Same as It Ever Was (Part 12)

The party has emerged into a long hallway in the castle belonging to Alud'rigan, the Feathered King, who seems to be this timeline's version of the Queen of Air and Darkness as the ruler among the Unseelie. Dimly lit, there are many people feasting and dining in the hall, a pond hidden under the feet of the party (or perhaps the illusion of a pond) by glass that looks quite thick. Alud'rigan, bearing a crown, has come to greet the party...

"Nala!" His joy radiates in his face and voice, and he quickly comes down the hall to greet her. He holds out those rather sharp-looking talons of his as though to embrace her, before he seems to remember himself. Alud'rigan clears his throat. "Welcome home."

"Oh, finally! She's come!" That's a voice Aryia recognizes. Because it's her own. Indeed, off in one corner is the almost-Aryia that the party has met before, a glass of wine in hand. "Let me challenge your princess to a duel."

Yiara, the alternate version of Aryia in this timeline, laughs. It's an arrogant and obnoxious laugh. "After all, I came to this Court to win my own glory and fame! What better way than to beat up your long-lost princess, huh, Your Majesty?"

This makes Nala frown, her hand tightening around Telanmo's. "Do I have to fight?" she asks in a small voice that Telamon recognizes quite well.

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature+4: (5)+21+4: 30
GAME: Zeke rolls Knowledge/Nature: (17)+5: 22
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/nature: (10)+12: 22
GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/Nature+1: (1)+13+1: 15 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/nature: (2)+6: 8
GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Nature: (8)+29: 37

At first, Rune's attention is seized by the beauty of their surroundings. The writer in her tries to take in everything, knowing that any attempt to put this into words later will fall woefully short of reality.

And then there is Alud'rigan. If Cor'lana had dared Rune to imagine a more physically attractive version of her Grandfather, the rogue would have told her it was an impossibility. That impossibility stands before them. And yes, Rune is staring, lips parted, obviously appreciating the 'art' that is the man before them.

Rune.exe has crashed due to hot Fae man. Please wait for it to restart. Then, after what is far too long of a moment, she seems to shake herself out of the Fae-induced brain fog, "Wait... who is fighting?" She definitely checked out there for a minute or two.

Harkashan, grumpy as he's been for the past little while what with all the extra-planar and extra-dimensional shenanigans, seems to finally have had the chance to relax. Stepping into this place, seeing grandfather...

He glances to Rune for a moment, seeing her oggling the man, then back at the grandfather, then back to Rune... and shrugs.

And then someone has to turn back on the Grump. Yiara immediately looking to challenge the princess, he takes in a deep breath. After the amount of nonsense he and Rune have been involved with, Fae wise, he's studied up quite a bit on them.

"This isn't as bad as it seems." He rumbles to the group, crossing his arms, glancing to Telamon. After all, he's married to one of these Strange ones. And he figures Telamon will explain the situation better.

Aryia is a clearly uneasy entering into the realm what was supposed to be the Queen of Air and Darkness's domain. Or, rather, leading the Unseelie. As that time was... not fun for her. While this place is pretty, the luster is lost on her. She unknowingly massages her finger tips as her attention swings to the party goers, then up towards the king himself.

She slooowly exhales, shaking her head at him. And- her scarred early visibly perk, like hearing something old yet familiar brought to the forefront as she whips her head around left-right, and settles in on herself. The surprise stymies her for a beat, before scowling. Gods damn it. She *did* laugh like that. Still does. Focus. This is about compassion. There's a side eye to Nala, and she cracks her knuckles. "I can fight if one cannot be avoided," she motions subtly, also glancing to the local resident fey expert, Telamon prime. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"There are conditions to this sort of thing. Usually it's to first blood... though I suspect the variant over there might want a bit more. You can also select a champion, or change the conditions of the duel." Telamon rubs his chin. "Sadly, I don't think we can beat this one with a baking contest."

He gives Yiara a flinty look, as unimpressed as Harkashan. Idly, his fingers move in the patterns of handspeech, as he looks to Aryia. "You once said you were a priestess. This one looks like she still might be. That might be useful." He clears his throat. "What terms do you seek for this duel?" he calls out, addressing Yiara.

Zeke blinks at the sudden and unexpected offer of combat, but it tickles something in his hindbrain about the fae. The part of his mind that had done research almost religiously after learning about Endless Winter in order to try and bring her down. In order to understand her. Now he rumbles quietly. "Sssuch an offer issss an honor." He says gently his words quiet. Nodding. "Sssshe ssshowsss much ressspect for you Nala."

The Goblin is quite nervous. The glass beneath their feet does not seem thick enough, in her most knowledgeable opinion. She stays quite close to Telanmo, until she realizes it's not Telamon, where upon she shifts to stand closer to the sorcerer.

Simony shakes her head Nala's way. "Challenges are a courtly tradition. Generally one doesn't wish to draw the ire of royalty... though, you do not have to fight. You would have to nominate someone as your champion however. Also, you do get to dictate some of the terms of the battle."

She nods in agreement with Zeke. "I do believe it is intended as an honor. Though, it could be interpreted ... differently."

Her eyes are drawn to the signing by Telamon. A quick glance is sent Aryia's way. The Goblin straightens. "I would also stand in as champion, if you wished to choose me."

Nala frowns a little. "That would explain why she's not being thrown out the palace," she says to Zeke. "But still..."

Yiara smugly smiles, and she retrieves a fan from somewhere on her weapon belt, unfurling it and fanning herself with it. It has a sigil of Taara splayed across the ornamental paper. "As an adherent of the Shadow Lady, I must demonstrate her chosen people's glory and tenacity! The first to bleed on three successive strikes is the victor. A parry, dodge, or miss will reset the counter!"

This makes the 'Princess'--albeit a title that clearly, Nala's not used to--frown a little. "What if someone gets hurt?" she asks.

Then there's the sound of metal screaming from across the hall, before black wings unfurl where Alud'rigan had come from. They reveal a handsome man with intense purple eyes, glowing and glowering all the same. Except he looks like...

"Someone could do something about that, now, couldn't he?" The responding voice, and that face, are unmistakably that of a man some present know as Aragos. "And by he, I mean me."

Alud'rigan smiles widely. "My beloved consort could heal the injured before it gets too far," he says. "That way, no one passes out from exhaustion."

Nala frowns. She looks at the group. "It sounds like it's a one-on-one duel," she says. "I... I don't want to fight. Which one of you would like to the most?"

Harkashan raises his brow. He's not particularly familiar with Aragos, so he does not immediately recognize him as another Mirror of their own.

"I can assure adequate healing as well, as needed. Though my Kin is a far better healer than I." He remarks, motioning to Zeke, before dropping his arm and looking to Nala.

"I am not fantastic with fisticuffs either. And if I use my magics, I do not believe it would lead to something... satisfactory for the audience here." Harkashan points out.

Telamon looks thoughtful, regarding Yiara, before turning his gaze to Aryia. "There was a time," he says quietly, "when you dueled with your sister. Do you think your doppleganger over there is tougher than she is?" His eyes twinkle wryly. "I can't see it that way myself."

His eyes are kind as they move to Nala. "Always play to your strengths. Never let someone push you into something you're not familiar with." He nods to Telanmo. "Father's lessons. He never expected us to be swordsmen."

Zeke has never met Aragos, and in not knowing him, has no basis by which to recognize the man. So he merely blinks at the purple-eyed softskin blankly and knows that his own healing magics are likely sufficient should the other's magics prove untrustworthy in some way. "Thissss one isss sssskilled in healing yessss. Thisss one would be pleassssed to be of asssisstance with that. Thissss one will leave the fighting to another." He looks particularly at Aryia, whom he thinks is well-suited to the task.

Seemingly fully back to reality, Rune's brows furrow slightly as she looks over at Yiara. Though many others seem to have insight into the reasons for such a challenge, the half-sil remains thoughtful. It's Nala's insistence that she doesn't want to fight that has Rune drawing her eyes back to the girl. "Remember, you may not be able to avoid every conflict." However, she quickly amends, "Though... in this case, I think you've got your fair selection of champions willing to take up the cause."

Despite her own prowess in a fight, Rune has to shake her head, though. "I'm not a good fit for that challenge, I'm afraid. I depend on sheer quickness and number of attacks, using distractions so a few get through. Which means... I strike fully about as often as I miss." Give or take...

That said, her attention shifts to the purple-eyed man and his glowering expression. There's a quick up and down, as if she were considering him, and then her attention goes back to the others and the matter at hand.

"I would fight for you, Nala. Though I imagine Aryia would like to have a go, too. To add to Telamon's wisdom, you must, in life, sometimes make decisions you do not like. Sometimes they are thrust upon you. But part of growing up is learning to trust. Both yourself, and your friends, confidants and family. Choose one of us to fight, and we will do it gladly. For you."

"And if I am not your choice, be at ease. I, too, can provide healing. No one will die, this day, nor feel much pain or for long."

There is an intense frown on Aryia as that symbol of Taara is splayed out for all to see. Of course. But if there was one thing that a Taaran cannot withstand is having truth to be seen as a farce.

There's a glance to the new individual, not recognizing him before looking at Yiara.

Others turn to look at her. "Nothing is tougher than her," she gestures slowly, almost reverently. "I can take her. On one condition. We're counting internal bleeding. Not rent flesh. Not falling for that."

She rolls her neck, stepping up beside Nala. "Can pick me or Simony. Either one of us is good at fucking up stuff. I taught her after all." <Handspeech/Tongues>

GAME: Harkashan rolls Perception: (12)+33: 45

Harkashan jumps in with a harumpf and a bit of smoke coming from his nostrils; "I would also like to ensure there is a fair playing field." He notes. "After all, I notice an Artifact on Yiara's neck that may severely impact the fairness of this match."

Yiara laughs in that very obnoxious way again. "Oh, I know, _mute_," she says, fanning herself as she uses the descriptor as a pejorative. "You don't look like you can handle a blade like mine. At least, not with my sort of style!"

She puts her wineglass down and folds up her fan, returning it to her weapon belt. She saunters out to the middle of the floor between the tables. "So! Who am I fighting then, Your Highness? Hmmm?"

Nala frowns a little, but she looks at Aryia with a little smile. She reaches out to gently put her hand on Aryia's arm in a friendly way. "I meant it when I said she wasn't really nice," she murmurs. "Maybe, if you show her what you can do... Maybe she'll become a nicer person."

"The cranial trauma might help, too," Alud'rigan mutters.

At Harkashan's pointing out of her necklace, Yiara laughs. Again. "Ohohohoho~! Of course I have an artifact! I am one of the Shadow Lady's most prized people! An exemplar of our kind! Elevated above all to show her glory! Of course, I will be so kind and allow you to assist Aryia with your own spellwork. But you may only cast one spell per person--or otherwise provide aid--before the fight begins, and then after that, well, it'll be what you can manage to put on her!"

She draws her rapier. "On your mark!" Yiara says, licking her lips. "I'm ready to decorate my blade with the blood of the inferior!"

GAME: Zeke rolls Spellcraft: (6)+26: 32

Harkashan rumbles, and begins to move to Aryia's side. "I will be casting a spell in that case, but it requires me to remain 'near' her. I will not interfere with the battle outside of casting this spell, and moving with Aryia." He remarks as he unsheaths his blade and lays it and his buckler to the ground to show that he is going to follow through with his words.

He then takes out a small stone from his bag, and touches it to his snout. It begins to quickly glow brightly with pale white light, and he stuffs it into one of Aryia's pockets.

The Sith'makar then lays his hands to his back, and confidently takes his position. Fingers interlaced to his tailbag.

GAME: Harkashan casts Miracle. Caster Level: 19 DC: 29
GAME: Zeke casts Greater Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 20 DC: 25
GAME: Harkashan rolls Cleric+Wisdom+4: (3)+19+10+4: 36
GAME: Simony casts Blessing of Fervor. Caster Level: 18 DC: 22
GAME: Harkashan rolls Cleric+Wisdom+4: (11)+19+10+4: 44
GAME: Zeke rolls 1d20+20: (16)+20+4: 40

Telamon moves to Aryia as well, his smile hard. He's seen her fight before. Tel's got faith in her that goes back a long ways, to one of the first faces he saw when he crossed the Tornmawr bridge. "Sometimes, you have to punch your past a few times to get it to stop bothering you," he comments with a grin.

Then he touches Aryia's brow. "Irhandi, igi-kar, namzu igi-bad." A flicker of starlight around his fingertips, as it wraps around Aryia's face, settling over her eyes. Letting her see further and more, just as he does. "Don't be fooled by anything." he states firmly. "Now go give her a lesson in humility."

The faint flexing of Rune's fingers suggests that she may very well be agreeing with Alud'rigan's assessment of the situation, but this isn't her fight. In fact, it is one of those moments where, without any real magical gifts of her own, she is left to step back, allowing the others to perform their amazing feats of magical prowess. There isn't a whole lot she can do before the fight begins.

So, instead, she just stands there, hands resting on her weapons, seeming a bit like the odd one out. It's possible that the rogue has some plans up her sleeve, but it's impossible to read from her initial expression.

A hushed prayer is heard from the Goblin, murmuring her her devotion to Navos. Aryia would feel a (perhaps familiar) nudge, a promise of support, a gentle cajoling to go all out, not just all out, but a little bit past her previous achievements in battle.

"Harder, better, faster, stronger.", Simony says to Aryia, holding up her little scarred fist to the Mul'neissa."

Zeke moves up for his turn to aid Aryia, casting his spell with a prayer to the Dragonfather. Only his spell is not aimed at Ayria. It is aimed at her foe. Her artifact in particular in fact. He trusts Harkashan that it is an artifact and he has heard of such things in Charn. Things that allow those devoted to Taara to avoid bleeding even if they have been cut in to tiny pieces. She might be counting on her magic to keep her blood in her body where it belongs and help her win this fight but Zeke has not intent of allowing her to cheat.

He finishes his prayer and nods in satisfaction when the amulet seems a little less shiny than before. It seems that the magic might be either less potent or gone. He can't tell for certain at the moment but that is sufficient for now. Zeke will continue to aid Aryia as he can from here.

Aryia resists the urge to sneer and spit at the ground. "My body is a canvas of blades like yours. Clearly I can handle your little prick stick." She squints at the Artifact, but its what it is. Her attention drops towards Nala. She snorts. "I am not a nice person. But I am not cruel," she signs slowly and deeply breathes In. Pale lines of light pulse across her skin, and she cracks her neck with a worrying snap. Exhale Out. She pats the Princesses's hand and steps forward.

That general buzz of energy as people layer spells and blessings upon her makes her adrenaline spike. The weight of the small stone in her pocket. The blessing of Navos for alacrity. A sheen of sparkles across eyes. The warmth of the Dragonfather is missing, but the pugilist notes Zeke's direction, and breathes a little easier. She bows deeply, slowly, to her friends, and faces the fore.

Her visage relaxes to stone. "While you are elevated, I have faced rock bottom. I climbed my way out. I dug. I clawed. Scratched until I broke the surface. And I kept climbing. My friends and new found family bringing me to the apex," she signs widely, hands turning into onyx with marble tributaries, trailing glowing bright with moonlight. "And I have learned that the apex is a lie. The apex is only yourself and those you surround yourself with."

The pugilist sets in a deep stance. "And gods damn do you look small down there." <Handspeech/Tongues>

GAME: Rune takes ten on stealth+10+6+1: (10)+39+10+6+1: 66
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+21: (19)+21: 40

The moment the fight begins, there is a subtle shift from Rune as she moves in the direction of the Fae King, seemingly disappearing behind his tall form. Her form blends into his shadow, blurring at the edges a bit. "I apologize, in advance, for the mess I am about to make of your hall, m'lord." She whispers, and then seems to vanish as she steps from his shadow, into the shadow of the table.

"What the?!" One of the guests shouts as a wispy shadow form steals their plate and disappears beneath the table in one place, then comes up in another, causing someone else to squawk their disapproval as fruits are chucked in Yiara's general direction, landing with colorful splatters along the previously pristine floor.

Then, the shadowy form flitters further along the line, causing more cries and exclamations as wine goblets, gravy boats, creamy desserts, and any number of other things are snatched and chucked, creating a display of mess that most school children at lunch would envy.

Harkashan's muzzle quirks ever so slightly at the view of food suddenly being dished around. And while the woman before him is clearly having a decent time avoiding the worst of it, he can tell who they are being thrown by. He's gotten rather familiar with his partner's antics at this point, even if he cannot see her.

He moves a little forward with Aryia, but does not interfere. Hands remaining at his tail. He does not even speak, lest it be construed as further interference.

"Ugh!" Yiara yelps as she manages to dodge most of a gravy boat chucked her way, and her lovely clothes are even stained by something fried that looks like it had cream inside of it as it connects with one of her legs. Yiara's face contorts in disgust as she takes her time stepping through the garbage on the floor. "Disgusting! Your Majesty, your courtiers behave like such _animals_!"

She stops a short distance away from Aryia, lifting up her rapier into a defensive stance. "No matter! Even a champion of Taara will fight beautifully and admirably when she is otherwise painted in disgrace by the apes who wear cheap facsimiles of clothing!" Another obnoxious laugh leaves Yiara.

Telamon blinks twice at the sudden barrage of food items landing on, and around, Yiara. "Don't you know? Battle isn't some dance. You'll find yourself fighting for your life in the most unpleasant places. Even," he pauses to shudder here visibly, "...city sewers. Don't ask."

"But funny thing, a skilled adventurer can adapt to any battlefield. They understand that it's not about who's stronger, but who can go the distance, finish the race. To face trial after trial and still be standing!" His voice rises and falls in the cadence of a practiced orator, as he stands next to Alud'rigan.

Simony watches not-Aryia with some curiosity, and growing interest. The artifact's dimming didn't escape her eye. She looks on with bemusement as Rune brings a food fight to a clothing battle.

"Better to dress like an ape than bray like an ass."

Zeke moves across the field of combat, making his way to Nala where she stands beside her beloved and yet not *too* far from Aryia. His green eyes find the girl's and he lowers his voice so that he might only be heard by her. "Sssa. Ssshe isss your warrior. Ssshe fightsss for you. You ssshould cheer for her Nala. You sssshould pray for her, and urge her on. You ssshould send her your best wissshess that sssshe win. Yessss?" He nods to her. Zeke remembers well the surge of power he felt when Nala gave him that title and can only imagine that Aryia might receive well such energy now. As much as his own prayers at least.

Nala's eyes twinkle a little, nodding as she listens to Zeke. "You're right!" she says, smiling brightly. She closes her eyes and clasps her hands together...

"O Navos, o Raven, please give your aid to Aryia. Make her happy and answer all of her prayers like you have for me!"

Aryia's fists... glow a little.

GAME: Aryia rolls disarm+2+5: aliased to : (5)+28+2+1+2+5: 43
GAME: Aryia rolls disarm+2+5: aliased to : (18)+28+2+1+2+5: 56
GAME: Aryia rolls trip+2+5: aliased to : (9)+28+2+1+2+5: 47
GAME: Aryia rolls 1d10: (7): 7
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2+5: aliased to weapon0+2+2+5: (5)+29+2+2+5: 43
GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d10+strength+2+1: (7)+6+2+1: 16

Aryia was a tad slower on the draw, but honestly, it was worth it as food goes flying and hampers the gap close, insults are hurled and scheming is made. And honestly, Taara would probably approve of all of this. And then Yiara opens her mouth.

The surge of strength of Nala has the pugilist surging forward in a blink, a well placed kick at the wrist making the rapier fly out of Yiara's hand and into the air. She spins on the spot hard, trails of light betraying a sweep of the leg as a fist explodes in a bright light against Yiara's cheekbone. The pugilist keeps spinning, kicking the falling rapier out of the air before it hits the ground and away from the duelist.

"Swallow your pride. There is beauty and honor in that. It is easier to rise with help than clawing it down those you're trying to impress," she signs before... offering a hand to help Yiara back up. "Even Taara knows when to back off." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aryia's act draws a low breath of awe and amusement from the audience, with plenty of claps from the dining guests. "Well done!" someone cheers from the crowd.

"Indeed," Alud'rigan rumbles in approval, smiling as he takes a step--and then appears well across the hall, back in his chair, where he pulls Aragos closer to him around the waist, which makes the angel--for what would a being with wings as large as his be?--glare a little at him from the sides of his eyes. "Oh, come now, are you giving me that look?"

"I'm watching the fight, Alud'rigan," Aragos grumbles. His cheeks also pinken a little.

-TBC