Fiends and Fae

Walking the Memorial Gardens in the early days of summer is a pleasant experience. The sun shinning in the sky. The world warm but not too warm for comfort. There's the gentle sound of insects and birds calling from tree to tree. Seeking the comfort of their own in the boughs of the trees still flushed with new greenery. It's the sort of day where everything seems beautiful and perfect. A black butterfly drifts closer, wandering aimlessly from flower to flower without much interest.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (8)+21: 29
GAME: Telamon rolls Will+2: (19)+23+2: 44

Two half-elves wander the paths of the gardens, looking around happily. Telamon's hand is firmly linked with Cor'lana's, and the sun pours down over his platinum hair. Dressed in his silk tunic, breeches, and sandals, reveling in the warmth. He pauses to look at a flower, before turning back to his wife. "It's good to be together like this, love," he says with a smile. "Even in dreams." Indeed, it's hard to hide a dream from a man who has become a guardian of such.

Tel watches the black butterfly flitting past. "A place of rest, if only for a time," he says softly, reaching up with his free hand to push his hair back.

Cor'lana is dressed in Grandmother's wedding dress, the hand-me-down that sees little wear these days for fear of injury to the beautiful garment. It's notable, because it's what Cor'lana has worn for so many notable moments in her life together with Telamon. Her curuchuil and blood pact mark is on full display as she walks hand-in-hand with Telamon, her long black hair flowing freely behind her as is befitting a woman of the free fae spirit.

"Is it a dream?" she asks softly, smiling up at him as they walk. "I couldn't fully tell at first. But I struggled with that, too, back when we were holding totems." It's something to do with her fae bloodline and her own dreamy sensibility: she's naturally more given to fall into the dream.

As the butterfly drifts past the warmth of the day drops by a few degrees. As if the shadow of a cloud passed over the sun, but the sun is still there and shining. Ahead, there are more butterflies; a whole swarm of them it seems, though they don't seem aggressive. They seem to be gathered around a dark statue of some kind.

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/the planes: (3)+18: 21

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (3)+19: 22

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "+2 to that, so 24"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (9)+24: 33

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (5)+33: 38

Telamon frowns immediately at the odd chill -- such things don't usually happen for no reason in a dream -- but then he's distracted by the swarming butterflies. "Alright, that's... new." Tel points to where the butterflies are gathered all over a statue, obscuring it.

He leads Lana a few paces closer, but is careful not to get too close. He ponders a moment, then takes a deep breath. "Hello, little friends," he addresses the butterflies. "You seem to be busy with something; may I ask what it is you're doing?" Sometimes it's worth trying to talk; it costs nothing to be polite, after all.

GAME: Telamon rolls talky: aliased to diplomacy+5: (9)+36+5: 50

The butterflies make Cor'lana think. She remembers... blue roses. Blue butterflies. Things that related to Eluna in some aspect. She wonders, then, if these black butterflies are...

"Are you Caracoroth's?" she asks the butterflies. "I wonder if perhaps Phea or her father are nearby. They're dream guardians, after all." It's a slim hope, but one nonetheless, violet eyes looking over butterflies with oddly feathered designs in their wings. Maybe there's a reason for that, too. Maybe all things are more interconnected than she thought. Either way, there's not an ounce of fear in her heart. Only curiosity.

The butterflies weave and bob as Telamon draws closer and then there's a chime of tiny voices. All saying the same thing. "Lost one. Lost one. Lost one." Over and over again. The conglomeration of tiny butterflies becomes a vortex as they break away from the center and the butterfly-clad statue becomes a man.

He seems rather ordinary really. Not particularly handsome nor ugly. The sort of man who you might pass and never think twice of. His eyes are gray and unremarkable as the rest of him. A cloudy sky that darkens as they land on Cor'lana and Telamon.

The man covers his unremarkable face with his hands, hiding his eyes and he groans unhappily. "Go away. Go AWAY!" This last is almost a shout and the wind of tiny butterflies pulls in around him as if the little creatures are trying to offer comfort that only serves to make the man withdraw further.

Telamon blinks as the butterflies loft away to reveal... a man? Not a statue? But... he's clearly in distress, and so Tel keeps his distance for the moment. "Easy now... we're all friends here, or we ought to be. Take a breath." He tries to make eye contact with the butterfly swarm, which is... kind of an exercise in futility. "Let's give him a little room, please?"

That said, he turns his starry eyes on the distressed man. "I like your tailor," he says with a smile. "Do you have a name I might refer to you by? I am called by some Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, and this is my wife, who is called Cor'lana." He lets that seep through before continuing. "Do you need help, sir?"

Cor'lana frowns, seeing the man's distress. "Like my husband said, a little room to breathe would be nice," she says. "But if you must land on anyone, land on me?" She even holds out her free hand for the butterflies to transfer to, should they want it.

"We are here to help," she adds gently to her husband's words to the man himself. "How did you end up with so many butterflies on you?" It is, to be fair, unusual, even in a dream. Unless being covered in dark butterflies is a recurring nightmare, but this doesn't quite feel like Caracoroth's realm... yet.

GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (3)+23: 26

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (6)+21: 27

The man looks at Telamon, uncertainty in his gaze as his hands lower. "What is my name? What *is* my name?" He repeats the question like he has no idea the answer at all. He lowers his hands further and he looks at Telamon with a deeply intense look in his dark gray eyes. "I could be you."

A ripple moves over the man and he suddenly looks exactly like Telamon only with the clothes that he is wearing rather than the ones that Telamon is. "Telamon Lupecyll-Alton." Even his voice is the same as he offers a polite bow. Then another ripple follows and Telamon's father stands before him, offering a smile. "You want to see me son? You should come visit. I miss you too."

Telamon's father runs a hand through his hair and then another ripple passes over the man, turning him into someone else entirely. This time he's a tall, stormguardian man with silver eyes and a somewhat sad smile. "You said my name. I heard it. You miss me. Both of you. So much. Why did I leave?" He seems utterly uncertain, this stranger who is so readily changing forms.

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/arcana: (10)+21: 31

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (2)+25: 27

<OOC> Aftershock says, "You think he is using 'alter self' but it is the SMOOTHEST transition you've ever seen. Like it's a natural ability for this guy."

"What the..." Telamon instinctively steps in front of Cor'lana as the man begins to change, swapping appearances. He doesn't quite relax, but he doesn't become aggressive either, especially as the man seems... confused.

"That's a neat trick," he says in a level tone. "But I don't think you want to be me. My life is very busy these days. I guess the question might be who do -you- want to be? That's something everyone has to decide themselves, so don't feel too unhappy if you're not sure yet. We all ask ourselves that question."

Cor'lana's visibly taken aback by the form that the man takes last, stepping back one step as Telamon protectively gets in front of her. Her eyes look wet, like she might shed tears, but she shakes her head. "He's elsewhere," she says. "Zalgiman's not here." She's certain of that... At least, she thinks she is.

The words that Telamon says are an anchor that she, herself, hops onto. Right. She's Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, and she can help this person. "I've asked myself that question a lot," she says softly. "I'm still working on it. And who you are will just naturally change over the course of your lifetime." She still remembers the time when she was Ravenstongue, the amnesiac girl who practically hid under her hooded capelet--the girl who fell in love with a man who was bright like the sun and smiled kindly at her, who stood in front of danger for her. How long ago that feels like it was to her now.

"This isn't me." The man says regretfully, and with another ripple he becomes that ordinary self of his, though this time with pink eyes that hold a trace of green in the bottom right hand corner of each eye. An echo of envy. He gathers his arms around himself. "I do not know who I am, but I know who I want to be."

There's strength in those words and the vortex of butterflies seems unhappy with this pronouncement. Their little echoes of 'Lost One' unnoticed. Three of them land on Cor'lana, deciding she is safe somewhat after her offer, and when they land they are not true butterflies, but rather tiny people with black wings like the insects they had looked like. They cling to her clothes as though there is something terrible about to occur and the other butterflies ripple with displeasure.

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature+4: (11)+21+4: 36

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (7)+19: 26

"Very well," Telamon says, drawing himself up. His posture is almost regal -- he doesn't exactly slouch, but now he seems to stand a lot taller than he usually does. "Do you know where you are?" He gestures to the gardens. "This is a dream. There is wisdom to be gained here, and insight, and perhaps the shape of things yet to pass. But it is not the same as the waking world. Why do you wander this place, stranger?"

He beckons to the butterflies, indicating he is as safe as his wife is. "These little ones seem to recognize you. Perhaps that is a clue in where you can start to find your answers."

"Hello," Cor'lana greets the butterflies--or demi-fae, as she recognizes them. There's a certain mirth in her eyes for seeing them land on her. "Were you trying to help my fellow Lost One, or were you calling to me as the Lost One?"

Her eyes fall onto the being, and she murmurs a spell then. Something to see a true shape, a true form, whatever that might look like. It's perilous, sometimes, to cast a spell such as this, but if there is any one truth about being fae-blooded, it is curiosity and a joy for the world around them.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts True Seeing. Caster Level: 20 DC: 23

The man doesn't really change to Cor'lana's perspective even when she casts her spell, but there's subtle differences. A luminosity to his skin. His eyes are in fact a startling hazel color blue and green in circles that rotate around his iris. "I don't know. I keep coming here. THEY bring me here." He motions to the horde of butterflies and glares at them with eyes turning darker with anger.

The butterflies flee him, but not far. Telamon and Cor'lana are close enough that they each have near twenty of the little wee folk upon them now. Huddled and clinging to their clothes. Whispering like the wind their refrain. "What do you want from me?" He asks them and the refrain changes.

"Come with us. Come with us Lost One!" They seem eager to take him somewhere but he glares at them in response.

"No! Little liars. Little dream-thieves! Go away! Go away!" They don't though.

One of the ones on Cor'lana's shoulder crawls to her ear and curls around it like an earring. "Help us. Help us."

GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (10)+29: 39

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls sense motive: (3)+30: 33

"That's enough." Telamon regards the butterfly-fae with his calm eyes, before turning that gaze on the man. "I'm not sure if they're bringing you here, friend, but they definitely think you shouldn't stay here. And that's actually wise -- wandering the dreamtime like this can be dangerous."

He considers. "Perhaps what you need is a neutral arbiter. Fortunately... you have me. We will accompany you, if you will go with these butterflies. After all, I would be pleased to make sure you find a safe haven."

GAME: Telamon rolls talky: aliased to diplomacy+5: (14)+36+5: 55

GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (5): 5

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+31+2: (17)+31+2: 50

"You have _us_," Cor'lana says with a wide smile, nodding. She hears the demi-fae, and while her reluctance to take them at their word is intrinsically there, her husband has the right path. He is the shining star she's always wanted to follow into the night, when the dark scared her. "We can keep you safe."

She thinks of Phea and Zalgiman, the dream guardians that they are. "Oddly appropriate we're playing a similar role," she murmurs to herself without thinking about it. But her husband has said that he is a guardian of travelers at night. By extension, so is she.

The man looks unhappy for a long moment, like he wants to argue. "I... I shouldn't... go." He says the words as if he's not certain of them at all. He steps toward Telamon and the demi-fae urge him forward, encourage him like a small child learning to walk.

Then he stops, his eyes turning black and he shudders. "No... I want to go. I want to sleep. I want... I *do* want power... I'm so hungry... But..."

He steps toward Telamon again, like a sleep walker who is trying to reach out for a lifeline. His shadow has grown monstrously large, but he still moves toward Telamon. Still reaches out.

I am the guardian of travelers at night.

This is Telamon's creed, his oath. What drew him from the life of a raconteur, diplomat, and neophyte sorcerer to become something more. And there is no more fear within. He has seen such things, such wonders and horrors, and while they might fascinate or disgust him they do not stymie him.

And so as the man stumbles towards him, he deftly takes the man's hand. "Power is overrated," he says gently. "But happiness, love, contentment? Those are the true coin. Come, friend. Let us help you. The world is not always grim, and neither is the dreamtime."

GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (7)+23: 30

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (20)+19: 39

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (14)+36: 50

Cor'lana understands now. Her eyes are filled with understanding. "My friend," she says, "I know why you are lost. You are a changeling. You were born to someone and then switched with another. You are fae. You're fae like me. You're fae, like them." She points to the butterflies. "And I have spent time lost, and I have spent time as the found."

She opens her mouth, and she recites verses that are old. Old in the mortal sense, but timeless, too.

"But I can lead you, newly-found child, Where nobody gets old and craft and wise, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue, And where kind tongues bring no captivity, For we are only true to the far lights We follow singing, into Her embrace."

Cor'lana takes a small breath. "Quelynos," she says. "The land of the fae. The land of our people."

There's a feeling as the two men touch, as if of great evil though only Telamon and the man can feel it. An evil trying to slip inside of Telamon through the man's body. "I'm hungry..." He whispers, and his hand tightens on Telamon's. "He needs to Feed."

The tiny fae collapse around you in a sea of pained shrieks, their wings withering and their bodies crashing to the ground. The ones clinging to your clothes start to fall away. "Nooooooo!" They cry, and no longer fly.

Dark eyes turn on Cor'lana. "I belong in Ea. I belong!"

GAME: Telamon rolls fortitude: (8)+15: 23

<OOC> Aftershock says, "Telamon visibly ages a year"

GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (17)+23: 40

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+26: (4)+26: 30

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/the planes: (19)+18: 37

GAME: Telamon rolls glare: aliased to Intimidate: (12)+36: 48

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+31: (9)+31: 40

The reason mortals rarely notice the aches and pains of aging, except perhaps at the end, is because it's so drawn out. Slow, like the tides. Applying it all at once is... agonizing, and Telamon's knees nearly buckle as a new line creases his brow.

But he doesn't let go. And when he lifts his head, his eyes are full of blazing starlight. "...I see what's inside you," he growls. Slowly, he stands up, as though carrying a vast weight on his shoulders. "Brace yourself. I'm going to remove it."

Tel's fingers and hand stiffen, emulating one of Aryia's nerve-strike blows. And he drives it into the man's chest. Bloodlessly, painlessly, though there's probably some disturbing discomfort in having Telamon root around. Then he makes a satisfied grunt, and -pulls-... and something is being drawn out of the man!

It looks like a horribly distorted, blackened skeleton, with fire in its eyesockets and pointed fingers and toes. But Telamon has his fist around its neck, as he forcibly extracts the nightmarish monster from the hapless soul. Inch by inch, as Tel's eyes blaze with a fire brighter and stronger. The Celestial star-chart on his back lights up, glowing through his clothes, as Tel holds the nightmare over his head by the throat.

"Koz'gon," Telamon snarls in a terrible, cold voice. "I might have known. Blessed be Ni'essa, that she has gifted me this opportunity!" Tel's hair begins to float around his face, burning with cosmic rage and power.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Hold Monster/Persistent. Caster Level: 20 DC: 25

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "DC 28"

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+26: (6)+26: 32

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+26: (4)+26: 30

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+28: (16)+28: 44

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+28: (9)+28: 37

Cor'lana acts quickly, witnessing her husband's work and her eyes widening. She has to do what she's good at, _best_ at. She has to act.

"HOLD." It's a word of power that falls from her mouth as she makes the gestures, but Koz'gon's true form does not fall fixed under her power.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d8+12: (3)+12: 15

GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d8+12: (7)+12: 19

Without hesitation the skeleton reaches down and chomps down into Telamon twice, trying to swallow him whole but he manages to stay outside of its mouth thanks to his magic. Growling in frustration the skeleton's eyes blaze. "This is only the beginning!"

Meanwhile the man who had been inhabited by Koz'gon drops to his feet. "Why... Where... I don't understand." He's clearly confused.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts True Strike/Quicken. Caster Level: 20 DC: 23

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Disintegrate/Persistent. Caster Level: 20 DC: 26

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Also, Knowledge Surge: Improved Critical (ray). 3 HP nonlethal on Lana"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls ranged+20: (4)+12+20: 36

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Fort save against DC 26, two saves because persistent"

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+29: (19)+29: 48

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+29: (18)+29: 47

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 5d6: (15): 15

GAME: Telamon casts Suffocation/Quicken. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+29: (20)+29: 49

GAME: Telamon rolls sorcerer+11: (6)+20+11: 37

GAME: Telamon casts Dimension Door. Caster Level: 20 DC: 25

Cor'lana's eyes are burning as Koz'gon attacks her husband. Here comes the old memory of that moment in time where Marsward killed her husband. Her veins are on fire. Her everything is on fire. For a moment, there's nothing in her but the screaming desire to _kill_ the thing that is attacking Telamon. Or her world might be destroyed.

She can't and won't conceive of that happening.

She lifts a finger and bites it hard, drawing forth blood, feeding it to the curuchuil. "Grandfather, give me your strength," she intones as the blood hits the mark on her chest, her eyes and the mark both shimmering with power. She lifts her hand. "BECOME AS NOTHING."

Sickly green magic fires out at Koz'gon, but it glances off at him, barely disintegrating a portion of the fiend's body.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Reflex: (7)+13: 20

<OOC> Ravenstongue will reroll with RPP

GAME: Telamon rolls Reflex: (6)+16: 22

<OOC> Telamon will reroll with RPP as well, because sheesh.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Reflex: (5)+13: 18

GAME: Telamon rolls Reflex: (19)+16: 35

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+16: (13)+16: 29

GAME: Aftershock rolls 20d10: (113): 113

Meanwhile, the bites wound Telamon, but the defensive magic keeps him from being drawn into the fiend's gullet. "Oh no you don't, you little shit!" His fingers hook in an intricate pattern and he spits out a rapid spell that momentarily yanks the breath from Koz'gon, causing the monster to stagger a moment.

That's all that Telamon needs, as he drops down to grab the shirt of the dazed man next to him. "Hang on!" He speaks another spell, and the pair vanish in a flicker of light -- reappearing next to Cor'lana. "Listen, it's going to be all right!" Granted, he doesn't KNOW that, but confidence is key for this sort of situation.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (7)+21: 28

The skeleton takes a deep breath, cocks its head, and lets loose a miasma that drains the very life from those that it breathes the miasma at. Lana is gone when the miasma clears and back in the land of the waking. Everything is pain, and she can hardly breathe. Back in the dream, the two men remaining are badly wounded.

Even wracked in pain, Cor'lana's thinking fast, and the feeling of not having her husband's thoughts conjoined with hers is an ache like the rest of her is aching. She comes swiftly to a conclusion. She can't help. Not right now. Not like this.

But someone else can.

She reaches into the nightstand and draws out a diamond from her bag of holding within, shaking from pain. But her voice isn't. Her intention, her resolve, isn't. "I Wish for Zalgiman Joaki to protect my husband in the Dream," she intones, hoping beyond hope that it might work.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Wish. Caster Level: 20 DC: 27

GAME: Telamon casts Reverse Gravity. Caster Level: 20 DC: 28

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+18: (12)+18: 30

GAME: Telamon casts Fireball/Quicken. Caster Level: 20 DC: 28

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+18: (14)+18: 32

GAME: Telamon rolls 10d6: (37): 37

Only the fact that Telamon knows this is a dream gives him any hope. But without her by his side... he gestures in a complex pattern, adjusting the dream, the landscape... the gravity itself. Suddenly Koz'gon narrowly avoids being propelled into the air as gravity reverses around him, grabbing onto a tree branch.

Then Tel launches a fireball to detonate in the fiend's face, hoping to blast him clear. "I am going to make you regret EVER HEARING MY VOICE!" His eyes burn with rage, and devotion to purging this evil.

The flaming tree is no good perch, so Koz'gon turns his focus inward, adjusting his shape from that of the skeleton with flaming eyes to something far more hideous. A creature with four legs, four arms, and a hulking disposition full of eyes and horns.

Even as it does so, the real Zalgiman appears with his sword between Koz'gon and Telamon. "Get that guy to faerie! Go on! I'll hold it off! Get the summoning circle out of his head!" The man waves Telamon off. "Fight later, Cor'lana needs you!"

Back in reality, Lana is beginning to reel a bit from the pain, and she knows she has to do something about it. Another fumble in the nightstand, in the Bag of Holding again, and she pulls out a much smaller diamond. "I have a small Wish to heal myself," she murmurs.

The magic infuses into herself, and she sighs deeply as she sinks back into bed. It's a fraction better than she was before. All she has to do... is wait. Wait for Telamon to return. Wait for Telamon to come back. Hope that Zalgiman can get him out.

Tears bloom in her eyes. The waiting is always the worst part.

GAME: Telamon casts Gate. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

In the Lupecyll-Atlon home, Telamon... vanishes!

Meanwhile, Telamon's eyes widen at the sight of Zalgiman, hale, hearty, and ready to scrap. But he's right -- they need to get this man out of here, regardless. "I hate running away," he grumbles. "But he has a point." He gestures, chanting fast, and a spinning circle of starlight appears. Beyond is a huge tree with a house built into the trunk, and without fanfare Tel grabs the man and half-carries him through the gate... and it snaps shut behind him.

Only then does Telamon realize two things:

One, he can't sense Lana at all, which means they're on different planes.

And two, he's dressed in his bedclothes.

His voice rises in exasperation. "Are you -kidding me-? AGAIN?"

The man waffles on his feet, looking around uncertainly. He's dressed in bedclothes himself, and he looks at Telamon fearfully. "Where are we?" He seems a fair bit less certain in reality, but then he hadn't been that certain in the dream either.

Inside the tree house is the wonderful scent of freshly-baked cookies from the kitchen, although the fire that's in the fireplace is out. In fact, there's a sound like the clinking of armor coming from Grandfather's bedroom--

And then the door opens to permit one Alud'rigan, the Feathered One, once again dressed for war. His violet eyes are quite striking as he walks out, glaring until he sees it's Telamon in his house--followed by a look at the tag-along that Telamon's taken with him.

"Telamon, good to see you, but two things. One, you've brought a changeling into my house, and that has a habit of bringing in 'fleas'. Two, you've interrupted me preparing for my date night." There's a scowl on Alud'rigan's face. "I can't even tell Aragos I'm going to be late."

Adrenaline fades, and Telamon's shoulders slump. He hurts, but... standing under the twilight sky, he can feel his body rallying. Gradually healing from the dream-wounds. After a minute, he straightens, and looks at the other man. "Quelynos. The fae realms." Before the man can panic, he holds up his hand. "First, you're fae-blooded, and that means you're safer here than you might expect. Two... that fiend that was riding you may have done something to you. And we need to make sure to get rid of it."

As the two reach the door, Tel glances at him. "What can I call you by, incidentially? I can't just keep saying 'hey you'. It's rude." He works the latch, and ushers the man inside.

When they're confronted by Grandfather, Telamon goggles a bit at the elder fey, before rubbling his face. "Believe me, it -wasn't- intentional. Lana's probably frantic. We found this fellow in the dreamtime, and he was being 'ridden' -- possessed -- by a powerful, very dangerous fiend. I won't speak his name -- you know how that works, Grandfather. But he may have been marked, and since he was being swarmed by little fey trying to help him..."

Outside the sky darkens, and Alud'rigan can feel... *something* pressing against the wards of his house. Something that lies like a weight against it. Pushing. Seeking some manner of entry. It'll find one eventually. Might already have because there's a rising feeling of evil. A sense of discomforting unpleasantness.

"I'm..." The man stops and frowns and then looks disheartened. "I don't know. Mother called me Yehor, but... There's so many of me in my head. So many voices..." He touches his skull and wobbles on his feet.

"For the moment, you will be Yehor," Alud'rigan says softly, before he draws his sword and stalks out to be in front of the changeling man and Telamon. "Telamon, it rather appears your fiend is trying to encroach on my home. The wards will fail soon given time. I recommend readying a banishment spell."

Alud'rigan then lifts his blade into a combat stance. "I will attempt to hold it off." That's a firm vote of conviction in his voice.

Telamon grits his teeth. "Not sure that'll work, Grandfather. He's linked to the fiend and the link is drawing him along like a fishing line." He considers, then reaches out to grab Yehor again. "Alright, this is stupid. I should've done this at the start." Swiftly, Telamon incants his gate spell again, this time opening up on a grand hall, hung with many banners.

"Grandfather, tell Lana to come to the Castle at the Edge of Waking -- and ask her to bring my gear. You're welcome to come along as well, once you've let her know I'm all right." With that, he ushers Yehor through the portal again, muttering curses. "I am so investing in a goblin-made firearm, I swear. One that shoots ballista bolts."

GAME: Telamon casts Gate. Caster Level: 20 DC: 30

Yehor follows Telamon diligently, looking around the castle with interest and shock. "This is amazing." He mutters the words to himself, but the change in location hasn't changed the feeling of evil following along like a sentient plague. It knows where you are.

GAME: Telamon rolls sorcerer+11: (1)+20+11: 32 (EPIC FAIL)

<OOC> Telamon says, "I am RPPing that."

<OOC> Aftershock says, "spent"

GAME: Telamon rolls sorcerer+11: (10)+20+11: 41

Telamon can still feel the evil, the stink of it worse than the Alexandria sewers. He pushes back that memory, and instead beckons Yehor forward. "I need you to sit down," he explains, guiding the man to a chair. "You're going to see some strange things, Yehor. It's going to be all right. If you're religious, you might want to pray a bit. I prefer Ni'essa Sky-Singer myself -- men call her Eluna." He takes a deep breath. "Ni'essa, please don't let me screw this up."

Then Telamon focuses. Memories flitting through his head, assembling into what he needs. Smoothly, stone circles rise up out of the floor, and ghostly servants move to assist as the chair is tilted backwards. A circlet lowers down over Yehor's head, holding him in place with a gentle, firm grasp. Then blades of force, narrower than an obsidian edge, deftly slide into a single spot on the skull -- going no further as the summoning circle is broken. The stone circles rotate and spin around Yehor in complex patterns, unraveling the horrid enchantment without injuring the man unduly. As the circlet rises, the ghostly servants bind the tiny wound with clean bandages and ointments, before the chair slowly settles back to an upright position. Telamon's face is lined, and his eyes a little wild. "Yehor? Are you all right?"

Though the whole of the affair Yehor is quiet, the occasional grunt as the flesh of his skin is pierced with thin shards of force. When it is over he lifts his hand to his head and looks at Telamon. "I feel no different yet... The voice is gone. It's blessedly silent inside my head." He sounds awestruck.

Then, as if to emphasized the terror that Telamon feels over what he's just done, a pounding knock comes to his front door. Yehor startles a bit and looks at Telamon. "Are you expecting company?" He seems well enough... all things considered.

"You were being possessed. I... think we got it." Telamon looks like he wants to fall over. Then he takes a deep breath. Looking at two of the ghostly servants, he instructs, "Bring this man some food and drink, if he wishes it. He is my guest."

Despite still being clad in his bedclothes (which only slightly detracts from his dignity) Telamon goes to the door. But he doesn't open it himself. He stops about fifteen feet away, and gestures for another servant to open the door for him... his hands at the ready. Just in case.

Entirely unexpectedly, there is a man that Telamon recognizes, but surely didn't expect at the door. He has his arms folded politely over his chest. It's Doyle. The guardsman of the Queen of Air and Darkness. His dark eyes peer at Telamon and he nods. "I have come to gather the changeling. As he is one of ours. The fiend that was just here was keeping him from our lands; we would like him returned."

Telamon just stares at Doyle, and his expression is -not- amused. "Captain Doyle," he says in an icy formal tone. "I dislike the idea of trying to muck around with the courts of the fey, but this stretches credulity and coincidence too far. Verna was drained of years and kidnapped by a fiend, for a woman who was, curiously enough, collected by you. I was assaulted in a dream by the same fiend, riding your changeling like a horse."

"Now, I have offered this man hospitality as a guest. You insist there is a claim on him. I will know the details of that claim, and what you and your mistress have to do with the fiend that rode him -- for he had a summoning circle inside his skull, not just some demonic pact."

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 20 DC: 25

It's at this point that Cor'lana finally arrives, entering at the usual entry point for arrivals at the docks. She makes her way to the front door with her adventurer's robes and a bag of holding that's got plenty of room for her things and Telamon's. (She's rather glad Telamon decided to wear pajamas to bed at all; she can't imagine running around Grandfather's house or the castle in the buff.)

Except she sees Doyle at the door and frowns. "Captain Doyle?" she asks, before giving him a polite curtsy. "I would much like to know the same as my husband."

Doyle doesn't seem surprised and he speaks. "He is the son of one the demi-fae and a noble unseelie."

"I am?" Says Yehor, looking at Doyle in disbelief.

"Yes. The demi-fae kept an eye on him from his childhood, but the fiend slipped into his skull unbeknownst to them. When they realized what was wrong, it was too late and he was not yet old enough to return to faerie. Our claim to him is to keep him out of the fiend's hands and return him to his natural homeland."

Here his eyes fall upon Yehor. "Your father in particular is eager to meet you."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Sense Motive: (11)+30: 41

GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (16)+29: 45

Telamon leans almost indolently against the door. "Hm. Well, that -is- a prior claim. Yehor, there are worse bloodlines to descend from -- my wife there can trace hers back to Rigan, after all."

"That doesn't explain why I keep tripping over you, and the fiend we shall not name, every time there's an incident. This isn't the first time this fiend has inscribed a circle into someone's skull, Captain. And the tactic can be used to evade or break wards. What is you and Her Majesty's relationship with this creature?"

Cor'lana rather politely steps past Doyle into the house, wordlessly holding out the bag of holding for Telamon to take and retrieve his belongings from. "If it is a common enemy, then we may work better together than separately," she says. "Although I must preemptively decline any offer to wield Mortal Dread again." Just mentioning the sword's name makes her shudder.

"I am not permitted to speak on the subject. For that you would need to speak to Her Majesty." Doyle offers blandly, without a trace of emotion. "I have merely come for the changling. If he wishes to come with."

Yehor steps forward and then stops, turning to look at Telamon. "I owe you a great deal I think. Is there... something I can do?" He seems utterly uncertain again, but that seems par for the course for him.

"Very well. But you may wish to have some questions on the subject, Captain Doyle." Telamon's eyes glitter. "I do not wish to have to revisit this discussion. Lest it be... impolite."

He turns to Yehor, and his expression shifts to congeniality. "Hmm. Live, Yehor. Try not to let the world shape you, but seek to shape it. Find your own truths and stick to them. Though the shadows be all around you, remember who -you- are. That is all I would ask -- because lives are worth preserving."

He steps back and out of the way, so Yehor can leave with Doyle, and leans against Lana wearily.

Rather protectively, Cor'lana wraps her arm around Telamon's waist, looking at Doyle. The violet-eyed woman has come a long way from where she was when she first met the Captain. She knows things now.

She knows where Yehor's walked, and she knows where Yehor is going.

"Keep your wits about you, Yehor. Be careful of the words you speak and the promises you make. Think twice before making oaths. Three times, even--it's a magic number for a reason." She then nods just a little. "And know there are people who have left Her Majesty's Court, should you ever find you wish to leave. Just be careful and you will have the ability to do so."

It's her hope, anyway. "Go ahead, Captain." Lana squeezes Telamon just a little. He's had a long night.

In the end Yehor leaves with Captain Doyle. The two of them step into a shadow and that's all that there is. Though there may surely be more of the story yet to go.