Demons and Fey talk

Critias strides up the path towards the peak with a purpose. Or possibly more than one purpose. He certainly seems to be on his way to something, judging by the way he eyes the walkways and sniffs at the air a bit, occasionally turning and backtracking if he gets off of the trail. But he also lets himself pause occasionally when the view or the surroundings get particularly interesting, sparing himself a few moments to take in the sights before proceeding on. But it's not long before his destination becomes clear. "Hello?" he calls from outside of Simony's cell. "It's me, Critias!"

There is a noise of surprise from within, followed by a hurried shuffling, and then the door opens. The Goblin is decked out in linens, with a painter's smock thrown over. Her face has three colours of paint drops on it, and several lines of paint run from the top of the smock to the bottom. Everything in her room has been moved to the right side, a bed, desk, nightstand and a few chairs all jammed in close together. The open floor is covered in brown paper, with a small step ladder in the middle. The ceiling above has the beginning of a landscape, the Spire in the foreground, with the mountains in the background. Red and gold hues shine from behind the mountains, reflecting the setting sun. The mountains themselves have been outlined, but not painted fully.

"Oh. Uhm, hello Critias!" The Goblin offers a bow at the waist. "I was ... indulging in a little bit of painting. What brings you by?"

Outside, there are some who think 'hiking' is something for other people. A dot in the sky that gradually resolves into that of a flying figure, shimmering wings of force jutting around him as Telamon glides downward. Dressed in a simple linen tunic over wool trousers with boots, the half-elven sorcerer descends downward, keeping to propriety by landing outside the monastery's gates.

His eyes sweep over the construction, before Telamon turns to greet the doorkeeper. "Here to see Temperance Simony, please. Tell her Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon wishes to call on her."

Critias gives a start at Simony's bow. He does his best to return the gesture. But his is an awkward combination of bending at the waist, then doing so again with hands clasped before him, before straightening up and bobbing his head a few times to incline it. All of them are probably valid forms of bowing among various cultures and peoples but surely no one uses them all. And when Critias tries to use them together, and all at once...the best word might be fumbling. He has the self-awareness to smile ruefully, and then at Telamon's voice, Critias turns to look before turning back. "Next time I'll announce myself properly," he assures Simony with another smile.

The doorkeeper nods, and presently an acolyte arrives. After a few quiet words with the doorkeeper, the acolyte gestures for Telamon to follow "This way, my Lord Lupecyll-Atlon."

Simony smiles brightly, shaking her head lightly. "It's alright, just as likely you'd have found me neck deep in books, or off roaming the city. It's no trouble." She gestures for Critias to enter, leaving the door open while she moves a chair out for him to sit. "Don't mind the paint spots on the floor, hmm? So what brings you here?"

Telamon cheerfully follows the acolyte down the hall, letting the fellow lead on. As they approach Simony's cell, Telamon tilts his head at the sound of voices, slowing his pace so he can peek in. Then he coughs politely, to interrupt. "Is this a private meeting, or can anyone wander in?"

His dark eyes sparkle, as his gaze sweeps over the room, and its inhabitants, then up to the ceiling. His eyebrows raise in surprise. "A ceiling mural? Ambitious. Looks good so far, though."

Critias steps in and takes a seat on the chair. He shifts a bit to get comfortable. Then he finally ends perched a bit forward on the chair, keeping his own back straight and occasionally putting a hand on his knee or thigh rather than using the chair itself for support. Like he would sitting on a log around a campfire perhaps. "It's not a meeting yet," Critias replies, adding a cheerful smile for extra sincerity. "But you are indeed welcome to join us. Telamon, right?" Critias nods his head in the direction of the entrance. "I heard you announcing yourself," he adds by way of explanation. "I was looking for leads on the demon cult. Or cults." He hesitates and then adds. "I'm afraid I don't know the whole story."

The Goblin gives a start, and goes to the door again, offering Telamon a bow as well. "Please, come in!" Smiling, she goes back to the pile of furniture and belongings, retrieving the other chair, which she sets next to Critias, for Telamon.

Once the Half-Elf is inside, she shuts the door. "Demons, then?", she wonders of Critias. "What I know, I have learned from this gentleman, Lord Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. And this is Critias, Tel." She rubs her chin, and hmms. "Would you excuse me for a few moments? I'll change out of this into something more appropriate." From the same pile of furniture and belongings, the Goblin pulls a folding screen, which she sets up behind the chairs. "I'll be just a moment. But... What about the cults, Critias?"

Telamon bows with a polished grace, offering Critias a genial smile. "Indeed, I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. I'm still a bit puzzled by the 'Lord' appellation, but I have more serious things to do than worry about it." His brows come together at the mention of demons and cults, and he sits down.

"Indeed. So... from what I have gathered, there are at least two cults that have been operating in Alexandros, and in some cases beyond it. They do cooperate to some extent, I believe, but they are not allied." His lips quirk. "There are, of course, other minor cults, but these two are the most serious."

"I've been trying to track the cultists," Critias begins, his tone quickly turning to one of musing. "It's never easy to trail such groups, and that's only the beginning. To gather enough evidence to be sure enough to act takes time and patience as well." He ticks off a few facts, unconsciously extending a finger for each. "We know at least one cult is in contact with Andelena's mother, but she lives in a different land and there must be some sort of magical communicaton - or travel - involved. And there have of course been sightings and encounters with the outsiders, whether devils or demons. But they also are difficult to track. Which leaves the cultists here in this city, or nearby. I've visited a few of the scenes of encounters with them, but there weren't enough clues to backtrack where the cultists had come from."

"It could be your prominence in the city that has earned you the moniker.", Simony says with a chuckle. "Or the very nice house you own. Or the fact that the two of you are powerful sorcerers on your own, and more so together as a couple. Things that make people not wish to draw your ire."

There's a clank of something metallic being dropped, followed shortly after by a few clinks of metal,

"Yes, they have been fairly good at hiding their comings and goings. The city's ward at least forces them to leave the city, which there are only so many means to do so. If I were to hazard a guess, the city's sewage system is providing them an easy means, perhaps to the river and a waiting boat?"

"I've got a few things to tell you, Tel, about a recent fey encounter, but I'll let Critias have his time first, yes?"

"Probably a good idea to let everyone get their stories out there so we can look them over, see if there are any pieces that fit together." Telamon replies. "As I understand it, many fiends can teleport, either themselves or others. So traversing the distance between here and Selentia is less of an issue." He scowls at the memory. "We encountered Andelena's mother. First time I've ever seen a woman wear makeup to look -older-, not younger. Pretty sure what her price was for aiding the cult."

"The sewers, sadly, are definitely a weak spot. The denizens there are either too weak, or too easily fooled, to realize what's going past. I had a conversation with a sewer worker who told me the otyughs know not to attack the workers -- but they can't tell the difference between a thief, a sewer worker, or a disguised fiend."

At Simony's remark, his eyebrows rise. "Oh? And -- wait, were you with Leirune and Harkashan?"

Critias wrinkles his forehead as his eyebrows go up. "Sewers? That's ironic. One of the marvels of the city...as hard as that may be to admit...but one of the marvels of the city can be used against it. And brilliant, maybe, if the cult is using them to move about unseen, and untraceable." He frowns. "Although they're not untrackable, not even if they're using sewers." The frown twitches into another smile. "A new lead," Critias says. "Just what I was looking for." Seemingly content, he falls silent for a moment. Then he gestures between Telamon and Simony, "Is this fey encounter a 'private matter'?" he says, recalling Telamon's words from before. "I can leave if you'd like."

"I find it potentially amusing that the wards have not just prevented summoning and conjuring in the city, but that maybe it's been interrupting easy movement into the city. Not sure what goes on right now, but I would offer to those in charge of the city... organize a big group to go down into the sewers and scour every last spot down there. Use bars and such to block of easy passage down there. Check everywhere stuff can come in or go out."

She peeks out from the screen, the paint drops on her face now smeared across her cheek, nose and chin. "I don't think it is, it is information, but there is a tidbit which Tel may wish to know."

The Gobbo disappears again, and after a few more moments, steps out and moves to settle down on the papered floor in front of the two chairs. The paint smears remain, but she is now properly dressed in the robes of her clerical order. "Not just the sewers. They could be disguising themselves as travelers from abroad, or even sailors, and coming in on the ships that come into the harbor. If they use teleportation magics to get close to the city. The wards probably do not extend too far past the harbor or the walls... did they think to ward downwards? To the sewers?

Simony finally nods, then, to Telamon.

"Yes, Rune and Harkashan were there. There were at least two fey there. One a lady who'd disguised herself as a butterfly, whom helped us at the end. We owe her a favour." She leans forward, her voice lowering. "But the other fey? Had Cor'lana's eyes and hair... was named Corpse-Eater."

"That's the problem," Telamon explains. "The ward against summoning and calling works, but the fiends are drawn up outside of the city limits, disguise themselves -- a trivial task for any fiend with enough brains to fill a teacup -- and walk right in. Hells, they love to disguise themselves as lucht, because nobody notices a traveling lucht." He looks sour. "I suggested we impose a ward which prevents polymorph and disguising spells, but I suspect that treads on someone's toes."

Tel winces at the mention of the Corpse-Eater. "They mentioned him. Yes, he's known to Lana and I. He's... a relative of her grandfather. If you find yourself confronted by him, you have a problem -- he is a powerful, and sadistic, fey lord. And his name isn't just for show, either." He tilts his head. "The butterfly... that one I do not know. However, Simony, as much as I caution people against making deals with fey, any deal you made with her is probably preferable to what the Corpse-Eater had planned for you."

Critias nods thoughtfully at the discussion about the ward and its particulars. His expression turns more open and less familiar when the two discuss fey. Then his look turns to one of concern - at Simony, when he hears Telamon's words of caution. It's a look of mild concern. Clearly everyone here knows their business.

"Better that we have to force them to go through the trouble of disguising themselves than having a demon, even a trivial one, appearing in the middle of the city to cause chaos." Simony chuckles, "Well, if you make Mister Fancypants' magically created fashions suddenly vanish like the illusions that they are, yes, you could be stepping on a few toes there."

Her frown is quick and full of teeth. "I did not really wish to make an exchange with the fey, but it was that or attempted to leave the cave with that creature nipping at my heals the whole way." The Gobbo shudders. "Such a creepy face, that mix of features. And I had already guessed that he... had nothing pleasant planned for any of us. Did they tell you of just how we came to be there?"

She glances at Critias, and grins cheekily. "Never a dull moment, hmm? Sometimes I wonder why I dared leave the monastery, or, for that matter, home."

<OOC> Simony says, "FIX: attempt not attempted"

Telamon hmms. "A guild job, as I recall. Sometimes you can find yourself caught up in the schemes of the fey by accident, since they are very much creatures of this world and of Quelynos. Some lean stronger one way or another."

"But yes, a ban on such glamours might infuriate elements of the nobility. They already chafe at some restrictions, but taking away their mistresses' toys might result in unforeseen results. No, I'm afraid we will all need to be vigilant, and watch for those who seem to be acting in ways abnormal to what we know of them. Fiends may be able to duplicate an appearance, but they are not the greatest actors in the world."

Tel nods grimly at Simony's description. "Indeed. The Corpse-Eater delights in mental cruelty, abuse of the soul, before devouring the flesh. Needless to say, he's terrible company and not well liked. Fortunately, he acts on his own, with no cult or allies beyond any poor fool he's bamboozled. I had speculated he might be in league with..." He pauses, then continues, "... a rather vicious necromancer I once encountered. But he's not been seen. There -was- the small matter of my family putting a sizable price on his head..."

Critias raises his eyebrows once more. But he turns back to Simony. "Not only did you leave your monastery," he begins, once again musing, "But you've been to other realms and lands. Something tells me the Historian approves." He stands up, glances at Telamon, nods politely to both. "I'd best be going - to the sewers, and then perhaps a long bath in the river," his lips twitch. "It was a pleasure speaking with you both."

"A guild job that he paid for. He hired the people he intended to eat.", the Goblin says with a huff. "He was working with a couple of uhm things that were invisible. They were annoyed that he was toying with us, taking his time 'hunting' us, while in the meantime we were beating the tar out of them. The butterfly woman covered the last creature in glitter, offered her proposal and we all accepted, poof, we were out of there."

Simony smiles and waves to Critias, "Don't go alone, though, good sir!"

"Ewh... how long does he toy with his prey? Uhm, whom is the vicious necromancer? It might bear some investigation?" She huffs and leans forward. "How do you keep all the balls in the air at the same time, juggling all of these.. plots?"

Telamon raises his hand as well, bidding Critias farewell. Once the other man has left, he does look dubious. "I wish him luck. I suspect the solution is not as simple as barring up the sewer egresses." He settles his arms on his knees, looking at Simony.

"Of course. For him, it was probably like picking up takeout from the nearby Wyvern Wraps cookhouse." Telamon makes a disgusted face. "Remember, fey sensibilities are not ours. Even the Ea-bound fey, who live closer to mortals and have a better understanding of what drives us, can misunderstand or make mistakes." His eyes twinkle. "Coriander, for example, is a very nice lady, but I had to have a couple of long, patient talks with her and her sisters about 'borrowing' farmboys for weeks on end."

At the inquiry about the necromancer, Telamon's face tightens a bit. "His name was -- well, perhaps is -- Karan'taara. He is a half-elven sorcerer, like myself. And he delights in death, and necromancy. He was being held in the Mythwood, but escaped -- I suspect with outside help. But he's not been seen in Alexandros since, and I believe he's fled for somewhere where his head isn't worth its weight in platinum. To say nothing of what my wife and I might offer a person who set Karan'taara's head at our feet."

"Maybe it's not going to be easy, but in the end, not many things are that easy. Not when it comes to demons and cults and the like."

"She sticks an elbow on her knee, and leans her chin on her hand. "Coriander is nice, though. At least, she was to us. And she seems to really care for that boy. Which I suppose should raise suspicions. But when we went there, she was helping the boy's family find him." The Goblin shudders. "I loathe spiders. But, we got the boy back. Coriander is a dryad, isn't she?"

"Karan'taara? Taara, as in the evil goddess, formerly of the Mul'neissa? Seems odd to see a goddess' name tacked on... So one more potential problem waiting out there for the perfect time to strike."

<OOC> Simony says, "FIX: Remove first " in second paragraph above."

The half-sil smiles. "Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, Simony. That's always the case. But it's usually worth the work you put into it." He leans back, tapping his fingertips together. "Well, yes. Coriander is a dryad. But because their forests come up against the Alexandros heartland and its farms, there's always a certain amount of interest in mortal doings. And so long as those mortals aren't causing problems... those fey can be quite reasonable. Even noble, if unusual in their outlook." He snorts. "Though I think some of them are far closer to mortal sensibilities than they realize. But I'm getting off track here."

At Simony's comment, Tel nods brusquely. "You're not the first to notice that. For a non-Mul'neissa -- even a half-sil -- to take that appellation smacks of hubris, or malevolence so profound it might just impress the dark goddess herself. Neither is particularly cheering." He sighs. "Yes, he's out there. But all you can do is keep an eye out, and try to stack things in your favor. It's not given to us to master all the tides of the world."

"Are there any male dryads? All I have heard of or seen written is that they are female, and they are always seducing men and boys for whatever shenanigans they do. But is there a male version of dryad, some fey that seduces women?" The Gobbo chuckles. "Can you imagine the Crimson Pen stories dryads might tell?" She lets out a breath and nods.

"I wanted to be sure it wasn't just me. Definitely a pride so large they must have difficulty navigating the streets of any city, let alone normal doors." She rubs at her cheeks, and then notices the paint streaked there. "Great... I have paint on my face, don't I?" Simony snorts. "If we all keep an eye out, it should be harder for things wishing us harm to do harm."

Telamon laughs softly. "No, as far as I know there are no male dryads. Male fey, certainly, but not dryads. Though dryads do court with other forest-aspected entities -- the spirits known as kami, for example, get along quite well with dryads." He smirks. "I am pretty sure many Crimson Pen writers got their start spinning tales of fey shenanigans."

"No, not just you. A number of us noticed when we first encountered him. Much to his woe since one of those who noticed was my friend Aryia, and, well, she has -history- with the church of the dark goddess." His expression becomes beautific. "Suffice to say, she was not impressed."

He looks at the paint, and winces. "I, ah, thought you knew about the paint. Sorry. Well... at least it shows you're working, right?"