Scrolls, Spells, and Plans

Log Info

• Title: Scrolls, Spells, and Plans

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Aryia, Aya, Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Ravenstongue and Telamon's house

• Summary: Ravenstongue, Telamon, and Pothy have just returned from a rather bad Theatre District show when Aya and Aryia show up on their doorstep. Knowing exactly why they're here, the group wastes no time in figuring out a plan of attack for locating Daechir, the spells they need, and how they're getting to and from the plane once it's been identified. (Pothy also survives Aryia's death cuddles.)

Lúpecyll-Atlon house, evening.

The stars are out in a cloudless and dark blue sky, glittering in all their splendor. That's the first sign of a pleasant evening for the patriarch and matriarch (of sorts) of the Lúpecyll-Atlon family, with Cor'lana looking outside from the kitchen window. "Nice night out tonight," Cor'lana remarks as she leaves the kitchen with a very special package in tow: Pothy, wearing a bow-tie. "Too bad the Theatre District show wasn't very good."

"Yeah," Pothy agrees. "At least it was fun to make fun of."

"They can't all be winners, you know?" Cor'lana comments as she walks back to the couch and slips the bow-tie off Pothy. "At least it was an early show, and we weren't stuck there til midnight."

Telamon's voice is dry. "Honestly, if it HAD run till midnight I think the audience would've rioted." He shakes his head. "That was bad. No wonder tickets were running so cheap. I'm with Pothy on this one; the color commentary was more entertaining."

Telamon steps out of the bedroom, having doffed his more elegant garments for a simple outfit of cotton shirt, trousers, and his bear slippers. "Shall I put some tea on, Lana? Or would you prefer something a little stronger?"

For the second time in about as many days, Aya approaches, then knocks upon, the Lúpecyll-Atlon door. Recent events were ... informative. Aside from that... well, her expression is not improved from what it was the other day.

Aryia is frustrated. She didn't like having idle hands, and right now, it certainly felt like it was. She's got a scowl on her face, and after Aya's knock, she tries the door. Finding it locked, she pouts, crossing her arms.

She just wanted to steal a blanket nest right now.

Cor'lana snorts softly. "You know, I heard some talk that Thomas Biseau was a bit of an eccentric--just, you know, eccentrics tend to produce good art and not awful art--"

Then comes the knock at the door, and Cor'lana rises from the couch. "I was going to suggest something stronger, but it won't do to be inebriated in front of company unless they just saw what we just saw," she replies. She walks over to the door, unlocks it, and opens it.

Before she can greet the two mul'niessa women, however, Pothy flies over onto her shoulder. "Oh hi, Ary-aya," Pothy greets, imitating a rather strange accent before he giggles in the way that children do.

"They're here on business, Pothy," Cor'lana says with a side-glance. "Come on in, you two."

"Look, maybe there's an error in translation? Someone mentioned this was adapted from a book, perhaps Biseau just... didn't translate it properly? I mean, we've talked about how language shifts can mess things up if you don't pay attention--" Telamon pauses at the knock. "I don't know, dealing with us, they may want a stiff drink."

But he puts the kettle on, keeping an ear out as Lana opens the door. When Pothy greets them, he subtly relaxes, and calls out, "Oh good, it's friends. I won't have to fireball the front of the house. Come in, tea is brewing."

Aryia waves to the couple as well as Pothy as he settles on her shoulder, the scowl not really abating. She does, however, pat him atop the head and offers- yep, its another ginger taffy.

"Please don't fireball us, that's probably the dumbest fucking thing you can do," she mentions, striding in. She picks up Pothy off her shoulder.

No. Oh no. It's finally time. He's going to get pitched into the ground. She's frustrated. He squawked at her. Nice knowing you, buddy.

She simply places him in the couch nest of blanket. And promptly flumps into it. "I'll take tea," she signs to the air. <Handspeech>

Aya nods in greeting and steps promptly in. They were invited. Pothy's antics... affections... annoyances(?) are watched for a brief moment, maybe just to ensure that no feathers fly. "I am tempted to accept both the drink and the fire," she admits dourly, "but common sense demands I decline." Another glance is made to Aryia: she may be common sense, or perhaps that blanket nest is just that tempting...

She exhales a long breath as she looks to their hosts. "We learned how NOT to reach him. Do either of you have any ideas where he might be? Or how to learn that? How to reach him?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (14)+17: 31

Pothy gives Cor'lana a look that more or less states, "I'm in DANGER," as Aryia takes him. But then... Aryia and he are sharing blankets on the couch. This is a fate that is acceptable... And Pothy tempts it by snuggling a little into Aryia. Just a little.

Cor'lana looks thoughtful as she returns from locking up the door behind Aya and Aryia. "There's a spell," she says. "It's known as a vision spell, and it works similarly to a legend lore spell, but faster, as it answers only one question. It's a little beyond my means to cast--but we could use it to ask a question and ask, 'What plane is Daechir located on?' I believe Telamon's comfortably casting spells of that hallmark now, so we would just have to buy a scroll of that spell and cast it."

GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (1)+16: 17 (EPIC FAIL)

Telamon comes out, bearing a tray with the kettle, four mugs, and even some snacks. "Vision? I thought that was for seeing in the dark -- oh, that's the darkvision spell." He offers a rueful smile. "Sorry, I misheard." Setting the tray down on the coffee table, before taking a seat.

"The seventh circle is my limit, and I use that for my teleportation spells. But it should work -- I don't think we want to wait the days needed for a legend lore spell." Tel looks a bit worried. "Gods only know what would happen in the meantime."

Aryia shifts a bit a cuddle Pothy. It would seem really cute! If, however, it wasn't Aryia. Is it a cuddle? Or a death hug.

She raises a brow to Lana, not really knowing what she's talking about but going with it. Her attention is on new things, like this tea being settled on the coffee table. A lazy hand wafts for it in a vain attempt at using some magic to make a hand get it for her. But no, she's mundane on that front, and grumbles sitting up to get the cup herself as she scoops up one.

Aya makes a quick mental note of the spell noted and the explanation. "Done. You will have the scrolls you need." That was easy enough. "Once we know the answer, I could take us there; to that realm, but it does take time. If you have an easier means, or some way to reach his location, exactly..."

Telamon's comment draws a scowl, though she tries to minimize it. "No, there are no gods at work in this. Only fiends. Maybe only that fiend. If I have to walk across the entire Iron Hells to reach him, I will... but we don't have the time."

"Once we know what plane he's on," Cor'lana explains, looking thoughtful, "we'll have to figure out where he is on that plane. We saw that room... But we don't have any greater context for where it is. So, we'll likely have to plane shift, and then teleport."

She furrows her brow and sighs. "The plane shifting is beyond my grasp, too, but only barely. Just a little more time and research, and I think I'll have it in my grasp, but again--we don't have that time. So, I think we're relying on Tel here."

Then Cor'lana turns to Telamon. "Do you think you're able to shift planes, teleport us, and then shift planes again, if we were to acquire the scroll for plane shifting? I don't want to overburden you, my love--but it's simply not in my capability to do that. Not yet."

"I would recommend two scrolls of each: plane shift, and greater teleport." Telamon's voice has a clinical tone to it. "Once we get there, assuming his cell isn't warded, we can teleport directly to him -- remember, I saw the scrying too. When we plane shift back to Ea, though, the aim is... inexact." He offers Lana a smile. "But, chances are good it'll be safer than the Iron Hells by a long way."

Tel squares his shoulders, and looks at Aryia and Aya. "This demon's caused us all a lot of grief. But your man is more important. We'll get him out, and anyone with a lick of sense will stay out of our way."

Aryia swirls her tea around as the others speak. Probably going to the Iron Hells. Fun. Is there booze in this? Sniff. No. Fuck. She takes a sip with one hand, Pothy held in the other death cuddle. Hrm. Not bad. A little hot still.

Ah, crap, she has something to add. Hands are full- eh, screw it. She bites down the cup. Tips her head back to start drinking it. Oh godda- it burns. She made her choice. She is frustrated. She will drink this while saying something! "It's probably warded on the way in. We'll have to maybe get outside then find our way in. We're also going to have to prepare for whatever bullshit plane he's in. What's that one spell? Seyardu used it a lot. Kept nasty shit off me."

She blinks, still scalding herself. Almost done. "What about Seyardu?" <Handspeech>

Aya nods with Telamon's recommendation: direct, explicit, clean. "I will get those, also." Her brow furrows in thought. "We can save the one arriving. If you only need be in the realm to try and teleport to him, I can take use that far, and back. Better to keep the scrolls for the return, in case I cannot."

The hand signs in her peripheral vision draw a frown that deepens when she realizes what Aryia is doing. She dart-steps to her sister to grasp the cup before she further drowns or scalds herself. "Aryia, tables exist." There is a pause before she comments on Aryia's mention. "I... I involved her in this enough. I harmed enough due to this." Inhale. Exhale. "If she wished to, I would not deny her aid, but I shouldn't ask more of her. I've asked too much from everyone here as it is."

Cor'lana looks thoughtful. "I... believe I can also use the scrolls, in the event that..."

She can't even complete that sentence before she shakes her head, looking at Tel meaningfully before she looks back to Pothy. Her fluffy little anchor on the couch, who is cuddling with Aryia (and is either living in peril or is enjoying it--maybe both, but nobody knows but Cor'lana). "Either way," she says, "Aya, you forget. That demon marched in here and involved us long before you came here. I made a deal with only my word, my nerve, and my true love by my side, to rid the world of that demon, and I will see it through."

Pothy looks up at Aya with those blue eyes of his. "It'll be okay," he says. "One way or another." He's rather genuine about that.

"As Lana says, we were already involved. There's also a certain debt, Aya, that I owe to Aryia." Telamon offers the sisters a wry smile. "When Lana was taken from me, Aryia helped bring her back. I cannot do anything less in this case."

He stares at Aryia flailing with her teacup in her mouth, and Tel covers his mouth to hide a grin. After a moment, he continues, "Whatever harm is done, it is done. All you can do is spend your time trying to make amends. But Aryia is right. We may need warding. And... the least you can do is ask Seyardu if she can help as well. Or anyone else you know who's up for this. Don't bring in just anyone, though -- this is going to be serious."

Aryia was doing fine! She was only mildly drowning! Her cup is pulled away to show tea-filled puffed cheeks, angrily defiant against the scalding happening right now. She gulps it down, wincing in pain briefly before staring at Aya.

She releases Pothy, set upon the nest. She stands. Turns to the married couple, holds up a finger. "Excuse me."

Without true warning, there is a moonlit streak that arcs across between the sisters. It intersects with the side of Aya's head, followed by a micro-explosion of concentrated moonlight.

And there is a resounding S L A P.

The mute shakes her glowing hand off. "You told me to hit you when you're being fucking stupid. You're being fucking stupid. How the fuck is she going to know if she wished to if you don't ask, like Telamon said."

She jabs a finger towards Cor'lana. "She's right. That fucker involved us loooooooooong ago. We are not stopping until it is utterly. Completely. Totally. Annihilated," she grids her teeth, fists jamming into each other. "And I am not one to half-ass anything. We either end this bitch with the full fucking guillotined, or your man's staying in that fucked place."

Man, she isn't mincing words. <Handspeech>

Aya expects to possibly get an ...eyeful at removing the cup. Stubbornness is something of a family trait, even when family is by choice. She did not expect to get a cheekful. Her head snaps to the side only to return with her blinking... and bearing a conspicuous glowing handprint against charcoal cheek.

Her mouth opens. Closes. A nod. "You are right, on all counts. It ends. We end it. Whatever it takes. With whomever would give us the advantage." Her jaw moves again, now to stretch out the cheek and ensure her jaw is still set.