Feel the Groove
Log Info
- Title: Feel the Groove
- GM: Aftershock
- Place: A pub in Alexandria, near the Temple District
The guild request is a bit of an odd one. A simple anonymous request to investigate a pub near the Temple district. Money paid in advance.
The pub itself seems ordinary enough, if incredibly busy. Groups of friendly paladins and clerics are gathered in comfortable crowds packed in tight enough to make walking through the establishment a hazard. Nobody seems to mind though. They happily chat quietly while a bard on the stage plays a tune that everyone knows and many sing along to. It's not a rowdy crowd, but it is numerous.
GAME: Corey rolls Will: (16)+15: 31
MAC-B1G possesses minimal data concerning the local biological refueling stations. It rarely has cause to enter such given its own nature. The construct enters and halts to scan the interior. While it may not have cause, it will not waste the opportunity to collect more data.
It has been... some time... since Magpie got to do something as simple as a Guild job.
Less time than Alexandria itself would assume, given that Magpie set out on a research expedition to the Vast some few months ago... But, time does funny things when you trip over a rock and go flying headfirst into a planar tear.
It has been an interesting couple of years, from her perspective, and the only people she's talked to about it since finally making her escape were the Arcanists whi debriefed her... for another solid week.
Now, having swung from wild, desperate excitement, and wild, desperate boredom, she seeks to balance the two out with a little light mercenary work. Something easy. Something straightforward.
...Something that might also mean proximity to entire pints of alcohol? Sure, that works too.
Thus, it's with a slightly wild, staring gaze, and streaks of pink and green threading her blond hair, that Magpie accepts her share of the advance payment, totters to the door of the pub in question, and walks through.
Time for some good, hard investigatin'. And maybe some bread and cheese to go with.
It was certainly an odd request in it's simplicity, but one that the small makari was available for. There was a bit of trouble at the door as Eztli tries to get in without damaging the doorway or buffeting anyone milling around, but once inside, they're able to tuck their wings in tight and move around normally.
"I didn't expect to see so many men and women of the cloth in a place like this. Guess even they get thirsty." The sorceress muses quietly. "Guess they got entertainment covered here too, always makes it more pleasant when you're packed in like this."
The paladin of Gilead known as Corey enters the pub. Truth be told, Cor'ethil Cari'thana (or just "Corey", as he insists on telling everyone regardless if they're sildanyari or not--that's a mouthful of a name) is not a drinker, nor does he have the air of one who drinks. So he looks a bit like a sore metallic thumb sticking out of the crowd. Rapier on his hip, ready to be drawn--but for the moment, kept civil in its resting position.
"People having fun is a good thing," Corey agrees with the small sith-makar with a bright and wide smile. He's very cheerful at the moment. "It means they're alive, and they're happy to be alive. At least for a moment."
That being said, his silver eyes scan the pub, looking for signs of... Something off. He's concentrating on something now.
The group of you are welcomed with a sort of detached interest to the bar. Nobody seems to notice or care much if you are here or no. The song changes to another tune and this one is met with equal interest to the one before it. Certainly some have their favorites but the music is good and lively and that's what everyone wants. And more drink...
GAME: Corey rolls Sense Motive: (17)+18: 35 GAME: Magpie rolls profession/cook: (5)+17: 22
MAC-B1G has no need, nor possibly even capability to imbibe, ingest, and/or intoxify itself. There are the mission tasks, however, as well as its own search for additional data. It does not approach the bar nor any particular table and simply stands as its faceplate traverses to and fro to scan the occupants and their activities in observation.
GAME: MAC-B1G rolls perception: (14)+14: 28 GAME: Eztli rolls diplomacy: (20)+9: 29
The paladin of Gilead narrows his eyes as he looks at the bard. Corey grabs the attention of his allies with a little wave and murmurs, "He's giving off an aura of evil," he says. "And the song... He seems like he's doing something magical with it. He's watching the crowd, like he's measuring the effects of his music."
He frowns. "Can one of you do something to suppress the magic?" he asks of his allies. "I'll approach him while you do so."
Fresh, spiced nutbread, aw yis...
Magpie has a slice halfway in her mouth, her teeth just about to bite in, and she pauses... Giving the bread a careful sniff, she raises an eyebrow, and sets it back down on the plate, carefully. At the paladin's murmur, she turns her gaze Corey's way, leans in to hear his report, and purses her lips. "...And someone's spendin' big on magic so's they don't have to cook," she murmurs back. "Drinks and food is all conjured, and the good stuff too. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind, but... you advertise that, an' charge big. Somethin's definitely hinky, or my name is Gabriella Fenicchio Ruvas Blantolio III." Gazing at the bard for a little bit, she taps her foot in time with the music.
...Then it occurs to her that she needs to follow up that statement with some clarity. "...It's not, by the way. My name, I mean."
MAC-B1G is approached by a few (which is still a suprisingly large number) of individuals with invitations of shared conversation and/or consumption. The construct declines with the fact that "This unit does not require biological sustenace and is currently on task." When Corey signals, MAC approaches to receive the intelligence update. "Observations: Morale levels in immediate vicinity: 99.94; primary purveyor of sustenance absent." One large manipulator indicates the bar and lack of keep. Its faceplate pans and declinates to Magpie. "Request clarification and defination of unknown term 'hinky.'"
One benefit of being relatively small, was that it wasn't too difficult for Eztli to navigate through the edges of some of the groups, and hop onto a seat at the bar, immediately turning to one of the other patrons. "Nice day isn't it? Always good to stop and relax when you've got the chance. Makes sense to have a place like this so close to the temples at the end of the day, or whenever, really." The small makari laughs. "Always great to find more places around to stop after going for a jog around the city when you need a break. Is this a new establishment, or have I just not been around yet?"
The small makari continues chatting with a few people at the bar, placing an order for a drink, and hopping off to meet some of the people she came here with. "Well, everyone seems real happy here, and it is pretty nice. Crowds aren't usually this big though, I don't think." She points out to the others. "I don't know what I could do though, maybe I'll think of something."
The bard seems to be playing along merrily, not really terribly concerned with the group (might not even notice given the amount of people here). Someone nearby staggers and goes down in a lump, snoring loudly and his companions laugh at his drunken state. Mugs refill. Food is to be had. No one seems to be unhappy. Is there something truly wrong here?
GAME: Eztli rolls will: (13)+11: 24 GAME: Magpie casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 13 DC: 18 GAME: Corey casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 13 DC: 17 GAME: Magpie rolls spellcraft: (5)+19: 24 GAME: Corey rolls Bluff: (12)+4: 16 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+13: (18)+13: 31
"If the morale is high... It might be because of that bard." Cor'ethil stares at the man a moment more with his whisper. "Okay. I'm going to approach him and be all conversational." He is so confident in what he's doing.
He strides up to the bard and gives the man a wave. "Hello! Hello sir bard! Do you know any sildanyari songs? I'm a fan of the Lay of the Swan May." Cor'ethil gives his best shiny, well-intentioned smile.
But maybe he's selling it a bit too hard.
"It is real nice here, isn't it?" Eztli hums, letting her tail thump in time with the tempo of the music. "Bit of a pain, isn't it? The problems with being popular I mean. It's all nice so it makes sense why everyone's here, but there's no space to dance. I wonder how they do it?"
There was a bit of something at the back of her mind however, as they snap one finger, causing their eyes to glow bright orange for a brief second.
"Lot of magic, is that from the food, or something else?"
GAME: MAC-B1G rolls sense motive: (4)+-3: 1
Fuel is plentiful. Morale is at maximum. Even Corey, with his concerns, is engaging with the bard in pleasant discussion. MAC returns its attention to other divine servant occupants it had not yet studied. There is then a sudden shift in perception as IFF protocol errors occur, and multiple individuals have threat indicators appear and vanish intermittently.
GAME: Corey rolls Will: (11)+15: 26 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls will: (5)+4: 9 GAME: Magpie rolls will: (3)+10: 13
With a strum of his lute the red-haired and blue-eyed bard stands. "Time for a romp and row!" The crowd shouts with glee as rage pours outward from the man, striking deep into Mac and Magpie. It skitters over Corey as well but finds no purchase in his well-honed mental defenses. Still, a dwarf near him is affected and turns with rage in his eyes to look at Corey as though the man had stepped on his cloak. "DID YE CALL 'E SHORT!?!"
GAME: Corey rolls Diplomacy: (18)+20: 38 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+16: (6)+16: 22
Cor'ethil holds up his hands, looking a little bashful. "No, heavens no," he says. "Actually, sir, I like your cloak. It's knitted, right? My mother's told me about the exceptional knitting styles of the khazadi of the Sky Curtains, and I have to say that I agree with her. Look at the colorwork! The tension! It's excellent craftsmanship, sir. Did you knit it?"
He's smiling brightly, hoping that his smile isn't about to be rearranged by the fellow he's talking to.
GAME: Magpie rolls 1d20+13+8: (7)+13+8: 28 GAME: Magpie casts Baleful Polymorph. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+15: (18)+15: 33
"Oh great," Magpie mutters. "So now we're in a dimensional pocket with a spellcaster who had to slip past the wards for their pop-up tavern--"
The magic washes over the crowd, and her head twitches to one side, eyes burning with wispy red light.
"...You lazy, cheap, conniving little WEASEL! HOW ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DARE YOU CHEAPEN THE FOOD CULTURE OF THIS INCREDIBLE CITY!"
Roiling, chaotic energy gathers at the point of her finger as she continues her tirade, and with a stamp of her foot, she releases the energy in an arc of actinic purple light.
And when the flash fades, there is now a particularly irritable weasel, blinking next to the bard's normal-sized instrument.
Eztli is relatively unperturbed by the goings on in the tavern, and is much more concerned about the drink which has now arrived for them. "Yeah, good one you, kin-er, kind elf man! Make love, not war, it is a great cloak!" The small makari calls over, only to turn their attention to Magpie. "But come on, what's that about? How are they supposed to play more music when they're like that?" They grumble. "Don't blame the bard when there's problems with the food, that's not the talent they were hired for, you know!"
GAME: MAC-B1G rolls weapon4+2: (16)+13+2: 31 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls damage4+2: aliased to 2d6+6+2: (4)+6+2: 12
MAC-B1G's faceplate jerks to and fro as it attempts to lock on to the flickering perceived threats for further analysis. Then another intoxicated/happy/amorous(?)(we hope not?) patron places hands on its manipulative appendage to invite to a drink or dance. The construct immeidately reactions to the contact as threat and grants the individual its appendage. Bodily.
MAC-B1G says, “Multiple threats detected. Combat sequence initialized.”
The crowd is loving the show. They cheer for the display of magic. The bard downs a bottle of greenish liquid and grows into the size of a nearly man-like weasel. The weasel glares and chitters angrily. "How dare you! I've got fur on my..." The next bit of cursing is not for polite discourse but the crowd cheers anyway. Luckily there are no children nearby.
A dwarf tries to offer a dance to Mac but gets shot down - with a fist. The other dwarf flushes at Corey's complement. "Me Ma made it!" He says, looking mollified and then his friend goes down and he blinks in surprise and makes for Mac. "HEY NOW! That'er my friend!"
The situation degrades, but everyone is having a grand time.
GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4: (12)+22+4: 38 GAME: Corey rolls damage1+13: aliased to 1d6+8+13: (4)+8+13: 25
"Why does it have to be a weasel?" Corey says with real pain and regret in his voice. He loves weasels. All of Gilead's creatures, really, but weasels are cute little tricksters. He might have kept one as a pet as a boy if it weren't for the fact that his older sister had a cat--
Focus, Corey! He decides to put an end to the rage effect by taking care of the weasel. He draws his rapier and murmurs a prayer: "Gilead, Hunter-King, see me victorious today in my quest to defend the people from the evil that you hunt."
He closes the gap between himself and the weasel-bard, and he puts a powerful thrust of the blade into the weasel-bard's belly. "These people deserve peace! Cease your angering of the crowd!" he demands with his strike.
GAME: Magpie casts Smug Narcissism. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23 GAME: Magpie rolls 1d20+13+8: (19)+13+8: 40 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+15: (11)+15: 26
"HOW DARE I?! HOW DARE 'I?!' DO YOU SEE ME ROLLING UP, OPENING AN ENTIRE-ASS TAVERN WITH THE POWER OF 'I'm just not famous enough, meh meh meh' AND SUBSTITUTING ACTUAL FUCKING TALENT FOR MAGIC LIKE A PRETENTIOUS LITTLE HACK?!"
With most people, the sight of an irate gnome jumping up and down and waving her arms around might be amusing, if not downright adorable. But Magpie's gesticulations are not without purpose, and motes of ambient mana stick to her fingers, gathered from the very air by pure force of will, and her hands are describing intricate, spiky patterns.
She's left with a ball of roiling energy about the general shape of a large tomato, albeit one in pastel yellows and electric blues. This, she hurls at the bardic mega-weasel. "MAYBE YOU OUGHTA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU THINK TOO MUCH OF YOURSELF!"
Eztli was still having a great time, fake talent or not, it was still a good drink. But the lack of music was starting to get on the small makari's nerves. "Hey, good idea! Doesn't matter where you've got hair, what matters is you're still playing!" The small makari laughs, which is short lived as the bard gets stabbed, and Magpie continues casting more magic on them. "So help me gods if this place doesn't have any doormen then I'll take it on myself to grab them by the neck and toss them out myself so they can get back to playing." The sorceress growls in a different, sibillant tongue, the words laced with some manner of magic. <Draconic>
GAME: MAC-B1G activates its Titan Armor, gaining: +4 Str GAME: MAC-B1G rolls weapon4+2: (6)+15+2: 23 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls damage4+2: aliased to 2d6+8+2: (4)+8+2: 14
MAC-B1G focuses upon the incoming khazad that replaces the one knocked away. "Incoming threat. Deploying countermeasures." The first of which is the rapid clattering of segmented metal plates that telescope over its chassis in an additional layer of proection. This includes an additional faceplate layer that covers its native faceplate and optics with a band for visibility. The second is a bludgioning strike with a manipulator.
GAME: Corey rolls Will: (4)+15: 19 GAME: Corey rolls Will: (16)+15: 31 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d100: (70): 70
The dwarf takes a solid punch from Mac, but that only serves to reawaken his dormant rage and his own punch dents the wargolem in the side with a deep gonging noise. "HOW YE LIKE THAT YE TON OF RUBBISH!?!?"
The red-furred weasel backs away from Corey, trying another song but it does nothing to the man save give him a sense of sorrow that is quick to fade. "Blast you! Leave me alone! I just want to play them a song! Is that so bad?!? You stab me for what?!? FREE FOOD?!"
The crowd grumbles a little in response. Seems they might side with the bard if things go sideways.
GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4: (17)+22+4: 43 (THREAT) GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4: (20)+22+4: 46 (THREAT) GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4-5: (3)+22+4+-5: 24 GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4-10: (16)+22+4+-10: 32 (THREAT) GAME: Corey rolls weapon1+4-10: (19)+22+4+-10: 35 (THREAT) GAME: Corey rolls damage1+13+damage1+13: aliased to 1d6+8+13+1d6+8+13: (3)+8+13+(6)+8+13: 51 GAME: Corey rolls damage1+13+damage1+13: aliased to 1d6+8+13+1d6+8+13: (2)+8+13+(5)+8+13: 49
The paladin of Gilead keeps going. Acting under the assumption that the bard he's up against is very powerful, he does not relent.
Corey's first strike plunges deeper into the weasel's belly. The second returns and then eats empty air, but the third plunges back into the weasel-bard and...
The bard goes limp on Cor'ethil's blade, and Corey is wide-eyed in shock. "I--" His hand trembles. "I--I didn't mean to, I..."
As the body of the mage-bard falls to the ground, a torrent is released from his body. A wind of rainbow color spills forth in a howl of emotion that pours over all present.
Joy: The memory of laughter and the spill of light through another's eyes when it joins your own.
Trust: The knowledge that your secrets are safe with another. Whispers in the dark and the freedom of knowing you are not alone.
Fear: Hiding, fleeing, fighting with the rush of adrenaline. The power and weakness of it consuming.
Surprise: In fear and in pleasure, the anticipation of not knowing is between all things.
Sadness: The consuming emptiness of loss settled like a black hole in the chest. Unable to breathe. Unable to think.
Disgust: The sight that repulses. The thing that makes one shiver in the way of things that one does not wish to touch or know.
Anger: This too is consuming, the rage like something clean and full of fire. Righteous in all aspects.
Anticipation: Knowing that something is about to happen, the heart lifts and waits...
And the joy of freedom, in death and in life which spills out into the heavens head lifted.
GAME: Magpie rolls spellcraft: (19)+19: 38 GAME: Corey rolls Spellcraft: (1)+18: 19 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: MAC-B1G rolls spellcraft: (5)+13: 18 GAME: Eztli rolls spellcraft: (5)+11: 16 GAME: Magpie rolls perception: (9)+13: 22
As the blade enters the bard's belly a second time, and the coil of rage squeezing Magpie's brain snaps, the gnome staggers back a pace. When the body releases a torrent of multicolored winds seething with emotion, her eyes widen, weathering the literal emotional storm with hungry curiosity; this is exactly the kind of thing that kept her alve, seeing something entirely new and seeking to understand it as quickly as possible.
Her hands clap to her mouth, as understanding is achieved.
And as Corey sinks into shock and recrimination, the gnome toddles to his side, resting a hand on the elf's arm. "...You didn't do anything wrong," she says, her voice quivering. Strong emotions, even those not her own, still take a physical toll, after all. "He was feeding off these people, Ser... Like... He didn't piss them all off to make them useful against us, he was just changing his menu. Like a vampire, but for hearts and minds."
Her eyes fall on the body, and she chews on her lower lip. "...I don't like this, y'all. Anonymous paid-in-advance jobs turn out to be messy if we don't ask question--OI!"
Wheeling around, she stabs a finger at a puddle of mist, attempting to crawl away. "SOMEONE STOP THAT DAMP AIR."
MAC-B1G's threat identification and analysis systems stablize. All is within expected parameters, for 0.837162 seconds. The maelstrom of multi-colored psychic regurgitation that washes over it is ... not normal. Like others, it welcomes additional data, but this is far in excess of its ability to process and certainly parse. The construct halts utterly as it attempts to collate.
GAME: Corey rolls Knowledge/Religion: (16)+18: 34
Eztli suddenly was taking up much more space in the room, a very large, yet small for a large sith-makar. "Alright, that's enough of-" Eztli growls, moving to restrain Magpie when Corey finishes their work, and Eztli is left standing there, looking rather confused. "The hells is that about?" They wonders. "... Mist? How do you stop air?" She continues, pondering for a brief second if it was possible to grab it all in place.
GAME: Corey rolls melee-4: (2)+14+-4: 12
Corey's grappling with his emotions for a good and long moment--up until the moment that Magpie says 'vampire'. Then his mind starts working. The sorrow disappears. "Kanjo vampire," he says. "They feed on emotions rather than blood. Of course!"
Silver eyes look around the bar and he catches sight of... Two khazadi having drinks out of coconuts that have traveled a very far way, only to be turned into novelty drinkware. They're almost empty. "Excuse me!" Corey says as he takes the coconuts. "I'm sorry, I'll pay for more drinks in a second, got a vampire to...!"
He darts up to the mist and quickly ensnares it into the two halves of the coconut. "CATCH!"
At least, that's how the story goes. After all, considering how many drinks that the crowd has been having there's no guessing how inflated this tale will get. Either way you've managed to catch one of the wayward mages that escaped from the guild, and that's not nothing.
One down and...