Seat of Our Noble Line (Part 6)
Log Info
- Title: Seat of Our Noble Line (Part 6)
- GM: Riptide
- Place: Ivyhold Manor
Rhain Padaryn's last words--before the world shattered as his face began to turn into something it ought not be--still resonate with all of you: "You have to find the Eye! It's in the house! Somewhere in the house! Destroy it--"
Which leads to now. You and your cohorts are in the opening room of the house again. No Eluna-sent door standing in the middle, no little Mariana Padaryn asking about her father. But there is a set of stairs leading upwards with repaired steps, silver-blue in the spots that had once been cracked and destroyed. Like the door that had once stood in the room, the staircase has letters on it that mean nothing but can be read by all:
THE WAY FORWARD.
GAME: Seldan casts Prestidigitation. Caster Level: 16 DC: 20
Telamon stumbles at the sudden, jarring shift in reality, and falls down into a seated position. He looks around in confusion. "What--" Then he blinks, and sighs. "You'd think, all that time playing in dreams and memories, you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing." He picks himself up again, brushing off dust, before looking to Seldan. Studying the knight, he walks over to the man, and asks quietly, "Are you well, Sir Seldan? I could tell not all of that was dragon's blood." There's no sound of reproach or disapproval in his voice. Only compassion, and perhaps a touch of curiosity.
The memory of cold child in his arms is haunting for Seldan, but - at least she is no longer an immediate concern, at least for the moment. Still breathing deeply from the exertion, every nerve still jangling from multiple effects, he staggers. It takes a minute to process the reality shift, but he then straightens and immediately furls the mighty feathered wings, dismissing them and allowing them to melt back into the shoulders of his armor and vanish. Entirely covered now in a mix of dragon ichor and sparkly black stuff, except where the armor itself is eerily pristine, he raises Reunion in one hand and his free hand in the other, and swiftly cleans the grime from the blade.
"Seldan, what was that all about?" the elderly, nasal female voice asks. "Someone like that claimed to be a Padaryn. I don't know."
"I know not, Fallia," Seldan answers. "It is in my mind that we shall learn more soon enough." With that, he glances over at Telamon, and lowers his eyes. "That - do I not yet fully understand," he murmurs to the sorcerer - somehow embarrassed? "It is that which - I did not wish to speak of in your home."
Verna's head swims and stomach churns at the ... altered location. It is impossible to tell whether they are moving, reality around them is warping, or some combination thereof. The disorienting result is the same nonetheless. "It is-" she closes her lips for a firm moment to swallow "-far more tolerable when expected, much less when one is the initiator of such."
After re-orienting herself with the new scenery, the stairs hold her focus a moment before she shifts the same to the others, in turn, ending upon Seldan. "The way forward is conspicuously clear..." The statement of the obvious also holds a touch of question or uncertainty.
Zeke casually and carefully pays little attention to the ichor on Seldan's skin, but rather pays far more heed to everyone's current state of being. Checking over for injuries and wounds, less on the paladin for all he's been in closest combat, but everyone else. "Sssa. We are in good enough order thisss one thinksss. To continue if you wisssh Ssseldan."
Telamon shakes his head at Seldan. "Sir Seldan, I have seen many strange things since I came to Alexandria. I assure you, I understand your feelings, but... I do not wish for you to feel so uneasy. I see with clear eyes, even though my point of view might be different."
His eyes flick to Reunion, and he clears his throat. "That... did seem to be Rhain Padaryn, though not in the state I beheld him when I used the legend lore spell on the key. That man was haggard and... 'accursed' might be a good word for it. This one was in his prime." He rubs his chin. "It's all very strange, I admit. But the only way to find the truth is, well..." He points at the stairs. "Up."
Seldan lifts his eyes, and regards Telamon steadily and evenly, a gaze that lingers for long moments. That gaze is a cool, impassive thing, but at length, he sighs and turns away, sheathes Reunion, and turns his spell upon himself. "Its tale is more than mere strangeness," he answers quietly. "But such a tale is too long to tell now." Swiftly, the worst of sparkly stuff and dragon ichor alike melts away into nothingness, and when it is done, he uses the last of the spell to clean his hands.
With that, he turns towards the stairs. "The way is indeed clear, and I would follow it." With that, he starts towards the stairs.
Verna dips her hood to Zeke, concurring his assessment of her state and/or that of the others. Her pan back to Seldan lingers on Telamon briefly with a questioning glance before she nods once more. "As we shall follow you, Seldan," she affirms before moving to do so.
Like Verna - after a fashion - Zeke follows in Seldan's wake. Though perhaps a bit more quietly given that he says nothing at all. In truth the slight bit of conversation between Telamon and Seldan makes him slightly uncomfortable. It is Seldan's words to speak - if and when he chooses to say them - and though he understands the curiosity... it is no less uncomfortable for being there.
The stairs are climbed. It's an odd thing, however, that despite the fact that the house is supposed to be three stories tall--the staircase seems to end at the second floor, leading into another hallway that--
Why does it look larger than the room downstairs? Does that even make sense?
Nevermind that--why are there trails of dried blood leading from the door at the end of the hallway into the four other doors in the hallway, two doors on each side?
Telamon pauses halfway up the stairs. He seems to be counting paces, before he continues up, and then he seems to be measuring, before saying something. "...Hells. This is Phileaston all over again, isn't it? Try not to look out the windows -- you might see something unsettling." Then the half-elf sees the blood trails, and pauses again. "And that's just the perfect touch," he points out. "Pretty sure whatever's behind those doors is... not going to be pretty at all."
Seldan's mind is less on counting stairs than on his own inner thoughts, but Telamon's words are enough to shake him out of that, and he reaches the top, surveying the area and its blood trails, the incongruity of size. "This place has been the home of an accomplished wizard," he murmurs. "Anything is possible. I would proceed with caution, and yet - proceed we must. We must locate and destroy the Eye."
With that, and a glance behind him to the others, he starts towards the closest door on the left.
GAME: Zeke rolls Perception: (13)+8: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (8)+25: 33 GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (8)+25: 33
Seldan gets a few steps away, but pauses and reaches for Reunion's hilt, grasping it firmly and then opening the door with his free hand.
As Zeke approaches the door he tilts his head slightly, eyes half-lidding. "Ssssa." He says in approval, looking at the door that Seldan is near to opening with curiosity. "Thisss one sssmellsss tea?" And if one is any good at reading sith features... a tea that Zeke approves of.
With a little precaution (and anticipation of tea), the door opens.
It swings in to a bedroom that, despite the fact that there is a blood trail leading inside, seems like someone had cleaned up the blood from the inside of the room--meaning there's a sharp line where it just stops--and everything else while they were at it. It seems to be a guest bedroom of some sort, well-furnished and with two beds large enough for two people each. The comforters and sheets look to be of fine quality, certainly something fit for a noble's manor. Plump down pillows adorn equally plump down mattresses.
There's also something else. No, someone else. A woman standing by a small table in the room, off to the side of the beds. Or, well, might have once been a woman: simply on account that her head and neck are missing, but the rest of her is present. She wears an outfit that looks out-of-date by most contemporary Myrrish trends, but still resembles a typical maid's outfit to the point that her occupations is recognizable.
She curtsies politely before the group. The room is chillingly cold. "Welcome, milord, and his esteemed guests. May I be of service?" she asks, quite politely.
The half-elf didn't expect this. A slow, cautious blink. The lack of blood is already curious, but then his eyes lock onto the maid. His expression shifts to hard focus, the stars in his eyes flaring for a moment before receding again. "... Interesting. A pleasure, of course -- we're here seeking the master of the house. I am called Telamon Lúpecyll-Atlon; might you have a name I may call you by, miss?" He's turning on the charm, though considering the target, he's clearly not sure it'll work.
GAME: Telamon rolls talky: aliased to diplomacy+5: (3)+32+5: 40
Seldan, too, blinks at the state of the maid, but his features fade somewhat into impassivity at Telamon's greeting. "Thank you. Is the tea hot? It has been a long journey." A swift mental decision leads him to play along, for the moment, in hopes of learning more of the area in which they now find themselves, and it's about now that a notable growl emerges from the region of the paladin's stomach, most certainly not a thing intended or planned.
Zeke looks at the softskin maid. It doesn't take him more than a second to realize that she's missing her head. But when Seldan so casually suggests that they have tea... It's a bit more than the sith-makar can constitute. "What?" He says, looking at Seldan as though the paladin has lost his head. He stares at Telamon. Can they not see? The headlessness?
The headless maid tilts her shoulders slightly in a way that suggests if she had a head, she'd be tilting it, at Telamon's words. "I am honored by your words and presence, sir Lúpecyll-Atlon," she says, "but the master of the house is with you, is he not?" She gestures somewhat politely in Seldan's direction. "This is master Padaryn."
And then she bows again at Seldan's words. "The tea is hot and to your preferences, milord," she says politely. "I will have refreshments available shortly. Do you have any special requests today?"
Telamon blinks, wrong footed for a moment before regaining his stride. "Ah. Well... technically, his investiture is not complete. But I suppose in the grand arc of things, he is in fact the master of the house. Well said."
He looks at Seldan as the maid offers refreshments, and can't help but offer the paladin a slight grin. It seems whatever entity is in this house doesn't give a damn what Seldan's father thinks either.
Zeke's mouth opens. There's a moment of regret, because the tea smells delicious. It also is wholly unappetizing to look at headless softskins while one has tea however. He warbles uncertainly. "Do we... have to have tea?" Boy does he want that tea though.
"It is well," Seldan offers with the smallest of smiles to Telamon, the impassivity melting away, and turns to Zeke. "I shall explain briefly in a moment." With that, he turns back towards the maid, and shakes his head. "Only the usual, enough for four of us. If you could bring a second pot of hot water as well, with the refreshments, and then leave us in private, that will suffice, thank you."
GAME: Seldan rolls bluff: (5)+15: 20
There is a muffled pull of air into Verna's hood before she is silent. Silent and staring at the maidservant who is demure and dutiful despite the most conspicuous alliterative adjective for her being neither of those. A gloved hand moves of its own accord towards her throat before she manages to rest it at the top of her chest.
Having been in a form of that state, herself, it is unsettling to say the least. Fortunately, Verna's recollection of such is brief. She certainly far less verbose, to say nothing of brewing tea.
"No, not yet complete," the maid offers more quietly in response to Telamon's words, before she bows again. "Please pardon my rudeness. My name is Cosette. I have served the Padaryn household for many years."
Yet another bow from Cosette at Seldan's words. "Right away, milord," she says. The next thing that happens is the oddest thing. The maid walks--
Right through the wall. Disappearing.
She reappears only a moment later, stepping back through the wall, with a tray that contains a second pot (the hot water as requested), as well as delicate little sandwiches that seem to be quite fresh and appetizing to the senses. If one doesn't think about where they might have come from, that is.
"Please call for me, milord or guests, and I will return at your call," Cosette says gently. "Enjoy your relaxation and rest."
She departs again through the wall.
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/religion: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion: (13)+22: 35 GAME: Zeke rolls Knowledge/Religion: (9)+25: 34 GAME: Verna rolls knowledge/religion: (4)+24: 28 GAME: Seldan rolls survival: (13)+25: 38
Telamon blinks again, slowly, as the maid passes through the wall, then back, then out again. As soon as she's gone, he gives Seldan a look. "Told you it was your house," he says, trying not to be more than a little smug. "I guess with the state of things, though, it shouldn't surprise me it's haunted. Ghosts and memories. Persistent things."
Tel walks over to inspect the furnishings, prodding them lightly with a fingertip. "Hmm. I ... guess if she's been bound to keep the place tidy and ready for 'the master of the house', it might explain why everything's in good shape. Or it could be an illusion."
"I would have been quite surprised, Lord Lúpecyll-Atlon, were it not so," Seldan answers, looking after the ghostly maid when she vanishes through the wall. "Our task, then, is not merely to destroy the Eye and rescue Master Rhain, but to release all of the souls who once served him as well. I can do no less, nor would I ask any present to do less."
His stomach pointedly growls again, and he lets out a long, slow breath that is almost definitely a sigh and makes his way to one of the beds, leaning against the post and surveying the refreshments. "Magically conjured food, such as one might find in a mage's mansion. I think it safe enough, Zeke, the tea and the food alike." He looks down at his own stomach. "Forgive me. I think it - a side effect of that which you saw earlier. It-"
Here, he stops, and his eyes lower again. "Originally, a creation of a mighty wizard, to repair and mend his tower, it was turned to a darker purpose by the fae queen Salina, and used to infect much of Alexandria's populace with a magical plague. I was no exception, and -"
Verna exhales the previously-held breath as Cosette passes through the wall, also forming a firm "Ah" of revelation. She breathes normally when the maid returns and departs anew. Perhaps a bound spirit is the most rational (or comfortable?) explanation for the appearance. "If she was as attentive, before, as she is, now, her own sense of duty may bind her. Such is not unusual."
She looks to Seldan as he (and his stomach) reference the food. "If you hunger and the food is safe, then please eat. None should judge you for such in your own familial manor... and I doubt any here would do so at any moment, regardless." After a pause, she adds, "I cannot leave these souls bound as they are, as you well know, but I would do no less even were that not true."
Zeke moves cautiously toward the tea, and begins to pour some out for Seldan, Telamon, and Verna. The sith is well practiced in this art, and offers some in turn to each. He takes tea for himself last, but disdains the tea foods in favor of the tea itself. "Sssaa. You need explain only if you want to Ssseldan." He says gently. He knows the story well of course, but he doesn't want for the man to push himself. "Have ssssome-thing to eat."
Telamon sits down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his chin. "Interesting. Well... considering the horrid reputation of that plague, I can see why anything remotely involved with it might be a touchy subject." He nods in agreement with Zeke. "Regardless, if you are hungry, eat. The house's nature may still be in flux, but I suspect recognizing you as the master is a good sign. Whatever power remains here might be less inclined to impede us as we work."
Tel stands up again, and goes over to take a teacup from Zeke. "Whatever happens, we will unravel this riddle. We've all faced challenges in the past; this will be one more tale to be told when we are done."
Seldan takes the cup of tea from Zeke, almost automatically, and then at once reaches for one of the sandwiches. It is clear that that had been the intent when first he spoke of the food. "I - know not if it be me she sees, or a face from her day," he replies between bites, a speed of eating that answers a real need.
"Lord Lúpecyll-Atlon has trusted me a great deal in coming here," he answers Zeke quietly. "It is but right that I repay that trust. The one thing that could make the plague more dangerous was to visit a magical effect upon the sufferer - and more than once did that befall me. Several times, in fact. I - do not feel ill, nor does magic trouble me as it did while I was ill, and yet - its effects upon me are likely to be permanent."
Zeke can only nod in understanding. It was as he had thought earlier - Seldan's to tell - and it seemed that the time had come. He could only now facilitate such by being a quite observer and by refilling tea when the time came.
Rest and relaxation is had.
With Telamon's conjuration of a faithful watchdog, and keeping watch for those who are inclined, sleep comes. But it comes with odd dreams.
For Telamon, there's a dream of a star-studded sky, and a woman's voice whispering into his ear. It's a familiar voice. Yet one he can't quite place. She speaks gently of freedom. No cages. No darkness. The words are half-forgotten, half-remembered when he awakens.
For Verna, there's a dream of the cold, something familiar but cannot be traced. There's the feeling that something's wrong. That she's trapped. Stuck in a grave herself, buried alive--or maybe buried truly dead. How does it feel to be dead yet alive at once? It's a contradiction, a thing that shouldn't be, a sadist's thought experiment turned real. A thing that she feels compelled to carry with her into the waking world when she awakens.
For Zeke, there's a dream of glittering and golden scales, warm, like the sun. A voice that's his yet not his murmurs in his head. Passing over him like the rays of a rapidly traveling sun. "Justice must be had. Justice must be had." The words are there in Zeke's throat and in Zeke's head, a sword to bear as he awakens.
For Seldan, there's a dream of that man, that howling and pained ancestor. Looking at him, imploring him, begging him all over again. "Please," he gasps. "Please." The black tears, glittering like Seldan's blood (not-blood), pour down his face again.
Seldan watches his hand reach out. And then he watches the hands of his allies reach out. And hands of people he doesn't know, yet they seem so familiar, reach out to Rhain Padaryn. Going to give him salvation. Going to give him freedom--
And then he wakes.
Everyone wakes.
There's work to be done.