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  #196  
Old May 11th, 2022, 01:42 PM
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Falfen nods to Zius. "Very well. Let's proceed and meet another one of the delightful leaders of Icerazer then." He keeps his dagger ready to jam home if Zius yells stop or it becomes clear that the dragon isn't going to meet them at the bottom and keep them from the vortex.

 


 
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Old May 11th, 2022, 11:09 PM
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The Heart of Icerazer
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In the dark shaft, the air is whistling between you and each other, and you feel your speed, brushing past the freezing walls as you fall. The pops of lavender mist stop, as those who fell before you reach the vortex, freeze, and are churned into fragments. Your voices sound close but echo, bouncing back off the slick circumference of this long, long descending tunnel.

"I'm from Tantlin?" says Moxie. You can't see her eyebrow arch, but you can feel it. She shifts the grip of her lithe legs and pulls herself up. "Nobody invited me to whatever this is, trust me. My boyfriend is an amnizu, and he's no s*** so powerful that... like this whole thing is going to look really bad. Like, Icerazer might be over. You know? Straight ****ing over. For real."

The tiefling nods her head decisively. The shrub sighs and shrinks, pulling everyone together. The cleric speaks his faith. The trapper puts away his daggers. The druid strategizes. And then you're out.

You're free-falling through a massive chamber of ice, wide as a city, tall as the sky, lit dim blue by the massive soul vortex in the center, directly below you, and wide as a pond. All around you, massive stalactites the size of the tallest towers rise from the floor, and huge stalagmites drop from the arching ceiling. In the floor, the slowly churning whirlpool of razor-sharp ice fragments is constantly torn apart and reformed from the surrounding ice. The vortex grinds, and the ice grows, as if the iceberg itself is trying to close this wound, while the will of Levistus keeps it open and hungry.

Now your voices become tiny, lost. The scale of your surroundings expands by an order of hundreds. Your fall slows, and you feel lighter, smaller. The vortex grinds like a huge, horrible machine, but far down. And up high, something reptilian detaches, pulls back from a jagged pillar of ice near the ceiling, unfolds its wings. In a shower of ice shards, a huge white dragon tears away from the stalactite where it had been resting, and releasing its talons, launches itself into the air. Its scream echoes around the chamber, piercing through the constant chugging crash of the vortex. It flaps and flies. Through the stalactites. Straight for you. Whump, whump, it flaps. Under normal circumstances, would you feel helpless, desperate? But now, she is your savior.

CRUNCH! she grabs you in her talons, the whole complicated clot of you, tangled in vines, wrapped up in each other, and suddenly rather than down, you're moving horizontally. Rhythmically, with the flap, flap of wings, you fly through the icy pillars and down, down. She takes you on a terrifying fly-by over the vortex itself. Close enough to see the shards grinding. Close enough to see around the edge the shattered icy remnants and stains of those that have been rent. Close enough to almost see into the Tomb of Levistus itself, if you dare to stare down, through the portal, to find him.

But she doesn't drop you. She flaps once, again, hovers, and then sets you down rough on a small plateau of ice. Perched now again on a nearby column, using her wing talons to steady herself, she brings her head close and examines you. Her eye is huge. Her jaw fierce. She sniffs and it's like a roar in your ears. Willow-in-Snow collapses into a small pile of sticks, tented like she's ready to be starter for a bonfire, and just end it all here.

"Well?" says Anoxiel. Her voice is jagged, high-pitched, like mountain peaks. "Here you are, by the mercy of Irius and the might of Anoxiel. One, two, three... and one more? Which one is the passenger? Pity it has seen so much. But it will rend nicely. That's one more soul into the grind! Then we can work out... the details of your departure. Shall we ask Irius which one is hanging on for the ride? Or shall we just get rid of whichever one isn't you." She points to Ziusudra, who she seems to know by description, and then reaches out with one talon to try and peel one of you others away from your little clump.

OOCEveryone make an Acrobatics check just to see how well you handle being spilled onto the ice out of the dragon's claw. Then you could choose something else too... Religion check to know what an amnizu is? Persuasion, if you want to save Moxie? Perception, looking around the chamber? Or whatever else you'd like to do. Without your intervention, Anoxiel will try to toss someone into the vortex in my next post. She knows there are supposed to be three here, not four, and the only one she knows for sure is supposed to be there is Ziusudra. Rolling here to see who she tries to peel off. 1 for Falfen, 2 for Moxie, 3 for Tru.

Dice Roll:
d3 1
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  #198  
Old May 13th, 2022, 02:29 AM
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The dragon came for them after all, a massive shape of ivory white destruction personified, and plucked them from the air as easily as a child might pluck a toy. They were flown down for some heart-pounding moments, Zius staring down into the abyss, before he was released for a clumsy landing onto an icy plateau.

Anoxiel was no fool and intended to be rid of the extra baggage, the letter of their deal excluding sparing any others beyond just them three. Though Zius would rather Moxie live than perish,
Dice Religion:
1d20+6 (12)+6 Total = 18
whatever her boyfriend was, he was ready to claim Falfen and Tru as his companions should the dragon move to throw one of them off the cliff. He would wait though to see what they did before he acted.


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  #199  
Old May 14th, 2022, 09:44 AM
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Falfen suddenly feels a great longing for the Dale and a sickness in this place. He wonders what Oar is doing and wonders, briefly, is he is ever going to see him again as this horrible beast begins to reach out to fling one of them into the void. If he can ever become powerful enough to return here and reclaim this place for Hleid and destroy all of this, he will.

But first they must survive. He draws himself up as best he can with slightly knocking knees and takes the chest-forward position of one of the speakers of his clan. "Anoxiel is mighty indeed, and Irius has indeed been merciful to the demon-hunting heroes of Icewind Dale," he begins in his best Reghed oratory. "So what difference does it make to the mighty and merciful if three or four leave this place? This one" (and he nods at Moxie) "was held by the Axelords away from the pit as one of some importance, as was I, when we fell under the charm of Azediel. She wriggled free when I was pulled from the room to join my companions here and leapt when I did. I do not believe she was intended for the vortex and you err in consuming her."

Despite the fact that sweat is gathering under his armor in a very unheroic way, he sticks his chest out further and finishes. "If the pride and wrath of Azediel will not permit a soul to return above, then send this one with us when we leave. I have obscured the sight of any from above, and no one will ever know. She, nor any of us, are common chaff to feed the grind, and she may better serve Levistus with us in the Rime." It is sickening to Falfen to denigrate those lives hurled into the grinding ice to save himself and his companions, but he imagines power only respects power in this twisted place.

 


 
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  #200  
Old May 14th, 2022, 10:18 PM
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Done
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She is very close to breaking. Her ankle throbs. Her shoulder, too. The white dragon is as miraculous as Poldark, in its way. The druid in her sings to its wild beauty as they soar. The Hin hates it. The dragon releases her, and she drops to the ice like a sack of meat, graceless.

Zuis' miraculous catch saved them, and he will save them again. She sees it. Zuis stands ready to spend Moxie like a coin. It’s beautiful and terrible and if it is only open road, he will carry them all down it and never blink. The weight of that decision! He takes it for them. How? Moxie is lovely and young and funny and hopeful and, well, entitled and...yes, sure, evil. But Tru's god, her beautiful god, is a god of restoration. In Sarenrae’s eyes, this girl is pure potential. Tru can't make the hard call Zuis makes. She is so grateful for his clear, cool eye, so grateful he will choose her. Because she wants to live, so bad. (Osco!)

And Falfen! He argues, using the nine's own horrible Hell values, that this girl matters because she is gentry. She knows the Rimewitch doesn't believe it---he is as common as she is---but he says it because this argument that might work here. He is persuasive and sure. Tru can't do this any more than she can do what Zuis is prepared to do. Laughable, how hard she has worked to BE SMALL. As if this is a choice. She puts her head down, closes her eyes. All she sees in her mind is the tattered flesh around the grinder. People. Confettied people---the kind like her, who do not matter, while Falfen makes an argument that damns himself, This girl is important...

If he fails, Zuis waits to say, Yes. But. If there must be one--it's her.

She can’t advocate like Falfen. She can’t weigh life like Zuis. In the face of the red wreath around the blue-white ice of the grinder, she is so close to breaking---The busiest Hin the world stops. Stops cold. Her hands reach for hands. Her eyes close. Who is she holding on to? Moxie, Zuis, Falfen? She can’t see, she doesn't know. She trusts her friends: they have gone boldly down the only two paths open to them, really.

She leaves it in their hands. What happens, happens.
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  #201  
Old May 15th, 2022, 02:06 PM
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The Heart of Icerazer
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How do you do it? How do you fall half a mile into churning uncertainty and then tolerate a deadly ride in icy talons? How do you stand up straight after being tossed unceremoniously onto rough ice and face down a huge white dragon, one of the most dangerous foes on wings or claws in all the multiverse?

Ziusudra, you have just managed, through luck and will, to have your cake and eat it too, both defying Irius and keeping your companions safe from her vengeance. This was a calculation: the sum of your physical strength divided by the retaliation of a sorceress to the power of two (and then three!) bodies hurtling to their death. Answer: It's fine. And now you calculate again. This barbarian and that Hin, over the tiefling. You find your steel in solid analysis. You have your plan and your backup plan. Salvation is in establishing priorities and then having the grit and resources to pay receipts.

Falfen, it hurts to be here. Your back physically hurts around the symbol of Hleid, in this place of her pain. It's hard to imagine what this place once was, with a bright eidolon on its spindly legs tunneling and lairing in the heart of this ice berg. Blue light following it. Sending out it's little call to find a witch. Can this odd scrap of essence be merry, or curious? Can it be warm? The closest approximate answer you have to the question, "What was the Eidolon like?" can be found in the servants of Hleid that you've met on this berg: Soft. Hesitant but bold. Loving. A little silly. The definition of your faith is emerging around a bit of a paradox: the storm within you is violent and strong, but the spirit in you is not that way, nor was the bugbear at the hotel, nor the little goblin in the library. You are also a paradox. You aren't a brute or a bully. You didn't present as a great example of a reghedman of your tribe. They thought you weak and weird. Yet, you find your steel in the rhetoric of your people. And you use this fierce confidence, the raw physicality and the harsh philosophy, to lay down a strong, convincing argument to save the tiefling's life. Ferocity for mercy's sake. A paradox inside a paradox.

Tru, it hurts to be here. Your ankle is broken and swells against your little boot, throbbing. Your arms are fairly wrenched out of your shoulder sockets, and you'll be bruised everywhere from where the dragon grabbed, yanked, and then dropped you. The tiefling crashes into the ground next to you with even less aplomb and more splat. She pushes herself up on her arms as the dragon makes her accusation. Does she even understand what's going on? She doesn't know a deal was made with Irius. She has no idea who you are or what Anoxiel is talking about. But some survival instinct in her must be kicking in, because she shuts up as Falfen speaks on her behalf. Child of your mother, it hurts your heart that your team has to use this argument: that the tiefling's value lies in her nobility, where the commoners were like so much meat. Child of your father, you know that Falfen's thinking is correct. He has read this opponent, and has found the right lever to use. It's right to do, but it's also good that you don't have to do it. It's sickeningly true. And the dragon relents.

This massive chamber is in constant flux and grinding noise as the iceberg itself tries to cover the vortex and the vortex chews through its own edges. The stalactites grow with unsettlingly slow millimeters, gritching up and down and sometimes emitting low creaks as the ice crystals overlap. Anoxiel moves with reptilian grace, arching her neck. Her claws stamp into the ice and bringing her head down low, directly in front of Falfen. Her eye is bright blue. High up in the ceiling of this chamber you see a thing that crawls, with many many legs and two wings like fins, clambering over the ice forms, chewing and destroying. There is another, chomping away at a stalactite even as the iceberg pushes it down inexorably. There's an equilibrium here, but an uneasy one. It's beautiful here, but it's a tormented space.

"Fair enough," says the dragon. She flaps her wings once. "The passenger rides with you." She stands and begins to walk across the chamber toward a wide opening on the south side.

"Uh, what?" says Moxie, getting to her knees. Her fine jacket is torn on the ice, one sleeve ripped nearly off at the shoulder and she's bleeding from her collarbone, blood staining the creamy leather. "I don't really want to go to Icewind Dale. Is there a third option? One that doesn't involve fishermen or whatever? Like where are you even from? If you get me back to Tantlin I can pay you. Surely you have a teleportation circle in this dump?"

Anoxiel turns and screams into the tiefling's face: "Silence!" With the scream comes a shower of frozen shards that meld around Moxie's jaw, holding it firm. And firmly shut it stays as you follow the white dragon out of the chamber, away from the vortex, and into the cave beyond. On the way out, you pass a huge octagonal pillar of ice with a giant sized door in it (still small in scale compared to this space). The next chamber is equally vast but doesn't have the same kinetic stasis -- there are fewer stalactites and stalagmites, but there are more of those huge many-legged crawling creatures, and some huge eggs too. You see them chewing new tunnels and collapsing old ones, their stiff legs making tickytack sounds on the brittle ice.

"Stay here and stay quiet," says Anoxiel, tucking you behind an outcropping of broken ice. "These sweet pets will not disturb you. I will return for you when your passage is secure."

OOCYou can short rest here if you like. Roll nature to see what these creeping things are. Roll stealth to evade their notice, if you leave your hiding spot. You can choose to walk around, investigate, do anything you like in Anoxiel's absence.

Vislands with your religion check, Ziusudra would know that amnizu are green, bald, gruesome and corpulent, rich, high-ranking devils in Stygia. They are immune to the amnesiac effects of the river Styx, and can also themselves cause people to lose their memories. They're intelligent, scheming, and treacherous, and function as chancellors, generals, managers, etc. Their mind-drain is powerful but they're not much without their minions. Putting this together with Moxie's claims, you reckon the dynamic in this relationship is less true love and more trophy girlfriend and sugar daddy.

Here's a map:


Each square is 20 feet. The pond-looking thing is the vortex and the C circle is the shaft up to the palace. The black circle things are the stalactites/stalagmites. The red dot is where Anoxiel was clinging toward the ceiling when you dropped in. The light-green circle is where she dropped you initially on an icy ledge. The grey arrow shows where she's leading you now and the dark-green circle shows where she has stowed you behind an ice outcropping. The blue circle is on the octagonal ice pillar with the door in it.

If you're done here, and just want to GTFO back to Icewind Dale, we can montage your exit.
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  #202  
Old May 16th, 2022, 09:38 AM
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A Short, Dark Teatime of the Soul
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The Hin is low. She unsheaths her Moonsickle and says in plaintive druidic, a little teary, Sarenrea, my ****ing ankle...

She feels her god’s warmth kcure wounds, moonsickle and bloodstone in chemise for 11nitting bone and tendon. She shrugs into Prudence's little coat. It’s soft, and even with the burned bits, it’s the fanciest article of clothing she has ever owned. Oh, hey, she has most of the jar of cookies left. Amenities!

She stands up. Hard not to feel better when your god makes your ankle stop being broken even though you were just kind of a baby about it, plus you have fancy hotel cookies and a dragon-sorceress’s winter coat , and most especially when your Storm Friend just convinced a dragon not to throw a spoiled but adorable tiefling into a hell-vortex to be chewed to flivvers right in front of you while you were helpless.

Ingetrude is Hin. Hin bounce back. Up we go, Willow! You’re fine. She pulls the pile of trembling kindling up and fluffs it.

May I? she asks the tiefling, and if allowed she will press a hand to the shoulder wound and cure wounds for 11ask Sarenrae to knit that closed, too. She looks about, too curious to rest. Stay here, she says to Moxie and her shrub.

She wants to sneak past the horrible chewers. Sweet pets, her hobbitty arse. But pets mostly don’t have true sight? Probably? Hopefully? She is ready to go invisible at the first sign of their interest.

She figures it will take a dragon a hot minute to arrange for them to BAMF on home. And that door... Bounced back Hin are curious. Over she goes, quick and quiet as she can, fading into the landscape thanks to the darling, snowy coat.

She wants to get all the way to the door if she can, see if it is locked or trapped, maybe even peek inside...

 


 

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  #203  
Old May 17th, 2022, 09:46 PM
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Falfen looks on as Tru slips off and just before she gets out of earshot, whispers, "Be safe. I'll watch over you." He slips closer to the ledge and tries to get find a place to overwatch as Tru explores. At the same time, his eyes play over the chambers, looking for anything that elicits his goddess.

He spares a glance back over a shoulder at Moxie as he watches. "I trust you'll stay silent now and let us get you out of here, Moxie. We are on a knife's edge of safety. Don't waste what we have given. We'll help you find something as amenable as possible back in the Dale and I'm sure a lady of your talents will find her way where she wants to be eventually." With a small raise of the eyebrows to confirm, he turns his attention back to the chamber.

 


 
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  #204  
Old May 18th, 2022, 03:16 AM
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Falfen did the unlikely and convinced the great white dragon of Moxie's value, leading their terrifying savior to relent and lead them to a place of relative safety. More ice stretched out around them, with the constant grind of the vortex in the air all around them. Something caught Tru's eye and caused the Hin to go sneaking off in her coat, meanwhile Ziusudra gave the great beasts that seemed to be carving through the ice
Dice Nature:
1d20+4 (5)+4 Total = 9
1d4t 4 Running Total = 13
a curious look.

Knowing who, or rather what, Moxie's boyfriend was made her living a bit more of a risk. If it could reach into her memories, there was a chance it might see them. But they might be taken for simple servants of the cult who had managed to survive being lured into the pit by the harpy's song. Getting rid of her now was no longer an option, but it was still a level of exposure he was less than comfortable with.

The southern bounty hunter took a deep breath. It felt like there was almost light at the end of the tunnel, that their time in this fortress of devils was near over. It wasn't like the Dale, under the Rime, was much better but he found himself looking forward to returning there.


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Old May 18th, 2022, 04:41 PM
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In the Breeding Chamber
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Ziusudra, you don't recognize this creature as one that might that dwell in Zakhara. They crawl and scrape across the ice easily, as monsters bred and born to the glacier, which they are. Curious, but ignorant, you watch them in the canopy of ice, as they chew savagely on the walls of the chamber, melting them as they go. As you study one quite far away, you suddenly hear the ticky-tack of their feet quite close, and with a start you realize one has climbed down over your place of hiding, and now skitters across the floor near you! It halts, rears back its weird head, twists its neck around the ice outcropping, and then finding you uninteresting skirts the alcove where you rest, and skitters away straight back up the wall. Seeing it this close, you recognize the scales of this creature -- a remorhaz. Once a hero visited your town, wearing chitinous armor of this same oily blue hue, and told a tale of slaying a winged bug with a heart of fire, and spittle of lava. Yes, you can see the remorhaz breathing out fire to make its odd tunnels, and you can speculate that what created the tunnel going up to the palace was one of these creatures.

Falfen, you spare the briefest glance for Moxie while you're examining your surroundings with the intent focus of the glacierborn hunter you are. Seriously, if you ran into this sassy, elegant tiefling in a bar or tavern, you wouldn't even -- well, really you wouldn't, because you would never run into her anywhere you have ever been. She doesn't run in the roads you travel. She's an exotic flower, like one of those strange orchids they used to grow in the conservatory in Luskan and bring to the Dale to sell to the rich folk in Bryn Shander and Targos. Stupid indulgences, when one could have a field full of lady slippers, hardy enough to survive in the arctic. Sure, smaller. But yes, tough. You turn to examine the chamber, focusing on the remnants of the eidolon, or any echo of Hleid. But you see nothing except this tiefling rolling her eyes. Fully healed from Tru's magic, she is digging in her pack for something she can't find. "Have you got a small scissors? Like a little, um--" she asks you, making a snip-snip motion by her torn jacket. Then an appraising look. "Oh, you know what, never mind." You tell her she should be grateful. And quiet. And adapt. You turn to stare into the ice, the tunnels, looking for a pattern, a sign or symbol, listening for a holy voice. But Moxie wants none of that. She has her jacket off right now and she's pressing the edges of the hole together speculatively. "I just think the dragon just doesn't get it, you know? When I get back up to the palace, I'll just show my papers and this will go away. I can't go to Icewind Dale. I literally hate cold. Like literally." She holds out her jacket toward you but you're examining the tunnels! The tunnels and the ice where the eidolon was! Trying to concentrate! "I saw you make fog in the tunnel. So, like, do you do magic? More importantly -- do you have mending?" she asks you. "Like magic mending? Can you... take care of this?"

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Tru, you bounce. Hin do. It's luck, or pluck, or cheery optimism baked right in the corpuscles, but know this: it's a Hin thing. Sarenrae glows pink on the horizon like a sweet promise. But the thing that gets you up off your bruised duff and back into action is right here, in your Hin heart. The snowy coat fits great, and feels warm. Much better on you than on b***s*** Prudence Tarkwell and her creepy ice wyrm arm. This, and prayer, and a snack, and a fresh ankle, all make your bounce that much brighter. Why *shouldn't* you check out this door? It's a door. And when are you going to get back here? If you want to know what's behind it, you have to look now. You know what your mother never said? "Curiosity killed the cat." In fact, she used to say that curiosity was "the wick in your candle" and she would rather tell you "Run and find out!" than "Because I said so." Mother would have been the last one to judge you for opening up packs and chests to see what was inside, when you had to turn to thievery to feed yourself in those dark days. Pulling out bracelets and coins and keys, maybe that would have given her pause. But just having a peek? Why not?

The door to the octagonal tower is a trapezoid with a handle in the center. The handle is fashioned like the sword in Levistus' symbol, and like in the symbol all around the sword is a frozen block of ice. Inscribed under the frozen handle are these words: Breath from one faithful to the Frozen Prince will melt the ice and open the door. A purity test? In a door? Yes, with your excellent Perception, you sense that this door contains some kind of presence. An evaluator, operating with an unknown rubric -- what is a faithful? What does it mean to the door? Can you open it, and go inside? You are Levistus' Cult Coordinator, at Caer Dineval Station. But are you faithful? Will you test yourself, and breathe?

OOCFillyjonk this door opens to worshippers of Levistus. I'm interested to see what Tru will do here, as it seems a deep choice for this character, whether to claim entrance here or decide it's not for her. If she does decide to enter, you can roll Persuasion or Deception or even Performance, as you see fit.

Atrayn and Vislands, if you want to just wait for transport, you don't need to post. I offered Ziusudra something to do (he could search for Remorhaz parts) and Falfen a conversation (with Moxie, who I blamed for your crit fail on Perception) if you do want to post, but it's not necessary to move the story along. Let me know in OOC whether you want me to wait for you to resolve this, or just move on.
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Old May 18th, 2022, 08:03 PM
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(Im)Purity Test
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She thought it might be pearls and crowns, a dragon-sized bed of gold coins and diamonds, like in the Merry Thorn book she borrowed off the Dineval Speaker.

The sign tells Tru two things. 1) Not a secret dragon hoard, because tourists (at least those faithful to Levistus) are allowed to enter and ogle about. Therefore: 2) That dragon is not going to give one crap if she pokes her own supposedly devil-loving nose in. She glances back and sees “Sweet Pet” is not giving Zuis any ****, so she relaxes about that, too.

Faithful. She is, but not to Him. She has the fresh-knit ankle bones to prove who she belongs to. But who does the door (and its cold, cold master) think has her allegiance?

Jerry the Bug said Sarenrae was not their “usual co-pilot,” so they know she is still the Everlight's. An Employee. Not a worshipper. Right? Or does the devil have a piece of her? He doesn’t. He does not. Does he?

If he does, it's okay. Right? Sarenrae is unjealous, never minding Tru singing that dumb Maiden’s Prayer every morning with Sister Eglantine or doing Yondala rites with Mom. Sarenrae is Redemptive; she has friendships even among the evil gods, hoping to pull them a cosmic inch toward mercy. It’s not her god or even her faithfulness she fears to lose. It is pieces of herself---the pieces Osco loves best.

She trots back fast to the nook, right to Zuis. I am allowed to see, the sign says. But, also it may kill me, if---well, it’s going to judge me and ---oh fifth Hell Zuis, you’re a devout. This is a religious thing. I have to do it. Sooooo. So. If I pass, Imma peek inside and then I’m good to go. If I fail, I’ll likely be happier, but that door might kill me. Keep an eye on me? If I go down, can you heal me and drag me back here to wait for the dragon? I promise I am done farting about---right after this.

As they talk, she watches Falfen’s uptown tiefling floof around suffering and fussing over her torn jacket. Tru was surprised to see Falfen and Moxie dashing across the ice holding hands, but good for him! No wonder he didn’t offer to let her bunk on his sofa---and anyway, poor, heartbroken Liraxian needed her. As she goes back to the door she dips her chin at her (maybe not so) shy friend and mouths: Nice pull.

She does hope Falfen is being sensible and not a big dumb romantic, like town humans. And Tru’s own mother. Moxie should stay at the Caer where they have endless coal and good coffee; she can ensnare the Speaker, be a fun gossip friend for Avarice. Because this girl is not for Falfen in the long term. Way too much town. Hells, she’s city. Still, you gotta to kick the snow off of some boots to learn...

Back she goes. She will try herself against the door. Be judged. Let the door tell her how deep they think she’s in. (Is she in?)

She doesn't ask for her god’s guidance. That would muddy these waters. She thinks about the deal. The call to Osco. The devil saying, Oh, the love. The Love! The promised favor, the job she took.

She leans toward the entity crouched watchful inside the frozen wood, creaking in the hinges and the hardware. She breathes.


OOCDM, not sure what this roll is. NOT deception. She is tryign to see how deep she is in, what HELL thinks, not trying to game a result, so maybe no roll is needed? Here is a straight religion roll in case you need it, and I don't even know if FAILING means it opens or stays shut. LOL.

Dice religion:
d20 11


NOW! UNLESS I have opened up a WHOLE BIG THING with this door (SORRY TEAM IF I DID!) whether it opens for her or not, I am good to be montaged out after this entry if Atrayn and Vislands are done, too.
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Old May 18th, 2022, 10:36 PM
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Falfen frowns, the mark on his back burning away in this place, the tiefling, incorrigible and silly distracting him from his watch. As she fusses with her coat, he frowns even more deeply and shakes his head. "I do not carry fine tailoring equipment as a general practice," he murmurs. Still, he sets his crossbow down momentarily and fumbles in his pack for a second to pull a string of gut out and the sharp awl he uses to punch holes in his leathers when they need mending. "f you want mending, you can use this. At least it will keep the threads from fraying further."

He turns back to watch Tru, but he has been so distracted that he only now sees that she has come back to the ledge, and he curses a little at his negligence as she heads back out, mouthing "nice pull" at him. He blushes a deep red at this as she rushes away. To even think, he muses. There has only been the one girl before and she rejected him for who he was, and she at least was hardy, folk, of nature and the tundra. The dalewomen were generally cut from the same sturdy and sensible cloth, but Falfen had never even registered that any of them threw him looks in the taverns, as stuck in his shell as he had been most of his life. This tiefling, though...to even think he repeats in his head again. Moxie is pretty, sure, exotic and lovely, but my goodness, she is foolish, obnoxious, and Falfen is not convinced will even keep herself or one of them from getting killed by Anoxiel before they get out of her. He watches Tru inspect a door in the center of a pillar, and he tenses a bit to see what she is doing. Over his shoulder he says, "I do not think the dragon will appreciate another attempt by you to return above. I tell you, if your friend is as powerful as you say he is, he will certainly be able to arrange to retrieve you in the Dale. I hope you'll just come along with us, Moxie. It would be a shame if you got hurt now when we survived the harpy."
 


 
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Old May 19th, 2022, 05:48 AM
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Ziusudra doesn't begrudge Tru her curiosity, but silently he doubted the door would open to her at all when he asks for what the door itself read and what her reasoning was. Still, he keeps an eye on that area, while he busies himself
Dice Perception:
1d20+7 (8)+7 Total = 15
1d4t 1 Running Total = 16
looking around the area of discarded pieces of remorhaz chitin.

OOCZius is montage ready.


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Old May 22nd, 2022, 11:46 AM
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Away from IcerazerTru, you stand before a massive spike of blue ice, and you breathe out your faith on this magical door. In the warmth of your breath, the ice melts into a mist, and there's just a handle there, for you to open and enter. What does it mean? Faithful to Sarenrae? Or faithful to your father? Faithful to Yondalla? Or faithful to your mother? Faithful to Osco. Faithful to your promises. Faithful to the quest, the purpose, the reason you are here. The one living thing that matters on this earth: your blood, your brother. Who is the god who will give you aid. That's your god.

The door opens on an icy foyer. There is another door directly in front of you, but all around the walls are hung with horrifying objects mounted on plaques: frozen bits and pieces. A red clawed hand, humanoid. A huge reptilian jaw. The whole head of a black spider. Each trophy has a little inscription near it, which you can't read from here. On each side of this rectangular chamber is a massive soldier made of ice. Frozen, not sentient, just waiting. For your step? Would you alert them? The door across is crystal clear like the coldest glass, and you can see straight through it to the inner chamber. A statue of Levistus in the same style and pose as the one above ground that overlooks The Gash and all the ships coming and going from Icerazer. An altar of blue. Just looking at the statue, even through this pane of ice, again you feel your loyalty being checked, your heart examined. You see behind it, stairs going up. But this is enough for you. You opened the door, but you didn't go in.

Ziusudra, after you determine the remorhaz aren't interested in eating you, you allow your confidence to take you out of this hiding place and into their chamber. You lightly push through some crushed ice and the detritus of their living, and find, after some searching, a dead one. Shriveled frozen wings, crumbling bones, and some aged chitin. Sorting through this corpse you find a piece of shell that would do for a shield, if someone had the skill to make it. An exotic piece, worth something to an armorer or enchanter. Big, but yours for the taking.

Falfen, Moxie takes your sewing materials from your hands with almost reverence, like one would accept a timeless artifact from a historical figure. She holds the string of gut in her fingers and twiddles it back and forth.

"Oh, my god, is that... intestine!? And look at this stabby thing! That is so cute and real, you know what, you are really something. You just pulled this out of wherever, and you're all 'here sew this thing with this thing.' And you know what, you know what? I'm actually going to do it." She sits down with her ripped jacket, perched on a flat piece of ice, and with the awl stabbing into her knee, she manages to create an uneven row of holes on one side of the rip, and a slightly less uneven row of holes on the other side, and then begins to thread the gut through. Not the smartest way, back and forth through the middle like a braid. No, a stupid way, just looping the two sides together so there's going to be a gap for wind. But you know what, you know what? She tried. "When my boyfriend sees this," she says, holding up her hideous finished project. "He is going to be like 'babe, you have been through it.' And he will be right." She turns to you with something adjacent to actual gratitude and says, "Thank you for helping me. I don't want me to get hurt either. So let's make sure that doesn't happen."


OOCThis is the end of this thread! I will start the next chapter later on today. You all have done a stunning job writing this adventure -- I'm so thrilled with how it all developed. I tossed out a remote possibility for a side trip, thinking you wouldn't want to do it, but you ran with it and made it something really special. Congratulations on reaching level 5!

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Last edited by lostcheerio; May 22nd, 2022 at 11:47 AM.
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Old May 22nd, 2022, 02:57 PM
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Falfen is tired. Falfen lost sight of Tru and he is frustrated with himself and because of her nattering, Moxie. Most of all, Falfen wants to go back to the Rime with this new sense of purpose, new knowledge of the voice that has lived in him all these years, and new confidence as a witch of Hleid. But in spite of all this, when Moxie does her best to mend her jacket with his supplies and shows some genuine gratitude, he gives a small smile.

Falfen looks at her work and nods. "You have indeed been through it, as you say. And you're welcome for the help. Enough have died in this place today. If I may,..." And if she'll let him, he takes her forearm in his hands and pulls the seams together slightly tighter and runs an additional row of criss-crosses through her holes, working with his diligent trapper's hands. "You did well for your first try," he encourages her. "This will help your work last longer and keep the wind out better. You know it's cold where we're going, don't you?" And despite himself, he gives her a wink.

When he finishes, he sits quietly, crossbow across his knees and waits for whatever happens next.


 


 
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