mythicdawnmaster

Nephis grinned a friendly veneer of dazzling pearlescence, tilting her head to take in the three elven women evidently 'volunteered' to perform; they were each lithesome young creatures, attractive, trim and exotic- exotic to the dusky skinned inhabitants of the desert land, at least. Elves were far more common in the rest of Faerun, an abundant and plentiful race for the most part- here they were tantalizing delicacies, creatures of the rarest breed and mystical mien; a gem to adorn the ranks of any harem, to be sure. The Conjurer silently imagined that it had been Mensares' plan, to keep these delights captive with him, joining the little family of girls he kept around for amusement. She almost snorted at the though; even with she- the greatest jewel of his glorious empire- he still sought more. It was gluttony that compelled this man, then, not lust, He had to have everything, one of each, bottled up and labelled for display. Or at least, bottled up long enough to dance in his festival. "Oh you'll be performing? How delightful! Four untrained and uneducated foreigners performing an ode to the gods, through medium of danse. What could possibly go wrong?" She laughed heartily, glancing sidelong at her mate with a mixture of amusement and disdain in her eyes "It should certainly be a more entertaining affair than the usual cast of left-footed monkeys we have swaying to and fro like a bouquet of river reeds; the girls were beautiful, certainly, but they lacked an intrinsic grace. I hope to see you dazzle." Or at least take a few tumbles trying...

"Surprised? Oh don't be, dear, I seldom entertain the presence of adventurers such as yourself." Nephis chuckled indulgently to herself, the sound a slight reverberation against the chamber walls "I usually grace the feasts of great nobles and priests, but you have piqued my interest enough to draw me from the inner chambers. Consider yourselves blessed." A small lopsided smile graced the Conjurer's features, as she retracted her hands from around Mensares' chest, Settling rather for the place at his side. With her legs crossed elegantly beneath her, the water like folds of her ethereal gown billowed out around her, adding yet more raw presence to the flames of her aura. The wordless stares of the rest of the party were like sacrificial lamb offered up in praise, feeding her divinity and assuring their devotion; what a wondrous feeling, to be revered. Provoking such a reaction was... Addictive to say the least. Not all eyes were exclusively tinged with wonder, for the copper haired elf had desire burning behind her; Nephis had seen such a lust for avarice in the eyes of bandits. Just before said brigands suffered a swift and magnificent death, of course. "Ah Imhiros, of course I remember him! It is hard to forget the self righteous tools of Osiris. He was right about the party though. Tell me, dear foreigners, will you be staying for the festival?"

"All this talk of slaves and yet, I was unable to find a single soul available to dress me." The great doors of the common room slid open with a sand-flecked grind, bathing the interior walls for a few ephemeral moments in the effervescent luminosity of the raging sun, ribbons of scarlet, tyrian and amber glory framing a svelte figure of obscured majesty that had entered upon the rays of Horus-re himself. Scintillating eyes surveyed the chamber with a detached curiosity, as Nephis took a moment of recompense, the rueful rescission of the glorious sun replaced by the glittering intensity of polished gold and eburnean silk, wrapped taut in snaking vines of opulent artifice and fashionable allure, a nigh celestial aura of unearthly presence settling in her wake. She stood unwavering as her gaze caressed the assortment of foreigners that graced those gargantuan halls. The Red Wizard stepped forth upon gilded heels to reveal her form to the welcoming light, dripping in accents of gold and pearl. Her movements were a gentle swaying of slender limbs carried along upon placid winds that shook her earthly adornments into a pendulous twinkle of metallic collision; the first drops of rain upon a bitter and dehydrated oasis. Nephis's gown was a blend of raw silks and transparent linen, cut between her breasts and slashed to the hip, each ivory thread bore a twin of gold. Her nails- long and rounded- matched the pearlescent accents of her winged headdress, a construct of solid gold fashioned into the mien of a great scarab, wings open in flight. Bangles and bracelets completed her look, clashing together as her arms wrapped the shoulders of her protoge and patron from behind. "You have strayed from my side so very long, my dear, pray tell you introduce me to these esteemed guests?" The Thayan's accent was rich and deep, heightened by a personal haughtiness that eradiated from her figure in waves of unmistakable confidence. Arrogance was amplified by the twitch of her brow, and prying eyes intruded upon all. Nephis had made her arrival clear.

Back with a vengeance:

Aurora was utterly in her element as the festivities came to head, dancing along to the thri'kreen's drums and consuming near enough her own body weight in wine; a giddy and marginally dishevelled drunkard, the Bardess was struck with euphoria as Shalena and her pirates began their sea shanties, swaying along and sloshing her drink over both herself and the pirates she had huddled between, relishing their decadent company as she added to the cacophony her own voice, not quite the usual lilting lark song after the influence of considerable amounts of alcohol, she was beyond the realm of concern as she danced around the fire with Shalena. Xallistine, neither one to partake in the frivolities of his companions nor able to dance around the campfire considering his age, settled beside Rhaine and Conall with his legs tucked neatly beside him, ever elegant even upon the floor. "You surfacers always surprise me." The Ulitharid began, his tone one of contentment "Even after the horrors we have faced and the loss we have suffered, you find it in you to parade around with such glee; a warming sight, is it not? That even after our loss, the bulk survives, and dear Tak'we lives on in his son."

Xallistine and Aurora found their spirits lifted to the heavens as mention of Hexol reached them; could it be that the tiny creature was to be their saviour that day? Rising to their feet with the others and rejoicing with differing levels of elation (the former displaying nothing physcially, the latter jumping up and down despite her heels, cheering and clapping like an excited child) and followed their companions above ground to face the holy radiance of the sun, greeting them with mirth for their triumph over the forces of darkness. "I never thought I would see the day Hexol proved to be our saviour." Xallistine remarked with a chuckle, brushing off his robes and adjusting to the sun with a squint. "Neither did I, but here it is! Rejoice in our saviour, Hexol!" Aurora ran over to embrace the small creature with a potentially crushing hug, stepping back after she had delivered her thanks to survey the rocky outcrop they now stood atop. "Where are we?"

Xallistine and Aurora both remained in solemn silence after the grand epilogue of the battle; the latter had received various injuries from both the undead they had been embroiled with in battle, and the falling cascade of stone that had shattered upon her body, leaving cuts, scrapes and bruises, some showing between the now-torn fabric of her once exquisite attire. Aurora's heart beat ten to the dozen and her temples stung with the force of her tumultuous blood flow, and sorrow pooled in her eyes as she remembered the fallen. She shed her tears for Tak'we but said her thanks to Argyros for their survival, accepting Nawen's potion gently but softly refusing her offer of medical assistance. "You've done more for us than you know, Argyros; you have my solemn thanks... it seems we all owe you are lives." Xallistine thanked the dragon with entirety, before offering his measly healing abilities to those that may have required them; he was in no position to do any lasting repair, his forte had long been enchantment and destruction, but he could close small wounds should the others tire of magic and supplies. "To Tak'we" Both he and the Bardess echoed, paying their respects to their fallen comrade, who they knew would not receive so much as a grave for his efforts.

Using the addition of the great Balor to circumvent his own involvement in the chaos, Xallistine first focused his energies on raining down chaos upon the undead swarming around Zorica and Conall; they were severely outnumbered and their foes not merely nascent thralls to serve as a hindrance- they had resisted Rhaine's turning like unholy beacons of malevolent resistance, and as such posed a severe threat. Witnessing Zorica's injury, Xallistine bombarded the surrounding undead with a torrent of various incendiary incantations in a show of vibrantly heated luminosity, waving his wand as if conducting an orchestra, in an attempt to buy his companions a few precious moments of recovery, which, in conjunction with Tenebris's wily distraction, would take the heat from the wounded duo enough for them to survive. A pair of ghasts fell to his flames, others considerably hampered in their assault; it should have been a matter of pickcing off the weak, a cull of sorts, and the Ulitharid was confident his allies would succeed. Still hovering above ground, Xallistine followed Tenebris's shambling cadre in their assault of Saris, first focussing upon penetrating her mind, now that her magical barriers had been destroyed. The Elan had most certainly a powerful mind, and Xallistine could not break through enough to possess or command her, but he found his words a skeleton key, and focused his mental voice in greeting to the treacherous Saris. With a force far greater than that he used to communicate with his companions, Xallistine projected himself telepathically to Saris "So we finally meet, Saris. I must admit my grave disappointment in you thus far; sending an incompetent assassin is an embarrassing faux pas for a woman of your exalted station. The odds now stack against you and the rest of your mongrel kin, Culler, for you will not control a mind in this room that is not already yours..." The Ulitharid almost snarled as his brow furrowed, readying his wand to attack "You have harmed both myself and my companions, and I will not stand for such hostility any longer. For your gift of pain, I offer you a free lesson in return of the same nature." In quick succession, Xallistine tossed a cloud of black powder towards Saris, and shot through it with a water-like beam of pulsing darkness, intending to hit the Elan and inflict dire harm; Xallistine knew that Circle of Death was not enough to kill one as powerful as Saris, but he hoped it would at least harm her; In conjunction with Argyros's paralysing breath, it should have made for devastating wounds...

Xallistine surveyed the chamber as their foes emerged in earnest, a guttural growl bubbling in his throat as he glimpsed Saris and the Elan; his violet knuckled whitened as he felt himself descend slowly into rage, his ebony wand in his grip instantaneously. By his estimations, his stalwart companions would find the undead an obstacle best traversed, with Rhain's abilities and the assistance of Amendale and Marie, the unholy beings would face the wrath of the Doomguide and her patron in short order- it was the Psions then, that the Ulitharid would focus his attentions upon. Despite having confidence in the charms bestowed upon the group, Xallistine instinctual bolstered their mental defences with the power of his own, to ensure that their minds were airtight against any attack Saris may attempt to direct their way; none would fall to domination that day (of those unfelled already), the Ulitharid swore upon it. Waiting for his companions to take their position in the fray, the Ulitharid remained alone as a small swarm of undead directed their attentions to him; having already ensured that his inborn ability of inertial armour was active ( a precaution that would have saved him the blade of Zuir) their blows bounced as if hitting the mass of a Slime, repelled by the psionic forces that churned around him, a tempest of mental energies that raged like a hurricane, obfuscated from view. In one graceful movement, Xallistine propelled himself from the floor with a flutter of robes, blasting away the foes that swarmed him with a powerful exertion of his mind; the undead were knocked clean off their feet and flung violently several feet away, rising slowly with a burning disorientation, afflicted with an effect similar to the spell feeblemind as the Ulitharid hovered above them majestically. With a flick of his wrist, The ulitharid ignited their unholy bodies in a great gout of flame, and moved into the fray, flinging spells at all foes that drew close; acid, lightning, fire and frost rained down in furious succession upon the dead and the Elan, projected with rage and maximization. Aurora rushed into the fray with a cry, drawing her rapier and lunging for her foes; the battle showed no signs of being an easy one, and she was thankful at least that her mind was safe. She pranced around the chamber as she had done previously against the Gnolls, whittling down her opponents with light jabs and furious strikes, once again a wasp disturbed from it's peace and relentless in it's capacity to sting.

Aurora danced across the battlefield with grace and acrobatic finesse, running through no small number of pernicious little Kobold's with her glinting golden Rapier, aiming for the throat as she swung low and thrust deep, ending their enslavement with the cold steel of her thin, deadly blade. When faced with one of the imposing Gnolls, Aurora gingerly took a step back as the great beast brought it's cumbersome axe to bear, swinging it slowly over it's head in an attempt to cut her in two. The Bardess vaulted from danger, spinning behind the beast to stab at it's knees, forcing her blade through thrice on each knee, bringing the beast to the floor. As she spun around it's front, Aurora stabbed like a relentless wasp, her needle-like sting penetrating the Gnoll's throat with each tiny stab, over and over and over until she sliced cleanly through the jugular, ending another life upon the tip of her blade. Xallistine stood beside Annette and Amendale as they wrought havoc upon their foes with what magic they could muster, and the Ulitharid found himself silently impressed by their magical prowess, leaning upon his cane so as not to interrupt their barrage, aiding only to bolster the speed of his companions through various incantations, watching the carnage ensue before them with appreciation. It was no true battle, it appeared, it was more of a slaughter, foes falling easily to the blades, spells, and arrows of the party. More than half had fallen, and a number of their foes made to escape. Unimpressed by the fearsome Gnoll's cowardice, and certainly not willing to allow them escape (lest they regroup, and ambush the party after attending to their greater foe), Xallistine positioned himself so that he had a good view of the entire battlefield, awarded in part through his great height, and enforced by the spell of levitation he had performed. Hovering as he felt his magical reserves expend themselves within him, blue flame ignited to orange in his palms, and a fiery inferno built up around his, sucking the moisture from his aquatic flesh as the spell grew in power; directing his arms gracefully to the battleground before him, Xallistine unleashed fiery hell upon those remaining foes, sweeping through the rocks and crags, burning luminously through the flesh of those caught within, who howled and writhed in despair as they ran, flailing as their clothing caught fire. Not enough died in this incendiary judgement, so Xallistine settled to end their lives quickly; maximising his powers and casting all those remaining in his sights, the Ulitharid gave climax to the rigorous battle through use of the powerful spell Implosion, reducing their foes to nothingness in a veritable instant... ---------- As they dismounted the carriage, Ravenna led Silithus inside her great stone fortress with an air of pride and regality; the great steel monoliths of the great hall swung open for Ravenna, and she stepped inside to the din, all encapsulating darkness, that seemed to seep into one's vision itself like an inky blot. With a resonating click of her well-jewelled fingers, candles burst to life in vigorous ardour, spluttering yet unrelentless as she dragged with her the draught in the golden confides of her sweeping chain cloak "And here we are; my mortal refuge and bastion in this campaign. There are rooms aplenty to accommodate you, and you may find my other deadly companions to be of your liking. Quarylene will certainly be amused to lay eyes upon another man..." Ravenna chuckled to herself in time with the definitive clicks of her hard metal heels, ascending the marble staircase that ended in her throne. "If you wish to refresh yourself after so many years in the ground, my servants can show you to the bathing chambers- They may also, should you so wish it, introduce you to my darling tailors; really the outfits are perhaps the best boon of infernal immortality."

Xallistine descended the stairs shortly after Rhaine and the other had arisen from their own slumbers, allowing himself time to address the minor problems of his recoveries that plagued him yet; Annette's potions were working like elixirs of life itself (if only life could be distilled into a bottle) reinvigorating his form and returning his stolen strength. The poison had indeed ravaged his body, and the price paid for suffering the blade of the assassin was visible in the protrusive veins-like worms beneath the surface of translucent soil- snaking across his flesh in a tangle of patterns; The Ulitharid's emaciation was further enhanced by the paling of his skin, now a light violet as opposed to the royal purple of his pre-afflicted flesh, hanging further around his eyes to deepen the impression of age, tentacles sagging like the great beard of a gnarled old master. Having had his robes repaired and reinforced during his infirmary, Xallistine's clothing at least spoke of his ennobled blood; the once-tattered collar extended high above his head in a proud, peacock-like display, golden cuffs securing his midnight blue robes at the wrists- gone was every scratch, gash and tear. Xallistine's every step was proud once again, and he descended the stairs like a ghostly apparition of alien grace and fluidity; in truth only his magics and the dear care of his companions held the Ulitharid together, but Xallistine was nothing if not resilient. He would see this quest to it's completion. In full, and beyond. Greeting everyone with a warm inclination of his head, he paid Nawen compliments on her beautiful attire before drifting over to Annette, placing a hand upon the young mage's delicate shoulder "I am it appears, indebted to you with my life, Lady Annette; In the forthcoming chaos we are no doubt to be plunged head-first into, I shall make a solemn promise that no lasting harm shall befall you. You have saved me from a crisis I possessed no defences to counteract, and I shall ensure that with my magics, your mind and body shall remain safe. It is a pale and pathetic strand of gossamer to the gold you have gifted me, but it is all I have to offer." He showed his thanks and affection with a gentle squeeze upon Annette's shoulder, as neither his face nor his eyes held the humanity to convey such emotion. Leaving her to enjoy her meal and the company of her closest companions, Xallistine took his place beside Rhaine. "I stand ready, my Lady Doomguide; here we stand once again upon the eve of great conflict... my magics and mind shall not falter my Lady, I shall not fail you in this. We will vanquish the menaces before us." Aurora grinned at the sight of Nawen's attire as she took a seat next to the Piratess Shalena, looking the Drow up and down with appraising eyes. She clapped her hands and barely contained her excitement "By Sharess Nawen, you are the very image of beauty!" She grinned, inclining her head to Tannin "And compliments are due to the craftsman; I agree with Shalena, I'd certainly pay to have something so divine." She took a swig of her morning brew, checking that her weapons were in order and that she looked presentable; if she was to fight, it best be done in style.

Both Aurora and Xallistine complied with the notion of sleep; upon the eve of such a battle to come, they would need dearly whatever rest they could wrestle from the malignant grip of their foes; for they would certainly not find such solace come-morning. Xallistine for his part drank down Annette's potion without the slightest hint of complaint- despite the rather pungent after-taste- for he had long grown used to the putrid properties of alchemies many wondrous concoctions. That, and his palette was hardly human; raw brain sated him, so he was not one to ask on a principle of taste. Wishing her companions a goodnight and foregoing the allure of drink, Aurora smiled at Rhaine as she agreed with Shalena "Goodnight Rhaine." She nodded to their leader and smiled faintly despite the looming danger they faced, retaining her air of bubbly joviality, as she proceeded upstairs humming a lilting tune.

Ravenna smiled slowly, her mouth upturning like the wings of a butterfly unfurling to display their full- and in this case crimson- glory, lustrous and luminescent from a combination of rich gloss and the subtle glow of the lamps mounted upon the exterior of the carriage, casting their radiance through the thick glass windows to illuminate the golden splendour of the Archdevil further. Such dim light enhanced also the contours of her finely-chiselled face, drawing sharp contrast with deep shadows in the places her cheeks hollowed, cast by the protrusive ridges of her proud and haughty cheekbones; there was an almost skeletal quality to Ravenna's noble features, a hint that her flesh was pulled taut over bone, depraved of fat. Not unlike the winnowed figure before her, in such a respect- perhaps it was a trait of those who practised necromancy? To resemble the desecrated cadavers that were their tools? Ravenna arrested her attention from her line of thought, and re-focused upon the deadly man before her. She raised her angular brows at their corners as he relayed the lapse in his knowledge. Of course! He had not been present upon Kelemvor's ascension... oh how she had gaps to fill in for her latest compatriot. Crossing her slender right leg, and waiting as the jingle of chainmail ceased in earnest before beginning to speak, she clasped her hands upon her lap demurely and drummed the digits of one hand into the other, and vice-as-versa, eyes never leaving Silithus as she pondered her response "I had forgotten almost how long it was you were imprisoned for... I do apologize. Kelemvor Lyonsbane is the current Judge of the Damned; Lord of The Dead; Master of the Crystal Spire. You may recognize his predecessors as Jergal and Myrkul... he is but the latest to hold the sphere of death. A grave enemy of those that follow our shared... profession, my dear Silithus, pardon the pun." An un-amused sliver of a phantom smile passed her lips for a moment as she explained, continuing as she shifted her position slightly "My foes are led by the Doomguide, Rhaine Alcinea, who quests now to destroy an ally of mine, the Dracolich Valthanarax. They are a a proficient group that attracts more and more to their fold like flies to stagnating ichor; I shall entertain your wish for their dossiers once we arrive at my fortress- there is far too much to explain here." She smiled a little once more, gazing out of the window as she neared her castle; it was a short trip, as Silithus had been imprisoned in such close proximity to her fort. They had to pass through the Orcish camp, of course, but they were hindered little by Ravenna's growing battalion of footsoldiers.

Ravenna gave a pleasant smile as her tongue closed the distance from canine to canine, drifting over the porcelain tombstones raised from her gums languidly. One finger travelled to her mouth to place a menacing claw upon her lips, head tilting to the side with the accompanying swash of her cumbersome earrings, swaying as hypnotists pendulums to accompany the mesmerising radiance of her lambent eyes "Ah I am so glad you are enticed my pallid friend; I would be quite insulted if my charms were to fail me." She tittered slightly before continuing, lifting her right arm and bringing with it the wing-like chainmail of her golden over-robe, the gentle jingle of the the momentum-carried chain filling the void between Ravenna's words "My carriage awaits." She ushered in the resurfaced blight that was Silithus Victus, and placed her self opposite him within the roomy confides of the hellish carriage, her golden form framed by a carved throne of ebon black. "What I would like to suggest..." Ravenna began, pausing the click her fingers, signalling the spectral driver to begin their descent down the mountainside "Is an alliance. A union. A joining of powers to quench both our shared lust for revenge and to satiate those whom we genuflect before; your gods no doubt would relish in the prospect of slaying the newly-chosen of Kelemvor and her cadre of celestial companions? The Lord of The Dead prostrates himself before 'good' and 'righteousness' in these troubled times, and I found my schemes of ascension thwarted by those who protected the immortal lifeblood of a god. While you were imprisoned, I was banished to the very hells themselves. Delicious irony that it was to be my rebirth, but the bitterness does not fade even with the taste of godly nectar upon your lips." She smiled, settling into her seat as they hit a rock, the carriage bouncing ever so "I wish to destroy them; a task that would- no doubt- please both you and your unholy duet above?"

Two days, while mere grains of time to the realms as a whole, were detrimental in allowing Xallistine to regather his strength, and recuperate from the ill effects of the deadly Black Lotus poison. To say he was in possession of his usual prowess would be a grave mistake indeed; the Ulitharid was significantly weakened both mentally and physically- the latter taking far greater a toll (he was forced to use his walking cane as a permanent implement, as his limbs were stiff and brittle). Despite his misfortunes and handicap of movement, Xallistine at least had his life, and for that he owed his companions an irreparable debt; it was not the first time so, but never before had he been racked with a poison quite so malicious. Breaking from inconsequential musings and prayers for the coming of an Elan genocide, Xallistine looked up to regard Annette as she voiced her concern for both he and his Gemini-in-poison, Conall. He accepted the potent rejuvenating concoction with little doubt for the young woman's skill, sliding the flask beneath his tentacled façade to pour down his maw in one swift motion. Nodding his thanks for both the potion and the concern, he retorted politely "You needn't worry yourself with my condition; I have potent spells of my own with which to shield my form, and we face foes with which I have more than fleeting similarity- I shall fight the Psions with Psionics, and woe betide the being who harmed us so. I have a few spells prepared for our would-be assassin, but of course, your assistance in keeping our strength would no doubt be appreciated." He nodded his head in place of a smile. ----------------------- Ravenna stepped back from the earth gingerly as it shifted before her temperamentally, narrowly avoiding the spray of soil and debris that accompanied the transitory form of the necromancer, his pale features contrasting sharply with the midnight black of his robes, the sickly patches of his flesh almost glowing in the flickering moonlight like tainted, acid-worn bone. Despite this figures unassuming and frankly nigh-leprous appearance- or what was visible of it through the cloud of settling dirt- Ravenna could feel the very potency of this tainted creature lick at her aura, the venom of foul-gods permeating her senses; not only a necromancer, it seemed, but a malevolent zealot to boot. Formidable. With a ghostly hint of a smile, like the last darting sliver of sunlight cast upon the ocean waves before nightfall, Ravenna spoke crisply and clearly, her ever-rapturous tone undercut with suggestions of authority, promises of rank "I am Ravenna, consort of Asmodeus the Lord of the Ninth, Queen of the Nine Hells; it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lord Silithus Victus- I have heard a great many things about you. A fellow practitioner of the dread arts, and one who too strove to slay a god. Magnificent." She paused, cocking her head "I couldn't allow you to weather the ages trapped within a bubble of holy stasis; I have use of one such as yourself, and you, no doubt, of me."

Aurora tilted her head and returned the chuckle, regarding Zorica with smiling eyes "Of course! I'd like nothing better, infact, I don't think I could get a wink of sleep alone anyway; I must admit I'm somewhat shaken." Aurora smiled slightly and rose to stand, pulling down her skirt and re-arranging her hat "I don't know if I can promise the same." Aurora offered a laugh and gathered away her fiddle, collecting her bags and hauling them over her shoulder, tiptoeing up the stairs to find a room. ------------------- Ravenna tapped her golden talons upon the arm of her granite throne and cocked her head in contemplation, her eyes reflecting the dim orange light of the single brazier that still illuminated her golden flesh. She looked at Quarylene, as though sizing the drow up; judging her for a fit of clothes, suitability for a role. The Devil Queen pondered for a few moments before briskly rising to her feet, turning from the drow to recover the ruby-studded over-robe that hung upon the head of the throne, forcing her arms through the sleeves with a flourish "You may take a battalion of your choosing from the Orcish camp; Once I am concluded with a little something I have to attend... come along if you wish." She passed Quarylene as she descended the steps, circling around the seer's-pool before marching down the length of the main hall.... .... The Nightmare-drawn carriage came to an uncomfortable stop, perched upon the edge of one of few remaining footpaths nestled so high within the Wyrmbone mountains, so close to the abyssal drop below. The hellish steeds whinnied nervously despite themselves, but the driver settled them with a few soothing words. With a gentle push, the gilded black-wood door swung open, and a celestial golden figure stepped forth. Sighing as her heels sunk into the earth beneath her, Ravenna balanced her weight upon the balls of her feet and sauntered undaunting across the unsure terrain, golden eyes focused upon the looming Shrine to Illmater, that stood despite the years and the elements rallied against it; a symbol of the Gods eternal perseverance perhaps? An ode to their immortal glory? Ravenna scoffed at such an idea; she had come so close to destroying one of the 'true immortals'. And so had the twisted soul buried beneath her feet... Placing a palm upon the marble memorial shrine, Ravenna circled the obelisk and read it's plaque aloud "These sinners were mere hours away from attempting to assassinate the One Who Endues during the Time of Troubles. May they remain here for eternity for their crimes, and may the heroes behind the halting of this travesty be forever blessed by Him." Returning after a full circle around the circular stone, the Archdevil laughed mirthfully to herself, looking to the heavens with a wicked grin "Request denied, dear Illmater... they will not be remaining in the ground, oh sickly one..." Placing both palms upon the shrine, talons raking through stone, Ravenna smiled as she felt stone melting beneath her hands, defiling this sacred sight with the flames of The Hells. Once she was satisfied the shrine and it's surrounding ceremonial accoutrements were destroyed, Ravenna stood within the ashen rubble and readied an incantation, arcane energies rattling the golden chainmail of her gown, flickering to life upon her fingertips and radiating from her eyes, arms outstretched as she drew upon her power... With a muffled cry that released the spell, Ravenna bellowed as eldritch energies crackled and spluttered from her person, radiating out from her gold-encased body in scintillating waves of pulsing purple energy, soaking into the earth like acid eating away at a mouldering corpse... "Freedom!"

Aurora nodded softly to Rhaine and retrieved her baggage, rummaging through her things until she pulled out her fiddle. The Bardess smiled as she held her instrument, marching back to the tavern proper with as much warmth and joviality as she could muster, hoping to warm her companions spirits a little before she began; as opposed to her usual rambunctious choice of song, Aurora picked a soft ballad that doubled as both a relaxing and soulful ballad, and a children's lullaby, depending of course on how it was performed- Aurora began with her fiddle softly, before beginning her operatic rendition of 'Sleepsong' "Lay down your head, and I'll sing you a lullaby, back to the years of loo-li lai-lay, and I'll sing you to sleep, and I'll sing you tomorrow, bless you with love, for the road that you walk..." She swayed softly from side to side as she began, gazing soulfully upon the faces of each of her companions as she gracefully lulled too and fro, like a pendulum in a hypnotist's hands, intended upon soothing those that remained in the tavern to hear her gentle song.

Xallistine ebbed in and out of conciousness as events spiralled around him, and he was unable to respond to Amendale as he cured him of his poison, nor could he protest as his form was carried within the Inn by his dutiful companions. He was vaguely aware of his new surroundings and twitched spasmodically as Rhaine administered a final healing upon he and Conall, before passing out entirely next to his afflicted-companion upon the hard tavern floor; he could not react as Ianthe grasped his tentacle for comfort, but would have greatly appreciated the sentiment had he have been fully concious. At least he could assist indirectly with his charms... Aurora was in a state of paranoia as she walked into the tavern, her rapier drawn and poised for combat as she looked left and right, travelling backwards before she was sure the coast was- for the moment at least- clear. "This is terrible... I pray they will be alright, please tell me they will be alright?" She asked of her companions as she gazed forlornly down as the unconscious forms of both the Werewolf and the Ulitharid; she knew neither in any great capacity, but they were her companions, and cared for them greatly. The Bard echoed Nawen's sentiment "Yes, surely we cannot sit awaiting another attack?"

Xallistine would perhaps have shrieked had he the vocal capacity to do so, reacting violently to the blade as it penetrated his thin flesh, digging into the small of his back before the blade twisted, sending the Ulitharid into a pained rage; he spun in an attempt at knocking down his assailant with his largest tentacles, but the spread of poison was quick and vicious, sending agonizing waves of burning pain through Xallistine's veins, making him squirm and writhe as his claws attempted to find the wound, talons digging frantically at the point of entry. As he flailed, his tentacles and arms smashed into the market stalls before him, resulting in various products littering the floors violently, and a cacophony of screams to start from the crowd. Shaking violently, Xallistine leant heavily upon his cane in an attempt to steady himself as his vision began to fail, the image of the merchant lunging for Rhaine spinning before him, yet he was powerless to warn her; The elderly sorcerer felt his knees buckle beneath him, and he fell to them with whatever dignity and grace he could sustain, one arm clutching unwaveringly to the black-wood cane that seemed his only lifeline- only one poison he knew of would have effected him so greatly, and he cursed the gods for putting the concoction upon the realms. Again his vision swam, and a gush of blood and spittle erupted from the Ulitharid's hidden maw as he slumped lower, bent in resemblance to a full genuflection with one hand upon the ground, his great-tentacled head bowed in soundless agony... he needed assistance (curse it all) yet was helpless to cry out...

Aurora stood beside her companions atop the hillock and breathed deep of the noxious city air drifting up from the squalid streets; the effluvium of city life was a welcome scent to the city-born half-elf, soothing her with the familiarity of clustered bodies, mouldering market food and herbal remedies mingling in the dense air. She grinned and clapped a little, excitement building- she could almost hear the tavern calling it's siren song from here; 'Aurora oh Aurora! Come, sing, and drink ale!' "A blight? No it's paradise! Think of the taverns, Theia! Dagny will agree I'm sure; we must sample them all!" Aurora's grin spread across her face and she jumped up and down like a child upon it's birthday. Xallistine chuckled, coming to a halt upon his steed "Some things never change" --------------- Ravenna tapped upon the granite arms of her throne and considered coolly for a moment "Indeed. The weak among the faithful will be easiest to convert, and I imagine Lolths most devout priestesses are truly beyond salvation. If we are to annihilate these foes, then first my Orcish army must first have a taste of battle; we shall prey upon the stragglers, the isolated communities and whet their appetites for Drowish blood. Then, we may claim faith within an iron grip, and begin the conversion to your own faith."

Aurora, still clutching her aching head and cursing in various dialects to lament the throbbing sensations of concussion, retrieved herself a bottle of ale, pulling free the cork with her teeth and guzzling down a few mouthful ungracefully. She sighed heavily at the taste and wrinkled her nose, checking for any sign of a label in order to identify the veritable bog-water. Finding none however, she settled for alcohol over taste, and chugged away merrily on her way back to her cabin. Opening the door, however, she found Conall. Raising both eyebrows in surprise and muttering her apologies, she tottered hastily away from the Werewolf, remembering Aera's little quip regarding her prey... Once she had finally found her own cabin, however, Aurora skipped to her bed and reclined languidly, exhausted, she drifted to sleep soon after another five bottles of ale and a few shots of Thayan Brandy. All medicinal, of course. ------------ Ravenna's grin spread and she nodded her approval, lowering her golden form into the stony embrace of her throne with a small sigh of contention. "You will strip from the Spider Queen her power by ciphering it for yourself... I shall assist you in this endeavour, of course. A like minded Goddess to count among my future allies would be... a boon to be certain, our houses both have much to gain from this pursuit my dear Quarylene. But it is no easy task, to face a god... I had not considered conversion before my own ascension, and a part of me deeply regrets it... to have a goddess but centimetres away... blade poised for her throat! To usurp the powers of the gods... I will enjoy this scheme my dear, indeed I shall." She paused "There is, of course, the matter of how."

Xallistine regarded Annette warmly as she approached, gesturing to the place beside him with one of his larger tentacles, he crossed his taloned hands atop his lap gently, to give himself an image of non-hostility if not outright friendliness; Annette was new to the group, and while they had been introduced, he had not recalled communicating full with her before, so he did not wish to impart and impression of intimidation upon her; he understood his kind was by their very nature nightmarish, he wouldn't heighten that impression. "Alchemy eh? Hmm, I must admit it is not my premier area of study, I've long preffered the lure of enchanting or... more destructive arts." He chuckled slightly, idly wrapping a small tentacle around one of his fingers "But my knowledge is sufficient I imagine, to teach you a thing or two" he would have smiled if he were able, and left his comment lingering so Anette could give him specifics as to the area of teaching she required. Aurora managed a resounding "Oof!" as Tenebris tackled her rather ungracefully to the ground, her hat rolling on the floor behind her and her head feeling worse for wear. She scrambled out from beneath the Jergali with a hmph, picking up her hat and sighing "Ugh, you could have warned me at least! I'm quite nimble enough to jump out of the way of porky there and his valiant pink knight!" She stamped her foot and rubbed the back of her head, proceeding to the campfire for warmth and respite. ------------ A devilish grin split across the Devil Queen's face, and she regarded Quarylene with a knowing gaze. "Convert them, my dear... to you." Her grin split and she beamed a fanged, pearlescent smile "Correct me if I am wrong... but you once commanded a great house did you not? You were matron mother, you commanded power, influence... surely the name Ginafae must command a reaction at least, even in these times? What better story is there among the faithfully oppressed than the one who got away? The one who broke the chains of Lolth's command? Emerged a new being?"

Ravenna gave Quarylene a blazing glare as she slighted her, but kept her blistering rage in surprising check. She exhaled heavily and leant against her throne, pondering their current predicament against the Spider Queen; it was becoming a fruitless endeavour, as their every turn was seemingly manipulated by the Goddess's spindly fingers- even razing a city to the ground had served the bloated arachnid's purposes. A full assault upon every Drow stronghold in the Underdark would be a folly, as the forces Ravenna could muster were barbarians suited to the surface; her Orcs would not be wasted in such a conflict as this, out of their depth and faced with foes beyond their reckoning... but this was also not Ravenna's own fight. This was Quarylene's issue. But the obese queen of spiders had insulted Ravenna's pride, mocked her power; she would not stand for that. "Your goddess is proving to be every bit the manipulator the legends detail, so before you insult my efforts perhaps you should present a scheme of your own, hmm? I have heard no plan form upon your lips, no suggestion spew forth; this is your territory, not mine. My ground is the land of Thay and the circle's of hell, I am comfortable with treading upon the toes of the powerful in such places... but here? In your Underdark? I had expected you to be familiar with your homeland, yet we attacked a city which your Goddess wished destroyed!" Ravenna vented her rage but contained herself again. "No... I shall not bicker with you Quarylene, the corpulent insect would rather like it if we tore out eachother's throats... Direct assault has failed us, so we must resort to the covert. How best to deal with a spider that ensnares the whole of the Underdark?" Ravenna's question was open, but an idea crept into her head "We strike at her faith."

Aurora jumped in triumph over Tak'we, grinning smugly from ear-to-ear as she gave a bow to any who may have been watching the bout "And now you all know not to mess with me! Whoever said your dearest bard is only a drunken liability?" She sheathed her rapier and flicked the sheen of sweat from her forehead with a snap of her wrist, sighing contentedly as she proceeded to get some food, the aroma of Nawen's meal enticing enough to draw her; when Tenebris approached her, she cocked her head and offered him a coy smile "I like to live my life dangerously Tenebris, where's the fun if there is no risk of being physically ravaged?"