Nowhere Is Safe

It is getting later in the day, enough that the warmth of earlier hours is quickly fleeing, but the sky is still blue and there's not a cloud in sight. Which promises of course that tonight will be very cod indeed. What sunlight lingers is bright and shimmering in waves across the sky.

At this time, the streets have well cleared in the Plaza, and yet not entirely. Two men walk comfortably side by side one another, clearly headed in the direction of the house that sits along this particular street. One is a familiar face to most who live in Alexandria, he stands just shy of six feet tall, his ginger-blonde hair marking him as himself even at a distance. Though his moon-bright armor and the long blade at his side does perhaps an even better job of it.

The man at his side is perhaps less well known, but perhaps more recognizable when viewed in the presence of the other. He is hair is sandy-blond, and he carries a bow across his back. His skin is of an olive-ish complexion and his eyes as blue as the sky above. In fact his clothes mark him as barely above a common man in class and stature, but those who know the first man well might well indeed recognize him just the same.

Aya is not a frequent traveler in this particular district, though a number of of factors are ... abnormal lately. She enters the plaza from the gardens; her pace lacks brisk purposeful strides as well as a defined, direct path. All told, she casually wanders, with eyes passing over the various buildings and passers by without seeming to focus upon any one.

From the opposite way from the men on the street, Cor'lana approaches her home--for, indeed, she lives here. Despite the spring season, she is dressed in a black dress, and there's a redness to her violet eyes, as well as dried tracks of tears around her eyes, that suggest she's coming back from something rather emotional indeed. Even Pothy on her shoulder regards her with a look of compassion (and is, notably, _not_ asking for snacks), and the sweet bird nuzzles into her dark waves of hair.

She looks up and raises a brow as she approaches closer to her home, looking at the ginger-blonde in particular. "Hello," she calls out to him. "Can I help you?" She asks the question despite looking like someone who needs help, herself.

The weirdest part? There's two of the ginger-blonde.

Whoever is with Malik, it is their abominable luck that Seldan just happens to be emerging from the city library, in full kit, full armor, sword and bow, and adventuring gear atop. He descends the stairs, a pack on his back and a leather satchel over one shoulder, just in time to see himself walk towards the shaded cobblestone streets towards Cor'lana's home. He knows these back streets better than any, and makes no hesitation to follow.

The Goblin hurries along, the sound of her sandals against her heels making a familiar sound. Several notebooks are held tightly to her chest, while a fistful of pencils are carried in her free hand. She waves these pencils at Cor'lana as she goes by, but Simony stops to bow at Seldan, and by dint of proximity to him, at Malik also.

Simony then picks up the pace, towards the Library.

What is that awful sound? It's hideous. Like a frog, caught in a cage and tortured by all the flies it never quite caught. Or a blade running rusty-side across the most knotted log of all time. It's a pondering, full-body snoring of a relatively lithe woodsman-girl who spends her money carelessly.

She's hiding in a bush. Having spent time and effort to construct natural camouflage to conceal her helpless dismissal of social mores; take baths and don't sleep on streets. A voice calling out has her eyes fluttering open, and then a low keening groan of annoyance as a hooded head pops out of the local green decor to glare about.

The man who is surely Malik - identified only in thought by the Seldan trailing behind the Seldan headed toward Cor'lana's residence looks at his companion and for a moment they share a meaningful look. Then both men make their greetings to the woman whom first greeted them. Malik's greeting being somewhat more subdued and perhaps a little more casual in its method than Seldan's. "Her light upon your path Cor'lana." Seldan glances skyward a moment. "Would you mind inviting us in? We have some serious business which needs attending to."

A bronze clad figure was wandering out of one of the entrances to the artificer's hall, taking their time down the steps. They do see several people they recognize, and what is presumably Seldan receives a small wave. And another wave to Seldan, which makes the artificer stop, and look back and forth. "Should I go up and say something? Should I alert the guard?" They wonder aloud to themselves.

As he stalks after the pair, Seldan reaches automatically for the crescent and sphere around his neck, and his eyes have narrowed as he stares at the pair. When they pause to speak, he closes at once, weight balanced between balls and heels of his feet in a warrior's stance. "Do naught of the kind, my lady, and gird yourself." The second Seldan strides up, all of his attention and that narrow-eyed gaze on the pair. "You tire not of pursuing me, I see. I had not thought that even Llyranost would stoop so low."

Simony goes around the other Seldan, and the bronze-clad figure before she slows to a stop. Peering around, she blinks at the scene unfolding nearby. "Llyranost?", she asks of no one in particular. "You probably should, at the least they can keep others coming here.", she says to the previously mentioned bronze-clad person.

Cor'lana looks between the two men who approach her and the man who strides from behind. Well, there's a quick way to discern the real from the unreal.

"I have returned from mourning," she says, "for a friend who has passed. Therefore I wish for no visitors this day."

A incantation is murmured from her lips, and her eyes glow blue as she regards the two men. "Regardless of the nature of them," she adds, raising her chin a little as she stares them down.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts True Seeing. Caster Level: 14 DC: 22

Aya is familiar with a few of those present. Cor'lana, for example, who does catch her notice and she begins to move towards. Then there is the Silverguard, who makes the mul'niessa hesitate a moment. Less so Malik, though he is not unknown to her. Then, behind them, is... the Silverguard?! Aya blinks and begins moving in their direction briskly, even as the latter Seldan calls out to Cor'lana.

Carver slowly sinks back into her bush. The sound of a rucksack being thrown together. Cantankerous grumbling. Obstreperous huffing.

Something rips. Then the whole bush rises with her, like nature itself vows to protect her modesty. Or the straps of the worst gillysuit in the world broke.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (15)+17: 32

That was more than a bit of conflicting information and confusion going on here. "I feel like I should, but I'm not sure. Is that the real Seldan?" The artificer asks as they try to keep up with everything going on. "If they were right, I don't know if they share their memories but likely not."

"You there, potentially Seldan or person impersonating Seldan." They speak up, gesturing their right hand at the one with the amulet in their hands. "In 'Tales of Love During The Plague', chapter 18, paragraph four on page two hundred and eighty three, what was Kamil doing after the floating rope scene?"

Seldan turns and frowns at the sight of the other-Seldan following, his eyes darkening with disdain and displeasure. "You are quite right Cor'lana. We had come to warn you of the very thing which you see before you now; so there is no further need to infringe upon your time. I request that you head inside to safety, while I deal with this imposter, and all of you others gathering clear this place on the off chance that this creature that is in my likeness takes it upon itself to harm the citizenry.

Malik stirs himself here slightly and Seldan shakes his head. "No, I can handle this Malik. I would not see you harmed, and you will have to carry the knowledge forward should I fall." He pays no mind to Schara, the whole of his focus on the other Seldan. But then; it is not he that is currently challenged by Schara's inquiry.

Cor'lana stares at the two men before her. Her eyes no longer glow with the soft blue, and she looks at the Seldan from behind. She offers him the smallest hint of a smile before she regards the two men with a more sober expression.

"Gentlemen? You are poor actors, and I say that as someone who spends most of her time in the Theatre District. Or--did." She immediately begins to back away from her home. "For the real Seldan speaks in a different way even to friends."

She announces more loudly, "Be alert. These are likely not the only two. Something dispelled my magic."

Despite himself, Seldan flushes pink at the very mention of the book in question. "After the real incident, he lay upon the ground for several minutes, wondering what had passed, even as I did," he mutters. "It is in my mind that the writer depicted a vastly - more interesting tale," he demurs.

The presence of those before him, though, causes his focus to re-shift, and he stares at the pair. "You have failed. Show yourselves."

GAME: Simony rolls perception: (14)+10: 24

Aya's thoughts can follow only one path when it comes to one being wearing the guise of another. She looks between the Seldan with Malik and the Seldan behind who answers Schara's inquiry. That is enough validation for to suit her, as she is familiar with a tale or two from the aforementioned collection. That and the fact that he blushes.

"What manner of trouble did you attract this time?" It is a rhetorical inquiry to none in particular as she focuses on Seldan and Malik, eyes narrowing.

"I know not.", Simony says to Schara. "It is as they say, you may as well give yourselves up." The Gobbo turns around, squinting into the darker places. "Can't see anyone skulking about in the darker places." She moves closer to Schara then. "Was that a Crimson Pen book? That certainly sounded like one."

"Whether it was or was not is not important right now, and I'd rather not give any further information if I'm trying to use it to verify information." The artificer sighs. "Well, the other one didn't bother trying to answer, and it's at least close enough, in addition to the fact they are acting embarrassed by it similar to before."

"So, you have a moment to explain, and you should do so quickly. It doesn't seem likely that the other one is Seldan, after all."

"This will not be the first time that a demon has worn my face, and I think it not the last." Says Seldan calmly, clearly disinclined to turn into some kind of fiend just because he's been challenged as such. "If you do not trust me, then do not. Perhaps then we are beyond words."

At this Seldan swiftly draws his sword, and the weapon - a very twin of Reunion if it is not in fact that same-self blade - speaks up! "Indeed! Carve that fiend up Seldan!" Those that have heard Seldan's blade speak might well recognize the voice that comes from it now and the man who holds the weapon speaks up as well to those that will hear him.

"Whether you trust me or not, you would be wise to step back and away!" There's a serious look in the man's eyes.

GAME: Simony casts Bless. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14

Simony looks to Schara. "Sorry." A number of pencils drop from her hand, clattering upon the ground. The Gobbo tsks, and stoops to pick them back up. As she does so, her hand goes to the hour glass symbol around her neck. She murmurs a prayer, "Navos, please guide the hands of those here whom stand with the real Seldan, and keep fear from their hearts."

Seldan, who has not yet gone for the blade at his hip, merely sighs, although he remains balanced between the balls and keeps of his feet. "I see. A seeming that has come with some preparation, though the voice be not dirty-minded enough to be its true owner."

The first voice to pipe up from his hip, though, is indeed a crotchety old man nearly identical to the one that juts spoke from the drawn blade. "HEY! NO STEALING ME!" it whines, clearly quite incensed.

"The gods made two of 'em," pipes up a younger, deeper female voice from the same location.

"It's not even _good_," complains a deep male voice with a khazadi accent.

"See, Kanian? You're such a loudmouth even fake Seldans know who you are." The younger, deeper voice again.

Cor'lana sighs heavily. She steps away from the melee that is very likely soon to happen, murmuring an impossibly quick protective incantation onto herself--followed by an incantation of quickened time and space that affects all save the two imposters of Seldan and Malik. "And may Vaire bless us with better art in in acting than from these," she murmurs on the heels of Simony's blessing. "Really? They even copied the sword. That is _offensive_."

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor/Quicken. Caster Level: 14 DC: 22
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 14 DC: 20

"Oh, that's the talking sword, right! Well, two of the sword, but they sound different. I don't think that a disguise would make a talking sword bicker for no reason." The artificer sighs, shifting awkwardly on their feet against the stonework, and taking a step back away from everything. "If miss Aya and at least one of the Seldans is the real one, I think I'd just get in the way, so, I don't know, I should keep back and make sure no one gets involved, alert the guards to keep away or something so no one gets hurt or causes trouble?"

Aya takes a step back as the sword is suddenly drawn, though not because 'Seldan' asked. Seldan drawing first would be a first in her experience, though that doesn't mean it's any less dangerous. Magic occuring about and upon her does not improve her mood and she squares up to the pair. Yet she still glances to the other Seldan. She may be mildly uncertain yet, or simply seeking his lead on the matter.

"Come then," Seldan sighs, looking down at the amulet in his hand, and touching it gently to his lips. "Holy Dreamer, be yet once more my rock against those who would drive against me." He looks up, leveling a steady stare at the pair. "Malik Gitanos," he says levelly, turning his attention to his lookalike's companion. "He speaks aloud to you. Is this new?"

Carver does not really know any of the fair actors in this play. So, this idea that things are coming down to a fight where she must make a moral judgment upon the souls of a man, when she can't even tell them and their talking swords apart has her shaking in her little bush.

"'scuse me, but what?" Her voice is still ragged from sleep disturbed. "Like, I was huntin' for buggers breakin' into the local bakery and no, I really shouldn't have fallen asleep on the job but...." Her hands flail in the direction of Malik and Seldan. Than slooooooowly pan over to also Seldan and Malik. They wave in their direction too, flustered floundering like fish stranded on land. "'What'?"

Malik glares shortly at Cor'lana and shifts his fingers, and Seldan noticing this quickly frowns at his husband. "Mal!" Is all he says in words, but there is clearly more going on between them than just that. His own sword has issued challenge to the other, and seems to be in a fine rile itself, but he ignores it and focuses instead on the other. "Will you leave in peace, or will it be a fight between us after all?" He queries.

As if in answer, a low roil of evil spreads outwards from the singular Seldan. A feeling of darkness and despair. This sensation breaks on the sword-bearing Seldan who lifts his own medallion and utters a prayer to Eluna. Meanwhile Malik looks at Seldan shortly. "You call me wrongly false-Seldan! And reveal yourself in your presence!"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (6)+8: 14
GAME: Seldan rolls fortitude: (15)+28: 43
GAME: Aya rolls fort: (3)+22: 25
GAME: Simony rolls fortitude: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Schara rolls fortitude: (3)+6: 9
GAME: Carver rolls fortitude: (8)+5: 13
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (16)+8: 24
GAME: Aya rolls fort: (2)+22: 24
GAME: Simony rolls fortitude: (13)+5: 18

Aya is not terribly fond of magic users for a number of reasons. That her assumption is that said impostor(s) are also fiends doesn't help either, given that she despises them as well. The roiling evil power that suddenly washes over her does not improve either opinion. What it does do, however, is prompt a brief scream of pain that is cut off by the same power as it renders her nigh-catatonic save for sporadic twitches of muscle.

Something breaks within Cor'lana. There's all of these people here, quite a few who she barely knows, in front of her house. There's this discord between a fake Seldan, a true Seldan, and a Malik. And the whole impetus is that one of the Seldans and the Malik wants to go with her into her house. Even Pothy on Cor'lana's shoulder seems uneasy as Cor'lana's violet eyes narrow.

"Enough. ENOUGH. I have just returned here from mourning and I haven't the heart to spare on any of this. I want everyone. Out. Away from me. _Now_." She growls. "I am not taking visitors. I have said this much. And none have listened to me. Please go away. Please _leave me alone_. I want _everyone_ to turn around, leave, and walk away. I just poured out the measure of my soul in tears and I am tired. So very, very, _very_ tired."

Her violet eyes are wild with rage and yet exhaustion. She turns to the Seldan and the Malik couple. "That includes you. Please go home. Please." The last word wobbles with the beginning of fresh tears.

GAME: Simony rolls heal: (15)+8: 23

"Even so." Seldan's small smile for the protest is wiped away by the roiling evil that washes over everything. "But you are a poor Mal indeed, for Mal does not lash at me in anger. Nor does the chosen of Eluna brandish a blade ere he deems it needful to use it. Nor pretend that evil arises from another."

He strides forward, then, closing the distance between himself and his lookalike.

_Without_ drawing the blade at his hip, which is busy protesting.

"Seldan, that was bloody awful," an older, nasally woman's voice protests. "What are you doing?"

Seldan ignores the blade for the moment, and instead stares at his counterpart, ice beneath the steady gaze. "Leave. We will settle this, later. I will find you, and we will settle this." He does not look at Ravenstongue, all his focus on the pair. "Leave. NOW."

Any further ramblings of concern from Schara are muted suddenly from a wave of something incredibly unpleasant emanates from one of the 'paladin's’. The armor keeps them from toppling over just yet as it turns near rigid as a board, but they teeter awkwardly on the spot, struggling to regain control of their movements.

Ack. Poet tears. Carver would absolutely leave if she had been capable, driven away by the emotional resonance in the homeowner's voice with relief that she was not expected to try to *cheer anyone up*. The shrubbery can't handle the blubbery. She'd make like a tree,

And leaf.

Just the whole metaphysical upswell of Evil trumps any emotional immaturity on her own part. Her little bush hands go up to her little bush head and plunk there as she trembles 'cause when bush comes to shove she's been in hedged in.

One little bush squeak, "I shoulda.... had.... coffee."

Simony hurrrrrks, and grabs at her chest as something rolls over her, and for a few moments seems frozen in place. But the Goblin wobbles away, breathing raggedly as she slowly makes her way to Aya. Dropping to her knee, she shakes Aya's shoulder. "Hey, are you okay? Miss uhm... uh... hey!"

She sniffs, and pulls up Aya's eyelids gently, one at a time. "You'll be okay!"

The Gobbo stands, and begins to shuffle over towards Schara.

The Seldan that has a Malik backing him up stares into the other's Seldan's eyes. "And leave you alone with her and these other innocents here? I think not, however much she might wish it. But if you will come with me, then I will go, and under no other circumstance. We may go the three of us to a place and decide things then and there." At that he sheathes his sword, but seems ready to draw it again at any moment. Like Seldan he pays Cor'lana little mind save that from his own words it is clear he heard her.

Cor'lana stares down one Seldan and his Malik, her violet eyes glittering with tears. Really, she regards everyone with that icy and overwhelmed stare that pleads for anyone and everyone to leave her alone. It's like she's hoping her gaze alone will simply turn them away. Even Pothy on her shoulder seems uncertain of whether to nuzzle into her hair for comfort.

"I don't care what you do or where you go, so long as it is away from me and my home," she growls at the two. Despite her stature, she is deadly serious, even if it's couched with the wild and unhappy nature of her grieving self. "Leave."

Aya's body recovers enough that it allows some control of it, leaving her panting for breath and still not moving significantly. She could hear all perfectly fine, however, and looks between the Padaryns three, ending on the lone one. "Silverguard.." she manages in a warning tone that is far more broken than she'd like. She doesn't assume he's foolish enough to not realize the demand is a trap or disadvantage for himself. On the other hand, she doesn't doubt that he might take that risk for others' benefit.

"You wish to get me alone, then. A dishonorable request." Seldan's stare is icy and even, with not a trace of shadow, but he looks around at the other faces, for the first time, seeing those stricken by the evil. He takes a few steps backwards, then deliberately turns his back on the pair harassing Lana. "My lady. I would ask your forgiveness for the upset. Perhaps I may recompense you in such a way that quiet may be yours." The gaze softens.

From his pack, from the right-hand pouch, he pulls a single scroll and offers it to her. "I shall not trouble you this even, and I would have you fear not for me."

GAME: Simony casts Bull's Strength. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15

Simony pauses, looking back at Aya as she starts to pant. "Do you want me to carry you out of here? Or stand you up? If not I'll go see to the others who fell over." Her holy symbol lights up again, and the Gobbo pleads with Navos to give her body strength.

Thump. The bush is sideways.

Aya finally has the breath to spare Simony and the muscle control to wave away and shake her head at the request. "Check the others. I'll be fine." She isn't entirely yet, but she will be given a bit of time.

The Seldan so recently wielding a bared blade narrows his eyes after the other. "It is the nature of fiends to twist the words of a man to their own ends." His words are stiff and he glances at Cor'lana as the other offers her a scroll. "I caution you not to take anything from him; for the sake of your safety, but your will is your own."

Another glance passes between him and Malik who shrugs.

Cor'lana pointedly ignores the Seldan who cautions her as she accepts the scroll from the other. "Thank you, friend," she quietly murmurs.

Then more loudly, she says, "If you will excuse me." Then she opens the gate and makes her way to her front door. The sorceress has no intent nor patience for anyone else this day.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+4: (17)+18+4: 39
GAME: Seldan rolls reflex: (5)+24: 29
GAME: Aftershock rolls 6d6: (22): 22

As Cor'lana approaches her home a concussive force emits from the doorway, slamming into the woman and knocking her flat on the ground. Seldan, the one that had offered her the scroll is quick to act however - though he like her is also thrust backwards and onto the ground by the explosion of magical energy which is powerful enough to jostle those closest to it.

Nodding in reply to Aya, Simony turns away and moves to where Schara fell. Grabbing them under the arms, the Gobbo makes to move the fallen adventurer away from the area of potential conflict. At the least, a hopeful distance away to avoid further waves of wretched evil.

She's not even a quarter the distance away she wants to be, when Cor'lana and Seldan are knocked back and to the ground. Schara is carefully lowered, before the Goblin makes her way back.

Cor'lana cries out as she's knocked down, but she still holds onto the scroll for dear life. Thanks to Seldan's action, she seems relatively unharmed, just rattled as she tries to stagger onto her own two feet.

She looks over back in the direction of the Seldan-and-Malik pair, hissing at them if they are, in fact, still there. "I will not be _intimidated_ by your tricks!"

There is barely a moment for Seldan to respond, and all he can do is draw a single quick sigil before the force explodes, driving both him and Lana to the ground and sending him sprawling into the fence. However, of the two, only he is injured by the blast, and he gets to his feet. "Enough." His words, cool before with an icy and even undertone, are now as ice shards, with nothing even about them. "The measure of a man lies not in his words, but in his deeds, and naught do you do, save speak lies. You are no man, but demon even as you claim of I."

This time, Reunion rasps from its sheath, and he places himself between Cor'lana and the pair, his back to Cor'lana. "You deny a lady her home and sanctuary, and the innocents present the peace of the evening. Were I the source of that blast, she would be injured, but it is not so." Indeed, a bruise is already forming across his cheekbone and the side of his jaw. "Leave now - minions of Eclavdran."

Carver groans, a thousand needles pricking her skin. An unpleasant enchantment that left her held captive for what felt like eternity. Oh, now things are blowing up. Great. “I was just here to catch rats.”

”Oi, is everyone all righ’?”. Not that the dead can answer. “Okay, you know what? Nah. Nope. Nay." The ranger begins to strip off her terrible disguise. "I'm done. You all? Crazy. Get your lives in order." Her finger-point sweeps across from the many Seldan and Malik. Then the judging appendage is directed at Aya, Simony, and Schara. "You all clean up this mess." She can't bring herself to point at the crying lady who really just wanted a quiet night to herself. "Uh, I'm sorry for your... uh, whatever happen'd." Okay, bye. She departs, waddling away.

The false Seldan and Malik however are gone. Vanished without a trace of either of them. They have left but one last gift however... The bushes nearest Cor'lana's house are now quite aflame. So too are the shattered remnants of her door.

As soon as it is clear that the pair are gone, it's the sword that speaks up first.

"I am OFFENDED," states the crotchety old man. "How dare they impersonate me?"

"It really is offensive and rude," the older lady's voice agrees. "Seldan, you ought to find out who those two were and stop them."

"The most offensive thing was the idea that there might be two of you," the deep male, khazad-sounding voice points out.

"Golain, don't be ridiculous. Some days I think there should be two of us." The deeper, female voice.

This time, a lighter, young male voice speaks up. "Um ... I think this is really important," he says hesitantly. "Someone's trying to impersonate Seldan, and we'd all better find out who."

Seldan, meanwhile, has heat at his back, and whirls to see the bushes on fire, immediately sheathing his blade despite the scream of protest from his side and back. "FIRE!" he shouts, immediately removing his outer cloak and beginning to use it to put out fires.

Finally Schara is able to move, and the elf awkwardly pulls themself to their feet. Which was spurred on a bit more by the sudden fire. "I can't do much about the fire, I'm sorry. But I can at least do something to help." The artificer rambles. "I'll clean up after, but I think Ravenstongue wants to be left alone, and they should probably be left alone. asking them to leave doesn't work though, I know that. But I don't know a good solution either, so I'm sorry. Thank you for your help Simony, if you're alright, stay with them, and I'll go see if there is a well or people to help nearby."

And with that the artificer jogs away, clanking a bit against the road and creaking a bit more than usual from the fall.

They're gone. Cor'lana's anger, her rage, is spent not on the entities who deserve it but on thin air. She turns to her broken door and to her bushes, and for a couple of seconds, she simply looks at them as what they are: reflections of what it feels like to be her. To be alive. A battered door and burnt bushes, like her battered heart and her existence that feels constantly like it's on fire.

"I wish I was the one in the Halls and not you," she finds herself murmuring. This earns her a look from Pothy on her shoulder, followed by a gentle peck from the bird into her hair, and she realizes: she'd better put out these fires.

She, too, goes to put out the flames. Because she has to. Because life does not stop when someone has died. Because she has to go on.

Even if she doesn't want to.

-End