No Strings Attached
Log Info
- Title: No Strings Attached
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Andelena, Dolan, Rocky, Skielstregar, Vaera
- Place: Lower Trades District, Alexandria
- Time: Saturday, February 5, 2022, 6:30 PM
- Summary: It's Ceriday night and assorted street merchants are trying to make their last sales before closing shop and finding something fun to do. An assortment of Alexandria's adventuring community gather and begin to catch up in the cold, splitting their attention between conversation and the performers in the square. A bard chastises a cheap audience member. Something is off about a puppeteer. A quartet of pranking Society wizards fleeing through the district pursued by an enraged butcher. Several of the skilled individuals present notice something is off about a puppeteer. The puppets attack!
After the evil little constructs are vanquished the old Cerenzan has to be stopped from harming himself beyond a point of no return. The group quits the district and heads for the Soldier's Defense.
- Encounter 1, CR 6 XP2400
- (3) Soulbound Doll, Advanced +1HD (CR3, XP800 ea)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- At a glance around PrP Room: Two =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Andelena Human Female Redhead with steel-grey eyes and powerful build. Dolan Human Male Brown-haired human with scars down his face. Rocky Sith-Makar Male A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue. Skielstregar Sith-Makar Male A silver/bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes. Vaera Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's after suppertime but the lower markets are far from quiet. Ceriday is here and the night is still young; best to get your sinning in tonight before you visit your temples on your holy days-to-come. Unless you worship the Dancer and She's expecting that sort of thing.
The Tribune is shuttered and dark for the day but the busy work of the Blacksmith's continues. Goblintown almost always sounds like heavy equipment (up to an including a good-sized airship) is falling out of the sky and smashing itself to pieces and the distant ruckus from those cramped blocks is as omnipresent today as it is most others.
A few hawkers are still at work, trying to make those last sales before packing it in and getting to their own relaxation and/or debauchery. A handful of carts dot the square but few folks mill, mingle, and purchase. A sitting bard plucks away at what he calls a harp-- but clearly makes him the same as what he strums: a lyre. Finally, a colorful box is setup for a puppet show with an age-spotted Cerenzan perched on a bench and looming over it from behind.
The dark sky is grey-black and moonless and the air is cold and wet enough that most move with purpose. The square is well-lit by a combination of the street's manalamps and an amalgamation of torches and lamps-- mundane and arcane-- brought along by the businessfolk.
Rocky strolls slowly, having delivered a package earlier and having no particular plans beyond. Various performers and stalls pull the grey-scales attention, but none hold it for long, and he wanders onward.
A breath to get some fresh air. Can a makari look pale? Probably not. But Skielstregar, a towering mixed scale warrior of more silver than bronze, is timidly picking his way through the markets. Head full of thoughts, him unsettled as he wrings her hands so hard we was probably scratching up his new scales.
His solemn reverie is jostled a bit as the puppet show catches his attention. He watches on, enjoying the here and now and not the... yes, the puppets.
It has taken Dolan some time to trust himself enough to acquaint himself with this part of town, but the real action that he looks for isn't likely to happen in the light of day. Non-descript gray cloak pulled around him, hood pulled up and scarf and gloves against the clammy evening chill, he strolls the streets, taking it all in, studying each face and each performer as if memorizing them.
Sinning? Not really in Andelena's plans for the evening (perhaps to the chagrin of her traveling companion). The Sunguard roams the lower markets with the gray-cloaked man. She's not so concerned with the nondescript, as her trademark white cloak merely flickers behind her, as there is little wind to billow her cloak out in the usual manner. She closely tails the man and smirks at him as they walk. "Told you there was something fun going on down here," she says to him. "Glad you decided to come with me after all."
Vaera was taking her time in the noisy district, not for her own sake, but for that of the beast that was next to her. Larger than a mastiff, a dark green swiftclaw with a sturdy looking harness strapped around it, and held onto tightly. It was looking around, tapping on the stone as they walked, threatening to be overwhelmed by the noise. Which was part of the point, to get them more used to everything. The one holding it was a tall makari, who was browsing several of the stalls, in case she saw anything she may need.
"It's nice to be important but it's more important to be nice!" shouts the bard, breath puffing out in great clouds of steam as he turns his head to chide a passer-by who stopped to listen but failed to make a monetary donation. The two Lucht (a matching set of party-boy and -girl) hanging on the rather well-dressed gobbess turn and call back rather crude remarks in accented trade. The bard returns in kind, first two fingers split and he gestures upwards, then brings both hands to his face to huff his fingers warmer. The lyre remains cradled in his lap.
An impressively-round egalrin with a small yellow beak and grey-and-white feathers coos when the last vial of her all-purposes tonic is purchased. She breaks down a folding stand and drops it into her little cart along with the mana-lamp that had hung from it.
Another Lucht-- this one with curly red hair-- looks barely old enough to be out this late by himself. His green eyes glint over freckles and he's over-layed to the point that his form descends into a bulging triangle beneath his cherubic cheeks. He clutches a stack of papers to his chest with one arms while the other thrusts them out at passers-by. "Goldbell Mercantile will ship any (legal) goods into or out of the city for a reasonable and exceptionally-modest sums! Any (legal) goods!" He keeps glancing at a pair of watchmen as they patrol past, making sure to mutter his qualifier just-loud enough for them to hear-- but maybe not loud enough to carry full across the square.
The puppet show continues. The human's thinning grey hair dangles like cobwebs over his miniature-but-colorful stage. The top of the box hides his skillfull hands, manipulating three puppets in mixed pairs. The wordless play seems to be about three siblings playing in an attic and getting into mischief.
Rocky learns a new phrase. He's not entirely certain what it means, but it sounds universally rude enough for general use. But his attention is drawn to the swiftclaw and it's handler, the sith's steps heading that direction in general curiousity. "Peace unto your nest. Training is well?"
The light of the manalamps glints off of green in the eye of the man Andelena addresses. "Fun wasn't what I was looking for, Andie, and you know it." Still, Dolan's eyebrow - the one that can still move much - lifts, and he pauses to watch the puppet show for a minute or three. The shouting and rude gestures draws his attention away only briefly, and he snorts laughter. "You're wasting your breath, minstrel. That sort wouldn't know nice if it walked up and shoved a shiv in their ribs," he mutters, only loudly enough for Andie to hear him. "You come here a lot?"
Skielstregar watches the puppet show for a little bit longer, enjoying it actually before dropping a couple silver pieces into a small box out in front of it. He wades from that activity, looking for something else to yearn his attention.
It's about to be the resting bards, but then he catches a glimpse of familiar red scales, and...-
He perks up, some of his anxiety stymied for a time. "Peassse on your nesst," he croaks out, waving to them and- oh, it's Rocky too!
He approaches Vaera, and holds a hand out to the beast beside her.
GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (4)+9: 13 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (18)+7: 25 GAME: Rocky rolls perception: (18)+6: 24
"Kind of? I mean, I walk through here. You never know when something's about to kick off and someone might need me to help," Andelena says, although she looks out at the curly redheaded Lucht, squinting at him for a long moment.
"... Is it just me, or was that a kid?" she asks, her body language stiffening up as though she's considering chasing down someone. There's a tone of concern in her voice that Dolan knows well. Say one thing for the imposing woman: she has a soft spot for children.
The swiftclaw immediately perks up upon seeing a familiar face. It was a friend, and one who often gave food! Turns out there were good things in the city, after all. They grew even more restless, but it wasn't until the red makari whistles quietly that they are allowed to amble up to him, though Vaera keeps one hand on the harness. It stops to look over to Rocky, as well.
"Peace on your nest Skielstregar, and you as well, River stone, yes?" She greets the two. "What brings you both to this district? I can not say I was expecting to find any others, here."
The young Lucht continues to hand out flyers, all kinds of innocent cheer at his work. "Goldbell Mercantile! Under new management! All investigations halted and dismissed! Goldbell Mercantile, anything (legal) under the sun! Bought, sold, or traded!"
The egalrin is off, one of the cart wheels squeaking as she pushes it past the bard and drops a few of her coins onto his scarf. She earns a "cheers, luv" and coos back a friendly good-bye on the way to find some peace in her nest. The performer grins over his cold fingers and grins back at Dolan: "Never know until you try!"
A quartet of young Society magi explode into the square laughing, the lead wizard holding he star-stitched, drooping blue felt hat into place as she stops briefly to catch her breath, the Arvek woman's tusked mouth open and panting. A yellow-skinned yrchblood boy in a patched, furlined coat nearly trips over her as he comes to a halt, too, and manages to cough out a laugh. A purple-haired gnome and a tattooed storm dwarf-- both grinning ear-to-ear-- finally catch up and move to stand in a circle. Bright-purple lights dance around the gnome's shoulder as he twirls his mustache and glances with nervous-humor back the way they came.
The puppeteer starts, nearly falling from his stool at the chaotic arrival of the students. He's blinking, madly, and glancing to take stock of the situation in the square. The three puppets have gone stock-still, playing in a toy chest that glitters, filled with little sharp objects and tattered rags.
The watchmen are far enough gone to not make any note of the wild arrivals, falling into the shadows beyond the lamps of the market square.
Rocky does his statue impersonation, falling utterly motionless for several seconds before turning to face the puppet show, his attention caught. For the moment, at least. Then a burst of noise surprises the grey out of his focus, and he turns attention back to Verna. "Yes. This One was asked to deliver a package, now wanders to see what is still active."
Dolan looks off after Andelena, ignoring the bard's response, but then looks back at the puppeteer, and the still-human eye narrows. "Andie." The word is terse, tight, low, and familiar, but suddenly laser-focused. The rest of the world fades to a dull buzz around him, and his gaze sharpens on the Cerenzan. "There's more than one." A cryptic comment, to be sure, but without warning, he breaks into an easy amble towards the puppeteer, just as any bystander might.
As he goes, he digs in his coin purse for a few copper for the entertainment and looks for a hat or similar receptacle such as any street entertainer has. Finding the box that Skielstregar just used, he deposits coins and steps to one side to avoid blocking the show, but reaches towards the puppeteer as if to touch his shoulder. "Thanks, man," is all he says, but he seeks to lock eyes - one real and one prosthetic - with the puppeteer.
<OOC> Dolan says, "Justice's Ttrue Path (Truth Inquisition domain ability - trying to give him a saving throw or bonus to shake whatever it is.)"
Skielstregar's apparent anxiety melts a bit as he kneels down, him rubbing the swiftclaws head with a hand. "Who'ssss a good sssswiftie..? You are..!" he coos before looking up at Vaera. "They're getting more behaved," he tells the redscale before standing to his full height. "Um, thisss one isss in town-"
The sudden show of laughing magi grabs his attention, Skiel flinching. Him on edge. But soon he finds Dolan. And nearby, Andie. He gives a weak wave to them, but it only reaches halfway high before he sees the man making a move on the show he was just enjoying.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (2)+15: 17 GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (3)+9: 12 GAME: Andelena rolls Perception: (19)+6: 25 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (19)+7: 26 GAME: Vaera rolls perception+2: (11)+11+2: 24 GAME: Rocky rolls perception: (17)+6: 23
"Shit," the Sunguard murmurs, and Andelena follows Dolan's lead. It's just like old times, but there's no room for nostalgia with the quick and purposeful steps and her steely gaze locked on the path ahead. Her eyes narrow on the puppeteer, getting close to the figure too--but maintaining her place to the left of Dolan. Better something hits her than someone else.
Vaera chuffs after calling the swiftclaw back to her side after it was finished appreciating the attention. "Yes, they are doing better, they have not run off with my leg in several weeks." She muses. "You are in town, and wish to stop by an inn tonight? Or something else?"
"There will not be much left going on here at this hour, but it is worth taking a look. Sometimes merchants will sell things they do not want to bother taking back with them on the cheap."
She turns to make note of the loud group that entered, but she does not linger, choosing to keep them in the corner of her eye instead.
"Hey, you! Wizards!" The Lucht child is jumping awkwardly and flapping his paper in the air. "Do you need hard to find or difficult to acquire (legal) reagents? Tears of the innocent (cruelty free)? Virgin's blood (donated in good faith)!?" He stops hopping and squints at the half-oruch, noticing the abundance of pimples and the almost sickly color of his yellow skin. "... maybe you're good on the second one. But! Waters of the womb (collected by a trained midwife with the approval of the new mom)! Goldbell Mercantile has it all!"
The Arvek Nar leader of the quartet barks laughter at the child and backhands her yrchblood mate in the chest with a heavy thump. The accused-virgin blushes and stumbles over some defense. The gnome fellow spits and pushes up his sleeve on approach to the Lucht, "Watch your mouth about my man you little shi--"
And then a giantborn butcher stumbles blindly into the square, roaring and wielding a rolling pin as tall as the Lucht advertiser. He's completely covered in glitter, looking like he was practically carved from diamonds. "WHERE'S YOU'S GOIN' YOU BOOKREADIN' BRATS!" He shouts as he tries to blink the grit from his eyes. "GONNA MAKE YOU INTA SAUSAGES!"
"Fookin' RUN!" shouts the Khazad and they all start to scrabble off, splitting to run past Skielstregar and Vaera on either side of the sith-and-pup trio.
The old puppeteer meets Dolan's sympathetic expression, exhausted and terrified. "Oh, no. No, no, no..." He laments through clouded eyes.
The two puppets on stage remind frozen in place.
Wait... two?
A second puppet turns, her glassy eyes swiveling inside a still, porcelain mask. Tiny feet clitter-clack across the miniature wooden stage and she jumps down to stand near Andelena's feet!
The last puppet hops up and down in mute annoyance. Its red-eyes roll back to reveal the cracked white of its eyes and tiny chanting seems to flow out from between its joints. It remains on the stage beneath the slack hands of the puppeteer.
GAME: Skielstregar rolls spellcraft: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Dolan rolls spellcraft: (18)+5: 23 GAME: Vaera rolls spellcraft: (2)+6: 8
Rocky has had very little experience with haunted dolls. None of that experience is what one might call plesant. With puppets moving on their own, a quarter ton on armored lizard is on the move, bellowing a battle cry with his large blade drawn. It doesn't translate well to SoftSkin, but it is loud and scary, by most standards.
"Shit!" Andelena says again. Understandable reaction, considering there is now a puppet near her feet that apparently doesn't need strings to hold them down. She growls as she draws the longsword off her back. "I'm to your left, Bry!" she announces for Dolan's sake, just to remind him that she's there.
Vaera looks to the butcher, and to the wizards, but her attention is taken quickly by the doll that seems to be moving on its own. She lets go of the harness, and the swiftclaw remains at her side while she pulls a thunderbelcher out of her jacket, folding it into place. "Something is off with those puppets. Wyrmere, stay close for now. The people here are not threats." She states, trying to figure out what was happening for a moment.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 (Defensive cast - Fail)
"Thanks, Andie. That's a wounding spell, stop that casting!" Dolan's human eye goes wide at the chanting, and the harness holding the greatsword at his back drops unheeded at his feet, the sword suddenly all but appearing in his hands as he strides towards the one casting. "Fucking little dolls were controlling him!" he fairly roars. "Take them out!"
The little doll at Dolan's feet looks up as the lumbering giant steps over and past it. It yaps something out in its weird whispered language and scampers after the man. It hops up and down, trying to gesture as it weaves between the fellow's feet but can't quite muster the attention to conjure its spell.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15 (AoO) GAME: Vaera rolls cmb: (2)+7: 9
Vaera blinks when mention is made of them using wounding magic, and the makari runs over to where they were gathered. She reaches down to try and restrain the doll, but they were proving to be more difficult to become puppets again.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15 (Defensive Cast - Fail)
The little creature at the massive, redheaded woman's boots also struggles in conjuring its spell. Glass eyes roll around in annoyance as it wheezes the strange chattering language at the other two dolls.
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12: (8)+11: 19 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 1d10+7+6: (6)+7+6: 19
Skielstregar blinks in surprise as things get a bit haywire. There's a yelling giantborn, the puppets he was enjoying were not attacking people and trying to cast spells. "Ah, err, r-right!" he tries to enthuse, still rattled by something or another as he yanks free the halberd and strides forward, jabbing the spear end at the one near Andelena's feet with might, and more importantly, precision. As it hits the cobble road and causes splintering of stone.
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL) (AoO) GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15 <OOC> Jinks says, "Delivering a touch spell, so that'll hit." GAME: Jinks rolls 3d8+4: (15)+4: 19
The last doll rolls off the stage, clattering down to the cobblestones in a heap. It pulls itself up to stand and bounces towards Dolan. Both hands come up, flailing, and slap down onto the wandering inquisitor's boot. The doll begins to shake and wisps of warmth begin to stream down out of the man and down into the little porcelain creature's tiny frame as it vibrates.
GAME: Rocky rolls weapon4: (4)+10: 14
Rocky brings his mighty blade to bear, swinging at the spell casting doll. Sadly, he misses the evil automation. I mean, they're probally the spirits of kidnapped children trying to break free from their cruel keeper. But they're creepy, and that makes hitting them okay.
GAME: Andelena rolls weapon1-1: (16)+6+-1: 21 GAME: Andelena rolls damage1+2: aliased to 1d8+3+2: (3)+3+2: 8
Andelena growls as she swings her sword down again at the puppet. "Alright, you little shit, it's time to take a nap," she says, the blade connecting with the wood. Another crack but it's still not done.
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1: (12)+5: 17
With the gigantic aggressors looming over their tiny trio, the first of the "puppets" decides it's time to flee. It starts to trot awkwardly, seeking the shelter beneath the stage, but Skielstregar chops it into the air and Rocky smashes it down. The porcelain construct smashes against the cobbles and a glowing, blue-black gem tumbles free to pulse.
Whatever that spell did, Dolan's warning about the wounding spell proves a cogent one. It vibrates, and suddenly, the Daeusite cries out in agony as deep, bleeding wounds erupt across his skin, down one arm and into the breastplate, and blood is visible from underneath the armor, staining the cloak. It does not look good, and he staggers, but responds by slamming the greatsword between his hands point-down into where the doll was just moments before - and not even an inch from its face. "Hold still, you little demon-doll!" he snarls.
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1: (6)+5: 11 GAME: Andelena rolls weapon1: (7)+6: 13 GAME: Rocky rolls weapon4: (18)+10: 28 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12-2: (20)+11+-2: 29 (THREAT) GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12-2: (2)+11+-2: 11 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 1d10+7+6: (9)+7+6: 22 GAME: Rocky rolls damage4: aliased to 1d10+4: (5)+4: 9
The students are long-gone, having run past the reptilian trio as soon as the provoked butcher came shouting into the square.
There's a slowly-falling drift of parchment where the Lucht child abandoned his job, tossed the leaflets into the air, and waddled off towards safety.
Most everyone, frankly, has had the sense to tear off away from the strange fight but the bard still sits on the other side of the square, lyre in his lap and puffing into his hands to keep them warm. His eyebrows threaten to float from the top of his forehead they're quirked so high.
The puppeeter is at a loss, choking on his fear and regret as he watches everything turn to chaos. He clutches one arthritic hand around his opposite sleeve and grinds his teeth.
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+4+1 -2: (10)+6+4+1+-2: 19 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+1+4+1 -2: (9)+1+4+1+-2: 13 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (5)+4+1: 10 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+3: (1)+6+3: 10 (EPIC FAIL) (Wyrmere chomp)
Vaera, seeing that trying to grab it was a poor idea, takes a step back, and aims her thunderbelcher at one of the dolls, taking careful aim to not shoot at Dolan in the process. One shot hits, and the bullet thuds to the ground after, while the other is sent into the ground as one of the feet shifts, and she tries not to hit it.
Wyrmere was given the go ahead to help, and so the large, but still small swiftclaw sprints into the gray, across from the others. The lizard snaps up the doll in an impressive display of control, stands there with it in it's mouth, waiting for praise, and not even stopping to notice it falling free of its maw.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15 (Cast defensively - Fail) GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12: (10)+11: 21 GAME: Rocky rolls weapon4: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Rocky rolls damage4: aliased to 1d10+4: (7)+4: 11
Skielstregar helps strike low the one that tries to run away, but sees Dolan is /not/ looking good. Even though they weren't related, and in a different lens, they were still brothers in faith, and he strides forward, cocking his weapon back. Then swings hard.
Nasty black ichor spills from between his scales, coats his weapon, just as the axe end of his halberd crunches into the puppet with no quarter as a purple and black gem clatters out of the doll.
"... wha..?" he says, confused, looking at his arms as the ichor vanishes just as quick as it came.
Rocky swings his large blade again, cracking ceramic and wood, forcing a doll to stillness. Waiting a moment to make sure all the dolls are inert, the sith turns his attention to the puppetmaster... "Explain, please."
Once the threat is ended, and the last doll goes inert, Dolan's blade clatters to the cobblestones at his feet, and he drops to hands and knees next to/over it, crimson seeping from under armor, staining clothing, dripping off the shining metal of the blade. "Dolls - I think were in control - they moved - on their own." He grits his teeth to get the words out. "What - were those things."
The melee is done. Andelena breathes a little easier, although she mutters something under her breath.
Then she spots Dolan all bloodied. "Shit!" she growls. Before anything else, she strides over to him from his left.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Bry," she murmurs before she focuses on drawing up magic on a prayer from her hand and into Dolan's body, weaving his wounds at least closed enough to staunch some of the bleeding.
The Sunguard purses her lips as she looks him down again. "Whatever they were, they're done." Her gaze turns from him to the puppetmaster. There's a glare in those steely-grey eyes. It practically says, "There better be a good explanation for this or you're done, too."
GAME: Andelena casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 3 DC: 14 GAME: Andelena rolls 1d8+3: (6)+3: 9
"Please, they don't... no." The puppetmaster has his hand fully in his sleeve now, foggy eyes watering as he chokes out a shuddering sob, ignoring Rocky's direct question. He lurches forward, tumbling off of his stool and hitting the ground hard. Old joints issue unpleasnt reports as they find the cobbles. He's stunned only momentarily and then scrabbles forward, toppling the stand housing his little stage as he moves to the debris and throwing aside Dolan's sword.
"No, please.... no, no, no..." His hands slap down, plucking up the gemstones. "Della... Wyl..." He pushes past Rocky and Andie, taking up the last. "Ellyie..." The old man's hand closes into a white-knuckled fist and he slides his other sleeve back, revealing a mauled forearm where loose bandages fall away, he starts trying to bite at the stitching holding a recent wound at his wrist closed..
Vaera sighs as the last doll falls to the ground, and she is busy for a long moment pulling the swiftclaw back to her side as it was nudging them after they stopped moving. "Why are you trying to tear open your arm like that? These dolls were trying to kill someone nearby. If it was someone who was less prepared, someone may have died." She states simply, seeing as Andelena seemed to have the healing covered.
Skiel blinks as he sees the puppetmaster going for a wound. His anxiety coupled with the recent fray makes him suddenly bark a, "NO! Do NOT give in to it!" the silver man-who-used-to-bite-his-arms-to-satisfy-a-craving orders.
Rocky keeps still, not sure the puppetmasters actions are okay, but too uncertain to try and stop them.
Daeus' warmth washes through Dolan, and the bleeding stops, at least, the worst of it seeming to seal over. He takes a deep, careful breath, and straightens. "Thanks, Andie." He turns to fix that one human eye on her, and only now seems to notice that his sword as been shoved aside. "All right, out with it." He forces himself to his feet, and reaches to seize the wounded arm. "What did you do? Some kind of blood pact?"
GAME: Dolan rolls intimidate: (7)+8: 15
The old man's whole body shakes as he ignores warnings from both Vaera and Skiel, his conscious will in open war with a natural instinct for self preservation. Not long from Vardama's halls, the man manages one great surge of will and the sound of stitches popping join the subtle tearing of skin as he growls through common sense and reopens his wound.
"She--" he gags and swoons, blood slow to spill from the wound at his age and in this cold. He takes a shaky breath and locks eyes with Dolan as the man looms. Meat squidges as he shoves the first gem into the wound. "She said this was the only way... my grandbabies..."
"Their-- nnf-- tiny little souls..." He pushes the next in. "Have to stay war..." Angry red welts rise up along his arm, pulsing with his heartbeat. His spittle begins to fleck and foam at the corner of his mouth. His hand is trembling and drops the last stone. Purple-and-black, evil and throbbing.
"Please... I-- I can't... my little Della," he's begging Dolan, looking from the stone to the torn meat of his forearm.
Rocky isn't well versed in human reproductive methods... but pretty sure that aint the way grandbabies are made.
Skielstregar flinches from the acts committed, and he hisses at the old man. "Thisss is nefarious necromansssy, not your little nestlingsss..!"
"No." Dolan's tone is curt and brooks no argument, and he reaches for the wrist again, his bloodied grip tight. "You have been had. If these are your grandchildren, their souls are imprisoned by the blackest of spells, and if you love them, you'll release them to the Gray Halls. If they are not, then your foolishness threatens everyone present. Either way, you are in need of aid." His boot moves to cover the third gem, and he glances over at Andie. "Can you get those out of there?
Andelena watches Dolan walk after that one moment's stare. She looks at the old man in horror. "Shit," she mutters, almost reflexively, if her language choice this night is any indication.
But she watches the puppetmaster beg Dolan for aid. Her lips press together into a thin, thin line.
After all, children are her weak spot.
She walks up to Dolan, placing her hand gently on Dolan's shoulder. "Compassion," she whispers to him, before she looks at the man. "We need to get you to a hospital now. /Then/ we can figure out what to do. This man needs our care."
Vaera stops fumbling with the harness as the human continues on, and she falls silent for a long moment. The hunter sighs, allowing the sadness to be overcome for some time further.
"Your grandchildren are passed, it seems. I am sorry, truly, that this has happened." She states finally. "But what you do now, you have to accept that they are passed. This accomplishes nothing, and would you stain their memory with approximations that would openly try to kill someone? Your grandchildren would never do such a thing, I imagine."
"Allow us to help. And get your injuries cared for. This one would be happy to hear stories about your grandchildren, if you would wish to share."
Rocky remains still. His foes are slavering monsters trying to kill him and others, not crying old men tearing at their own wounds,
"Nononono..." the old man falls forward, his wispy grey hair dragging in the slush of the street. His one hand is spasming and useless, bloody and scarred. The other hand has no strength left when he puts it on the other man's boot. "Please..." his voice is piteous, broken, and hopeless.
"... my Della... she could tell you every flower in the gardens and knew every fruit in the markets. She always had seeds for the squirrels... the theatre plague... our matron saved her precious soul... I can't be the last one alive..." He weeps and turns his eyes up at Vaera, "Just take me and save them, please..."
The hand on his shoulder stops Dolan cold, and something between that and the pain in the old man's voice holds him, his own face twisting empathetically. "All right." He takes the boot off of the gem. "Let's get you to the Soldier's Defense. They'll know what to do there. Come on." He reaches to pick up the last of the gems. "I'll keep it warm in my hand until we get there."
"I can not help you to bring them back." Vaera sighs, and she crouches down in front of them. "It is not easy for any to outlive their children, this one, I know this well. And grandchildren as well. But You are harming your Della by doing this. One who cared for nature in so many forms would not harm someone without a second thought like that."
She gestures to Dolan, and stands back up. "But we will do what we can to protect their spirit, so when you do meet them in the gray halls, it will be the reunion that it should be. But that is not for today, so please let the clerics at the soldier's defence tend to you."
"Thank you," Andelena says in a quiet voice to Dolan, although it's halfway between speaking and sighing, likely from relief. Her steel-grey eyes flicker back to the old man as she takes his wounded hand to make sure he doesn't do anything more. "Let's get going. You need treatment immediately."
Helping the old man to his feet he feels almost-hollow, frail and shaking and fit to blow away should the wind pick up. He watches Dolan as he leans into Andelena, bracing his wounded arm against his waist and holding it weakly. His toes drag on the cobbles after his self-inflicted trauma, practically requiring he be carried towards the warmth of the lower gardens and the Soldier's Defense nestled within.
"Anything for them..." he mutters breathlessly, his face frosted by his tears and the ends of his hair muddy and half-frozen. The red welts along his arm seem strong than the rest of the man as he shuffles, aided, down the street. "... everything I have."
Andelena keeps him upright and walking, keeps him safe--sound can't really be said considering the man's wound. She keeps an eye both on him and on Dolan.
"You're getting treated there too, Bry," Andelena says. It's not a suggestion. It's an order. "And I'm staying with you."
A beat as she thinks about it a bit more. "In the room, I mean. While you recover--shit."
Just keep walking...
Dolan has the last gem clasped firmly in his hand, sharp points digging into the gloves and the flesh of his hand. He will support the man on the other side if that is needed, but will permit others to take over if they are willing - he himself is moving awkwardly and favoring his right side. Andelena's comments, though, draw a look and a twinkle in his remaining eye. "I suppose it's an improvement over you being ready to kill me."
-End Scene-