Einheriar

[NecroRebel]

"You think the dead need nothing?" The genasi woman laughs bitterly. "Those with nothing are nothing. Besides, we're hardly dead now, and your companions as much as admit that you need to give me something if I'm to do what you need, so be silent." She picks up the shining spear, squints at the light it sheds, and retrieves the mask. Once it covers her face and cuts the glare, she continues, "Much better. This should do nicely, at least until I can get a weapon from a more durable material.

"Now..." She laughs again, in genuine amusement this time, "We can see to satisfying your own greed, phantasms."

[Belobog]

[I apologize. I meant to put something up about the items, but it looks like I didn't. Right in the wheelhouse, so far. : /

Each character may only have one item from the pile. The dagger does not count against this limit, and can freely change hands as needed.]

"We are called Trismegistus, and We have already stated what is required of you.

"Must we spell everything for you?

As Stormsend reaches out for a second item, a ringing intrudes into her head, increasing in volume and pain until the genasi ceases her actions.

VoxPVoxD:

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When you touch the shield, a feeling washes over you. Words of consolation and compromise come more quickly to the mind, and the chance to seek and push peace seem stronger. The feeling passes quickly, though, leaving no trace of its existence.

[+2 to Diplomacy checks.]

NecroRebel:

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When you touch the spear, the next breath you take seems deeper than the last. The light from the spear intensifies, the sounds of rustling and clanging and clopping sharpen in the ears, and the absence of smell and taste becomes so much more acute. It then fades, becoming level and calm in comparison.

[+2 to Perception checks.]

Loshar doesn't feel the dagger cut into his skin before he sees the results for himself, blood dripping to the invisible ground from his hand.

"Oh, dear," the white woman says, clicking her tongue. "We must remind ourselves that you should be very careful with that. You could take an eye out."

[Vox Clamantis]

Loshar

Sliding the dagger into his belt, Loshar absently wipes his bloody hand on his rags as he reaches for the gloves. If these things draw blood too, I'm gonna scream...

[VoxPVoxD]

Benedict

When Benedict straightens out, the heavy, solid shield balanced in his right hand, his posture is a little straighter, his bearing a little more regal. He regards the white woman with a hard expression, undaunted. "Are we to identify and track down this Immortal without any more help from you? Are we allowed no other tools to subdue him? And how exactly do you expect us to bind and carry a living soul that can return to flesh of its own accord?"

His eyes flash, and he steps toward the white lady, voice rising. "And who are you, that you can drag lost souls from their rightful place under writ and sigil but must send lackeys to slay and to take? Who are you, that your quarrel with this Immortal is so great as to furnish us with tools and raiment to carry out this task? Who are you, that you play the games of gods with the souls of men?" By now Benedict stands directly before the white lady, face tilted upward, every line and curve bent with barely restrained fury. Despite this, he now speaks very softly, almost a whisper. "And what are you going to do to us if we fail?"

[Kaihaku]

Basileus

"...oh." Basileus sighs, "I suppose this isn't going to be so easy after all..." He amples over to the pile and plucks up the mask without any pretense of forethought, "Well, it sounds like whoever this immortal fellow is has died plenty of times already, maybe they'll be all set to give up the good fight and get some rest."

[Belobog]

The white woman wags a thin finger at the man. “So impatient. You shall receive all the help We can give…like the fact that the first soul We require shall be right within your grasp, in a plane of existence known as Sigil. These tools here are merely the first step on your journey towards its capture; of course We don’t assume you shall catch him as you are. However, you all are resourceful…I’m sure you shall impress Us with just how much you can make of your surroundings. As for its capture, that why We provided the knife. If you follow what We have told you, you can only succeed.”

At the tirade that follows, though, the white woman only stares…before she burst into laughter, high pitched and shrill enough to harm the ears. Though there is no malice in her voice, a dry heat raises from the floor, a heat that you can feel inside your body. “Quarrel? We have no quarrel with these beings, no argument. We simply want to know why they exist, and We shall know that in any fashion possible. This is the most efficient, pragmatic way. Besides, why should We bloody our hands? We would gain only the soul for such an endeavor…instead, We can let you do this, and we can attend to other matters. Everyone benefits from a little hard work.” The being pauses to chuckle, and one could swear that the smile of the mask becomes sickle thin. “Now, if you would listen closely, We shall make sure you do not forget Us this time.”

The light fades enough for the darkness to take hold once more, but this time you can see the shapes that surround you fully; they are no more mere flickers in the corner of the eye. They are many; monsters of all shapes and sizes, devils and aberrations and angels, all shaped from the void. The new attention stirs them to life, the legion pounding and howling at invisible walls that put you just beyond their reach. The three figures in the center all face out, eyes glowing a uniform white, as they speak in unison.

“We are Trismegistus. Thou shalt have no other gods before Us.”

With that, the light, the sounds, the shapes fade, and the white lady resumes control, leaving the other two to hang. “And the price for failure is simple. We shall eat you.”

Vox Clamantis:

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The gloves seem to writhe when you put them, as if crawling onto your hands, though the feeling is so quick you do not even see the supposed motion. They feel nothing like they look like...indeed, they feel like nothing at all.

[+2 to Thievery]

Kaihaku:

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When you place the mask to your face, you feel the tide of your emotions ebb away, subsumed by an easy confidence that you can tell whomever whatever they wish to hear and they will believe it. It fades in an instant, though, leaving only a hint of the rush that came moments ago.

[+2 to Bluff]

[Kaihaku]

Basileus

"...eh..." Basileus shifts uncomfortably, holding the mask half over his face forgotten, "Well, I guess we shouldn't fail...then..."

((Come on! Where's Lust?! You can eat me anytime, baby... :( ))

[Vox Clamantis]

Loshar

The doppelganger in the form of a young man takes a moment to admire his new gloves. Then, with a sudden look of cunning, he pulls the dagger out of his belt. If I can't figure out a way to get a grip on this thing, it's worse than useless.

[Townopolis]

Moranog

The man, who has yet to rise from his reclining position, remains where he is. His eyes shift in their sockets, catching glimpses of the figures around him, but he as a body remains still.

[VoxPVoxD]

Benedict

The scene unfolds, and Benedict's fury is frozen in place. A wave of cold electricity ripples up his spine, crystallizing his raw emotion into something refined and focused. He feels a clarity of purpose he hadn't remembered, but could no longer live without. Beneath the awe and clarity is a profound restlessness, a steady, burning impulse to move, to make, to do. Benedict is still. He squares his shoulders. He bows his head.

"I cry your pardon."

[Belobog]

"And all is forgiven. We are understanding masters, and if you truly try, We shall be easy to please."

The two remaining items resting on the floor take on a life of their own, crawling towards new owners out of their own volition and placing themselves in the hands of those who could use them. Whether they decide to or not is up to them.

[Moranog - The Holy Symbol.
Sedar - The Coat.

If you guys decide to use them, tell me, and I'll send over what they do.]

Loshar once again tries the dagger, and the dagger does not slice through his gloves, nor does he feel any pain. However, he should feel a wetness across his fingers, a wetness that soon dries and cakes the skin underneath.

[Game shall move to next section later today.]

[Kaihaku]

Basileus

"...Sigil..." Basileus rubs his scrubby beard cluelessly.

[Belobog]

The white woman chuckles when the items find their owners, amused at the decisiveness of both the people and their possessions. "It seems that you're well suited for each other. A pleasing sight." The being's attention seems to leave the plane the others reside in, the presence of the thing leaving for a moment. "It would be prudent for you to leave now, We think. You appear ready. We hope that shall prove the case." With that, the god waves you away, and the world around you fades into darkness. The last things to leave are the masks.

The darkness holds strong to your eyes, grudgingly giving up grasp of your eyes to a few cracks of flickering light. A weight presses against your chest, your arms, your legs, making each move a struggle. Stale air and the scent of rotten meat invades your nose and mouth, and what feels like pieces of rough stone meet your skin. The light seems an arm's reach away...

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Perception 15: You are buried under a pile of corpses.
DC 15 Strength check to break through.
DC 15 Acrobatics check to crawl out.

[Townopolis]

Moranog

Moranog lets the sensations sink into him for a few moments before trying to move. He turns his head and tries to lift his arms, but finds the movement far more difficult than he had first anticipated. Pain races across his body, tracing a web through his muscles, like cracks in a vase. He spasms and gulps for air, then forces his breathing to slow, gathering himself before trying again.

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strength - (1d20+4)[8]
perception - (1d20+2)[9]

[VoxPVoxD]

Benedict

Benedict realizes almost instantly where he is now, and a wave of revulsion smothers him. At first he tries to beat the bodies away from him, but the shield makes it impossible to get the proper leverage. After a moment's silent futile struggle, he uses the shield that impeded his brute force to let him wriggle out of the pile of corpses.

He gasps for air when he reaches the surface. Still panting, he looks around for the others, ready to dive back in and pull them out if need be.

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Perception: (d20+9)[22]
Strength: (d20)[11]
Acrobatics: (d20-1)[18]

[Vox Clamantis]

'Shar

Although totally clueless as to what he's trapped in, Loshar wriggles his way to freedom with the casual ease of a circus tumbler. He mutters almost to himself as he pulls his leg free.

What the...what is this?

[Kaihaku]

Basileus

Basileus lays beneath the crushing weight for a long moment, his eyes watering at the stench then he makes one great effort to push himself free...when that fails, just barely, he collapses back with a moan. He makes a final weak attempt to wiggle free then relents, closing his eyes and trying not to breath in too deeply.

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(1d20+1)[14] (1d20)[10]

[NecroRebel]

Struggling with all of her might to reach the surface is ineffectual, as the spear that is the woman's most precious - and only - possession catches in something somewhat soft. Fortunately, she is so focused on freeing it that she does not immediately notice just what she is stuck in, leaving her to wrench at the weapon free of disgust.

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Trying again...
Perception - (1d20+6)[20]
Strength - (1d20+4)[23]
Acrobatics - (1d20+2)[19]

[Kaihaku]

((Ten days later...))

The weight crushing down on him, rancid stench assaulting his nostrils, Basileus musters up the energy to make another attempt to escape.

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(1d20+1)[6] (1d20)[10]

...and fails utterly, sinking even lower into the dead, "Bother." Then, he takes firm grip on a putrid corpse and gritting his teeth manages finally struggle his way free of the pile. His first act upon gaining freedom is to collapse and lay breathing heavily.

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http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5761972#post5761972

[Townopolis]

Moranog

Regathering his strength, Moranog tries again to get out from under the pile of... whatever kind of rotting flesh this is.

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strength - (1d20+4)[8]
perception - (1d20+2)[20]
acrobatics - (1d20+1)[15]

[Belobog]

Those chosen crawl or charge their way through the wall trapping them, utilitarian stone and ash and burnt bones clattering to the floor as the more powerful members destroy the barricade in front of them. A beam of weak light, enough to fill the room, hangs down from a break in a ceiling some two stories above you; it reveals a slanted rectangular room of black iron, slight grooves and holes in the walls and floor. A steel shutter sits at the top of the room; unlike the rest of the room, it seems to be in perfect condition.

Though a large section of the room’s ceiling has crumbled away, a section of ceiling remains defiant of the destruction, and the top of a large granite slab is propped against it. Iron plating marks the slab, and is made in a similar fashion to the walls of the room you are in. Though it seems difficult, it looks like one can climb up…[DC 20 Athletics check.]

A great rent to the right of the room leads to a drop around 8’ down. A careful look tells that there is also light coming from beneath, though the only thing able to be seen from this high is a solid stone table with a number of fine tools amongst it.

[VoxPVoxD]

Benedict

Benedict takes a careful, appraising look around as he approaches the drop.

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Perception: (d20+9)[10]

[NecroRebel]

The genasi woman examines the slab leading towards the roof contemptuously, then closes her eyes and spreads her arms wide. A whispering breeze flows from below, swirling about her body, before growing to a tempest and lifting her swiftly to the roof before dying down again. After quickly perusing her new surroundings, she turns back to the path downward to offer her spear and shoulders as aid.

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Athletics checks to climb are for lamers. Windwalker is where it's at

However, Aiding Another on whoever else chooses to climb up, and making a Perception check to look around.

Perception - (1d20+6)[12]
Aid Another Athletics - (1d20+9)[26](This one's an autosuccess, so... yeah)

[Townopolis]

Moranog

The tall, tattoed man crawls out from under the corpses and sits down on top of the pile, massaging life back into his body before continuing. His eyes slowly scan the room, taking in its features and the other occupants. He recognizes them from the darkness, and tucks this away in a corner of his mind.

Once he is good and ready, he crawls over to the precipice. Lying on his belly, he looks down the 8' drop, casually interested in the room below, but more intently gauging his chances of getting back up once he had descended.

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12 passive perception on the room below,
(16 - Rolled in the OOC) perception to specifically gauge the difficulty of getting back up here

[Vox Clamantis]

the Drunk

Shrugging, the slender shapeshifter goes over to the slab and takes a go at climbing it towards the ceiling.

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Acrobatics: (1d20+9)[20]
Stealth: (1d20+9)[22] to do it quietly

[Kaihaku]

Basileus

Basileus sighs wearily before getting back to his hooves. He watches the others busily set to work and shakes his head softly.