Celeste jumped, almost imperceptibly, at the wraiths opening before her--then cleared her throat, for lack of something better to do. Scratch that: something better to do that was not faint, burst into tears, or jump into the river, swim out to midstream, and attempt to hug a possible newborn demigod while treading water.
She chose her words carefully. But they were sincere--and not afraid, not so much as you might think. Celeste was not-quite-crying, at the moment, but she was also not-quite-smiling.
"I am afraid...that you find me at rather a disadvantage, M. Boucher. We have spoken of decorum, these past months--and, as you are no doubt aware, I am a maiden well-stocked with pleasantries! A person of meager talent elsewhere, certainly... But, if naught else, I am somewhat confident in my abilities to address a porter, or professor, or Marchioness--in a manner that is respectful, befitting the situation, and tailored to engender pleasant feelings in the recipient."
Celeste took out her ninth backup handkerchief; dabbed at her cheek. "...But in our present circumstances, M. Boucher..."
She not-quite-smiled, and it was a little sad, but a little wider. "Well... I suppose it is enough for me to ask: 'Are you well, M. Boucher?' ...And for me to fervently hope that your answer is in the affirmative."
The Shattered City: Chapter Four
-
NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
2 Days, 23 Hours, 19 Minutes
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
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He reached up and plucked the cigarette from his lips, watching it crumble in in his fingers. All in an instant, it had turned to ash.
"Marvelous," Thierri whispered, a malefic smile slashed across his face. He blew out a smoky breath. "Marvelous..."
"Did I." The magician's voice was devoid of emotion. "I will not be seeing him again, then."
"Is that what you believe, Eisenwald? The noble, misunderstood hero saved everyone, though he lost his own life?" he asked, before his mood suddenly turned black. For an instant, the look on Thierri's face stopped Tomas' heart cold."Here is your hero, my White Knight. A monster masquerading as a man, a lunatic that revels in death. I paid the price, my mask is shattered. This is my true self. My actions, my words, nothing could cover up my black soul. You knew it as well as I did. The curtain has fallen on Thierri Boucher, and the stage demands its villain. And here you are, my White Knight, just as I asked, come to vanquish me."
"Mademoiselle..." Thierri murmured.
"I am Thanatos," Thierri stated, his too-bright eyes pulsing with power.
The magician dropped into a deep bow, intoning his words of welcome, like the Master of Ceremonies at the grandest of balls:
Along with their movements came a twisted, disturbing tune; xylophones like rattling bones, violins like knives across your nerves. Music flowed out of the air, coming from nowhere, and yet everywhere at once. The drums were your hearts beating in your ears, the piano danced across your mind. Spectral music for spectral dancers, all to present accompaniment for this dreadful revelry.
And revel they did, twisting and twining about you. It was raw, untamed dancing, borne by those who had little left to dance with, and yet it seemed alive. Modesty and elegance meant nothing to the dead, and they turned and flew with emotion. Vibrant and rich, bloody and burning music, it was neither a waltz, nor a tango, nor one of the mountainous folk-dances of Barovia, though it had elements of all three within its spectral strains. It was a passionate music. It was a dance meant to be danced, a music that got in your bones, with a siren call nigh impossible to resist. The wraiths drew closer and closer, circling you all, calling you to them.
"Dance with me, Mademoiselle," he whispered, his voice filled with passion, his eyes filled with flame.
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
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The magician reached out his hands to the side. What erupted from his body was the shadow of a flame. Burning. Black. Hungry. Barely visible, perhaps, only as a heat shimmer in the air, but nevertheless undeniably there. It was something you felt more than saw. This was a flame of death, all-enveloping and all-consuming - the essence of a fire that had burned down and lay waiting, still hot, for a breath of air to touch it. In another second it was gone, dissipated in the air, like a puff of smoke.Kerrian wrote:"I...can't imagine this all felt pleasant when it occurred. Tell me, what does it feel like now?"
He reached up and plucked the cigarette from his lips, watching it crumble in in his fingers. All in an instant, it had turned to ash.
"Marvelous," Thierri whispered, a malefic smile slashed across his face. He blew out a smoky breath. "Marvelous..."
The smile faded from Thierri's face. A finger twitched, and that was all. In his expression there was no sign of anything; no relief, no joy, no anger.Tomas wrote:"Whatever else happened...and to be honest, every time they try to explain the specifics it makes me want to lay my head on a train track...you stopped the plague. Your brother's going to make it."
"Did I." The magician's voice was devoid of emotion. "I will not be seeing him again, then."
- For a time... the ghosts whispered in response.
"Is that what you believe, Eisenwald? The noble, misunderstood hero saved everyone, though he lost his own life?" he asked, before his mood suddenly turned black. For an instant, the look on Thierri's face stopped Tomas' heart cold."Here is your hero, my White Knight. A monster masquerading as a man, a lunatic that revels in death. I paid the price, my mask is shattered. This is my true self. My actions, my words, nothing could cover up my black soul. You knew it as well as I did. The curtain has fallen on Thierri Boucher, and the stage demands its villain. And here you are, my White Knight, just as I asked, come to vanquish me."
- The fallen hero... the wraiths whispered.
There was a long pause before he responded. The wraiths around him seemed to exhale, a long, drawn out sound.Celeste wrote:Celeste took out her ninth backup handkerchief; dabbed at her cheek. "...But in our present circumstances, M. Boucher..."
She not-quite-smiled, and it was a little sad, but a little wider. "Well... I suppose it is enough for me to ask: 'Are you well, M. Boucher?' ...And for me to fervently hope that your answer is in the affirmative."
"Mademoiselle..." Thierri murmured.
- Celeste... the wraiths breathed.
Thierri reached out, his hand caressing one of the wraiths. They twirled in reply, sinuously twining around his arms. You could see them better now, when you knew what to look for, moving like eels. You could see them circling in and out of Thierri's body, the translucent spectres curling around him like a snake.Lia wrote:"Or do you prefer 'Death' now? Do you mind us asking a few things, or are you terribly busy with... something?"
"I am Thanatos," Thierri stated, his too-bright eyes pulsing with power.
- I am Death, the wraiths echoed, the whisper rippling out through the entire ghostly cloud.
The magician dropped into a deep bow, intoning his words of welcome, like the Master of Ceremonies at the grandest of balls:
- "You who are living, I’d like to invite
you all to our dance, on this glorious night.
Beneath the glowing midnight moon
come dance to my macabre tune."
Along with their movements came a twisted, disturbing tune; xylophones like rattling bones, violins like knives across your nerves. Music flowed out of the air, coming from nowhere, and yet everywhere at once. The drums were your hearts beating in your ears, the piano danced across your mind. Spectral music for spectral dancers, all to present accompaniment for this dreadful revelry.
And revel they did, twisting and twining about you. It was raw, untamed dancing, borne by those who had little left to dance with, and yet it seemed alive. Modesty and elegance meant nothing to the dead, and they turned and flew with emotion. Vibrant and rich, bloody and burning music, it was neither a waltz, nor a tango, nor one of the mountainous folk-dances of Barovia, though it had elements of all three within its spectral strains. It was a passionate music. It was a dance meant to be danced, a music that got in your bones, with a siren call nigh impossible to resist. The wraiths drew closer and closer, circling you all, calling you to them.
- Now we take you by the hand
for all must follow Death’s command
Though you may struggle and defend
yourselves, Death takes all in the end.
"Dance with me, Mademoiselle," he whispered, his voice filled with passion, his eyes filled with flame.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
-
Rock of the Fraternity
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 6801
- Joined: Wed Nov 21, 2007 1:16 pm
"We dance and we dance now
we dance and twirl about
the dance comes to an end
of that there is no doubt."
Lia keeps her eyes fixed on the creature she first knew as Thierri Boucher, even if she must stand on her toes to see him past Tomas' shoulder.
"How sad we must seem
in eyes of the bleak cabal
when all our dancing must lead
inexorably to a fall
Yet sorrow not
be not upset
for while Death reigns final
Life has the last laugh yet
All grey eternity
in Death's stone embrace
gains meaning only
in the radiance
of Life's own face."
Lia is clearly not an opera singer herself, despite her time presenting a piece, but her voice is strong enough.
"Death dances yes
we see it is true
but if Life did not dance first
Death knew not what to do
Death is the quiet time
after Life's frenzy, a rest
yet stood one alone
how would it stand the test
Life unending is an agony
Death unending, a shame
it behooves neither on then
to try and upset the game
They dance and they dance, then
one hand in one hand
in one hand again
but never stop dancing
for fear the whole dance would end
Fear ye not the Reaper
who collects in good time
fear only the unholy
who would cut down us in our prime
Fear ye not the Weaver
though sorrow is her loom
fear ye not the Weaver
unless past abomination weaves her spool."
"Whereaway will you dance with her, Thanatos?" the Mage asks. "Will you dance her through a few steps in her life, or past her span into her death?
And if I may ask one more question: Who slew your predecessor?" The question echoes weirdly across the water.
we dance and twirl about
the dance comes to an end
of that there is no doubt."
Lia keeps her eyes fixed on the creature she first knew as Thierri Boucher, even if she must stand on her toes to see him past Tomas' shoulder.
"How sad we must seem
in eyes of the bleak cabal
when all our dancing must lead
inexorably to a fall
Yet sorrow not
be not upset
for while Death reigns final
Life has the last laugh yet
All grey eternity
in Death's stone embrace
gains meaning only
in the radiance
of Life's own face."
Lia is clearly not an opera singer herself, despite her time presenting a piece, but her voice is strong enough.
"Death dances yes
we see it is true
but if Life did not dance first
Death knew not what to do
Death is the quiet time
after Life's frenzy, a rest
yet stood one alone
how would it stand the test
Life unending is an agony
Death unending, a shame
it behooves neither on then
to try and upset the game
They dance and they dance, then
one hand in one hand
in one hand again
but never stop dancing
for fear the whole dance would end
Fear ye not the Reaper
who collects in good time
fear only the unholy
who would cut down us in our prime
Fear ye not the Weaver
though sorrow is her loom
fear ye not the Weaver
unless past abomination weaves her spool."
"Whereaway will you dance with her, Thanatos?" the Mage asks. "Will you dance her through a few steps in her life, or past her span into her death?
And if I may ask one more question: Who slew your predecessor?" The question echoes weirdly across the water.
"I wanted to be sure." Tomas explains to Sister Nerit, not trusting the strange wraith in front of him enough to take his eyes off of it. "Before I spoke about it. And some of the things I spoke with Herr Boucher about were private."She rubbed her forehead, disconsolate despite the Lamordian's words. "Tomas. You did not say before. This is...good news."
"..." Tomas had dealt with the possibility that a ghost had forced Thierri into the veil by...well, frankly, by ignoring it. His honest hope was by having his conversation with Thierri's father, he would have tied up the most obvious reason for the magician to leave a ghost."Did I." The magician's voice was devoid of emotion. "I will not be seeing him again, then."
"...are you saying something else happened?" Tomas plays dumb, fighting back his urge to force Lia to be quiet, and the other urge to start killing things. "I'm not a wizard, Thierri. You'd need to explain it to me."
Tomas holds his shield hand across his stomach, ignoring the weird magnetic feel inside of his stitches. Just a phantom pain, Eisenwald insists to himself. "Stop egging him on." Tomas snapped, looking at the chorus of mist. "...Thierri, do you know what you're doing? What is going to happen in a few days, if you keep this up?"The magician dropped into a deep bow, intoning his words of welcome, like the Master of Ceremonies at the grandest of balls:
"Is there anything keeping us from checking that place out tonight?" Besides sanity, naturally.
"Hell" Nicolas mutters, raising the silver flask to his lips and taking a long gulp of the brandy to steady his nerves and dispell the sense of insanity from the spectacle confronting him.
"I do hate to be the one to throw a spanner in the works, but I must confess I fear despite your new vitallity challenged position, something is still rotten in the state of Dementlieu mon ami. Something that happened that mad night has still not been properly addressed, something that feels like an emptiness, a part of me absent."
"Still its a relief not to have plague anymore, so thanks are in order" He raises the flask in a toast. "But I, like Senor Eisenwald, would certainly benefit from a layman's explanation of what the bloody hell is going on."
Diplomacy: 30 with words of friendship to get Thierri talking and the ghosties not biting.
That snaps him back to reality. Clearing his throat he takes a step forward, closer to Tomas, close enough to attempt to restrain the Lamordian should passions overflow (or at least vainly attempt to restrain)clears his throat and addresses Thierri.Tomas wrote:"...Thierri, do you know what you're doing? What is going to happen in a few days, if you keep this up?"
"I do hate to be the one to throw a spanner in the works, but I must confess I fear despite your new vitallity challenged position, something is still rotten in the state of Dementlieu mon ami. Something that happened that mad night has still not been properly addressed, something that feels like an emptiness, a part of me absent."
"Still its a relief not to have plague anymore, so thanks are in order" He raises the flask in a toast. "But I, like Senor Eisenwald, would certainly benefit from a layman's explanation of what the bloody hell is going on."
Diplomacy: 30 with words of friendship to get Thierri talking and the ghosties not biting.
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
-
Nerit
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 637
- Joined: Sat Aug 15, 2009 12:22 am
- Location: The Eternal Autumn
- Contact:
Nerit's brows shot up in surprise. No, she had not expected this. Her eyes snapped to Lia. Slain? Hadn't they all done the deed?
She stared up at the dancing spirits, her mouth hanging open. She spoke some time after Lia.
"Gib deine Hand, du schön und zart Gebild!
Bin Freund, und komme nicht, zu strafen.
Sei gutes Muts! ich bin nicht wild,
Sollst sanft in meinen Armen schlafen!"
Tomas certainly understood it. The snippet of Lamordian poetry was strange to hear from a non-native speaker, but then, everyone had their pleasure reading.
Nerit looked back to Thierri. "Monsieur Mort," she said, apparently favoring whatever it was he wanted to be called contrary to her plea to Lia, "I am afraid this wonderment will pass. I know you are not a fighter, Monsieur," a flicker of amusement skidded over her lips, implying the unsaid internationally known last words I'm a lover, not a fighter. "But here we can't stop. It is not over, but it will be, in three day's time, at midnight, if we do nothing." She gestured to the half-elf Thierri had never seen before.
Diplomacy: 16. Fudge. I liked the other roller, but it's down right now.
She stared up at the dancing spirits, her mouth hanging open. She spoke some time after Lia.
"Gib deine Hand, du schön und zart Gebild!
Bin Freund, und komme nicht, zu strafen.
Sei gutes Muts! ich bin nicht wild,
Sollst sanft in meinen Armen schlafen!"
Tomas certainly understood it. The snippet of Lamordian poetry was strange to hear from a non-native speaker, but then, everyone had their pleasure reading.
Nerit looked back to Thierri. "Monsieur Mort," she said, apparently favoring whatever it was he wanted to be called contrary to her plea to Lia, "I am afraid this wonderment will pass. I know you are not a fighter, Monsieur," a flicker of amusement skidded over her lips, implying the unsaid internationally known last words I'm a lover, not a fighter. "But here we can't stop. It is not over, but it will be, in three day's time, at midnight, if we do nothing." She gestured to the half-elf Thierri had never seen before.
Diplomacy: 16. Fudge. I liked the other roller, but it's down right now.
-
yalenusveler
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 1266
- Joined: Thu Nov 29, 2007 10:44 pm
- Location: Pennsylvania...or Baator
-
The Whistler
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 1454
- Joined: Thu Jun 07, 2007 7:38 pm
- Location: Southshore
Celeste paused, for a moment, then looked up to meet Thierri's eyes. She spoke slowly.M. Boucher wrote:"Dance with me, Mademoiselle," he whispered, his voice filled with passion, his eyes filled with flame.
"You speak of villainy, monsieur, and of a blackened soul laid bare...ah, but we have tread this philosophical ground before, dear Sir. I recall several most enlightening conversations, to such an effect. And...I am profoundly disappointed to report that...even now, upon this night!... ...You utterly fail to convince."
Celeste smiled, and curtseyed, and accepted an outstretched hand. "I have said it before, and I shall say it again: I have never been one to judge a friend upon his professional capacity. M. Boucher: you may have this dance."
Slow, deliberate clapping heralded the tardy lawyer's arrival at ground level. Not wishing to further risk life or limb, he had taken a safer if more circuitous route through the tenement. "Good show Mr. Boucher, good show. You certainly seem to be moving forward in the world. I congratulate you on your new found status." While his outward demeanor was congenial, the Borcan's eyes betrayed an inner envy towards the being calling itself Thanatos.
Rules. There are always rules when dealing with imps. Chastel did not unleash hell upon a whim. There must have been something keeping her in check.
"Quite the display" He continued unabated, gesturing to the orbiting spectral mass. "A little on the gratuitous side, but then again, you are the showman. By all accounts, your predecessor preferred a more low key presence." The Borcan's cheerful lilt then sobered considerably. "Not that that seemed to help her in the end mind you. Be careful Mr. Boucher, you may be mighty, but whomever was able to strike Miss Chastel down is still out there." In earnest honesty he said.
Rules. There are always rules when dealing with imps. Chastel did not unleash hell upon a whim. There must have been something keeping her in check.
"Quite the display" He continued unabated, gesturing to the orbiting spectral mass. "A little on the gratuitous side, but then again, you are the showman. By all accounts, your predecessor preferred a more low key presence." The Borcan's cheerful lilt then sobered considerably. "Not that that seemed to help her in the end mind you. Be careful Mr. Boucher, you may be mighty, but whomever was able to strike Miss Chastel down is still out there." In earnest honesty he said.
"In normal times, evil would be fought by good. But in times like these, it must be fought by a different kind of evil."
-
Nathan of the FoS
- Fiendish Enforcer
- Posts: 5247
- Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 3:39 pm
- Location: San Francisco CA
As if to echo the lawyer's warning, Mercator murmurs a few lines as if reciting:
"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so..."
And then, to Celeste, "Mademoiselle...you know him better than any, but I beg of you, oblige him to come to you. Do not, on your life and his, go to him."
"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so..."
And then, to Celeste, "Mademoiselle...you know him better than any, but I beg of you, oblige him to come to you. Do not, on your life and his, go to him."
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
-
NeoTiamat
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 4119
- Joined: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:00 pm
- Gender: Male
- Location: Boston, Massachusetts, USA
2 Days, 23 Hours, 15 Minutes
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
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Check the OOC Thread for the details of the Skill Challenge.
The wraiths flew around Professor Mourneswaithe, curving through the air in a mockery of a dance. Grimmric clung desperately to her hair and chittered in distress, as the ghosts began to whisper in time with the haunting tune.
The wraiths continued to hiss as they wrapped around Tomas, tauntingly swirling and caressing his bared arms. Above the tense, nerve wracking sound, you could hear other specters whisper.
"Who can be certain of anything but what they see before them? Who can be certain of even that? Death is no Oracle, monsieur, even then, I am not quite there. Not yet." Thierri paused for a moment, clutching his fingers, pulsing again with black power. "Soon, the spirits and I shall be one. Death shall ascend, and the emptiness within this country shall be healed. Surely you must desire this?"
"I know not what the past or future holds - only that tonight, I dance." The young man darkly beckoned to the poet. "Come, join us."
The brandy in Nicolas' hands turned colder than ice, as the specters twirled around and through it. Their whispering rang heavily in his ears.
The twisted wraiths whispered mockingly around her.
"Everything dies," Thierri said.
The wraiths swirled around the lawyer, circling close, not quite touching.
His fingers curled around hers, and she could feel the heat on her skin, like a furnace. His skin, grey as ashes, belied the flame beneath. Steam seemed to rise from where he touched her bare skin, but she felt no pain, only the intense fire, spreading through her arms in defiance of the chill night. He held her close, too close for a waltz, too close for propriety; he danced no dance of Dementlieu, instead a passionate, untamed tango. It was a thrilling, dangerous dance, his feet an inch above the ground, Celeste's perhaps as well, a dance that gave the feeling of falling or flying. She could feel him, his strong arms guiding her, the heat from his breath on her neck, his heart beating within his chest.
On the River-Front, Quartier Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine, Midnight on April 22nd, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check the OOC Thread for the details of the Skill Challenge.
"The person who killed her would know more than I," Thierri suggested with a nonchalant shrug. "We all dance with death in our lives, do we not? And none can know when or where the dance will stop. Come, madame professeur, join us."Lia wrote:"Whereaway will you dance with her, Thanatos?" the Mage asks. "Will you dance her through a few steps in her life, or past her span into her death?
And if I may ask one more question: Who slew your predecessor?" The question echoes weirdly across the water.
The wraiths flew around Professor Mourneswaithe, curving through the air in a mockery of a dance. Grimmric clung desperately to her hair and chittered in distress, as the ghosts began to whisper in time with the haunting tune.
- The skillful magus must concede
that though her power is great indeed
the magic that you so revere
does nothing that can help you here.
For an instant, Thierri's expression turned black and ugly. "A mage is not required to comprehend evil."Tomas wrote:"...are you saying something else happened?" Tomas plays dumb, fighting back his urge to force Lia to be quiet, and the other urge to start killing things. "I'm not a wizard, Thierri. You'd need to explain it to me."
"Yes..." Thierri turned turned to Eisenwald with a malefic, seductive smile. "I will die."Tomas wrote:"...Thierri, do you know what you're doing? What is going to happen in a few days, if you keep this up?"
- We will ascend... the wraiths whispered in return.
The wraiths continued to hiss as they wrapped around Tomas, tauntingly swirling and caressing his bared arms. Above the tense, nerve wracking sound, you could hear other specters whisper.
- I’ve served you well in every fight,
but Death claims every valiant knight.
Your courage shall not make it yield
beneath your metal sword and shield.
Thierri returned the toast with a flask of his own, produced with a flourish, seemingly out of the ether. He didn't drink, simply raising the flask up high. It bore a striking resemblance to the flask Nicolas used to have, before it had gone missing in Troischamps.Nicolas wrote:"Still its a relief not to have plague anymore, so thanks are in order" He raises the flask in a toast. "But I, like Senor Eisenwald, would certainly benefit from a layman's explanation of what the bloody hell is going on."
"Who can be certain of anything but what they see before them? Who can be certain of even that? Death is no Oracle, monsieur, even then, I am not quite there. Not yet." Thierri paused for a moment, clutching his fingers, pulsing again with black power. "Soon, the spirits and I shall be one. Death shall ascend, and the emptiness within this country shall be healed. Surely you must desire this?"
"I know not what the past or future holds - only that tonight, I dance." The young man darkly beckoned to the poet. "Come, join us."
The brandy in Nicolas' hands turned colder than ice, as the specters twirled around and through it. Their whispering rang heavily in his ears.
- We judge no one by creed or class
so come now, brother, raise your glass.
Among us all are truly free;
Long live Death and equality!
"All things must end," Thierri grimly agreed. "And so I must revel while I can, bon soeur. There is no heaven for me to be virtuous for, no hell for me to fear. There is only now, and oblivion."Nerit wrote:"I am afraid this wonderment will pass. I know you are not a fighter, Monsieur, but here we can't stop. It is not over, but it will be, in three day's time, at midnight, if we do nothing."
The twisted wraiths whispered mockingly around her.
- Pious nun, who does adhere
to Ezra’s word, you’ve naught to fear.
Come dance, and if your faith is true
Your Lady shall await for you.
"You speak of me like a government office," Thierri replied, with some amusement. "Death is. You understand that."Kerrian wrote:"So..does your new office come with some sort of badge besides well, the obvious?" Kerrian asked, gesturing towards the swirling cloud of rather talkative wraiths. "Or is it just know you by the swirling cloud of ghosts?"
- A healer who has any skill
knows that which saves can also kill
The laws of nature doth decree
that everything must come to me, the wraiths whispered.
At this the magician stopped his theatrics, his grand gestures. Any trace of emotion vanished from his face. There was only the feeling of fire, burned down into blackness, waiting for someone to dare to touch it. The wraiths began to hiss.Agale wrote:"Be careful Mr. Boucher, you may be mighty, but whomever was able to strike Miss Chastel down is still out there."
"Everything dies," Thierri said.
- And in death becomes stronger, the wraiths echoed.
- Justice failed us, the wraiths whispered. Mercy failed us.
The wraiths swirled around the lawyer, circling close, not quite touching.
- Quote your books and twist the word
and I shall take you undeterred.
The one law no one can defy
is you are mortal and must die.
"What cruel fortune, mademoiselle, what evil fate," Thierri whispered, as he pulled her close. "That I should only be believed when I lie to you. As you wish, Celeste, I'll play that man, just one night longer. You shall have my final performance."Celeste wrote:"You speak of villainy, monsieur, and of a blackened soul laid bare...ah, but we have tread this philosophical ground before, dear Sir. I recall several most enlightening conversations, to such an effect. And...I am profoundly disappointed to report that...even now, upon this night!... ...You utterly fail to convince."
Celeste smiled, and curtseyed, and accepted an outstretched hand. "I have said it before, and I shall say it again: I have never been one to judge a friend upon his professional capacity. M. Boucher: you may have this dance."
His fingers curled around hers, and she could feel the heat on her skin, like a furnace. His skin, grey as ashes, belied the flame beneath. Steam seemed to rise from where he touched her bare skin, but she felt no pain, only the intense fire, spreading through her arms in defiance of the chill night. He held her close, too close for a waltz, too close for propriety; he danced no dance of Dementlieu, instead a passionate, untamed tango. It was a thrilling, dangerous dance, his feet an inch above the ground, Celeste's perhaps as well, a dance that gave the feeling of falling or flying. She could feel him, his strong arms guiding her, the heat from his breath on her neck, his heart beating within his chest.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Kaitou Kage
- Evil Genius
- Posts: 2115
- Joined: Thu Nov 29, 2007 11:53 am
- Location: Here and there
- Contact:
Rex, despite any mistakes he made in his past, was no fool.
Then again, perhaps he was. His rational mind told him if he really expected to survive unscathed he'd better pack up and go back to Mordent or head somewhere else, like Borca or even distant Sri Raji as quickly as possible. After all, he had no business getting mixed up in everything these other people got themselves into. The less-rational part of his mind asked the rational part where the fun in that would be. The two parts had an argument and at the end the spat, the rational mind stormed out, threatening to leave forever and never pay child support.
So it was that Rex and his recently-separated less-rational mind slunk out of his niche and into the spectral crowd, quietly moving ever closer to Thierri and his book.
Stealth 25
Then again, perhaps he was. His rational mind told him if he really expected to survive unscathed he'd better pack up and go back to Mordent or head somewhere else, like Borca or even distant Sri Raji as quickly as possible. After all, he had no business getting mixed up in everything these other people got themselves into. The less-rational part of his mind asked the rational part where the fun in that would be. The two parts had an argument and at the end the spat, the rational mind stormed out, threatening to leave forever and never pay child support.
So it was that Rex and his recently-separated less-rational mind slunk out of his niche and into the spectral crowd, quietly moving ever closer to Thierri and his book.
Stealth 25
Nicolas shrugs, and inexplicably downs the flask. "I accepted the path of self-destruction many moons ago my friend, I do not need your instruction to follow its twisting road" he says wiping his mouth. "Although like that slightly dishevelled uncle who always makes a spectacle at the wedding reception, I fear I have imbibed past the point of having an ability to move my feet in anything but a slightly wavy line."
Saying so he reaches out for support and tightens a very unenebriated grip on Tomas' arm , a grip that says don't do anything headstrong.
"Still despite my failings I am afraid I am disinclined to accept your offer. The eloquence of death is persuasive to be sure, and I do indeed wish to be whole again, but where is the passion, the vigour, the excitment? Death is enticing as a metaphor, yet I have no desire for the reality, at least not yet, not whilst this pale shadow of existance offers at least a tinge of colour. I prefer to take my chance on any future mon ami, afterall what is the worst that can happen? I end up scribing my name in your little black book of damnation?" Nicolas shrugs in (very well feighned) nonchalance.
"If thats the eternal consequence, I see little need to embrace it permaturely, unless of course the brandy in the afterlife is better than the rotgut passing around the salons of this fair city at the moment? If thats the case, I'll sign my soul over right now."
OOC: Diplomacy 25
Saying so he reaches out for support and tightens a very unenebriated grip on Tomas' arm , a grip that says don't do anything headstrong.
"Still despite my failings I am afraid I am disinclined to accept your offer. The eloquence of death is persuasive to be sure, and I do indeed wish to be whole again, but where is the passion, the vigour, the excitment? Death is enticing as a metaphor, yet I have no desire for the reality, at least not yet, not whilst this pale shadow of existance offers at least a tinge of colour. I prefer to take my chance on any future mon ami, afterall what is the worst that can happen? I end up scribing my name in your little black book of damnation?" Nicolas shrugs in (very well feighned) nonchalance.
"If thats the eternal consequence, I see little need to embrace it permaturely, unless of course the brandy in the afterlife is better than the rotgut passing around the salons of this fair city at the moment? If thats the case, I'll sign my soul over right now."
OOC: Diplomacy 25
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
"I'm not asking for you to bow." Tomas says, heatedly, subconsciously moving to avoid the dancing Wraiths as much as possible. "I just want to talk. Look."
Tomas stabs Ivorsen into the ground. "I attacked last time because the last two occasions we tried to talk with Poincare or her minions, she used it to her advantage. She was about to do so again. If you need someone to blame for your death, fine, blame my poor communication skills."
Eisenwald's step forward is halted by Nicolas's words. Recalling what he knows of the wants of the dead, Eisenwald(ducking around a specter) tries to further the bard's point. "How is more horror helping? If the spirits of the dead are restless, does abusing the living really make anything better? What you are doing, Thierri, is going to carve out another Necropolis."
"I've spoken to people who've survived a trip into the Necropolis. By and large its spoken of as another word for hell." Tomas continues, "One mad spirit dominates a city of suffering dead who, bereaved of the passions of the living to feed on, maul each other in hopes of recreating that passion. The living dead starve in the streets, Thierri. I tell you, Boucher, you and your followers do not know what you are asking for!"
"If you claim to be king of the dead in this country, fine." Tomas concedes, as though his opinion was of some consequence to the universe. "That doesn't mean you have to be a monster, and that sure as perdition means you should think a little about what's best for your people."
(Secondary Roll: Religion 26: Giving myself a +4 to diplomacy.
Primary Roll: Diplomacy: 13+13+4+1: 31. Giving my success to support Nick's argument if I do succeed.)
Tomas stabs Ivorsen into the ground. "I attacked last time because the last two occasions we tried to talk with Poincare or her minions, she used it to her advantage. She was about to do so again. If you need someone to blame for your death, fine, blame my poor communication skills."
Eisenwald's step forward is halted by Nicolas's words. Recalling what he knows of the wants of the dead, Eisenwald(ducking around a specter) tries to further the bard's point. "How is more horror helping? If the spirits of the dead are restless, does abusing the living really make anything better? What you are doing, Thierri, is going to carve out another Necropolis."
"I've spoken to people who've survived a trip into the Necropolis. By and large its spoken of as another word for hell." Tomas continues, "One mad spirit dominates a city of suffering dead who, bereaved of the passions of the living to feed on, maul each other in hopes of recreating that passion. The living dead starve in the streets, Thierri. I tell you, Boucher, you and your followers do not know what you are asking for!"
"If you claim to be king of the dead in this country, fine." Tomas concedes, as though his opinion was of some consequence to the universe. "That doesn't mean you have to be a monster, and that sure as perdition means you should think a little about what's best for your people."
(Secondary Roll: Religion 26: Giving myself a +4 to diplomacy.
Primary Roll: Diplomacy: 13+13+4+1: 31. Giving my success to support Nick's argument if I do succeed.)
"Is there anything keeping us from checking that place out tonight?" Besides sanity, naturally.
So it has limits. For all this poor creature's power, it is still essentially limited by the knowledge and motivations of Mr. Boucher. Miss Viardot seems to be the key, hopefully the young lady is cognizant of what she must now do.
"You perhaps have arrived at conclusions prematurely Mr. Eisenwald. Despite the ghoulish cavorters, I think we've nothing to fear from the dance itself. In my home country, the 'Danse Macabre' is sometimes considered a welcome alternative to the venue of one's ordinary meeting with death." You get the impression that he left an important fact out, not out of deceit, but because the being wearing Thierri's face was within earshot as well. He placed a warding hand on Tomas's shoulder "Now then, manners would dictate we allow them this dance unimpeded."
While certainly no troubadour, Mr. Agale's baritone was able to hum out a respectable refrain for the tango in progress.
Diplomacy 29 towards Celeste's total
"You perhaps have arrived at conclusions prematurely Mr. Eisenwald. Despite the ghoulish cavorters, I think we've nothing to fear from the dance itself. In my home country, the 'Danse Macabre' is sometimes considered a welcome alternative to the venue of one's ordinary meeting with death." You get the impression that he left an important fact out, not out of deceit, but because the being wearing Thierri's face was within earshot as well. He placed a warding hand on Tomas's shoulder "Now then, manners would dictate we allow them this dance unimpeded."
While certainly no troubadour, Mr. Agale's baritone was able to hum out a respectable refrain for the tango in progress.
Diplomacy 29 towards Celeste's total
"In normal times, evil would be fought by good. But in times like these, it must be fought by a different kind of evil."