Demons and Devils
It is snowing fiercely, but it's only slightly a bother to those in good spirits. The mission had been a total success. A farmer had needed aid with a particularly nasty group of ghouls from the local graveyard lingering around after the ghoul attacks. He'd returned home and found them eating his chickens. Not even mentioning how he'd nearly gotten eaten himself. But you soundly thrashed the creatures and are now making your merry way from the far northern edge of the area outside the city but still considered part of it, toward the city itself.
Ahead dance the equally merry-looking lights of a small village. Considering the darkness quickly falling, and the heavy fall of the snow around you... it's starting to look like stopping is a good idea. Either way the only road you have travels straight toward it so you have little choice but to follow along.
Dirk trundles along through the snow. The cold has brought a rosy red glow to his cheeks and his big dwarven nose, and he whistles a cheerful tune as he goes. He's had a rough go of it these last few days, so an unqualified victory is deeply necessary to help his mood. He squints up at the sky as the sun fades. "Och, we're still a good ways out from Alex," he calls to the others. "But look yonder! We might be able tae find us some lodgings there, nay?" He points towards the little village. "It's brightly lit, at least!"
This job had been far enough out that Andie knows not to expect him tonight, so Dolan is sanguine about the idea of stopping for the night. Dressed in heavy cloak, hat, and mittens over his swordsman's gloves against the weather, a rosy red touching both cheeks and nose not unlike Dirk's. Also like Dirk, the unqualified victory had done a lot for his mood, and a quiet and businesslike mien had shifted to something more closely resembling his usual cheeky and good-natured self. "I won't say no to a good warm-up, that's sure."
"o/~ Dig, dig, gravedigger~! Dig, gravedigger, dig~! Work that shovel with vigor, gravedigger, 'fore the rigor mortis sets in, dig~!" Silmeria is very definitely in high spirits following the simple mission, and the blond is *surprisingly* cheerful by nature, for a servant of Death.
But, hey. Sometimes you just need to shoot some ghouls in the face, to have a good day.
As the sun lowers, and the snow continues to pile up, Silmeria bobs a cheerful agreement. "I'd *definitely* not refuse a good, warm cider if it's on offer, for certain!"
GAME: Nemori casts Endure Elements. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15
Patch is trudging behind the party, her task keeping her a bit distracted as she fights to keep pace. What's she doing? She's singing into the snow, her instrument tucked away into it's case which is tied upon the bottom of her pack. Ice and wind do not make a good atmosphere, but she is trying to make it tolerable for others. Her cloak is pulled tight, her coat buttoned to where the collar rests just below her lips.
"Vaire, these gales like song, guide me through the storm!" "On the wings of a small simple melody!" "Words take flight, soar, an carry me!"
A breath taken to continue, but the chill wind and ice have other plans as Patch chokes and coughs with a hack. "Ow, damn. No. Not doing that." her collar brought up over her face. "This sucks." the travel. Not the work.
Nemori hasn't quite mastered the elven talent of walking on snow and lacks the solid build required to just plow right through it. Thankfully there were horses to rent.. and she was more than happy to let the animal suffer the trials of forging through the drifts for her. She also has a cloak bundled about her; despite the enchantment of comfort she has placed upon herself, she isn't a large fan of the snow pelting her in the face or any other part of her for that matter. "Yes," she agrees, briefly tilting the brim of her hat up to look in the distance at the lights which promise some reprieve from the snowstorm. "I would not refuse it either."
GAME: Patch rolls perception: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (2)+13: 15 GAME: Nemori rolls perception: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception+4: (16)+14+4: 34 GAME: Delilah rolls perception: (19)+5: 24 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (14)+21: 35
It doesn't take much longer really before you're walking into the very welcome warmth of the inn. It's a tidy little place, with a surprisingly full entry area. Tables of farmers and miners mingle with one another; showing more pleasantness toward one another than the two factions usually do. There's a huge hearth fire, and the innkeeper is bustling alongside the waiters and waitresses to keep up with the demand for warm drinks and food.
"Welcome in!" He calls out, but doesn't look up. Other patrons give you a once over, but don't look too closely really. They're more interested in their drinks. Hanging up on one wall is a poster board for jobs. It's currently mostly empty, but shows four pictures on it. Three men, and one woman. Of the men looks particularly familiar. It looks like Dolan. Wearing an eye patch rather than his usual gemstone eye, but the art is good enough to be recognizably him.
Patch is immediately curious of that flier on the board, her feet carrying here that way to read what's on it. The food and drink can wait, mischief was in the air, and Patch doesn't ignore it. She likes happenstance, and confusion. Chaos is in her nature. "What do we have here?" her tone dripping with a bit of hunger. Yes, it's filled with a curiosity, and need for something to tease Dolan with.
"Can someone check if they have a fruit cider, or something?" Patch asks, hoping someone else will worry about drinks. Noticing others had seen it too, she tosses a playful finger at in and grins. "Who want's to tell him?" seeming to think it only coincidence.
Already waiting here was one golden haired sorceress, dressed in white with her hat sitting on an unoccupied chair beside her (and it's a big hat, it deserves its own chair). She's currently enjoying a glass of dark red wine, sat where she can see people coming in through the door; it doesn't pay to get surprised, afterall, even if one is just drinking in a town full of farmers and miners.
At the sight of people entering, some of whom she recognizes, Delilah raises her glass in salute. She doesn't say anything yet; she's on the other side of the tavern and wouldn't be heard anyway.
Dolan isn't paying any mind to the board. Instead, he's busy near the door, tapping snow off hood and shoulders and pulling down his hood as he enters. With his face bared, he looks up and around, across the room, hat and mittens still on.
Dirk bustles into the inn, shivering slightly as he stomps the boots off his feet. "Brrh! It's gettin' bloody cold out there, even fer me!" he grunts as he shakes snow off his cloak. Lulu perks her head out from its inner pocket. "Hoo!" She looks over to see that bounty board. Blink blink. She hops out of her pocket and flutters over, landing on the nearest perch to get a better look. She leans in, head tilting left, then head tilting right. With a flutter of wings, she twists her head around to regard Dolan. "Hoo! Hoo-oo!"
Nemori is more than happy to shake her hat and cloak out, careful to keep the right side of her head obscured, once her horse has been dealt with outside. She takes a moment to drink in the warmth and luxuriate in having a roof over her head; not built for the outdoors, this one. Not really. The desire for food and drink takes over soon enough, but she doesn't take more than a few steps towards a table before Lulu's hooting draws her attention tot he board. And the poster there. Her eyes narrow, then shift to Dolan as he busies with divesting himself of snow. Her gaze is... calculating.
The inn is warm, and homey, and after a simple, successful job it is the best that Silmeria could possibly ask for. Spotting Delilah across the room, she lifts a hand in cheery greeting, then her cloak is swept off her shoulders and shaken out. The Inquisitor is likewise just about to move to the table, when she's drawn up short by Lulu's hooting. Blinking, she looks from Dolan, to the board, and closes on the board.
"Well this looks interesting, but *why...?*"
The barkeep looks up and waves everyone in, his gaze taking in everyone casually. He starts toward the group of you, but pauses halfway. "Hello there, rooms and a-" His words fall short and he stares at Dolan like the man has two heads.
GAME: Delilah rolls diplomacy: (2)+15: 17
Dirk blinks as as Lulu goes winging off. "Erh?" But then, there's the innkeeper. With a broad smile, the old snowbeard puffs up his burly chest, nodding his head. "Aye, rooms would be nice! An' whatever supper ye have ready would be a kindness as well. An'--" He pauses, looking from the innkeep to Dolan, then back to the innkeep, then back to Dolan. "Erh?" Lulu ruffles her wings, fluttering over to land on Dirk's shoulder. She looks over at the bounty board. Then to Dolan. Then back to the board. Then back to Dolan. "Hoo!" Dirk puzzles a little bit. "Dolan lad, d'ye have an evil twin brother?"
GAME: Dolan rolls sense motive: (2)+17: 19
"No, why?" Apparently, Dolan hasn't seen anything, but freezes as the bartender _stares_ at him. He _really_ hates being stared at. "What's -" He looks from face to face, his usual cheeriness fading. "Something on my face? Aside from-" he gestures not to the gem, but to the scar.
"Oh, Dirk with a classical trope. The evil twin!" Patch nods approvingly as she dusts a bit of stray snow from her shoulder. "I was going to suggest a doppelganger." Patch's grin growing at the speculation. She treats it somewhat like a game, but it seems in good fun. "Honestly? Vampire magics, anyone?" shrugging as she looks at the innkeeper. "I could assure and beg you it's not the same man, but I don't think you will believe us. If it's any condolence, we're guild operatives?" sighing and offering some explanation to try and ward off a panic.
GAME: Patch rolls diplomacy: (15)+4: 19
Delilah returns the waves to Silmeria, but doesn't hurry to exit her seat. Rather, she sips her wine, wand watches the goings-on with a fresh interest, after taking a moment to return her hat to its rightful place on her head. Just in case she has to jump up out of her seat if things get lively, of course.
The bartender freezing after catching sight of Dolan, of course, doesn't bode enormously well. The young sorceress sighs softly, and shakes her head. "Last time things went wrong, it all started in a tavern," she laments to herself and nobody else in particular. "At least I'm not ten gold deep in a card game this time."
Nemori seems to come to a decision, not that there had /really/ been much of an internal debate about it. If the peasants had been willing to offer a little bit more....
Nemori shakes her head, then shifts to move closer to Dolan while she keeps her eyes on the crowd. "It would seem you are famous, knight of Daeus. Or.. as the dwarf suggests, an evil twin?" She seems more than willing to play the fiction. "Perhaps it would be best if we do not get comfortable." The words almost pain her. She can smell what's cooking.
"Excuse me?" Silmeria says by the board, raising a hand and wiggling it to catch the bartender's attention. "Pardon? Excuse me? Um... If I may ask, *why* is this face on this board? Only because I can *definitely* vouch for this man's movements for most of the day."
The innkeeper looks at Patch, but nods slowly, then laughs. "I suppose a notorious bandit wouldn't come in here looking to stir up trouble. Not in one of my busiest times!" He motions toward the nearest table. "I'll see about rooms and bring around some food and drink."
Dirk boggles a bit. He looks at Dolan. Then the innkeeper. Back to Dolan. And then back to the innkeep. "Ban... -bandit-?" He hooks his thumb over at Dolan. "Yer sayin' -this- lad here's a bandit?" Pause. He throws back his head and roars with laughter. "HAR! Oh gods! Ye hear that, laddie? Yer the scourge o' the highways! Hee hee hee!" He slaps his knee, still chortling merrily. "Sir, this lad here's one o' the noblest Sunguard who ever drew steel in Daeus' name! Not tae mention bein' a good friend o' mine! I dunno who drew -that- chickenscratch, but that's nae Dolan, fer certain!" He wipes a tear from his eye. "Oh... oh, that made my day! Dolan the Terrible! Hee!"
"Not even a little bit, sir. A round for the house, if you please." Dolan's cheeky grin returns, and he finishes setting aside - but his eyes go to the board, head turning full towards it. "Whatever's hot on the fire for the lot of us, as well. Not a Sunguard, a Corona. That's Andie." Now distracted, cloak still on his shoulders, he wanders over to the board. "So just who in all the green garden hells -" he mutters, then stops short, _staring_.
"Who posted this?" he snarls, all pretense of good humor gone.
The innkeeper looks at Silmeria and pauses for a moment. "Ah! One of the farmers that was attacked gave the description to my daughter, and she drew the picture. Fair likeness or so I was told." He glances at Dolan seriously. "The reward is a gathering of money from the locals. The bandits have been attacking everyone for weeks. Miners and farmers alike."
GAME: Patch rolls perform/sing: (8)+12: 20
Silmeria rests a hand on Dolan's shoulder. "Well, that's an *interesting* mystery! But at least we can assure you it's not *this* man," she says, plucking the post off the board. "So let's have a seat, Corona, and some lovely roast potatoes, and get the story! With luck, we'll be able to clear out a bandit ring *on top* of rescuing chickens from ghouls!"
Nemori wants nothing more than the drink, food and room. In that order. But having gotten at least a partial measure of this group from the ghoul-slaying mission.. she has a fairly good idea of what direction this particular conversation is going to go. Doing her best not to sound too.. reluctant.. she says to the others, "So we are at least staying for a meal before venturing out into the blizzard again?"
Dirk shrugs. "Corona. Sunguard. Six o' one, half dozen o' the other. Yer both such sunny people! Hah!" He reaches up to give Dolan's shoulder a clap. "Now now, not tae fret, laddie. It's an honest mistake, innit? Nae harm done." He looks back to the innkeep with a worried furrow to his brow. "Wait a tick. -Weeks-? Ye say this has been goin' on fer weeks, an' yer just -now- doin' summat about it? Why haven't ye sent someone tae Alex? Surely the Guild might've done somethin' fer ye all." He looks over to Nemori, then back out the window, where the snow continues to fall. "Lassie, I'm nae sure goin' out in -that-, in the pitch black o' night, is a good idea fer anyone. -I- could probably wind up gettin' lost out there, an' I can -see- in the dark!"
Dolan turns back to face the others, both scarred and unscarred sides of his face twisted in thunderous fury. "Someone's trying to get my mama and papa in trouble." The words are fraught, with worry, blazing fury, and steely determination, although the hand on the shoulder is at least a small reassurance, and he looks around from face to face, to those he calls companion and friend, ending with the innkeeper. "Innkeep, I'll help you out, and I don't need no bounty for this. It's up to my friends if they'll help me out or not, and I'll not ask them to go back out in the snow, not tonight. I'll be wanting to talk to these people, and find out who's behind this."
Patch has fallen silent standing next to Dirk. She lets him ask and speculate the questions she also has on her mind. She's mentally taking notes, an ear twitching form Dirk's volume, but she seems not annoyed. "I agree with Nemori. We should eat, hear more, and rest." a head bobbing as she gently slaps a fist into an open palm. "As much as I like adventure, unless they're attacking tonight, we'd be seeking them in terrible conditions." her mind roaming to bad memories of snow. Polite protest, until she's had a bite and more to the story.
GAME: Patch rolls Diplomacy: (3)+4: 7 GAME: Patch rolls Knowledge/Local: (17)+10: 27
"I'll help you out." Delilah has finally gotten around to crossing the room and joining the group, once the threat of a tavern dust-up seems to have suitably passed. "I'm not looking to take farmer money though, so they can keep their bounty. So if there's no objections, consider this sorceress to be at your service. More'r less." She swirls her wine, and drains the last drop, before plopping it on the bar and indicating for a top-up.
The innkeeper gives Dolan an odd look, but goes to get food and drinks for you all. He returns after a fair moment, but doesn't seem inclined to stick around for conversation. He does however offer a faint comment to Dirk, low and quiet. "The guild isn't real welcome in these parts of late."
Dolan directs a warm, grateful smile at Delilah, although the thunder remains behind his eyes. "Thank you so much. I'm Dolan." He turns then back to Dirk, turning fully so that the dwarf is completely in view. "I've got no intention of going outside tonight, but this ain't as simple as bandits, Dirk. If you want to know over dinner, I'll tell you, and if you want to just eat, I'll keep my mouth shut."
It takes a while for hunger to overtake the worry that makes Dolan's blood run cold in his veins. Whatever is afoot, he takes this seriously.
"The more, the merrier!" Silmeria chirps at Delilah's offer of help, as she leads Dolan to their table. "But oh yes, it's *definitely* best to have a hot meal and a good sleep, first, yes?" As Dolan hints there's more history than simply a coincidental doppelganger, the Vardaman's eyebrow rises. "...Mystery indeed. *I'm* interested, certainly."
"All the weirdness that has come with winter." Patch laments as she watches Dolan and Delilah, grinning. "No! We need a story time. After such a tease we have to hear it." the bard says with a grin, seeking a seat and a mug to herself. "Whatever it is, if it needs be dealt with? I will help." offering, despite her protests to go out into the night's storm.
"Honestly, this whole bandit mess is better of handled before it gets out of control anyways. Best we stumbled across it." Patch tries to assure to anyone listening, speaking idly.
Dirk doffs his cloak and his tricorne, hanging them up before trundling over to find a table for everyone. He leans his thunderbelcher up against the table as he hops up to plant his hefty rump in his chair. "'course I'll hear yer tale, laddie, you know that," he says to Dolan. "A fine friend -I'd- be if I turned me back on summat like this. Let's have us some supper, an' ye can tell all."
"Delilah Valethor," replies the sorceress, tipping the brim of her hat. "If you meet someone who looks like me with black hair, that's my sister Donna. And I'll hear your tale, Dolan. I think I owe enough favors to gods and mortals alike, I can manage that." She takes up her wine glass once it's refilled, and grins to Silmeria as well. "Agreed in full."
Over dinner, Dolan explains that he has made enemies of demons, and that this is too great a coincidence to gloss over. The pictures on the wall look like him, his mother, and his father. This combined with the incident before? Indicates trouble. Someone out for his family.
You head to bed uneasily, and sleep through the night into the morning. You meet downstairs then, gathered together to plan your advance on the bandits. At least it's no longer snowing.
Patch is still yawning as she comes to the inn's main floor. "I could of slept a while longer." the dawn elf muses to the gathering group, her cloak adjusted to sit upon her left shoulder, a headband worn in place of her cap. Her blonde locks short, and jutting jaggedly from how it's compressed with her adornment. "I'm all ears for a plan, but asking about last night didn't garner me any clues." she admits, willing to let others take the lead on planning.
"Most know me as Patch if we haven't met, but since we're doing some undocumented work, I think it best to introduce myself. Given I have heard a fair many of your names." her pack adjusted, the case strapped beneath it checked. She shall follow the group.
The story is listened to gravely, seriously. Delilah can recall, from *her* time in telling Silmeria a story, that the Speaker For the Dead does not recognize any detail as 'absurd,' and she gives Dolan a very, very familiar investigator's mien, going so far as to place her peacebound gun on the tabletop, and ask it to remember the conversation as it's spoken.
It might be a little weird, when the gun affirms the order.
In the morning, Silmeria is as put-together as if she'd spent a night in her own home. Not a hair out of place, lace-trimmed charcoal cassock spotless, and a bright, cheerful smile on her face. As the group gathers, she keeps her hands wrapped around her mug of tea, and considers the plan.
"A stealthy approach might not be in our favor, given the conditions. If demonkind becomes an issue, you'll have naught to fear; I can burn them away as easily as I can the undead. Everything Dolan can do, I can do as well... and I can protect whoever needs it, with *my* blessings, if the need arises. Just call for help, and I'll see you get support. I almost feel sorry for the bandits; this isn't exactly a group that's going to deal hurt with a light hand, by all I've seen."
Dolan started when the gun speaks, and looked up at Silmeria, but had kept telling the story, fishing for every detail he can supply. It is as if he understands what it is Silmeria is looking for, staring hard at his drink and trying to dredge up everything. Anything could be important.
When he comes downstairs the next morning, it's clear that he hadn't slept particularly well, rubbing his face and finishing putting all of his details together. "Yeah. I've crossed swords with demons a time or two myself. It's kind of what I do. Maybe they are bandits, just using disguise spells. I want to find out who hired them, and keep in mind that they might not be what they look like."
Dirk listens to Dolan's tale as he methodically packs away his dinner. And a second helping. And numerous mugs of whatever brew the innkeeper has on offer. His expression turns dark and dour, and his brows furrow together closer and closer with every passing moment. "Great Gilead's Ghost," he mutters when the tale comes to its end. "They let that filthy bastard -go-?" He harrumphs, shaking his head. "Yer a better man than I, Dolan," he says. "I'd have made sure they -never- found his rottin' corpse. Sometimes... the law gets in the way." He knocks back his last mug and gets to his feet. "Well. I've got plenty o' cold iron shot. That should put paid tae any demons skulkin' about. An' if we meet this Herman shite... well, a cold iron bullet should do just fine fer -him-, too."
Dirk's dreams haven't been the same since he bound the Totem of Instinct to himself with his own blood. Once again, he dreams of a snowbound night, and a moon looming overlarge in the sky. Of icy wind singing in his ears and running on all fours, with the scent of blood in his nose. He's gotten used to it by now. He wakes with the dawn, rubbing his face and cracking a mighty yawn. He takes a moment to pour a splash of water into the basin and scrub his face, and takes a moment to give his beard a good brushing, before he gets himself dressed and armored up. He trundles down the stairs, setting his tricorne atop his head as he strides into the main room. "Not tae fret, lassie," he says to Patch as he joins the rest. "Once we get this business sorted, we can all head back tae Alex, get paid fer the ghoul gig, an' sleep in tae our hearts' content, right?"
Delilah presents herself ready for travel, dressed as she prefers -- and a bare midriff might seem an odd choice for winter-wear, but the fur-lined cloak she's chosen to accompany it might well be enough to offset it. She also is put together without a hair out of place; she takes a moment to check her pistol before putting it back in its holster, and tugs on the straps of her backpack to make sure they're nice and secure.
"Well, I'm ready to go," she affirms. "I'm feeling rather good about this. It feels good to be adventuring again, without certain... personal stakes. Speaker Silmeria will know what I'm on about."
GAME: Nemori casts Endure Elements. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15 GAME: Nemori casts Endure Elements. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15 GAME: Patch rolls knowledge/local: (12)+10: 22 GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Geography: (16)+10: 26 GAME: Silmeria rolls knowledge/local: (4)+12: 16
Nemori's eyes didn't exactly glaze during the telling of the tale. If she seemed more interested in her food, well.. she was hungry. Wasn't everyone? By the end of the telling, she seems more annoyed than anything else, if her fingers pressing into the side of her head are anything to go by. Still, she puts on a smile, bids everyone a good night... and pleasant dreams... before retiring.
The morning brings a somewhat more amiable shadow elf.. she even decided to cede to the bard's request, sharing her cold protection magic with Patch. The prospect of hunting bandits, or demons, or whatever seems to have a personal grudge against Dolan no longer seems all that terrible. "Better him than me," she might be heard to say to herself. Freedom from personal stakes indeed.
GAME: Dirk rolls Perception+4: (14)+14+4: 32 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (17)+21: 38 GAME: Patch rolls perception: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Delilah rolls perception: (4)+5: 9 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Delilah casts Endure Elements. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Nemori rolls perception: (20)+10: 30
You make your way away from the village, trying to arrange yourselves innocuous enough to lure the bandits out. By the time you reach the forest it is already getting late. It's the weather and the time of year more than the fact that its late though. Still, you head into the forest with rising tension, knowing that the bandits are here... somewhere.
Dolan had been quiet for the entire journey, but as they approach the first canopy of the forest, a massive clod of snow drops out of one of the trees, the only warning a cracking branch above.
"Agh!" the inquisitor yells as snow cakes his face, hair, and hood, leaving the steel ring encasing his gem eye to burn with cold. It's dropped into his armor and down his front as well, leaving a chill behind that he'll be slow to get rid of. "Damn it! I _hate_ the woods this time of year!"
He's frantically brushing snow off of his face, trying to clean out the gem eye and behind it.
"Thank you, Dirk," Patch muses to his words, turning as Nemori touches her with magic, a curt nod and half-bow given before they leave. "And, thank you, Nemori." her tone soft, and turning quickly away from the Mul'niessa. She doesn't overly engage, and keeps a quiet distance.
"We have a big area to canvas." Patch admits, moving with the group as they seek and take their hours on patrol to find this encampment of raiders. She sighs against the cold, steam pouring with each breath as the sun threatens to fall behind the horizon, but doesn't say much else as she lets the others lead, nodding to Dolan and his sage observation. The cold woods are suck incarnate.
"Dolan," Silmeria says, her voice uncharacteristically grim. As the Corona is cleaning off his false eye, Silmeria's eyes are locked on what could be more trees ahead of their path... but aren't. "Dolan... Get your eye back in and turn it ahead of us." Helpfully, the Speaker taps Dolan's shoulder, then points the figures out, her other hand reaching for her shield.
"Does anyone else see them? Or are my eyes lying to me?"
Once they're out into the wood, Dirk is back in his element. The old ranger hunkers down close to the ground, thunderbelcher held in hand while sweeping his fingertips back and forth a mere hairsbreadth from the snow crust. Now and again, he'll stop to study a broken bit of twig or a crushed leaf. He remains focused on tracking his quarry. When Dolan cries out, he wheels around, bringing his thunderbelcher up with an ominous CHK-CHAK! But it's only snow. He relaxes the tension, shaking his head. "It's wintertime, laddie. Get used to it," he says. "Why d'ye think I wear a hat like this, eh?" He gives the brim of his tricorne a tug.
With a shake of his head, he turns and resumes tracking. The afternoon is just starting to fade into cool dusk when he goes stock-still. He lifts a hand, looking over his shoulder. He points fingers at his eyes, points in the direction he spotted, then holds up four fingers. "Softly friends," he whispers. "We've got 'em." He turns his gaze back to the four, lifting his thunderbelcher to sight down the barrel. "Beards o' me fathers," he mutters, puffing steam from behind his whiskers. "It's bloody -uncanny-."
Delilah has, in fact, seen absolutely nothing. Well, other than trees, snow, that sort of thing. As the group searches, she finds herself with her mind wandering; mostly replaying recent events, how things could have gone but didn't with the help of friends. One day when she was particularly close to an axe gets more than a few replays, and when Silmeria and Dirk are busy pointing out that there's company, she almost doesn't even notice that.
Fortunately, she's not quite *that* oblivious.
"...Bandits? Where? Give the word and I'll set them all on fire," she whispers, ever so helpfully.
Even as you notice them, they notice you. The group speeds forward, and upon realizing that you're not a group of farmers - and that Dolan is with you, their attitude suddenly and dramatically shifts from a posture of 'we're here to rob you' to... The four disappearing into the lengthening shadows and the last one pointing a finger dreadfully at Dolan. "We knew you'd come for them."
The bard's polite but reserved reaction to Nemori's magic doesn't prompt a reaction from the shadow elf. She merely nods in turn, before having a conversation with the innkeeper about arrangements for her horse. She's not nearly enough of an equestrian to be taking the beast into the forest.. and when the group gets to the woods, she is glad she left it.
She doesn't want to lose her deposit on the rental.
"So it really is an evil twin," Nemori muses upon catching sight of their targets.
GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (15)+12: 27 GAME: Patch rolls perform/sing: (4)+12: 16 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (20)+12: 32 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
Patch can't help but fight the urge to cough when she begins to sing in the cold after having tread though the snow all day. The notes and magic reaching her party members as one, imbued through her bardic voice.
"Put my money where my mouth is." "Like, I ain't even need to practice!"
A bit of 'funk' to the Dawn Elf's words as she hopes the words help the others along with the enchantment they bring.
In the space of stunned silence, Dolan takes a step back, and coughs up an amount of water that would be quite concerning, if he weren't also loosening the harness on his back. He glares _daggers_ at the not-him, even as the leather falls away into the snow, leaving a great two-handed blade in his hand. "Holy Sunlord, show me the presence of Your enemies, the one that stands before me, and the ones that yet hide."
A moment later, he shouts, "Speaker, demons or devils! Can't be anything else! *cough*" He coughs a little more water, and brings the blade two-handed to his face. "Sunlord, I call on Your courage and your light," he prays openly. "Let your holiness shine through my blade, that I may turn it against evil!" As if in answer, a flash of sunlight wholly unrelated to the snow flashes down the blade.
GAME: Nemori rolls knowledge/the planes: (16)+6: 22 GAME: Dolan casts Align Weapon. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15 GAME: Nemori casts Spiritual Ally. Caster Level: 7 DC: 18 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10 GAME: Nemori rolls bab+wisdom+2: (4)+5+4+2: 15
Nemori does two things.. first, she draws her rapier. She may not be very /good/ with it, but poking something with steel is always better than trying to slap someone with the palm of her hand. (Yes. Always.) The second thing she does is pull her Ceinaran token from her pocket... using it, she invokes the power of the dancer and summons what could be a likeness of her behind Eye-Patch. A rosey-hued, translucent dancer, trailing wisps about her that might be ribbons, might be scarves, wielding a rapier much like Nemori's.
Nemori remains oblivious to the invisible threat she just narrowly avoided.
GAME: Silmeria spends ONE use of JUDGMENT. GAME: Silmeria casts Chains of Perdition. Caster Level: 10 DC: 15 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d20+10+4: (4)+10+4: 18 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+cleric: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+cleric: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Dirk rolls Shoot+2: aliased to Ranged+1-3+2: (6)+12+1+-3+2: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls Shoot+2-5: aliased to Ranged+1-3+2-5: (16)+12+1+-3+2+-5: 23
Blue eyes flick from Dolan to impostor. The glare and the coughing water that follows, is *very well* marked. The gun is drawn like lightning from its holster at Silmeria's hip, with the brief flourish of a twirl. One does not, after all, join the society of Gentlemen Adventurers and Dapper Dames without a bit of theatrics.
"By the order of the Grey Lady, you will stand down your attempts to drown a servant of the gods in good standing, or you will explain yourself to *Her* personally. I'm given to understand the wait is long, so start rehearsing your excuses now if you prefer that road."
A hard shell of silvery light limns the Speaker's form, and behind her shield, her hand draws a series of sigils in the air, summoning to life a free-floating, semi-transparent chain with *wickedly* barbed hooks at either end. The chain immediately goes for the impostor's eyes, but fails to find purchase.
GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+2: aliased to 1d12+1+6+2: (2)+1+6+2: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+2: aliased to 1d12+1+6+2: (11)+1+6+2: 20 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception+4: (15)+14+4: 33 GAME: Dirk used a Bullet. GAME: Dirk used a Bullet. GAME: Delilah casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17
Dirk's eyes get wide as his friend starts horking up water out of nowhere. "Beards o' me fathers!" he gasps. He turns his gaze on the Anti-Dolan and lets loose a furious growl. Up comes his thunderbelcher. "Have some o' -this-!" he snarls. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! He unloads cold iron into the figure. PAF PAF! They strike true. The old ranger's eyes squint as he peers closer. "Are we -sure- this is a demon? That should've hit harder!" he calls to his friends as he racks the slide.
GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4+2: (6)+4+2: 12 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4+2: (7)+4+2: 13 GAME: Patch rolls weapon4+2: (17)+7+2: 26 GAME: Patch rolls 1d8+1: (8)+1: 9
Patch is confident, her song already bolstering her allies, and allowing her to take the time to draw and train her bow on the Anti-Dolan. It's a good shot, a solid strike, but the normal arrow just doesn't seem to have the 'effect' it should have. Patch even had to question her shot, a blink and scoff following. "What a tough little shit!"
GAME: Dolan rolls knowledge/the planes: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6: (5): 5 GAME: Dolan spends ONE use of BANE. GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+2: (19)+11+2+2: 34 (THREAT) GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+2: (16)+11+2+2: 31 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+6+2+4+2+2d6+2d6+6+2+4+2+2d6: (8)+6+2+4+2+(9)+(8)+6+2+4+2+(10): 63 GAME: Dolan rolls will: (19)+10: 29 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (6)+12: 18 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (8)+12: 20
"It's not a demon, Dirk!" Suddenly, a flash of memory lances through Dolan's mind, the water bubbling up from his lungs triggering a small section of read material. "It's - a water devil of some kind! Use things aligned to good!" Another pause to cough up significantly more water this time leaves him open for the space of time needed for the devil's claws to find purchase in his flesh. Crimson flies, but it merely clears his head.
He straightens, the blade in both hands, and shouts, "The light of the Sunlord be your bane, asshole!" The greatsword comes crashing down, with every ounce of strength and divine-backed fury the man can muster -
And for a moment, it seems to miss him entirely the swing wide. But - black-red ichor flies everywhere, drenching the man in it, and a wing drops to the ground, suddenly showing itself now that it is severed from its owner.
Dolan spins into a guard pose, but his continued coughing of significantly more water is making that harder and harder.
The devil in the shape of Dolan smiles at the real Dolan. Twisting his face into something unrecognizable as Dolan. The creature doesn't speak, doesn't move. It simply stands there and smiles even with part of its body flopping on the ground; suddenly made visible by its lack of attachment to the devil. In fact, the whole illusion starts to fade around the edges. Leaving a terrible creature in the wake of where the second Dolan had been standing. Horns adorn its head, and one lone wing beats on its back. It has four eyes, and its arms.... its arms end in a mass of writhing tentacles rather than hands. It's a grotesque amalgamation of man and... thing.
GAME: Delilah rolls knowledge/the planes: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4: (5)+4: 9 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4: (16)+4: 20 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+4+2: (10)+4+2: 16 GAME: Patch casts Gallant Inspiration. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16 GAME: Patch rolls 2d4: (2): 2 GAME: Delilah rolls 8d6+4: (30)+4: 34 GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (2)+5: 7 GAME: Aftershock rolls 3d6: (8): 8 GAME: Patch rolls knowledge/the planes: (7)+9: 16 GAME: Nemori casts Murderous Command. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d8+5: (7)+5: 12
Sometimes, all you need is a little help from your friends.
Delilah's eyes and the brands on her arm shine brilliantly, as she traces the arcane runes of a spell in the air. The magic coalesces into twin rays of blue fire that sizzle through the air towards the fake Dolan; and both, as it happens, go flying off into the distance, accomplishing nothing of any particular note.
The sorceress mutters something dire under her breath -- no unclean language, mind you -- and grits her teeth, weaving the same spell for a second time. This time, she closes her eyes for a moment, taking just that moment to focus, and listen to Patch's inspiration. She sucks in a deep breath, opens her eyes, and finishes the spell, unloading two flaming beams directly into the target this time; she gets the demon and holds, unleashing raw energy into the foe until he literally explodes. She throws her arm up to shield herself, but fortunately (for her at least) the giblets don't make it quite as far away as her.
The explosion of acidic flesh and blood catches Dolan broadside, and he manages just in time to throw up an arm to shield what is left of his face. The greatsword falls into the snow, and he sprawls back into it, caking himself in snow atop the blood and ichor, and just lies there for a minute, breathing hard.
At least he doesn't seem to be coughing up any more water?
Patch had felt that moment, that brief interlude to seize inspiration, and use it to drive things forward! She does, working with Delilah as magics intertwine, and the heroic result? The demon is soundly defeated. Unfortunately, Patch didn't know demons exploded when killed, and witnessing it was some shock. With Dolan caught in the blast, all she can do is stare wide eyed at Delilah after. "What was that?!"
Dirk was ready to continue the fight, but Delilah settled the matter for them all. And probably better than he could have done on his own, plinking away with his thunderbelcher. His eyes get wide as those Energy Beams fire forth from her Energy Arms. "Dana's -teats-!" he gasps as the magic is wrought. But his awe is short-lived as the devil decides to go out with a bang. "HEEK!" He skitters back, flinging his cloak up to shield his beard from the blast. He's not nearly close enough for it to hit him, but the beard-defending reflex is a deeply ingrained one. He perks his wide eyes up over the edge of his cloak. "Is it -dead-?"
Nemori looks about warily for the other three... they didn't show their faces, and it seemed to be an odd sort of welcoming party for three of the revealed demon's allies to just up and run away. But on the other hand.. the ideal time to help the imposter would have been when it was still 'alive.' So she doesn't dismiss her spiritual ally just yet... though she does notice the acidic ichor dripping off of it. And... oh. That probably means the Daeusite was hit with it as well. She grimaces, then moves towards Dolan with a pace that seems less concerned and more... getting an unpleasant task out of the way?
As she kneels down to touch the man's shoulder, channeling a minor healing charm.. just enough, perhaps, to take away the sting of the acid and perhaps mend some of the flesh, she looks back at Patch. "Probably not our daeusite's twin brother."
"Excellent teamwork is what it was," Silmeria says, beaming at Patch and Delilah, then Dolan. The writhing chains vanish, eyes raking over the snowy treescape. So, too, does the light surrounding her body fade, and the gun is slipped back into its holster. "So that's one," she say after a moment. "The others seem to have absconded... Perhaps we should return to the inn, and search again tomorrow? I don't feel like it would do to leave the job half-finished."
Dolan finally rolls over and stands, slowly, with a nod to Nemori. "Thanks. I _hate_ acid," he mutters, the sting of it an all-too-familiar one. Since half of his face looks as though it is permanently ruined by acid as well as claws, why might not be a big mystery. A reflexive cough, and he stalks over to retrieve the greatsword from the snow and clean it. "No. I'm not leaving until every fucking one of those things is dead. They're demons. I've seen them before."
He pauses, staring off into the distance. He's quite the sight, caked in snow and ichor from head to foot, and turns himself to stare where the things absconded. "I think - whatever they were, they've got my parents. And my uncle. I've got to find them. I need to find Tel and Andie and get back here." There's a definite haunting there. "Who the fuck would _do_ this?"
Delilah lets her shoulders sag, and the glow fades from her eyes and arm. She leans forwards, resting her hands on her knees for a moment while Nemori is seeing to Dolan. She looks around herself, likewise keeping an eye out for the invisibles, but sensing the fight to be over for the moment.
"I was starting to wonder if I'd lost it," she mumbles, before straightening, and casting a smile towards Patch. "Thanks for your inspirations. They helped."
The sorceress approaches Dolan, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, but we'll find out. I'm alive because today because people risked everything for me when they really didn't need to. I know what it's like to need help, and I'll be here for you and your family as long as you need it."
Nemori starts to shake her head in response to Silmeria.. but stops at the intensity of Dolan's declaration. Instead she rises back to her feet, brushing the snow off of her knees, then rubbing her hands together. "You will be hard pressed to find them if they wish to hide. They are Shadow Demons.. the darkness is their element. And they will likely not reveal themselves in the daylight. They will be harder to find than ghosts, I imagine." She shrugs. "I do not think hunting further tonight will yield anything but frustration. Especially since they have seen your power."
Dirk trundles over to the others. "Dolan, are you all right, laddie?" he asks, his tone full of worry. Seeing that Nemori has things in hand, the old snowbeard relaxes. He turns his gaze back to the wood, scowling towards the deepening shadows. "I'll stay wi' ye, Dolan. I don't tuck tail on me friends," he growls. "But it's goin' tae be a hell of a hunt, trackin' those bastards in the dark. I don't know if they'll even leave a trail I can follow. But if they've got yer mum an' da, we have tae try, right?" He looks back to the others. "Shadow demons? Hrm. Cold iron didn't seem tae do much to this'un. Would silver work better?"
"And technically, that's an answer we can obtain," Silmeria says, easing past Dolan and removing an empty vial, uncorking it and gathering the acidic puddle in the snow where the wing fell.
"I certainly can't promise *exact* answers, but we'll have a direction to begin the search. Also, Corona?" Silmeria looks over her shoulder, and gives Dolan a gentle, encouraging look. "You just described two wholly opposing needs. We can stay and keep searching, or we can go back to the village, and you can send for your people. I'll stand at your side either way, but... you *shall* have to choose."
"Oh, you're all welcome." Patch says in a confused tone, the praise from several people at once suddenly making the bard shy. She shrinks a bit in the snow, making sure that Dolan is attended to before she quietly steps back to pull her cloak about her, and tug up its hood. "Umm, not to sound ignorant, but did you say shadow demons?" her words to Nemori with a worried tone. "No wonder my bow did so little."
"We hunt first." Silmeria's remark is not even a question for Dolan, who finally shakes his head a little to clear it of snow and turns a smile on Delilah. "That thing was a devil, but the disappearing ones were demons. I ain't ever heard of them working together. We hunt them down, get Mama and Papa back, then go back to the city, because I want to know who's doing this, and why."
"Disappearing demons," he answers Patch wearily, turning in her direction. "I'll try to remember more details from my reading. Cold iron for demons, but you'll need to call on holy power for devils. I can ask the Knight for that." He steps over the few places to retrieve his sword harness. "Innkeep thought I was a freak before," he quips. "Yeah, Dirk. I'm fine. Just -" he trails off. "What in all the green garden hells is going on? Half of evildom has decided I'm their best friend in the last fortnight. I - thank you. All of you. I don't know what's going on, but - thank you. I appreciate the help more than I can say."
In spite of your words and mission however, the darkness proves to be a haven for the demons, and they do not reveal themselves again inside it. Thus you are left to return to the village or Alexandria as you choose. There's nothing else to do.
-End