Crystal Tower (Part 2)

Log Info

• Title: Crystal Tower (Part 2)

• GM: Aftershock

• Characters: Carver, Magpie, Ravenstongue, Telamon, Verna

• Place: Veyshan

The Veil seems to do the trick as you approach the tower under its cover. At least, as you approach the tents no one cries foul and decides to try and stop you. There's a broad mixture of people gathered here. Some dressed in the Charnish fashion. Another dressed in the style of the desert nomads from this region. Still others dressed as if merchants from various places around the world. There are horses of varying types too. Showing a broad range of colors and types though the horses of the nomads seems prevailing.

Most people seem to be minding their own business really, tending to the growing 'tent village', collecting or making food, or even starting efforts to grow sustainable crops. What none really seem to be doing is approaching the tower itself.

Under the veil's cover, Telamon slips into the bustle of the tent village along with his companions. His eyes never stop moving -- shifting from one person to the next. Looking for many things: guards, security, people moving towards the tower or out of it. His expression never gives away a sign of his thoughts.

Softly, he speaks to the others. "Interesting. Do you see anyone actually approaching, or leaving the tower? You'd think he'd be doing something annoying or morally contemptible, collecting a harem or tribute or something. But... I don't see anyone making any movement in that direction."

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (16)+35: 51

(The) Force of personality is strong in Verna's family; her wife has it, her bond-siblings have it, and Verna ... has the crumbs that remained. Thus she does not actively initiate conversation with those they approach and/or pass by. This could be just as well, given that the inconspicuous guises which they currently wear may be less congruent and/or more conspicuous were she to speak. As a proponent of truth, subterfuge is far from her forte'. She is fully content to observe the activity ahead and around them as they move, more specifially so following Telamon's inquiry. "It may well be that this is considered no more than a convenient location to rest and perhaps barter for supplies, if only amongst themselves."

"I mean, he could be. Just not at the moment." Cor'lana looks at Telamon with a deep frown as she considers the idea. Like her husband, she's wary and cautious in her movements. "Think about it... What man would have a constant stream of girls--or guys, or, I don't know, anyone--coming in and out of the tower? He has to sleep sometime. And there has to be time to do magic, and surely there'd be time for a bath and meals in there..."

Cor'lana sighs. "A harem sounds exhausting. I have no idea why the Crimson Pen insists on giving my fictional counterparts one. Anyway, we should maybe... do some asking around?"

Toddling along behind her tol companions, Magpie frowns, puzzled. It would make sense, for the call of the First Siren to bring so many disparate peoples in one place. It would even make sense for them to be docile, peaceful. But for them to be doing... generally community things? Establishing farms, communal cooking... These are the actions of a people intent making a lasting community, which... one would expect those enthralled to not have much attention for.

"I don't," she answers Telamon. "Looks to me like they're making an entire town for themselves, but not a one's even coughing in the tower's direction. Wonder why...?"

Verna's supposition is nodded at, the gnome in full agreement, and Cor'Lana's question gets a brief, ambivalent shrug. "Seems as good an idea as any? Worst case, we'll get roped into some chores or something."

Carver watches the horse, a mental game of identifying breed. A silfrtopp, a Rashuan, oh that's a lovely Isobaran should be off in a Myrrish fairy tale with their knight. She keeps steps with the others easily enough but soon the distraction is out of sight. She rubs away some sweat from her brow.

"Shoul' we be actin' in any such way, like the weird enchantment has a hold on us somehow?"

Cor'lana blinks a little at something unheard, and then she looks at Telamon for a moment. Her eyes go a little unfocused before she murmurs, "Gods."

She looks to the others. "Telamon just noticed something. There don't appear to be any women of marriageable age here. Meaning he actually might have collected them in the tower after all." Yes, her violet eyes are filled with extreme displeasure now. "Let's go ask around a little bit. I think maybe Telamon should do the asking, and us ladies try to look... Nondescript. Lest Idoren hears about us and starts trying to make acquisitions."

Telamon shows his teeth in something that would not be considered a smile even on a dark night. A glitter in his eye, hard and cold. "We don't want to draw this out. I don't know if he's talented enough to establish any kind of arcane alarms, or if he's solely dependent on his little friend. But I want to be the one to pick the time the fight starts."

That said, though, Telamon's eyes begin moving among the village people again. Looking for specifics: tear tracks on faces. Adults of a certain age, old enough to have a child approaching or ready for marriage. Younger people with a lost look in their eyes, who might have had their soulmates ripped from them.

Verna's eyes pan to Cor'lana and brows lift reflexively. She never held reason to evaluate the logistical challenges of a harem. Her sister-by-bond makes a valid point. If any present might have pratical experience in the attempt, she would be Verna's presumed most likely. While this begins as a mild curiosity, her mood darkens and her eyes move back to the tower as it is noted that some manner of collection may be in effect. "All the more reason to perhaps expedite our arrival?"

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (5)+35: 40

"...No that's a good point," Magpie says, shoulders slumping. "Unfortunately, most of what I know's only good for after we get in, so... ideas? Thoughts? Distractingly useful magic?"

While Telamon examines the villagers, her eyes stray towards the tower. All wards and magical defenses that exist for longer than a few moments need physical anchor points; perhaps if she can locate any, and determine what they're for, they can stand a better chance of bypassing them?

Carver does not seem surprised? She doesn't even seem to react to this most recent revelation, beyond the slightest pursing of lips. Disgusting, sure, but this is the same man that wished to throw himself a bash with wine and firework for finding an evil artifact of aureate boiled children bones. This man built a literal tower to host his sins. Lechery? Just one more log on the pyre.

"Not to be gross, but iffin' it's true, it's an easy in. Don't got to beat all his dumb magic. Just got to out think his penis."

Cor'lana blinks at Carver, and then she looks around the group. She shuffles her feet a little uneasily. Telamon knows what's coming before she even says it.

"... So, how cool are we with me modifying the spell to look like a bunch of really beautiful women? I mean, I don't know what Idoren's taste in girls are, but--"

Then she looks at Telamon. "Wait! You've met Idoren previously. You remember anything about his comments on girls? Otherwise I'm going to have a very hard time." Cor'lana is not an expert on what makes a woman beautiful. Hell, she doesn't even notice men besides Telamon.

"Yeah, Archmage, you an' this asshole ever discuss what sort of tits you like the most?" Carver wryly interjects.

Telamon looks at Carver and Cor'lana a bit sardonically. "As far as I know, he didn't have a type beyond 'available'. If he'd had a personality that didn't make me want to toss him off the roof of the Observatory, I'd have tried to help him out." He pauses. "In retrospect, I don't know if that would've been better or worse in the long run. You cannot tell me he'd be this obsessive over proscribed artifacts if he was getting his ashes hauled on a regular basis."

"So honestly, our best bet might be just to modify the spell, make us all look like a proper bunch of girls, and finagle our way in. Once inside, though... we may have to wing it."

Magpie blinks at Telamon for a moment, then down at herself. "Wait... Am... am I not a proper girl...?"

Seems the gnome hadn't given much thought to her eye-searing motley beyond 'fun to wearm' but now that she has to be honey in a trap, she's reconsidering her personal choices...

"Auranar," Verna states plainly with a very un-Verna lack of forethought. After which, she hastily adds, " would be both an excellent baseline example as well as an expert opinion. However, as she is not present, neither is an option." She then admits, "As well, such is highly subjective."

After a moment of further consideration, she makes a vague dismissive gesture with one hand. "In lieu of any details, given the absent demographic present around us, perhaps 'conspicuously feminine' shall suffice?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (15)+30: 45

Cor'lana frowns at Magpie. "No, you are perfect the way you are," she says. "Just that men like Idoren tend to be incredibly shallow. So, let me think..."

And so the sorceress thinks. And then she smiles. "I know!" she says...

...

And a few moments later, there are now a group of near-clones of Cor'lana's mother, a human woman of pale-skinned and ruby-lipped beauty with blue eyes, shapely figure, and garments that hug the curvaceous figure. The only difference between them is hair color. Telamon's got his platinum-blond hair, Carver's got her dark auburn hair, Verna's got her albaster hair, and Magpie's got honey-blonde hair.

They are all about collectively three inches taller than Cor'lana's previous height of 5'0", and that's going to be disorienting.

"I picked the prettiest woman I could think of," Cor'lana explains. "My mom."

A woman passing by the group of vivacious clones blinks. "Oh my! What lovely sisters! Are you mages come to visit the Grand Archmage Aniutiom? You just appeared out of nowhere!" She chuckles pleasantly. "Either way, you should go to the tower. If he chooses you to serve him, he'll send great riches to your family! And if you're here to visit as mages you'll surely want to pay your respects to the great Grand Archmage!"

Telamon blinks a little at the change, but can't help but smile a bit. He gives Lana a wink, before inspecting his hands with approval, and nodding. "Let's get this show on the road." he murmurs.

And then the wagon comes by to pick them up, so to speak. And Telamon immediately leaps onto it. "Why yes. We are but poor sisters, and our family is in dire need. So we have heard of the Grand Archmage's largess, and wish to plead our case in his court. Is there aught we need to do, or say, to gain admittance?"

Blinking as Cor'lana says she has an idea, Magpie waits... and waits... and between one blink and the next, she is very decidedly not a gnome anymore. Her first clue is that everyone else looks almost exactly the same, which means she must too... but then it hits her, that she's actually at eye level with everyone else.

So while villagers talk encouragingly at then, and Telamon answers, Magpie is simply... staring all 'round herself, taking in this frightening new perspective. Is this what it's like for most of Alexandria? To not be forced to swim through a sea of trousers and belled skirts? To know what people look like without suffering neck strain? To... to...

Pausing, Magie looks down, frowns for a moment, and leans very slightly in Cor'Lana's direction. "...I feel like my back oughta be hurting," she whispers. "Is that normal?"

Carver looks at the crowd of Cor'Mamas, nodding in approval. It will do nicely. It was hard to deny that they were eye-catching now. She knew it well before they even inevitably draw attention, listening attentively. She almost starts to give thanks, but hesitates, not wanting 'her' gutter rat copper coin for an ale accent to come out of red wine, so fine lips. She gives what she can only imagine is a gracious bow of the chin. Not a nod of the head but an acknowledgement. Besides, got more than enough charming souls here to speak when needed.

Just one thing. A mental tally of her equipment is taken. Much like earlier she can still feel them. Comfort is taken from their weight. The eagerness? Only more acute.

The shift in perspective is rather disorienting, indeed, and Verna has a some issues with the first few steps. Her feet are not (or doe not seem to be) in the same relative location. As well, her feet are not visible when glancing down. That is, even the movement of them within her robes-turned-dress are not readily visible by the modified illusion.

Her eyes lifts promptly from the unexpectedly-arrived decolletage at the inquiry and offers only a hasty, discomfited smile to accompany Telamon's prompt reply.

The woman smiles kindly. "Just lift the delicate sounds of your voices and surely his servant will come calling to let you in." She wanders off then so that you can head toward the tower. Which you do.

Cor'lana is elected to lift her voice in cadence to the tower, calling to be let in. A moment later a door appears and none other than Nemenba answers the door. He blinks at the lot of you and sighs. At once he starts to open his mouth to say something when the sound of Idoren from further within comes. "Is that more girls? Let them in Nemenba!"

Nemenba winces and sighs. "I hear and obey Master." He motions for you to enter, but looks at Telamon and whispers. "I know who you are."

Then he quickens his step and leads up a curving staircase to where Idoren is currently relaxing. He is surrounded by women of marriable age, some waving palm fronds, others offering him coconut juice. Still others holding dates. "Nemenba, I'm tired of dates and coconut!"

Nemenba's face darkens at the sight of his 'Master'. "I told you before, that all that grows here is coconuts and dates so far. Nothing else."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (1)+27: 28 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (1)+35: 36 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (7)+27: 34
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (19)+35: 54
GAME: Verna rolls perception: (9)+31: 40
GAME: Carver rolls perception: (9)+18: 27
GAME: Magpie rolls perception: (2)+13: 15
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (19)+26: 45
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/arcana: (16)+21: 37
GAME: Verna takes ten on wiznerd: aliased to knowledge/arcana+org+lore: (10)+38+4+2: 54

Cor'lana notices something, and what she notices is horrible. "Artifacts," she mumbles in a tiny little whisper to the group. "Okay. I'm going to take point on distracting."

Which means Cor'lana takes a small breath before she steps forward. "Oh, Grand Archmage Aniutiom!" she declares, swaying forward a little. "I think I can provide more than just dates and coconuts."

Oh yes. A finger is going up to Cor'lana's lips as she bites a perfectly groomed fingernail and bats her eyelashes. "I'm the oldest of my sisters. I'm the inheritor of great and terrible magic, Archmage. Want a taste?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (6)+38: 44
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+26: (6)+26: 32

Telamon gives Nemenba an innocent smile, but there's something behind it. Behind the illusion. And so when the latest group of apparent ladies follows Nemenba up the stairs, Telamon is thinking fast. Very fast.

And yet it almost comes apart on him when they reach the 'Grand Archmage's' parlor. His eyes move to a mirror in the corner, and then to the staff in Idoren's hand. He's wrong-footed, and it takes everything to hide it behind a demure smile. As Lana begins laying it on with a shovel, Telamon nods brightly. "Our sister is the most skilled, and wisest. If anyone could help you, Grand Archmage..."

GAME: Verna rolls will: (17)+26: 43

Verna continues following along as the more quiet member in the sisterhood of the travelling implants. Perhaps she is the least coordinated, as well; she all but collides with one of her peers as her attention is drawn to the sight before them. No, not the 'archmage.' Not in the slightest. Rather, the array of potent objects in his presence.

Her veiled visage may well convey her widening eyes and opening mouth in suprise and awe. Fortunately(?) no words happen to spill forth. This was ... unexpected to say the least. In hindsight, however, the situation may further refine and solidify prior presumptions regarding Idoren:

So, he is an idiot.

Magpie is... distracted. Maybe only slightly more coordinated than Verna, but only by degrees, the ex-gnome is doing her best to simply look awestruck at her surroundings, head swivelling from side to side. When the 'master' of the tower comes into view, she gasps appropriately in wonder... And keeps her mouth shut, only glancing at Cor'lana when she mentions artifacts.

Plural.

And Magpie without a set of handy disjunction bombs. Perhaps a project for the future, in case this ever comes up again...

In the meanwhile, she plays with a lock of hair, tries to look like her talents are all in much less arcane fields, and examines the more outrageously magical-looking accoutrements in the room.

Carver does not crow nor preen and other than being something lovely to admire, makes no effort to communicate much less connect with Idoran. The more of his vanity that is exposed, the more her temperament shifts; determined to something more primal. She mutters a litany rather than seduce the would-be tyrant.

"I see you, I denounce you, I hunt you." Fingers brush anxiously at her arrows, which leaves her illusion vaguely sliding a hand across Atlony hips.

Idoren's eyes widen at the sight of the women before him and when Cor'lana starts laying it on thick like icing, Idoren is falling for it flat. He rises to his feet and rubs a hand over his hair to make it stay in place. "A curse?" He offers curiously. "Are you sisters ummm... C-cursed?"

He blushes a bit and he moves forward whilst carrying his staff self-importantly. "I could break it for you. Yes, certainly. Or... Perhaps you are talking about some other kind of magic?" His cheeks are definitely red now.

"Master-" Nemenba starts, only to be rudely interrupted by Idoren himself.

"Not now Nemenba! It can wait while I ah... Help these ladies." Idoren's dark eyes gleam, and if he's thinking about being helpful, he's only thinking about helping himself. (To a kiss.)

Thus Carver's words come as a surprise and he blinks at her. "Uhhh... What was that?" He looks at her dumbly; just close enough that Cor'lana could reach out and touch him (or something he's holding) if she wanted to.

"Nowhere left to run little deer." Carver ennuciates clearly. The accent gone. The red wine, so fine lips bring no sweet kisses. Only the end for hapless petty little tyrants.

"Ohhhh, a curse? Ceinara's flames, no." Cor'lana then makes a subtle (or maybe not-so-subtle) gesture with her other hand that frames the curve of her... garments. Yes, her garments. Definitely her garments. "I'm blessed, Grand Archmage. And all the more for your presence."

She reaches out to put that fingertip that'd been in her mouth onto Idoren's chest. "But you see, Grand Archmage, my family line has inherited magic over and over again. Generations of some of the best mages Rune has ever known! And it's time we started thinking about... future generations." Cor'lana bats her eyelashes again.

GAME: Telamon rolls spaceBS: aliased to Bluff+3: (2)+32+3: 37
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Bluff: (20)+38: 58
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+26: (19)+26: 45
GAME: Telamon rolls CMB: (20)+16: 36
GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (16)+25: 41

As Lana works her wiles upon Idoren -- and far cannier foes have been fooled by Telamon's wife, after all -- Telamon takes the opportunity to sidle up as well. Keeping his eyes on Idoren as if starstruck or overawed. It's not that hard, really. And he waits for the right moment...

...And then Telamon's hand moves in a flash, grasping the staff in Idoren's hands. Before the 'Grand Archmage' can tighten his grip, Telamon gives it a firm pull, yanking it free from Idoren's fingers!

As the disguised archmage stumbles back, his eyes go wide. The endless vistas and layers of reality unroll before him, like a book falling open, pages drifting to one side or the other. The patterns, the intricate interlacing of reality, solidity, and magical energy revealed to him. It's only because of Telamon's experiences with dreams and reality he can endure the opened vistas before him. His lips part in shock. Words fall from them.

"...Blessed be Ni'essa, the Dream Mistress, the Lady of Magic, that She guide our steps and light our way. May all that we do be righteous in Her eyes..."