Madness in Crawling Flesh IC 2

[Mahrke]

"Good. He is flustered. Don't look!" She scolds again. "He is beyond help; won't take no for an answer. My bodyguard goes even now to meet and discuss a treatise regarding my family's relations with his fickle coiterie. She is shielded from magic that discerns lies, but no doubt he has taken measures to dispel it. You must help us. Escort her upstairs, and ensure that she is not so stripped of the deceit upon which my freedom depends. Please." Her tone is that of the panicked maiden, pleading with a heroic adventurer for aid. The lie makes little sense. It is a call, not to reason, but to the heart. To every young man's dream of escaping the doldrums of a commoner's life for the adventure advertised in storybooks and bard's song.

<You know I don't like using compulsions on the innocent.> She replies, even as she spins a lie close enough to a spell, tainted as it is by her heritage.

[Lateral]

Alger looks at Razia and nods slowly, his eyes welling up at your melodramatic tale of woe. He turns and walks up the stairs, joining Fi, and motions for the guards to stand aside.

Despite your concerns, the dispelling barrier is quite clearly marked: a wall of purple light, about three feet wide, right in the center of the hallway. Alger leads you around it, directing you to room 304; he opens the door, which you can see leads into a small antechamber with another door on the other side, and motions for you to enter.

[Jeff the Green]

Fi follows Alger, talking to Razia as she goes. <That was an interesting strategy you employed there. Now you need to come up with an equally brilliant one to get up here without irritating the goons. Hopefully the next words I say will be "Go". Well, "Come". Like you're my puppy.>

She steps forward into the antechamber, closes the door behind her, and then opens the one in front, keeping her face neutral and her eyes open.

[Lateral]

You open the door to the inner chamber, which leads into a tastefully furnished study with a raven-haired human sitting at the desk opposite you. She looks up as you enter, and immediately frowns; you can feel a sudden probing at your thoughts, but your barred mind effect easily fends it off.

"...They were supposed to run you through the dispelling barrier."

[Jeff the Green]

"Oh, were they?" Fi asks innocently, then shrugs. "The young man who led me up here was all flustered by a pretty face. No matter; it wouldn't have done much to begin with; my powers are very hard to dispel, and I'm not exactly here to hurt or lie to you."

<She's here,> Fi tells Razia as she begins spinning her yarn to Samovar. <Find your way up.>

Trying to keep the Rakshasa distracted for as long as possible, Fi tells a very complicated story involving overhearing stories in pubs (naturally), informants from her army days, and political connections in Sharn.

[Lateral]

As soon as you start telling her stories, Samovar cuts you off. "Ms. Xilonodel. I'm not an idiot. Just, please, before we get started... who was it that blew my cover? It was that moron Kkressd, wasn't it. I always knew he'd be the death of me."

[Mahrke]

<You wanted me to wear the collar then? Is now -really- the time?> She quips. As Fi enters the room, Razia is working to get access. She shapeshifts as she passes by an unseen spot in the inn, seeking to not meet Alger on the trip back in that form. Now a raven-haired socialite. Elegant, and obviously cut from noble cloth. She sweeps by Quincy and takes his arm in her own. She approaches the stairs, seeking a path to the room below Fi's meeting, and reaches out to Malthaliax. <We can get in from below. Less security.>

[Jeff the Green]

Fi shrugs and leans against a wall. "You sure you don't want to hear my story? It was going to be a good one, full of pathos and red herrings and all that good **** you see in penny dreadfuls. Oh well.

"I'm not entirely privy to the ins and outs of how you were discovered, but I'm sure Kkressd had something to do with it. He's been compromised for years now. Really, people like Jorlanna might be valuable to have dirt on, but they also have more resources than most to screw you when they find out. I must say, though, it's quite refreshing to find out there are incompetent demons."

She sounds non-chalant and relaxed—mostly because she is. Sure, it's not exactly often that she's in a room with the spawn of Khyber, but she's fairly sure that she can survive and keep the bitch in place until Razia gets here. Hopefully. <It'd be really nice if you could hurry up,> she informs the friendly spawn of Khyber. <She didn't buy it.>

[Lateral]

Samovar breathes the heavy sigh of one used to working with incompetents. "More of them than I'd like, yes. Still... I think you'll find that some of us, at least, have brains on our shoulders. Obviously, my cover is blown... and even if I could take you out, which I think we both know is unlikely, you clearly have accomplices who know at least as much as you do. Besides, with Kkressd out, this plan is dead in the water anyway." She stands up from her desk, and looks you dead in the eyes. "I wonder, though... can you really capture me before I escape? I may not be an archmage, but I do possess some skill... it won't be easy for you." She pulls a long staff from under the desk and springs back into a combat stance, one hand already beginning to glow with arcane power.

Spoiler: Initiative!

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Character	Initiative
Fianath	MAX((1d20+33)[35],(1d20+33)[50])
Quincy	(1d20+5)[18]
Mal	(1d20+4)[20]
Razia	(1d20+5)[7] plus (2d6b1)[6] +10 because I can't read
Enemies	(1d20+12)[29]

[Jeff the Green]

Fi rolls her eyes at the Rakshasa. "You would not believe how many times I've heard those words from people I was about to kill," she tells her foe, whipping her massive spear and shield out far faster than should be possible. "Look, I'll give you top marks for the disguise—really, it's good—but you need to work on your banter." There's a sudden ghostly clash of weapons and roar of battle as Fi's psionics enhance her senses and subtly shift her timestream, then pre-battle silence.

Spoiler: OOC

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Free: Draw shield and spear.
Free: Berserking (-2 AC, 15 tHP until start of next turn)
Move: Don shield.
Standard: Ready an action to initiate curse of impending doom if Samovar casts a spell or uses a magic item.
Swift: Manifest quickened synchronicity (7 pp), readying an action to do something if something happens.

[stack]

Quincy follows at his best speed. "That time already? Fine, fine." He tosses down the last of his drink as he goes...and then snags an unattended one on the way and finishes that too for good measure.

[Khosan]

Mal, still looking out of place in the crowd, stands stock upright, his face turning myriad shades of green. He waves his hands frantically at the crowd between him and his objective, "Clear a path! Fat man needs the privy!" This brief, but nevertheless alarming, declaration is all the warning he provides to the living obstacles in his path before he begins barreling towards the conflict, falling in line just behind Quincy.

[Mahrke]

Razia makes a straight line for the stairs, brushing past those in her way, and trying her best to blend in whilst taking a fast pace that isn't quite a dash, but is quite a bit more brisk than the norm.

[Lateral]

As Samovar opens her mouth to cast, you lunge with your spear— and hit only air, the illusion melting before your eyes. You can feel her, somewhere else in the room, attempt to teleport away; unfortunately, she breaks through your diversion and begins to fade away...

Spoiler

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Samovar casts teleport. Your readied action counterattack hits an illusion, which you disbelieve; she succeeds on the save against your divert teleport and disappears.

[Jeff the Green]

"****," Fi mutters as she misses. "****," she says as Samovar breaks through her ward. "**** you," she growls as she reaches out a hand at her foe's presumed location. Sparks stream from her finger and erupt in a corruscating sphere of energy. Wherever the pussycat is, she probably isn't having much fun being electrocuted.

<Get your pretty little ass up here right goddamn now!> she barks at Razia through the special link she established. <She nearly escaped from me.>

[Jeff the Green]

Desperate to keep Samovar in the room until the others arrive, or at least to provide a way to track them, Fi begins tapping into her immense well of psychic energy. She speeds herself up to the point that she's less than a blur, placing a scrying beacon on the note Samovar wrote for the proprietor and planting it on the Rakshasa. Then she prepares again to fry her opponent if she breaks through Fi's teleportation barrier.

Spoiler: OOC

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Real Turn
Free: Berserking (-2 AC, 15 tHP)
Swift: Manifest *temporal acceleration*, augmented to 15 pp.

Apparent time turn 1
Swift: Activate Scout's Headband. (True seeing for 1 minute.)
Move: Pull out the note from Samovar to the proprietor.
Standard: Manifest spymaster's coin on the piece of paper
Apparent time turn 2
Swift: Manifest dimension hop (1 pp), teleporting to within 10 ft. of Samovar.
Standard: Plant note on Samovar.
Move: Move back to where she was

Move: Recover Curse of Impending Doom
Standard: Ready action to manifest energy stun (augmented to 17 pp) if I fail to prevent her from teleporting.

[Lateral]

Dazed for a moment by your electric blast, Samovar takes a moment to recover before attempting another teleport. This time, anticipating your response, she puts up a bubble of force in the middle of casting, diverting your second electric blast around her while she tries to complete her spell.

Spoiler

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Standard action: cast teleport. In response to Fi's energy stun, cast emergency force sphere.

[Jeff the Green]

<Now, Razia!> Fi bellows through their link. She sends a jolt of temporal energy to Razia, yanking her forward in time. <She's getting away, and I can't stop her. She's invisible, but get up here and I'll point you in the right direction.>

[Mahrke]

Subterfuge would be difficult, disappearing in plain sight, but it couldn't be avoided. The succubus disappears in a puff of smoke, reappearing, not by Fi's side as she had meant to, but inside a familiar half-sphere of force. Her facing is different, and she takes the hint as the world lays motionless, for just a moment, around her.

Weapons are in hand in an invisible instant. Her training pays off as she lays into thin air with Mercy and Thirst, eyes closed. The visible world could not be trusted, so she relies on sound instead. Footfalls. A chanted spell. The way the air caresses flesh. She lashes out, and with every strike of Mercy, she wills forth divine energy that won't come, desperately growling "Smite. Smite! SMITE!" With each stroke, each utterance angrier than the last.

Spoiler

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Swift Action: Greater Teleport to Fi's side (redirected)
Free Action: 10' step (rolled in Discord, success)
Full-Round: Full attack Samovar's space.

Spoiler

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Attack Bonus: BAB (+14), CHA (+15), Weapon Focus (+1), Enhancement (+4 Quincified), Negative Level (-1)
Effects: Leeching Wounds (Godfrey)

Mercy 1: Attack of (1d20+33)[52], dealing (1d10+19)[25] + (5d6)[15] nonlethal slashing damage and 2 bleed damage. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[2].
Thirst 1: Attack of (1d20+33)[53], dealing (1d10+19)[24] slashing damage, 2 bleed damage, and one negative level. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[2].
Mercy 2: Attack of (1d20+28)[32], dealing (1d10+11)[18] + (5d6)[19] nonlethal slashing damage and 2 bleed damage. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[2].
Thirst 2: Attack of (1d20+28)[30], dealing (1d10+19)[20] slashing damage, 2 bleed damage, and one negative level. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[2].
Mercy 3: Attack of (1d20+23)[26], dealing (1d10+11)[14] + (5d6)[14] nonlethal slashing damage and 2 bleed damage. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[2].
Thirst 3: Attack of (1d20+23)[37], dealing (1d10+19)[27] slashing damage, 2 bleed damage, and one negative level. 1 misses due to concealment: (2d2b1)[1].

Conductive: On the first successful Thirst attack, Vampiric Touch for (7d6+7)[34] negative energy damage, gaining the same amount as temporary HP. (1d20+15)[25] to overcome SR.

Ragged Edges: On the first successful attack, deal an additional 19 bleed damage.

Criticals: 42 (Action Point) to confirm Mercy 1 (+23 damage, + 21 bleed damage, + fatigue target 5 rounds), 50 to confirm Thirst 1 (+26, + 2 bleed damage, +1 negative level)

[Lateral]

Razia's sudden appearance catches Samovar offguard, and with two solid blows she lays the invisible rakshasa out. Unfortunately, her inbound teleportation appears to have set off some sort of alarm, because as soon as Razia pops in, you hear klaxons going off, as well as shouting from the hallway.

[stack]

Quincy huffs, "Well that is not good. If you have the package let's make an exit."

[Jeff the Green]

Fi gives an exaggerated groan and sheathes her weapons. "You have the hole, right? Let's get out of here."

[Mahrke]

Razia throws down her cloak, and unceremoniously rolls the Rakshasa into the pit with her foot, before pulling it back up and sweeping it around her shoulders. "This was noisier than I hoped it'd be." Razia says with a short shrug. The Gemjump is triggered a moment later, ferrying the group back to Razia's room on Sylph.

[stack]

Quincy drops a few coins in the room to pay for the mess just before the teleportation takes hold. "Well, that was amusing. I think, didn't actually see it."

[Khosan]

Mal barrels into the room moments after everyone else teleports out, "...Hellfire!"

The tavern is once more interrupted by a fat man plowing through to the exit, this time accompanied by the exclamation "Worse than I thought!" He turns into a secluded alley, assuming his draconic form and taking flight back to Sylph.

[Lateral]

You all pop back over to Sylph, the second of four rakshasas safely in tow. After securing Samovar and making the appropriate preparations, you work on your crafting projects for a few hours before teleporting off.

The sun is setting as you arrive in Larunor, the full disk of Dravago peeking up over the horizon. It's a peasant town, barely more than a hamlet, and boasts only two locations of any note. The first is a small, one-story tavern, located just up the road from your arrival point; the wooden sign hanging over its entrance marks it as the Shodden Stallion. The other is the Flavio ir'Lain Memorial Amphitheatre, the way to which is well-marked.

Despite what the name implies, the Flavio ir'Lain is not a public structure; rather, it's a geographic feature, a natural amphitheatre in a depression just at the edge of the Eldritch Groves. By the time you arrive at the top of the ridge overlooking the stage, a crowd has already gathered on the stone benches that constitute public seating; your target is already up there, lyre in hand, working the crowd.

[Mahrke]

Cheshire. A face Razia had worn in the past, for much the same sort of aims as "Sandra". Something to pray on the fervor whipped up by music into adoring fans. A disguise chosen to be 'safe'. Spritely man with a proud nose, auburn hair, and long, lynx-like ears. Something just familiar enough to be handsome. Just strange enough to be exotic. This she concealed beneath a disguise of more mundane means. A brilliant, feathered mask that left only lynx ears exposed. A cloak of rainbow, glutted in decadent purples and passionate orange-reds.

Cheshire makes his way into the crowd, not with a formal entrance, instead electing to join the crowd with little fanfare and a bit of a subterfuge. She plucks her guitar, inserting soft, simple harmonic notes in the song Sandra plays, and adding her own words between that of the Rakshasa's, mocking and playful. Not a whisper, but soft enough to feel as if Cheshire was drawing those around him into a personal conversation.

"...c'est facile, her song that is sung..."
"...est-elle sénile? Guess the cat's got her tongue..."
"...ses mots puerile, I think I've already won..."

The singing grows louder with each refrain, drawing more and more into the little 'conversation' in the crowd. The strums upon the guitar become more complex and frivolous, Cheshies invoking a sort of impromptu point/counterpoint.

<It's smaller than I imagined. I'd still like to grab her after the show. Alone. But if we need to, I think we could grab her in plain view. I'll follow your lead.> The words float over to her allies as she plays.

[stack]

Prior to arriving, Quincy queries, "What do we know of the target's capabilities?"

[Jeff the Green]

<I understand her lyrics are exceptional, but her melodies are derivative,> Fi smirks. <Her fans call that true to her genre; I say it's just lazy.> She's elected to stay somewhat at a distance from the amphitheatre and leans against a tree peeling an apple. Her weaponry is distinctive and difficult to hide, and someone's bound to get nervous about the woman carrying a 10-foot long pike.

[stack]

<I have no doubt that information will be vital to our task.> Quincy's reply is more amused than anything.