor was unique for being a halfling that not only threw fireballs around but was half suicidal as well, that was true. He seemed to be more a danger to himself most of the time.

"Ermmm, yeah. Yes, let's go."

He held up one of the blue bottles in front of his face, enlarging the gnome infront of him. He talked to the fat blob of a wizard in a chirpy way "These things are cool. I have two. Would you like one or shall I distribute them amongst the rest of us? We could give one for each wizard or do you think Westian and I should have them?" The mischievious half-orc was attempting to persuade the gnome not to give him one of them.

[money]

the laughter stopped, Falkor now looked more serious then ever, things had gone on long enough. How the group had ended up being 'escorted' by the Gnome and his friends was beyond him... and the fact the Gnome was almost certainly in charge of the group - how long they slept, where they went, when they moved on... all done whilst giving the group a sense of choice! Falkor turned to the Grak Grak closest once more, winked then turned to see Brighteyes...

"Noooooo....." Fakor let out an almightly cry... "Brighteyes... may the gods look down upon you... and open the pits of hell to absorb your evil..." and with this he was gone... nothing remained.

[beowuuf]

"The priest only has one 'friend'," said Soorec to Amemna conversationally, "if you can call him that. Garax Warblade was foolish enough to let the priest get close. The priests uses that association as a lever to have anything to do with the Cult of Death. And I fear he now acts upon Gholst's new...desires. No though, no friends. The undead he scrounges up are not intelligent like those that roam the mountain and live in the Mound, he takes only the ones who are scavengers with only base desires, or those so twisted and ancient that they have will alone. They are dangerous and evil, unlike my littles ones." Soorec gives a proud, parental smile. "And no, to him they are merely blunt clubs, extension of his might. NO, nothing like my little ones, have no fear. Well, do have fear, for the priest needs nothing except your own minds to know what's coming for him."

Soorec was confused as both Haynuus and Westian tried to get the gnome's attention. "Names, names, names. So much in so little a set of words. Yet think about it. If I asked you 'who are you', you would not spend time telling me your life history, your calling in life, your hopes and fears and dreams and responsibilities and beliefs. You would simply say We- I mean, you would simply say your name. And vice versa, everything I know about you, everything I conjecture and fear and respect and like and hate and assume and presume and know...all of that lock away in a little box in my mind labelled a person's name. I'm not saying a name has ultimate power, but it is certainly a powerful doorway, one of the most basic interfaces to the world. The way the world labels you shapes who you are. The way you identify yourself is..well, it is how you identify yourself!"

Soorec's face had gone a little distant as he spoke, very serious. He shook himself out of his musings. He smiled. "For instance, you did not wish to kill Brighteyes. You wished to kill Seeroc. And Seeroc was such a terrible wizard that even though you knew nothing of the 'man', you wished his death. Yet your were happy to know Brighteyes - me, of course, I have always liked the nick name. It was only when I took on the name Seeroc to myself - which isn't really my name any more than the epithets I have been called through the years - that you suddenly wished to kill me. Do you see, how easily the world shapes you, and names define you, if you are not careful? Now imagine someone whose magic is based on it!"

Soorec actually patted Westian's arm, and then Haynuus's. "Do not worry, however. Names are doorways only. Or windows too perhaps? And doorways can be kept closed and locked, and curtains can be shuttered. No, the real danger is letting his name into your mind." Soorec waves his hands expansively. "Again, think how much power my name - my false name - had over your group! It drove you here when, really, your destination should have been the priest. It created such fear and hatred and respect in you. And that was all accidental! Imagine if I had wanted to use all that against you. Yes, names have power, and I would be very careful with names - and really, I'm a little disappointed and hurt you did not understand my gesture of tellign you my real name - but above all do not invoke his! Do not even seek it out! If you let him in that deeply, let your guard down that much, well... well, let's not think on such matters!"

Soorec shook his head, then looked askance at Westian. "Hmm, perhaps I should be straight with you." Sooreec looked directly at Westian. "When you died, what did you see, hmm?" Soorec raised an eyebrow. "Did you see...her? The Spider Queen?" Soorec looked very intensely. "And Farel? You all suspect my motives in sending him away, and indeed giving the young lad such an imperfect bodyguard as the knight was not my driving reason for letting the knight go, nor gaining your trust. Did you see anything while dead? Did you see knight when you were between worlds? Did he speak to any such woman or creature that might represent... no, I won't say the name again of the priest's true mistress, that might attract....attention."

In the pause, Haynuus's question distracted Soorec. "The potions, oh, you'll probably want to keep them yourself, why would you share them?" A cunning little thought seemed to pass across Soorec's face. "Infact, perhaps you should give the halfing one of the brown ones, oh my yes."

And turning all attention to the hlafling, it was then that Falkor spoke his piece and vanished.


Hmm, I've just realised something.... join me in the OOC thread!

[ian_scho]

"Ugh, Falkor. He's GONE!" The half-orc went over to the spot where the halfling had been. He had left a cloak on the ground (no not THE cloak) and the half orc patted down with a foot the uneven folds even further so as to be sure that the mage really wasn't hiding in a one centimetre crease. "I'm confused... Again." He looked around expectantly but didn't anticipate any direct answers. Maybe the halfling had other affairs to attend to. Those wily wizards were always zipping around with things to incinerate.

Haynuus had made a mental note of the brown potion comment, however. It was bad, and he'd kept the others hidden in the bottom of his rucksack. While useless against the undead, he would imagine, it could come in handy against a more powerful wizard or priest. Also Haynuus had assumed at face value why Sir Farel was left to go... This place would make you go barmy in the end!

He was ready to move one, and noted Ameena and Westian seemed attentive to the gnome as well.

[Ameena]

Ameena listens and nods attentively at Soorec as he explains to her about the priest's undead assistance, then listens further and with interest as the gnome then explains to Westian about the importance of names. She is about to make a suggestion to the group when Falkor suddenly gives a shout and...disappears?!
Ameena immediately darts over to the spot where Falkor had been standing, and sniffs around to make sure he's really gone - she's heard of magic that can only make oyu appear to disappear. That is, it makes it look like you've gone but in fact you're still there. Invisible, that's the word. It makes you invisible.
On finding nothing (OOC - Correct me if I'm wrong on this, of course), Ameena blinks and looks around confusedly.
"What...he...umm...I've never seen anyone do that before." she says to the group, somewhat confusedly. "At least, I don't think I have..."