Session 106: Letter of Marquez
Our brave adventurers climb up the many levels of the Celestial Forge, through exhibitions of concerts past and empty kiosks of meals never served, on their way to rescue Isara Marquez from the militant band of zealots known as the Flamekeepers. They trail a mysterious figure of unknown goals who has acted to bar the path behind them on their way deeper into the Forge itself. Now our adventurers find themselves mere moments away from what must be the leader of this group, though first they need to do something about the fact that Linnet just straight-up murdered a different hostage they were trying to save.
We join our adventurers in the breath between Isa's attack and Orrey's advance...
**
Orrey fires a spray of lavender Z's over Full Attention, attempting to put them to Sleep, but the spell fizzles upon contact. An image of a cup of coffee shatters as Full Attention's protection against Sleep is broken.
"Okay, this is unusual," Yves says, half to himself, "but I think we're still solidly on the side of heroic here, all things considered, once we deal with... You know... The whole thing with..." He gestures vaguely toward the professor's body, and almost incidentally, sends a wave of some sort of magic so colorless it almost wraps around to the other side of the visible spectrum toward Full Attention. Who, ironically, does not have his. "Anyway, all's well that ends well, right?"
Laid out on the ground amidst a scattering of ice shards and crossbow bolts, Due Consideration considers the afterlife, Hard Stop has met exactly that, and Professor Hyneman has posthumously found their problem. (which is to say, they are all dead.)
Linnet points at the Professor with shaky hands and fires a stream of glittery magic at his head. (The glitter doesn't last.) He's not very alive, but he'll manage if nobody else does anything dangerous to the full room.
"You... murderer!" Full Attention fixes his namesake on Linnet, but stumbles over himself and his concussion on his way to putting his hammer through her on its way to the ground.
Bast seems to do a quick mental inventory of his options, and between fire, explosions, and a general helping of a bad time for anyone in the area, the crossbow comes out ahead on not getting the shaky professor any more dead for now.
Isa waits for the hail of crossbow bolts to taper off, and then makes a quick tactical decision. Instead of adding to the body count, she just hauls off and punches the man in the nose, crumpling him.
"So, uh, is this all..." Yves waves vaguely at everything, and decides maybe he doesn't want an answer to the question he was going to ask. "Who still needs saving, anyway? I suppose we didn't get a count on hostages before we entered. I suppose we can find out as we go along."
"...yeah, I don't think this was the crowd I heard." Bast gives the newly mobile professor an appraising look as he reloads his crossbow. "Safe to leave him for now, Linnet?"
The professor adjusts his beret and looks absolutely horrified at everything that has just taken place.
Linnet just nods and bolts for the exit before the professor can get a proper look at her, or her facial expression.
Bast, with an apologetic grimace and an extra helping of No Time To Explain in his expression, follows.
"Take care!" Yves calls back over his shoulder toward the professor as he hurries after the healer and the captain. "It should all be fine now!"
Orrey sighs and follows the others.
"Might want to get clear before he wakes up," Isa advises, backing through the door.
The central stage of the Celestial Forge has hosted countless acts since it was opened years ago, from motivational speakers to raucous concerts to animal shows to magic acts to something involving bagpipes, if the Hall of Honor was anything to go by. Some acts play better than others here; while the open amphitheatre's acoustics enhance the sound of anything on stage, the more dramatic bands, the ones with names like Final Harvest and The Seventh Doom, fare better here.
Having one's act backed by a massive pillar of eternal flame will do that.
Even here, on the third floor in the elevated seats, Koehnta's everburning fire roars in the distance, not contained within the Celestial Forge itself, but casting its light into the building, the long shadows stretched over the empty seats and across the support pillars.
Onstage, a man grandstands. His hair is ragged and black, his beard just as dark and even more unkempt. He wears black and gold robes, plus a bandana covered in stitched flames.
Hostages -- Bast counts seven of them around the stage -- cower from his words (well, six cower. A moogie in a pink beanie is taking notes).
One other Flamekeeper, a young human woman with a high ponytail and a sleeveless bodysuit, echoes her leader after every statement. Her bandana is merely smoke.
Linnet takes a quick second to glance in panic from side to side, then taps Bast and makes the hand signal for "orders?"
Isa is gauging the distance between the balcony and the floor. Every time she reaches down to touch the hilt of her sword, her frown deepens.
Yves holds up a hand, little staticky buzzes starting to gather around his fingertips, while measuring the distance visually in a quite different manner.
Bast gives Isa an inquiring look, tilting his head in the direction of the stage below as the wings of his glider begin to deploy.
Isa nods, grim.
"UnderSTAND this!"
"Yes!"
"Your ways are scandalous!"
"They're terrible!"
"Your behaviors are reprehensible!"
"Preach!"
"And our God will suffer them no longer!"
"Hell no!"
Bast nods back, taps twice on the railing in front of them, and then - on what would have been the third tap - jumps over it, followed by two trails of flame.
Orrey braces the Armageddon on the railing of the balcony, aiming down at the fiasco of a performance below. Before anything else, he waves his arm out as if casting a net over his allies. A dark grey Veil settles over each member of the party, forming a barely visible shroud over them.
"Heathen!" Tacit Approval's hand snaps out to the side, a finger outstretched at Orrey. "You who would make a mockery of our faith, show yourself now before us instead of skulking around like a cowardly dog!"
Orrey waves politely to Mr. Approval.
Bast pulls up just short of hitting the huffing cleric, smoke from the jets curling around his ankles. "You - " he pauses deliberately, taking in the tableau with the Flame and the hostages before locking eyes with the priest, " - are not worthy."
"Heretics and nonbelievers, come to spit on the gods! Unleash your rrrrrrrrrrrrrrage, my chosen children! Show this piece of pig iron how hot your fires burn!" Tacit Approval raises his arms high to the heavens. Behind him, the fire burns bright, just as it always has.
Action Item, rushing to the stage, bristles with barely-contained fury and confidence instilled in him by the master Orator.
Biting her lip and sizing up the situation, Linnet settles for throwing two chilly buff spells at Bast, in the hope of not having to Raise anyone else today.
"Another! You drop from the ceiling like hideous bats! This is the face of our enemy, Flamekeepers! Scavengers that hide in the shadows, afraid of the Light Divine!"
(Linnet responds with a single complicated hand gesture Rahel taught her. No telling where she picked up something that, uh, evocative.)
Yves makes a little thoughtful noise in the back of his throat as he starts to notice the pattern of insults. But why, really, would he afraid of words? It's not like anyone is throwing sticks at him. Or stones. Accordingly, he tries for a nice straightforward bolt of crackling lightning. But not toward the one shouting about shadows and such: toward the support staff. It'll make the later targeting easier.
The hostages cover their ears from the sudden crack of lightning.
"You pervert the power of the heavens, you godless pierced abomination!"
Yves glares down at the insulting man. "...oh, you want to see perversion and hiding in shadows..." he mutters to himself, folding his arms across his chest.
Action Item has made it to the stage. She smiles brightly at Bast. "Koehnta says your time has come," she says with all cheer, and then brandishes a small stick. The Firaga spell detonates past the eastern pillar, taking out six empty rows of seats.
"Fuck it," Isa mutters to herself, and jumps off the balcony. Where she'd normally be landing point-first on the object of her ire, this time it's just an innocent amphitheater. The impact is still loud, the shockwave still knocks down its share of chairs, but she lands with boots and knees and fist and it takes her a second to stand up and draw her sword.
A cheer goes up from the crowd outside. "You see? Their faith FILLS Koehnta! Their hearts will follow!" Tacit Approval crows triumphantly. "Soon, you will all be purified!"
“Nothing worse than a false prophet! You do not speak for the Twelve!” Orrey shouts as he lines up a shot with the Armageddon. The sharp crack of the gun is followed by Action Item staggering backwards from the impact.
Below, Bast - still standing where he landed - looks less than unimpressed at Action Item's little stick technique. "Are you done?"
The arms of the crossbow snap out into position, a twang of springs echoing on the stage. "My turn."
Tacit Approval rears back in pain. "Now, now, let's not be hasty... surely, you can see it my way..."
Action Item's body drops partway to the ground, then pulls itself back up. "Not until... I make... Them... proud...!" she croaks, and then thrusts the stick forward one last time.
Bast nudges the stick aside with his boot just before it goes off, spoiling Action Item's plans just enough one last time.
"You will be remembered! You will be reborn in the eternal fire of our lord!" Tacit Approval's voice echoes amidst the roaring flames. "And as for you!"
He reaches into his robe and withdraws a weapon that looks like a smaller, bladeless version of the strange weapon Serenye Voda used in Thalatte. "Watch your followers die."
He raises the gun and fires at Linnet.
Linnet ducks and only loses the very tip of her braid to the shot, which lodges in a chair behind her.
Then she stands, whips her braid back over her shoulder, points her hands straight forward, and aims two huge icicles directly at Tacit Approval's sternum. "Let these people go, you bastard!" she yells, in her best Theatrical Projection Voice.
Yves speaks briefly to a nearby stretch of shadow, in a low, friendly voice. Rather more respectfully than he spoke to that potted plant downstairs, really, though he wasn't rude to the plant. No, this is just a different sort of discussion. One that results in the shadow uncoiling itself in wisps and strands and a gathering of dark conflicting bits of shadow from under every chair and behind every railing on this third floor balcony. Even Yves's own shadow joins the collection. Which is now not so much a collection as a dark river winding through the air.
"The darkness has prepared a response to some of your very rude remarks," Yves says. Dark wings stretch out overhead. Not protecting him; looming, like a professional loomer. And behind Bast, Isa, and Orrey, those ordinary mortal shadows have grown darker and deeper, seething with impatience for some future action.
You speak for the gods no more than I, words etch across the sky, illuminated by the roaring flames.
"There's no one left to do your dirty work," Isa says, stalking up to the stage. She's still off her pace, though, her sword swinging short of shaving the speaker. Her shadow gathers and coils behind her, though, preparing its own dark echo.
"YOU ARE NO ORACLE! We are here at the behest of Koehnta to clear out those who blaspheme in his name!" Orrey leans the Armageddon against the railing and raises both of his hands above his head and hurls a blast of energy in the shape of a stylized fish. It hurtles forwards and smashes into Tacit Approval's chest and explodes into a cascade of purple and green trails.
The cult leader calms Orrey with a simple wave of his hand, but promises of retribution fall on dead ears as Bast continues to refuse to buy what he's selling. Fortunately, that's what the gun is for.
"You know, you should really get out more." Bast's comment is delivered offhandedly, the point of the crossbow weaving slightly to keep Tacit Approval's attention.
"Kuganepo has much to offer, for one." That way, the drill uppercut from the the other hand comes as more of a surprise.
Tacit Approval's shot ricochets wildly as Bast simply isn't where he was when the trigger was pulled.
Linnet ices the speaker's shoulder - which doesn't help with his aim - and catches him square in the gut with her other projectile icicle.
"Please! Please! Won't you... take pity on an old man, a believer, someone who... who struggles with his faith, who.... who clings to the old teachings, who just seeks thei
"We don't take pity on kidnappers," the irate sylph shouts back.
"I'm kinda weirded out by this approach," Yves confides to the shadow serpent above him. And having said that, he reaches into his backpack, pulls out a sealed glass bottle of something potentially delicious and/or deadly (depending on the species who applies it internally or topically), and chucks it as hard as he can at the old man's head. It's a good thing he's two stories above said old man, or this attempt at a throw would look even more...well, no one has ever hired Yves for his throwing skills, that's for sure.
The bottle falls onto a seat far below. It doesn't even break.
"Oh for the love of--" Yves stares at the glass bottle far below, and sighs.
He then vanishes into a cloud of bats.
The bats coalesce on the ground floor right by the seat where the bottle landed. Yves picks it up, and puts it back with the others. "Thanks," he says to Diabolos. "--oh, I should pay attention to the whole fighting thing, right. Sorry. I'm not sure why I'm so distractible today."
Isa has no problems beating up an old man; she ignores his pleas to send her sword sliding across his ribs, and as she pulls back into her follow-through her shadow writhes and whips and coils around her to make its own strike. to be continued...
We join our adventurers in the breath between Isa's attack and Orrey's advance...
**
Orrey fires a spray of lavender Z's over Full Attention, attempting to put them to Sleep, but the spell fizzles upon contact. An image of a cup of coffee shatters as Full Attention's protection against Sleep is broken.
"Okay, this is unusual," Yves says, half to himself, "but I think we're still solidly on the side of heroic here, all things considered, once we deal with... You know... The whole thing with..." He gestures vaguely toward the professor's body, and almost incidentally, sends a wave of some sort of magic so colorless it almost wraps around to the other side of the visible spectrum toward Full Attention. Who, ironically, does not have his. "Anyway, all's well that ends well, right?"
Laid out on the ground amidst a scattering of ice shards and crossbow bolts, Due Consideration considers the afterlife, Hard Stop has met exactly that, and Professor Hyneman has posthumously found their problem. (which is to say, they are all dead.)
Linnet points at the Professor with shaky hands and fires a stream of glittery magic at his head. (The glitter doesn't last.) He's not very alive, but he'll manage if nobody else does anything dangerous to the full room.
"You... murderer!" Full Attention fixes his namesake on Linnet, but stumbles over himself and his concussion on his way to putting his hammer through her on its way to the ground.
Bast seems to do a quick mental inventory of his options, and between fire, explosions, and a general helping of a bad time for anyone in the area, the crossbow comes out ahead on not getting the shaky professor any more dead for now.
Isa waits for the hail of crossbow bolts to taper off, and then makes a quick tactical decision. Instead of adding to the body count, she just hauls off and punches the man in the nose, crumpling him.
"So, uh, is this all..." Yves waves vaguely at everything, and decides maybe he doesn't want an answer to the question he was going to ask. "Who still needs saving, anyway? I suppose we didn't get a count on hostages before we entered. I suppose we can find out as we go along."
"...yeah, I don't think this was the crowd I heard." Bast gives the newly mobile professor an appraising look as he reloads his crossbow. "Safe to leave him for now, Linnet?"
The professor adjusts his beret and looks absolutely horrified at everything that has just taken place.
Linnet just nods and bolts for the exit before the professor can get a proper look at her, or her facial expression.
Bast, with an apologetic grimace and an extra helping of No Time To Explain in his expression, follows.
"Take care!" Yves calls back over his shoulder toward the professor as he hurries after the healer and the captain. "It should all be fine now!"
Orrey sighs and follows the others.
"Might want to get clear before he wakes up," Isa advises, backing through the door.
The central stage of the Celestial Forge has hosted countless acts since it was opened years ago, from motivational speakers to raucous concerts to animal shows to magic acts to something involving bagpipes, if the Hall of Honor was anything to go by. Some acts play better than others here; while the open amphitheatre's acoustics enhance the sound of anything on stage, the more dramatic bands, the ones with names like Final Harvest and The Seventh Doom, fare better here.
Having one's act backed by a massive pillar of eternal flame will do that.
Even here, on the third floor in the elevated seats, Koehnta's everburning fire roars in the distance, not contained within the Celestial Forge itself, but casting its light into the building, the long shadows stretched over the empty seats and across the support pillars.
Onstage, a man grandstands. His hair is ragged and black, his beard just as dark and even more unkempt. He wears black and gold robes, plus a bandana covered in stitched flames.
Hostages -- Bast counts seven of them around the stage -- cower from his words (well, six cower. A moogie in a pink beanie is taking notes).
One other Flamekeeper, a young human woman with a high ponytail and a sleeveless bodysuit, echoes her leader after every statement. Her bandana is merely smoke.
Linnet takes a quick second to glance in panic from side to side, then taps Bast and makes the hand signal for "orders?"
Isa is gauging the distance between the balcony and the floor. Every time she reaches down to touch the hilt of her sword, her frown deepens.
Yves holds up a hand, little staticky buzzes starting to gather around his fingertips, while measuring the distance visually in a quite different manner.
Bast gives Isa an inquiring look, tilting his head in the direction of the stage below as the wings of his glider begin to deploy.
Isa nods, grim.
"UnderSTAND this!"
"Yes!"
"Your ways are scandalous!"
"They're terrible!"
"Your behaviors are reprehensible!"
"Preach!"
"And our God will suffer them no longer!"
"Hell no!"
Bast nods back, taps twice on the railing in front of them, and then - on what would have been the third tap - jumps over it, followed by two trails of flame.
Orrey braces the Armageddon on the railing of the balcony, aiming down at the fiasco of a performance below. Before anything else, he waves his arm out as if casting a net over his allies. A dark grey Veil settles over each member of the party, forming a barely visible shroud over them.
"Heathen!" Tacit Approval's hand snaps out to the side, a finger outstretched at Orrey. "You who would make a mockery of our faith, show yourself now before us instead of skulking around like a cowardly dog!"
Orrey waves politely to Mr. Approval.
Bast pulls up just short of hitting the huffing cleric, smoke from the jets curling around his ankles. "You - " he pauses deliberately, taking in the tableau with the Flame and the hostages before locking eyes with the priest, " - are not worthy."
"Heretics and nonbelievers, come to spit on the gods! Unleash your rrrrrrrrrrrrrrage, my chosen children! Show this piece of pig iron how hot your fires burn!" Tacit Approval raises his arms high to the heavens. Behind him, the fire burns bright, just as it always has.
Action Item, rushing to the stage, bristles with barely-contained fury and confidence instilled in him by the master Orator.
Biting her lip and sizing up the situation, Linnet settles for throwing two chilly buff spells at Bast, in the hope of not having to Raise anyone else today.
"Another! You drop from the ceiling like hideous bats! This is the face of our enemy, Flamekeepers! Scavengers that hide in the shadows, afraid of the Light Divine!"
(Linnet responds with a single complicated hand gesture Rahel taught her. No telling where she picked up something that, uh, evocative.)
Yves makes a little thoughtful noise in the back of his throat as he starts to notice the pattern of insults. But why, really, would he afraid of words? It's not like anyone is throwing sticks at him. Or stones. Accordingly, he tries for a nice straightforward bolt of crackling lightning. But not toward the one shouting about shadows and such: toward the support staff. It'll make the later targeting easier.
The hostages cover their ears from the sudden crack of lightning.
"You pervert the power of the heavens, you godless pierced abomination!"
Yves glares down at the insulting man. "...oh, you want to see perversion and hiding in shadows..." he mutters to himself, folding his arms across his chest.
Action Item has made it to the stage. She smiles brightly at Bast. "Koehnta says your time has come," she says with all cheer, and then brandishes a small stick. The Firaga spell detonates past the eastern pillar, taking out six empty rows of seats.
"Fuck it," Isa mutters to herself, and jumps off the balcony. Where she'd normally be landing point-first on the object of her ire, this time it's just an innocent amphitheater. The impact is still loud, the shockwave still knocks down its share of chairs, but she lands with boots and knees and fist and it takes her a second to stand up and draw her sword.
A cheer goes up from the crowd outside. "You see? Their faith FILLS Koehnta! Their hearts will follow!" Tacit Approval crows triumphantly. "Soon, you will all be purified!"
“Nothing worse than a false prophet! You do not speak for the Twelve!” Orrey shouts as he lines up a shot with the Armageddon. The sharp crack of the gun is followed by Action Item staggering backwards from the impact.
Below, Bast - still standing where he landed - looks less than unimpressed at Action Item's little stick technique. "Are you done?"
The arms of the crossbow snap out into position, a twang of springs echoing on the stage. "My turn."
Tacit Approval rears back in pain. "Now, now, let's not be hasty... surely, you can see it my way..."
Action Item's body drops partway to the ground, then pulls itself back up. "Not until... I make... Them... proud...!" she croaks, and then thrusts the stick forward one last time.
Bast nudges the stick aside with his boot just before it goes off, spoiling Action Item's plans just enough one last time.
"You will be remembered! You will be reborn in the eternal fire of our lord!" Tacit Approval's voice echoes amidst the roaring flames. "And as for you!"
He reaches into his robe and withdraws a weapon that looks like a smaller, bladeless version of the strange weapon Serenye Voda used in Thalatte. "Watch your followers die."
He raises the gun and fires at Linnet.
Linnet ducks and only loses the very tip of her braid to the shot, which lodges in a chair behind her.
Then she stands, whips her braid back over her shoulder, points her hands straight forward, and aims two huge icicles directly at Tacit Approval's sternum. "Let these people go, you bastard!" she yells, in her best Theatrical Projection Voice.
Yves speaks briefly to a nearby stretch of shadow, in a low, friendly voice. Rather more respectfully than he spoke to that potted plant downstairs, really, though he wasn't rude to the plant. No, this is just a different sort of discussion. One that results in the shadow uncoiling itself in wisps and strands and a gathering of dark conflicting bits of shadow from under every chair and behind every railing on this third floor balcony. Even Yves's own shadow joins the collection. Which is now not so much a collection as a dark river winding through the air.
"The darkness has prepared a response to some of your very rude remarks," Yves says. Dark wings stretch out overhead. Not protecting him; looming, like a professional loomer. And behind Bast, Isa, and Orrey, those ordinary mortal shadows have grown darker and deeper, seething with impatience for some future action.
You speak for the gods no more than I, words etch across the sky, illuminated by the roaring flames.
"There's no one left to do your dirty work," Isa says, stalking up to the stage. She's still off her pace, though, her sword swinging short of shaving the speaker. Her shadow gathers and coils behind her, though, preparing its own dark echo.
"YOU ARE NO ORACLE! We are here at the behest of Koehnta to clear out those who blaspheme in his name!" Orrey leans the Armageddon against the railing and raises both of his hands above his head and hurls a blast of energy in the shape of a stylized fish. It hurtles forwards and smashes into Tacit Approval's chest and explodes into a cascade of purple and green trails.
The cult leader calms Orrey with a simple wave of his hand, but promises of retribution fall on dead ears as Bast continues to refuse to buy what he's selling. Fortunately, that's what the gun is for.
"You know, you should really get out more." Bast's comment is delivered offhandedly, the point of the crossbow weaving slightly to keep Tacit Approval's attention.
"Kuganepo has much to offer, for one." That way, the drill uppercut from the the other hand comes as more of a surprise.
Tacit Approval's shot ricochets wildly as Bast simply isn't where he was when the trigger was pulled.
Linnet ices the speaker's shoulder - which doesn't help with his aim - and catches him square in the gut with her other projectile icicle.
"Please! Please! Won't you... take pity on an old man, a believer, someone who... who struggles with his faith, who.... who clings to the old teachings, who just seeks thei
"We don't take pity on kidnappers," the irate sylph shouts back.
"I'm kinda weirded out by this approach," Yves confides to the shadow serpent above him. And having said that, he reaches into his backpack, pulls out a sealed glass bottle of something potentially delicious and/or deadly (depending on the species who applies it internally or topically), and chucks it as hard as he can at the old man's head. It's a good thing he's two stories above said old man, or this attempt at a throw would look even more...well, no one has ever hired Yves for his throwing skills, that's for sure.
The bottle falls onto a seat far below. It doesn't even break.
"Oh for the love of--" Yves stares at the glass bottle far below, and sighs.
He then vanishes into a cloud of bats.
The bats coalesce on the ground floor right by the seat where the bottle landed. Yves picks it up, and puts it back with the others. "Thanks," he says to Diabolos. "--oh, I should pay attention to the whole fighting thing, right. Sorry. I'm not sure why I'm so distractible today."
Isa has no problems beating up an old man; she ignores his pleas to send her sword sliding across his ribs, and as she pulls back into her follow-through her shadow writhes and whips and coils around her to make its own strike. to be continued...
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