The Mortal Coil [IC]

[Lucretia]

Lake Qualis. The clear water reflected the rain clouds above, pregnant and prepared to unleash a veritable deluge at a moment's notice. Thick gray clouds hovered over the small town that encircled Thrix's smallest notable lake. It was a setting as picturesque as any theatrical soul might crave. Fifty new-comers had arrived in the last few days, an unheard-of amount for the indistinct village. For a place of one hundred, receiving half your population in tourists all of a sudden could certainly be stressful. The strain on the food supplies, for instance, was incredible. But the fifty had flocked to the town, and it was doing all it could to take care of them beneath the darkening skies.

A single thread of lightning crossed the tapestry of the sky, arcing from heavens to earth. A few moments later, the basso profundo of nature rolled across, from the slopes of the nearby mountains and over the rich Thrixian grainlands.

The fifty had something in common, of course, but only one thing really: their age. A few hobgoblins sat sullenly in the tavern, protecting their oily manes from the impending downpour. An elf sat on the banks of the lake, his legs pulled in away from the ice cold water. His eyes were glued to a blue woman, her legs within the lake and her head towards the sky. Outside the primary grain silo, an ogre argued loudly (and unintelligibly) with the merchant in charge, while the local butcher suffered the abuse of a pair of half-orcs. Near the local cultary, a human played a lyre and sang perverse lyrics against the Cult of Mortality.

There were many sorts within the town's boundaries, and you five added a touch of diversity even to those who were already there. A ghost, two humans, a gnoll and an elf. Drawn from your respective homes and continents to this place, to this little no-name town beside some silly little lake by an inexplicable urging. It was the same reason that the other forty-five strangers had arrived here over the course of the last few days. It was the same reason you were wherever you were within the town.

The urge hadn't given further instructions. There weren't any additional commands. Just a constant, dull, throbbing feeling pulsing through each and every one of your minds:

Stay. Put.

It had been that way since the moment you stood on the weathered flagstones of the village. The incredible nudge had just vanished. And what a strange thing it had been! When you were idle, you'd find yourself turning towards the town's direction. When walking aimlessly, you aimed towards the lake. Your thoughts would arrive at the place when you attempted to think of something else. Indeed, whatever this strange magic was, it would not leave you be.

In the tavern, near the finicky hobgoblins, a human spoke loudly about how her magic was unable to block out the calling, as she referred to the urge as. "Not a thing I could do about it," she would caterwaul, throwing her arms up and letting the various bangles jangle off-tune. "Most gifted abjurer in the Mystfel, and I couldn't put it out of my mind, can you believe it?" Those who looked on her for her physical appearance would nod -- sorcerers were always somewhat attractive, it seemed, as though the inherent magic did a bit of corrective surgery through the years -- and those who envied her supposed prowess would make mental notes of her specialization.

You had all arrived at different times from each other, although some sooner than others. But when the final individual of the fifty had arrived, the urging switched. No longer was there some vague and grating imposition, now there were directions again. Once more the mind would wander and the feet would meander towards some destination.

It was outside, in the grainlands.

The emotion switched. Another branch of lightning made its way from the skies to the ground. And finally, it began to rain.

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Welcome to The Mortal Coil. Please write a small introductory bit concerning where your character was before the Summons were put into effect proper. Once everyone has arrived in the grainlands, or has stated that they've begun their journey towards the new meeting place, the story can commence.

I just wanted to let you know what I needed from you. This is more the cutscene at the beginning than the prologue -- that'll happen once you meet The Shade.

Thank you for waiting, and I hope you will have as much fun as I imagine I will!

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In addition, I've got no idea how many of this thread currently exist thanks to the various 503 errors that have come up to put a wrinkle in my posting. So... that's a nuisance, because I really don't want to get cited by the administration for something that was entirely not intentional.

[CowMasterTrojan]

Galizur floated eagerly in the air above the grassland, looking down upon all that were gathering. Hard to see normally when he manifested, now he was so far in the air it was unlikely the few who looked to the sky would even have a chance of seeing him. His eyes scanned the crowd, waiting for the one.

He had known he would be called, even before he had felt it while he had been hiding in the the sewers. He had sensed something big was on the horizon as soon as he had died the first time. His connection to death stronger than the living, he could feel it coming. So that feeling, that direction, was not unwelcome. He had been one of the first to arrive, not resisting the calling but immediately embracing it instead.

Now he silently watched as more and more gathered. He knew not what purpose he or they would serve other than it would be related to death, but it excited him to be part of it. To matter once more. But for that, someone would have to arrive and explain. He suspected that time was coming.

[Cardea]

Sythini

She pulled her hood up close to her head. She was one of the last to arrive, and it had felt like a week had gone by already. The same routines between everyone. Same conversations. Same debates. Same flirtations and arguments and same everyone else after a little bit. But that wasn't true. She was getting restless. She thought this venture out into this small town would prove fruitful, but so far, nothing.

She had spent her time wandering the town, and trying not to go mad with the inexplicable loop she found herself in. There was nothing she found that was at all... helpful. A waste of her time, and yet she could not get away. Could not escape. Just that same... command. In her head.

But time passed soon enough, and a second urge came in. Something new. Hopefully the last. She tapped on her bag twice, before going to the grainlands. She looked around, viewing as everyone else moved there too.

If things went awry, at least she would have more research material.

[Silver Night]

Dejas

Dejas leaned back against the tavern wall. He ran a speculative eye over the loud human practitioner and sipped his (none too good) wine. He didn't mind travel, but being lead around by the nose bothered him, and he gave an irritated snort as he tried and failed to prod his mind onto a path other than the new summons.

He'd arrived sooner than some, and later than others, but after even a little time in the small town he'd reached the conclusion that wherever he was being pulled now, it couldn't be duller than the backwater town - though admittedly he'd mostly only observed the inside of the tavern.

With an unconscious twitch of one rounded ear, he drained the vinegary red left in his glass, and headed for the door.

As he stepped out the door, he adjusted his eye-patch and brushed a bit of imaginary lint off of his immaculately tailored jacket. Resting a hand on one of his maces, the gnoll headed toward the grainlands and whatever was in store.

[Strainseir]

Rain fell upon his face as a white weasel ran about Ash's feet. Here he was, standing in this grassland once more. It felt like this was a dream, a dream that he had had over and over again since childhood, and yet whenever he tried to recall such a dream his mind went blank. How long had be been standing in this field, when did he get here, and why were there so many others that looked as confused and lost as he did?

The last think Ash could remember it was sunny outside and he was Chatting up a girl he had liked since making his home in that town after leaving the Academy.... What was the name of that town. He was Celebrating a victorious quest spending a portion of his hard earned wealth on libations and how he was standing fully geared in a grass field urged to move forward yet he was not afraid. This felt right, so onward he went following others around him into the field following that inner yearning.

[Sneaky Weasel]

Vardoth Silvertongue had been traveling for five days now. His horse had given out on the third day as he traveled through a bog, leaving him to carry on on foot. As he approached the town, he reflected on the strange urge that had brought him here. Most people would be confused or frightened by such an alien feeling, but Vardoth was not worried in the slightest. He knew why he was being drawn to this village. It was Destiny manifesting itself.

At last he arrived, reaching the base of the mountain, and stared down at the small village below. Already dozens of people were flocking there, arriving from all directions. This gave him pause. Why were all these others coming here? It was he, Vardoth, that was chosen by Destiny, and this pathetic rabble had no business in being called there along with him. Well, nothing to do but carry on. He’d come this far.

That was then. This is now.

Vardoth stands in the town square, looking around him at the other people who had been called. As the rain starts, he raises his head and lets it flow over his face, exulting in the chilly water. It washed the grime of travel from him, leaving him soaked but clean. Shaking his long black hair like a dog, he begins to wander through the village.

Liable to draw attention no matter where he goes, here is no exception. Standing over six feet tall and with a lithe, muscular frame, Vardoth’s countless scars and battered armor serve as a testament to the hard life he’s led. A double edge bastard sword hangs from his side, its sheath unadorned and made from simple leather. His dark grey eyes remain steadily directed in front of him, ignoring the other Called. They are of no importance when all is said and done, after all.

Well, Destiny had called him, but it didn’t seem very willing to give him directions from here. Better to find things out for himself then. But where to start? This question runs through his mind as he glares around at the sodden village. Perhaps he would just...look around a bit.

With this in mind, he sets off.

[Lucretia]

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Music for the encounter.

A circle formed in the grainlands, rain pelting each corporeal Touched. Whether you intended to or not, you each joined the circle, except for Galizur who floated loftily above them all. Another crack of thunder broke through the silence, the low rumble bathing the circle of forty nine as surely as the droplets of water. At the height of the deluge, something peculiar happened.

Time stopped.

If anyone took a moment to observe, they'd note the million million drops of water suspended in time, motionless, unmovable. Crystals held aloft by nothing by a lack of immediate momentum, unable to reflect light for the lack of any light to reflect. Jewels and gems from the heavens, paused briefly in their voyage from the heavenly mines to the hungry earthen consumers. There was something precious about the rain, especially for a continent based on agriculture.

Something else someone might observe was that the rain had stopped, but none of the Touched had. All forty nine of the viewable individuals were still capable of movement, in a sense. Anyone with an understanding of basic temporal magic knew that it was individual only, that the spell actually increased the "localized time stream" for a tiny bubble and that what could seem like twenty seconds of frozen time was simply hyperincreased awareness and response time. Not here, it would seem.

But the final (or first, depending on the individual) thing the Touched might note would be how utterly constricting it was to be literally covered in rain, only for that rain to become entirely immobile. A crystal cage, beautiful but painful, drawing blood from those who struggled against it too forcefully. Even the familiars and small folk found themselves hedged in by the rain. No one, it would seem, had brought an umbrella.

The circle of Touched was trapped, both in time and in place. It was then that the gracious host decided to appear.

Beside Galizur, high above the circle, a voice spoke in dual-harmonics, a simultaneous female-male amalgam. "IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I REALIZED ONE OF THE TOUCHED HAD ALREADY DIED," it began with, out of sight from Galizur. Even if the Ghost decided to turn, to try and locate it, the Voice would remain out of sight. "BUT I TOOK IT WITH APLOMB, YOU SEE. DECIDED IT WAS IN MY BEST INTEREST TO SIMPLY, WHAT'S THE PHRASE, 'WATCH THE CATTLE RUN TO THE ROOST'? NO? HUH. NO MATTER. YOU REALLY OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED THOUGH, HELLSTORM, FLOATING SO FAR ABOVE YOUR BRETHREN. HERE... LET ME HELP YOU."

A terrible sensation arose throughout Galizur's body. A... ripping sensation. Quite painful, reminiscent of death itself, and after this strange feeling there was the tossing. Through countless beads of water Galizur was thrown, landing with a thud on the ground in a convenient puddle that had already been present in the circle. Almost, it could be said, by design. Now all fifty of the Touched were present. Ten from each year that the Blood Comets raged across the sky. A variety of races, without any particular pattern.

"WELCOME," the strange voice said, audible to each of the participants now. "I suppose you've each wondered a bit about what you are, hmm?" In the center of the circle, shadows began to coalesce. Each little raindrop cast an almost imperceptible shadow, of course, as all things do. They were pulled from beneath each little crystal, gathered in a centralized location and, in the time that seemed to go on forever, took shape. It felt like an eternity passed as the shadows formed, and yet it had been only seconds in the halted time bubble. A being of flowing shadow, with some barely perceivable shape. It was all very blurry, and understandably so. Shadows weren't used to being given shape.

With a snap of its fingers, if such motions could be attributed to the strange creature before them, a harsh looking cloak fell upon it, covering it and giving it better definition. "THAT'S BETTER. GOOD. NOW I CAN SEE YOU... AND YOU, IN TURN, CAN SEE ME. GOOD. WELCOME!" The cloak's arms flew up, and shadowy, ragged-edged fingers were outstretched, as though the creature intended to give someone a hug. "AREN'T YOU JUST A TREAT, MY DARLING FRIENDS? FIFTY INDIVIDUALS, BROUGHT TO ME BY NOTHING MORE THAN AN URGING OF THE BLOOD. FIFTY REMARKABLE INDIVIDUALS. I CONSIDER YOU MORE AS MY CHILDREN THAN ANY SORT OF SLAVE, OF COURSE. IT WOULD BE RUDE TO THINK OF ANY SENTIENT CREATURE AS SOME SORT OF LESSER BEING, BEFORE THE MIGHT OF A GOD. BUT I WILL POINT OUT THAT YOU WERE DRAWN TO THIS PLACE BY SOMETHING MORE THAN JUST... CURIOSITY.

"IT WAS POWER, OF COURSE. THAT'S WHAT BRINGS EVERYONE ON THIS PLANE ANYWHERE. POWER. THE POWER TO STOP TIME, THE POWER TO BRING CORPOREAL WHAT WAS INCORPOREAL, THE POWER TO CALL YOU ALL. SUMMON YOU ALL. IT WAS THAT POWER THAT BROUGHT YOU TO ME, AND IT IS BY THAT POWER THAT YOU KNOW YOU ARE NOT SOME MERE INDIVIDUAL, SOME PATHETIC LITTLE MORTAL, SOME FLESHDOLL BROUGHT HERE BY BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVES BY YOUR INSUFFERABLY MORTAL PARENTS.

"BUT WE HAVE RUN INTO WHAT I'LL CALL AN IMPASSE, YOU UNDERSTAND." The robe looked around the circle, the hood covered in smokelike shadow. The black stuff oozed out, flickered out into the open, tendrils of smoky darkness testing the edges of the light. As if the shadow beneath was pushing out the shadow above, and overflowing from the hood. "THERE EXIST FIFTY OF YOU. THAT IS, SIMPLY PUT, FORTY...FIVE TOO MANY. I HAVE NEED OF A SMALLER GROUP. TOO MANY COOKS IN THE KITCHEN, I'M SURE YOU UNDERSTAND. SO HERE'S WHAT I BELIEVE NEEDS TO HAPPEN.

"SOME OF YOU NEED TO DIE. I'LL LEAVE IT UP TO THE WHOLE TO DETERMINE SOME SYSTEM BY WHICH YOU CAN SELECT WHO SHOULD LIVE AND WHO SHOULD DIE. LOTTERIES ARE PARTICULARLY AMUSING. FIGHTS TO THE DEATH ARE EXPEDIENT. DEMOCRACY IS PAINSTAKINGLY SLOW AND REQUIRES QUITE A FEW HUNDRED GENERATIONS BEFORE IT REALLY GETS TO THE SELECTIVE 'AND NOW YOU'VE GOT TO DIE' DECISIONS. BUT REGARDLESS, TO THOSE WHO WILL BE JUDGED, I WILL ALLOW YOU TO CHOOSE WHAT MANNER OF JUDGMENT YOU WISH."

With a tilt of its hood, the robed creature added, "AND LET IT RAIN ONCE MORE."

The rain began to fall once again, freeing the Touched from their crystalline prisons. An ogre looked to his left and right, eyeing his neighbors. The sorceress from the bar held up her hands. "I mean, there's not, like, an actual reason forty five need to die, right? I mean, we could totally just, like, leave the place, right? I mean like, it's not going to be the end of the world if we leave now, because, like, we haven't learned anything of any importance, so it's not like we're risks or anything...? Right?"

The various Touched's eyes moved left and right. Apparently the sorceress's words weren't having a particularly soothing effect upon the whole. The robed figure had disappeared from the center of the circle, nowhere to be seen. It would appear that the conditions of its challenge had to be met before the meeting could continue.

[Cardea]

Sythini

"The metaphor it used was 'Too many cooks in the kitchen', Miss." Sythini speaks up, making her voice heard over the rain. She removes her hood, revealing short white hair, green eyes and a petite face. Her expression stays that of caution and concern. "I believe this would mean that some of us are simply thinking of leaving; walking away from this whole ordeal. But yes, he did say that some of us need to die. With that, I believe that many of us have no other course of action but to stay. And should words not prove effective, a fight would be the eventual outcome.

"But to the point, I don't believe all of us should die. Nay, I'd prefer the option to not have any blood spill this close to such a small, nice village, that has been so nice to the fifty of us who have gathered here, yes? Despite our behavior, good or ill, they have kept us fed and sheltered. It would be rude, if nothing else.

"But I propose this: If you leave, those of us who remain should not wish you ill will, and indeed, this would be a humble memory shared. If you stay, we should wait until those who wish to leave to do so, before we attempt to narrow it down. That we should wait until those who do not wish to fight leave, before such a terrible thing were to start.

"But know this: We are all somehow connected. When that... entity... spoke to the Ghost in our presence, he referred to us as Touched. We are all this: Touched. We share this link. We share this bond. I have no intention to sever it, especially our Abjurist friend here is right with her remark: if dark days are coming, and the world grows smaller. I have no intention to limit those I am bonded to, if this means that is one more place I have a chance to seek refuge in.

"But whether you leave or go, let us know who you are. Whether you choose to leave now and let the those of us who stay narrow ourselves out. Whether you choose to stay and earn a spot as one of our... Host's... five selections. Speak your name, so that we may know you as friend if we meet later on. Speak your name, so that, if worse comes to worse, your grave shall not go unmarked.

"I am Sythini Hinoam. I am an Artificer. Know my name so we may meet later, or know my name so my grave will be known as my own. And this is where I stand."

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Diplomacy: (1d20+7)[18]

[CowMasterTrojan]

Climbing to his knees, the horrifically disfigured ghost held a look of utter shock. His hand scraping through the mud, he stared at the dirt and rain for a moment.
What has that creature done? Do I live once more? No, but I am no longer in that shadowy realm of existence.
Standing up, his glowing eyes look around, taking in the panicked looks of those around him. His horrifically disfigured body enough that most look away. Aware of their gaze, Galizur takes a long cloth on his shoulder and slings it across his lower face, covering the worst of his disfigurement.
"So some of us must die... I believe I am at a unfair advantage there because I already have. So I suggest you all follow Sythini Hinoam's advise and leave. Because those with enough mettle to stay should be prepared to die."
With that, a long blade of brilliant blue energy grows from his half of a hand and he takes a defensive stance that implies he is ready to attack.

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Intimidate (1d20+6)[15]

[Sneaky Weasel]

Well well. When he had first been trapped by the rain, Vardoth had struggled against it with all his might. Was this merely a trap, designed to catch him unawares? But then the shadow had appeared, and Vardoth remained still as he listened to what it had to say.

So it seemed he had been correct. It was not merely some idle whim that drew him here, but the magic of this creature. What it was, he could not tell. Destiny made manifest? Some sorcerer of unprecedented power? A remnant of lost divinity? It was impossible to tell, but what he did know was that it was powerful. No doubt it could annihilate them all if it wanted. But that wasn't going to happen. It needed them. It needed him.

And when it spoke of how it only needed five people to do its bidding, Vardoth grinned a savage grin. So the others needed to die. Of course, as the elf said, they could leave instead. But then they might interfere with the chosen five, and they would need to be watched. Better that everyone die.

Hmm. Powerful as he was, Vardoth could only assume that most of the others were of similar power. Trying to take them all on at once would simply be folly. So, time to...spread some discord.

"Hear me, fellow Touched!" That was the term the shadow had used. In Vardoth's mind, it seemed to indicate that they were all insane...or would be soon. Hopefully that was not the intended meaning. "I'm sure you're all curious as to what will happen to the five who are chosen. But in order to find out, you will have to cut your way through your brethren until you stand on a mound of bodies and blood. This is not some holiday, some adventure or interesting way of spending an afternoon. This is a life or death struggle, and if you value what time you have, then leave now. You should remain only if you believe you are powerful enough, ruthless enough, to slaughter your fellows and survive their assaults. I myself will be only one of those you will have to fight against in order to survive." He smirks, slowly drawing his sword from its sheath. It glows a faint blue in the fading light.

"I will give you all ten minutes to leave this square, never to return. Those who remain will have to fight, tooth and claw, for the honor of being chosen by this mad specter who will most likely kill you if you win. Is there really anyone here who trusts it?
So leave, or die. That is your choice."

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I think this would be Intimidate? Maybe Bluff for the specter bit, but overall I think Intimidate would be better.
(1d20+16)[26]

[Silver Night]

Dejas

From what the shadow creature had said, Dejas suspected that those who left would not, in fact, be unharmed. Still, better to win with grace and guile than blood and bruises.

He whipped off his hat, flinging off rain-drops, and waved it in the air, "Listen! Listen, my friends. Surely a creature such as that can't intend anything good for us, after compelling us all here. We should flee! Flee from here, and banish the specter and its babble from our minds."

He continued, voice ringing with sincerity, "Those who wish to stay, for no reward that has been mentioned, should by all means stay. In my experience, it is likely the only reward on offer will be a shallow grave once the beasty has no need for us. Iron is cheaper than gold, my friends, this is true in all places Dejas has seen, and many places that is. The stab to the back always much quicker than the coin to the hand, yes? Particularly when it is coming from such sinister sorts as we have seen."

"Let us leave this accursedly damp place, and find a tavern some healthy distance away with a warm fire, good food, and comely company! The first round will be on me!"

If some left, then with luck they would be well on their way to that tavern before they noticed he had not joined them. Meanwhile, he looked around for cover and good places to hide or fight from while he waved everyone toward town a few more times with his hat, and then set it back on his head.

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Diplomacy: (1d20+13)[16]

and

Bluff: (1d20+13)[29]

And Spot (1d20+11)[26]

[Strainseir]

About him danced frozen rain like shards of floating glass. The weasel hidden in his clothing writhed and turned nearly frantic. Whatever this was it was powerful magic indeed. When the Shade appeared, Ash knew instantly that this thing was far from benevolent, creatures of such power rarely are. When it gave the command to kill those around him till the fifty were five, Ash was appalled,"Just as those that came before refused to be the puppets of the god, I shall not be a Puppet to whatever that THING is."

Ash drew forth his own mighty blade as runes of power danced across it,"The first man or woman that begins to strike down those that stand here shall meet my blade. I will not tolerate such acts of blind evil!"

[CowMasterTrojan]

About him danced frozen rain like shards of floating glass. The weasel hidden in his clothing writhed and turned nearly frantic. Whatever this was it was powerful magic indeed. When the Shade appeared, Ash knew instantly that this thing was far from benevolent, creatures of such power rarely are. When it gave the command to kill those around him till the fifty were five, Ash was appalled,"Just as those that came before refused to be the puppets of the god, I shall not be a Puppet to whatever that THING is."

Ash drew forth his own mighty blade as runes of power danced across it,"The first man or woman that begins to strike down those that stand here shall meet my blade. I will not tolerate such acts of blind evil!"

"I desire to be a puppet no more than you. But more than one of us have said it. You can leave if you want, no one is stopping you. What we are a part of is much bigger than anyone's life here! Can you not feel that? This is not manipulation. This is destiny. If you stay here, it is time to play your hand in it. Either turn away or deal with what Destiny requires. So if more than 5 remain, there will be blood. If you would like that to start with you and I, so be it. However, I question how much blood you will find in me"

[Silver Night]

Dejas

Dejas held up his hands, empty, palms out, in the universal sign of one unarmed, "Look, look. Those who would leave, we can leave. Those who would stay - stay. Perhaps the lottery idea? I see no need for our shadowy harasser's expedient path. We are all reasonable..."

Dejas eyed the assembled for a moment, "Things, are we not? And once those with no interest leave, the rest of you have a better chance in such a lottery, is it not so?"

[CowMasterTrojan]

"I have no intentions of preventing those who wish to leave from doing so."

A surge of blue energy gathers from all around Galizur's decayed body, then surges into the blade growing from his arm. It's glow strengthens significantly.

"But make your decisions now... and do not dawdle. There is no standing by the side line of your destiny. Turn away or deal with what it brings."

[Sneaky Weasel]

Things seem to be going just as Vardoth intended them to. Everyone is arguing, the general emotion is fear and worry, and a fight looks likely to break out soon. Without even concentrating, he categorizes the main speakers in his head.

A flamboyant gnoll, seemingly uninterested in the whole venture. Adding fuel to the flames, and convincing those of weak will to flee. Good. Although it paid to be wary of gnolls, this one was doing exactly what Vardoth wants.

A strong looking warrior, unarmored. The resident do-gooder. Attacking the first person to initiate combat would only add fuel to the flames. Foolish, but perfect for the current situation.

A...ghost? The twisted incorporeal man was the only one who really gave Vardoth pause. Such an opponent would be hard to defeat, and its bloodthirsty nature indicated that it would be at the forefront of any fight. Vardoth was not eager to take on something that could walk through walls and avoid solid blows, so he hoped that the other fighters would pick it off before he had to. Regardless, it complicated matters slightly, especially since it seemed intelligent enough to figure out what was really going on. It was the only one besides himself who admitted that Destiny was at work here.

He moves over to the do-gooder swordsman, a stern look on his face. He speaks quietly, his words intended for Ash alone. "It is obvious that that ghost intends nothing but evil." He gestures at Galizur. "If you are truly interested in maintaining the right, you should neutralize him before he decides to kill an innocent." Just the right inflection, the right words to convince this warrior to start the bloodshed. It was Vardoth's true talent.

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Bluff(I know it doesn't work on PCs, but it is a good indication of how convincing Vardoth is nonetheless): (1d20+19)[25]

[Silver Night]

"I always thought that those beyond life had patience, Dead Man. It is not so, I see."

The gnoll smiles a careful smile, broad and friendly, but not showing too many teeth, "There are those who in your position would decide that destiny had already had her way with them. I admire your optimism. No need for threats, those leaving are leaving, yes?"

[CowMasterTrojan]

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Spot (1d20+26)[35]
Listen (1d20+26)[46]

If there was one thing ghosts were, it would be observant. Galizur was no exception to this rule, and his eyes narrowed as he watched Vardoth move close and whisper to the one who was already hostile. Not sure of his motives, he decided he didn't care. The purpose was obvious, the result most likely unavoidable. So his eyes simply glared angrily, his impatience growing bigger. He was sick of waiting for destiny. He readied his blade for the one with the sword to attack, and waited.

[Strainseir]

Ash looks down to the one that comes closer to him for a moment the honeyed words of this warrior did indeed deflect from the sinister words that first brought forth the outburst from Ash. Where that not enough the man came closer without sheathing his blade. As if on reaction his defenses came up and the unarmored Swordsman was wrapped in protective magics.

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Casting Mage Armor Greater and Shield

To not provoke any further hostilities Ash does not raise his sword though he desires to,"You do indeed have a silver tongue, but I will not drink from your poison Chalice. Not but a few moments ago your gave an ultimatum upon when you were going to begin fighting and yet you expect me to conspire with you again someone else. I swear it on my ancestors if you needlessly spill one drop of another's blood this day I shall personally send you to the nine hells. I have no desire to stay here nor will I heed the commands of the Shade abomination should I stand here when there be only five of the so called touched as it called us. I stay here now simply to keep creatures like you from bring more suffering into an ailing world."

[Sneaky Weasel]

Vardoth almost chuckles at the young swordsman. Such morals! It seemed his first opinion of Ash had been correct. Why, this man was almost a Paladin.

"Poisoned chalice? Send me to the Nine Hells? Sir, you wound me. My 'ultimatum' was merely a warning to the unprepared that fighting will most likely break out. I had only the best intentions in mind. If you do not wish to heed my warning, so be it. But any blood spilled by the ghost is on your hands if you do not stop him." Smiling with utter sincerity, Vardoth backs off. This was invigorating, weaving his words to confuse the rabble around him. He only wished there was a mind worthy of matching wits against. He waves cheerfully at Galizur, aiming to further infuriate the ghost. Thinking about it, he really didn't need to do anything more to egg them on. A fight would break out soon, with or without his help.

Now, the gnoll. He seemed in danger of cooling the situation down somewhat. Depending on what happened next, Vardoth might be forced to move against him. Well, only time will tell.

[Silver Night]

Dejas

The gnoll seemed to be busy aiming a dashing smile at the sorceress from the bar. Then he straightened the long feather in his hat, and sauntered around the edges of the group, encouraging people and not-quite-people to leave.

[Cardea]

Sythini

Sythini sighs as she adjusts the tightness of her bracers. She looks at the four speakers. Her eyes flare, a dark, vivid grey, as she speaks four words. "Protegat. Arcanum Illum Visus" Keeping the changed color, she speaks again. "Gnoll. Ghost. Swordsmen. Before you dissolve into arguments, perhaps we should wait until the decisions of the other forty-five present have been made. I won't doubt any of your skills, as you should not mine, but I do not trust any of us to last long if we continue to argue. Its been made clear that we five, at least, choose to stay. Attempts to intimidate one another will prove to be a fruitless endeavor."

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Casting Shield and Arcane Sight. Spellcrafting the Gnoll, the man playing Devil's advocate, the apparent Zealot and the Ghost.

I'll make fourto be sure.
(1d20+20)[39]
(1d20+20)[31]
(1d20+20)[22]
(1d20+20)[23]

Edit: Almost a 20. Dang.

[Silver Night]

Dejas

Dejas turned to the new speaker, "Why hello there."

He swept off his hat and bowed, I am Dejas. Me, I am not arguing. I am a gnoll of action! Still, words are often less expensive than swords, is it not so? And I prefer to save my coin and my blood for worthwhile endeavors."

He grinned and winked at the elf, "Perhaps once this is done, I might spend some it it - the coin, I hope, and not the blood - to buy you a drink and we might discuss it in more comfortable surroundings." He glanced up at the rain, "If I must stay out here much longer, the stains, they will never come out."

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Most of the Gnoll's cloths would light up as being magical, including the hat and eyepatch. He wouldn't have anything that looked like an active spell going on him, though.

Also, posting from my phone, so forgive me any egregious errors in formatting etc.

[Sneaky Weasel]

Vardoth's smile fades as the elf speaks. This one could be trouble. Not only was she being reasonable and influencing the others towards peace, she was a mage. Mages were trouble. The simple ability to change the laws of physics at their whim, and to confound those far stronger than themselves in combat, meant that Vardoth had always despised mages. Power gained from magic was not real power, and it would abandon you at the worst moment.

Automatically he flexed his fingers, feeling his own anti-magic powers rising to the surface. It gave him an edge against people like this, but he would still rather fight the ghost than this woman. At least the ghost used a sword.

Raising his voice, he addresses the mage. "You miss the point, my friend. Fighting is inevitable, and trying to keep the peace will simply delay it, not stop it. In this case, no one should be trusted, and those who do not flee will undoubtedly turn on one another." Or at least, so Vardoth hopes. Hmm, perhaps he could try to turn the mage and the ghost against each other. If his two most powerful adversaries were defeated, his job would become that much easier.

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Vardoth's sword and armor give off magic, as does his cloak and a ring he wears. There are no active spells on him.
Also, he is readying an action to use Voracious Dispelling if anyone casts magic at him. I realize that probably wont happen anytime soon, but Vardoth is nothing if not paranoid.

[Lucretia]

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Music that I imagined for this scene.Thank you for your patience, I'm sorry I had to resort to such crass measures. The prodigious reaction rate between players is awesome and what I was hoping for when I selected y'all, but it made my reaction harder to, y'know, 'time.' Sorry about that! I hope your anger towards me isn't too great.

The interaction between the five was impressive. Even as they argued and cajoled, attempted to manipulate or earnestly protect, the crowd reacted. In particular, an ogre and a two hobgoblins, the latter two already angry due to their precious hair having gotten soggy, had begun the sneaking process. But the whole area had gotten into an uproar, with the five primary speakers providing a lot of the intelligent dialogue, but by no means the only dialogue.

Some individuals had toyed with the idea of leaving, swayed by the words of the more peaceful of the Main Five, but no one had taken the motions to actually leave. A few had moved to leave with Dejas, but were instead stopped by others unswayed by the gnoll, pointing out the fact that Dejas himself didn't appear to be leaving so much as hitting on women.

Others had begun to say their names, to speak as the Artificer did, but they mumbled mostly and didn't have the strength of will or conviction to bring themselves into the open. Plotting, no doubt. The ghost's words had clearly scared them, and Vardoth's continued ministrations were causing emotions to run high. Still, no one was willing yet to flee. Or if they were, they were still gathering the courage to turn their backs on a group of bloodthirsty individuals such as these.

All around the circle, there were whispering and discussions. As Dejas maneuvered around the edge, he'd be shoved and hassled, the other Touched unwilling to allow someone they don't know near them, especially someone who'd attempted to trick them. Although a few 'alliances' had already formed during the waiting period before the meeting, for the most part it was something of an every-man-for-himself. The sorceress from the bar looked panicked for a few moments, listening to the Main Five, while contemplating her next move. Finally, when there appeared to be a lull in the conversation, she broke away from the circle and began to run towards the village.

With a crack, a red bolt of energy arced through the air from nowhere in specific and struck her, coursing through her body for a few seconds before dissipation. When she fell to the ground, a great wooden 'X' formed beneath her and was hauled up by an invisible force, displaying her broken body to the circle.

"I DO HATE TO SPOIL THE FUN, BUT RUNNING AWAY CERTAINLY DOESN'T COUNT AS DEATH IN MY BOOK. YOU'LL HAVE TO BE A BIT MORE DIRECT THAN THAT. EXCEPT FOR THE CRUSADER FELLOW, I RATHER LIKE HIM." The voice was chillingly calm, especially after so brutal an attack. "WELL, THAT'S ONE... FORTY FOUR TO GO."

Each of the Touched looked at the first fallen comrade. Still, some were able to react more swiftly, and it was then that Vardoth and Ash were attacked. An ogre brought his dagger into Vardoth's back while two hobgoblins attempted to assault Ashley. One of them found himself disarmed when Galizur telekinetically ripped his club from his hands, the Ghost uttering a few challenging words in the process. "If you have the courage to attack, at least have the backbone to attack a man to his face you worm..." the Undead growled.

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7 damage to Vardoth, 3 to Ashley.

Both were solid hits, although unlikely to do more than simply discomfort the individuals harmed. With the ogre and one of the hobgoblin's attack, new fighting broke out around the circle. A bugbear brought his fist into the face of a nearby dwarf, an elf began to draw an arrow on someone standing on the opposite side of the circle, a strange looking green thing belched a toxic-looking cloud around its portion of the circle.

Chaos was breaking out. It probably was pleasing to Vardoth.

[Silver Night]

Dejas

Dejas shook his head at the sorceress being struck down. It was a shame, she'd been a looker. He shrugged and turned his attention to the developing melee.

He looked for others who were more busy attacking than paying attention to what's around them, his light maces seemed to almost jump into his hands.

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He's going to draw his light maces, and charge the nearest aggressor who has their back turned or is otherwise not in a good position to defend themselves (he will be trying to work his way counter-clockwise around the group, away from the green thing, since if the rain hasn't stained his duds already, the toxic cloud certainly would.

If he finds someone who is vulnerable to a sneak attack, he is going to charge and make a full attack:

Attack: (1d20+14)[15] Damage: (1d6+5)[11] + (4d6)[15] Sneak attack
Attack: (1d20+9)[22] Damage: (1d6+5)[9] + (4d6)[17] Sneak attack
Attack: (1d20+14)[20] Damage: (1d6+5)[6] + (4d6)[9] Sneak attack
Attack: (1d20+9)[10] Damage: (1d6+5)[10] + (4d6)[13] Sneak attack

[Sneaky Weasel]

And here we go. Vardoth had to grin as the sorceress was annihilated. She really had it coming with all her whining about running away. If only more people had tried that. Oh well, now a brawl seemed to be in order.

Turning to observe the strange green creature that seemed to be drawing the most attention, he let his guard slip for a moment. A sharp pain went through his side as the ogre slipped a dagger between his ribs. Vardoth snarls, backing up a bit. He quickly examines the wound. Just a scratch, nothing to worry about. Raising his sword into a defensive posture, he shakes his head at the ogre.

"If you're going to stab a man with his back turned, do take care to finish the job. You won't get a second chance." His eyes narrow for a moment as he examines the ogre, noting the placement of its armor, the way its muscles move, the rhythm of its defense. Almost too fast to see, he slashes his sword towards its stomach, perfectly timed and executed to break through its defense and inflict the maximum possible damage.

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Ruby Nightmare Blade.
Concentration Check, DC=Ogre's AC: (1d20+13)[27]
Attack roll: (1d20+15)[34]
If both rolls succeed, Vardoth deals (2d10+16)[30] damage to the ogre. If the Concentration check fails, the attack roll is reduced by 2 and it deals (1d10+8)[12] damage.
If the attack roll fails but the concentration check succeeds, he will use Lightning Recovery to reroll the attack with a +2 bonus: (1d20+17)[26]
Edit: I'm guessing a 34 hits, so Lightning Recovery is not expended. It's also a chance for critting, which I'll roll in the OOC thread.

[Cardea]

Sythini

Sythini smirked, as she weaved the magic in her mind. The four showed conviction and ability. And... a distinct lack of fear. Good. Those were her best bet. She looks to the Ghost and the Swordsman who played Devil's Advocate. Walking towards the Swordsman, she points at him, shouting, "You! Swordsman with the serpent's tongue! Serpens Scriptor Lentus! Cut another one down!"

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Casting Snake's Swiftness on Vardoth.

Edit: What this means is, take another Standard Action.

[CowMasterTrojan]

Amidst the chaos, true clarity forms inside Galizur's mind.
If the weak truly must die, and five of us are to truly be a part of destiny, then we must have the strongest. We who are strongest must not tear each other apart, or else we weaken destiny itself. Perhaps a simpler task would have just been to aimlessly kill one another. But that will not do.

Galizur waits slightly and looks around, sorting out the weak in his mind. For a moment he glances at the elf between him and Dejas, but decides the elf has not yet attacked him and seems competent enough to leave for now. After all, he could be one of the other four. Finally his mind settles on the hobgoblins. They were cowards, and the human may see things differently, but his mettle was at least worthy. He would be a worthy ally, even if they disagreed on what must be done. His arm turned sideways and his energy blade began crackling with a electrical current.

Charging forward across the ground, he half flew through the air as he leaped several feet into the air and brought his glowing blade into one of the hobgoblins attacking Ashley.
Attack (1d20+16)[25]
Damage (2d10+8)[23] plus (3d6)[3] Electrical damage to the hobgoblin on the left.

"You may want to protect these beings, but it appears they do not want your protection, nor do they share your code of honor."

[Strainseir]

With a quick shout and a twist of his blade Ash turned his sword into what the ghost once was. The blade turned ghostly and passed through the air and any armor that it might have hit only touching flesh. With great power in his swing, Ash attempted to land 2 blows again the hobgoblin that hit him,"I would have protected you lot!"

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(1d20+7)[19] power attack 7 vs touch
(1d20+2)[7] power attack 7 vs touch

(2d6+25)[32]
(2d6+25)[32]