"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
"Today, we stand before a crossroads carved by our long struggle. Kelek and Zargash have long basked in their own deceptions—a darkness that they thought would remain unchallenged. I propose we offer them their final, fateful choice: embrace truth and rebuild with light and artistry, or be consumed by the very radiance they’ve tried to extinguish."
Strongheart (steady and earnest):
"It is not our way to end a life simply because it has fallen astray. True justice does not come from destruction, but from accountability. If they choose truth, they may yet rebuild what they’ve shattered. But if they refuse... then let the light of our conviction themselves be their undoing."
Ringlerun (measured, his tone echoing wisdom):
"Every lie leaves a scar upon this world—a blemish on nature’s masterpiece. Our wish, then, must act as a mirror reflecting every hidden deceit. In that reflection, they must confront who they truly are, and choose whether to mend—or be forever tarnished by their own failures."
Elidon (sparkling with irreverent modern flair):
"Imagine it—a final boss battle, but instead of clashing swords, they’re faced with the ultimate plot twist of self-reckoning! Their choice isn’t about brute force; it’s about rewriting their narrative. Will they rise, craft a future worthy of song and art, or be lost entirely in a flash of blinding, unforgiving light? I mean, talk about a mic drop moment!"
Mercion (soft smile mingling with fierce conviction):
"Elidon speaks the language of our times, and his words ring true. Let this wish be our beacon—a chance for redemption, not a curse. In that undeniable light, may they see the beauty of truth and the cost of deceit. They must decide: transform into creators of beauty or succumb to the very luminance they once feared."
Strongheart (nodding, voice filled with quiet determination):
"The power we wield is not for punishment alone—it is for inspiring change. Let our wish resound like a clarion call: a final reckoning to choose what legacy they will leave behind."
Ringlerun (reflectively):
"Think of every star, every ray of pure light that pierces the darkness. We are that light now—a force of truth meant to inspire even those steeped in corruption. Today, they must answer to that brilliance."
Elidon (energetic, with a playful gleam in their eyes):
"Alright, team—time to flip the script. Let’s cast a wish that’s as epic and poetic as our journey. May this light force them to confront their true nature and choose their destiny: redemption through truth or an end they can no longer deny."
Mercion (firmly, as the final words echo in the chamber):
"Then, with our voices intertwined, let the wish be cast. Let the light reveal all—and let every deceiver face the choice alone, in the simplicity of truth against the legacy of darkness. So it shall be."
With a nod of assurance Mercion signals Elidon to free Zybilna. The unicorn bows his head, touching his horn to the frozen archfey as he speaks her lost name, "Natasha".
Once more able to move, Zybilna lurches forward a step, then quickly regains her balance.
“Damn. Too late!” she says with a snarl.
Her eyes dart around in search of enemies before fixing on you*. “Have we met?” she asks.
<* "You" is referring to any and all player characters. In fact, she's mwt Valor's Call, but you're strangers to her.>
Sam looks at her “only in tomes, not in person” he looks ready for a fight thinking which ones that he would need to kill of the valour’s call before everything gets hectic
"No. I don't believe I've ever even heard of you before."
Trisk adjusts his sleeve while inspecting it for lint, trying to effect an aura of being unimpressed.
Deception: 18
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Piccolo sits crossed hoofed, studying the entire group, curious what they will do. She looks at the witch and valors call, (perception 15), wondering what they might do as she watches her friends to see how they will act in the interesting situation she created. Such fun.
Mercion, whom, you will recall, was feozen right beside Zybilna, informs the archfey, "these brave souls set us free, that we might swt things to right. The coven is disbanded. Their coconspirators have been apprehended."
Zybilna nods as she listens, but what she hides is more than an understanding of the events Merxion dewcrives, she is nodding to distract from the shrewd machinations of her mind, as she knows with absolute certainty the depths of personal knowledge thst must have been unraveled to free her in this manner, once she see the cauldron, without doing anything to suggest that any of it matters. Zybilna lnows thst at least some.of those assembled here know she is the infamois witxh queen Iggwilv, or was, once, and even more that she was the daughter of Baba Yaga. Who knows these thongs? Is that the limit of their knowledge? What is the risk of them exposing her foemer identity? Would they even be so inclined? A chess matxh unfolds in Zybilna’s mind even as Mercion yet speaks. As she examines the potential outcomes witb the limoted information available, she decides her course of action with reaolute certainty. Whether they wish her ill or to curry favor, whther well intentioned or motivated by greed alone, Zybilna lnows there js one thing thst will sate any who set foot in the Palaxe of Heart's Desire, and she has the power to grant it.
"Loyal patrons, ahe announces to the court, who have fallen silent as they watched the unicorn revive their hostess, "these heroes, members of Valor's Call and the new faces that now grace this ballroom have done us a great service and Prismeer and I are in their debt. For service to the Court of Prismeer, it is my pleasure and honour to bestown upon you your heart's desire. Ruminate, then, and when you have found the words, I shall.grsnt your wish."
The court bursts into appause, soon scattered.servants, some familoar by now, crawl from the woodwork ... including iggrick, the toad, as well as some unfamiliar faces.
Actually, we've decided what we need, ehat everyone needs, is hope. The villains who froze you, they slimber yet in this castle, a d though we could slay them where rhey lie, we have seen violence beget violebce in a vicious cycle fkr too long. Even if ee end their loves, who's to say that they wouldnt come back somehow? Stranger things have happened.
Zybilna seems oitwardly shocked, "They dwell yet here?! In these bery halls? But, after what they've done, all they've hurt, all you've lost. And what, you'd just let them.go? Off to ravage new lands and ruthlessly slaughter countless more innocent souls?"
Strongheart answers, "Tis true, the league of malevolence has shown little remorse for their depraved acts, yet it is not their souls I would spare. It is mine own, and thinr and his and hers. If we strike them.down today, in the name of the innocent, thrn they are innocent no longer. For all the children who yet play unfettered and all thoae whose innocence has been scoired by the cruelty of black-hearted scoundrels, we wish for another way."
Ringlerun, staff at arms length, soeaks last for Valor's Call, "We wish," he begins, with thise words, the world stands sti), no one moves, the courtiers and servants all seem grey, duffuse and ethereal, as an onomancy holds the very flow of time at bay whilst the syllabkes form upon the tongue of the speaker, he continues, "to offer Kelek and Zargash a mirror, and looking withon, they will see they hold in it their final, fateful choice: embrace truth and rebuild with light and artistry, or be consumed by the very radiance they’ve tried to extinguish. Show rhem what theyve do e. Show them all theyve hurt, ahow it to thier heatts, to their very core. And when they have seen this, let them decide whether they will embrace the light, or if it is the light which will consume them."
Piccolo looks over at the discussion, unconsciously playing with a piece of grass she found as she waits for the daugther of Baba Yaga to make her decision. She begins playing a gentle, peaceful tune, then it switches to one of tension and strain, then back to peaceful. (An image of Kelek and Zargash needing to choose their fate, one of reconciliation or one of death). The tune just amplifies the importance of the moment. She also shows an image of the two being awakened, and her binding them with rope and placing a gag in their mouths so they can not cast spells.
The air hums with a resonant energy as Mercion completes the wish. Radiance floods the chamber, pooling like liquid sunlight against the walls. Kelek and Zargash, once feared and ruthless, are suspended within the glow—a moment frozen between salvation and annihilation.
Kelek (sneering, voice laced with desperation): "You dare to force my hand? A trick, a manipulation—you’re no better than those who twisted fate before me!"
Zargash (writhing, eyes wide with realization): "I—No, wait! This light… it sees everything, doesn’t it? It knows. It knows what we’ve done… what we’ve become."
The luminous force coalesces, illuminating every deed, every deception—the ruin they sowed under Orcus’ command. The weight of their own truth presses upon them like a mountain. Their choices ripple before their eyes, stark and undeniable.
Zybilna watches from the edge of the chamber, her expression unreadable, yet profoundly knowing. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is steady, thoughtful.
Zybilna: "I once stood at the precipice, as you do now. I bound my fate in darkness, consorted with those who devour the world. And yet here I stand, renewed. Choice is the one force that even magic cannot strip from us. It is yours, now. But the light does not lie. It does not forgive—it simply is."
Kelek clenches his fists, his breath ragged. The light pulses again, demanding resolution.
Zargash (whispering, in awe or terror): "We can’t hide from it. Not anymore."
For a long moment, the chamber is silent. Then Kelek throws back his head and laughs, wild and reckless. But his defiance falters as he looks at Zargash, whose face twists with conflict. And something changes. He drops his staff. His shoulders sag.
Kelek (softly, as if admitting defeat): "I was meant for something greater than servitude to Orcus. But what am I, without my power?"
Zargash (shaking his head, weary): "Perhaps something new."
Then, in one final surge, the light folds inward—engulfing them completely. Their screams echo, but they are not of agony, nor of defiance. They are the raw cries of men stripped of their lies, their masks, their illusion of self. When the radiance fades, they remain. But changed. Their forms flicker, touched by new purpose… or, perhaps, the absence of old corruption.
Mercion watches, her light unwavering, "Let truth give life to beauty,"
Zybilna exhales, as if releasing something long buried within herself. She turns to Mercion, Elidon, Strongheart, and Ringlerun, "A wise wish. One that does not merely grant, but reveals. Let us see what they make of themselves."
"I think we can remand these two 8nto your recognesence," Zybilna says of Kelek and Zargash to Strongheart and Mercion. I can sens you home, wherever that may be, if rhat be your desire. Bur first, I must ask, is the palace safe? Is there anything that needs be dealt with before i remove this temporal curse from mine halls?"
After confirming rhat the larty knows of no imminemt damger, she also asks Thinnings and Igrick, who likewise know of no preasing matters other than the unknown fate of the hags (at least Bavlorna lives, i dont know for sure about Endelyn).
Assured it is sade to do so, Zybilna asks Elidon to touxh his hirn to the cauldron, "would you be so kind?" She requests, politely.
As she motions with her hands, evoking the image of one stirring a pot, abd the swirling brew within, Zybilna recites a poem:
Piccolo shakes her head in satisfaction of the fair resolution. Those she had chosen to intertwine her destiny with had chosen wisely. She finds a tree to climb into, hands her legs down from a branch and plays a beautiful melody, a tune that for some reason, seems familiar to all who listen, reminiscent of a sound heard in childhood.
Samgori looks at the witch queen not in amazement but with a sign of respect “do you know who I truly am now that they are gone” if she doesn’t know he will introduce himself properly, if she does he will says “I believe you have something that my god wants me to have know a goblet of sorts, once belong to bat god” he looks at here with a stair with his one eye “do you have what I’m required to have”
The ballroom hums with residual magic, gilded chandeliers casting eerie reflections in the polished floor. Zybilna stands near the cauldron, fingertips tracing unseen patterns in the air. Her golden eyes flick to the goblet as if it were an old acquaintance, her smile sharp and knowing.
"Ah. That treacherous little thing finds its way home at last."
With a flick of her wrist, the goblet materializes on the ballroom floor, gleaming darkly beneath the glow of enchanted candlelight. Its very presence feels… wrong, as though the room itself resists acknowledging it.
"You may take it, of course. But tell me, what do you plan to do with it now? Pour? Spill? Drown the world in its gift? The cauldron has slumbered in my absence, but the goblet—oh, the goblet could wake it time and time again."
She steps closer, her voice quieter, more intimate, weaving into the air like a spell.
"There is a price for power when it flows without end. You will hold it, yes—but it will hold you in turn."
Her eyes flicker toward the cauldron, then back to the party. Her laughter is soft, almost indulgent.
"Take it, then. But know this—when next the smoke coils through these halls, it will not be so eager to depart."
Piccolo continues to sit on the tree, innocently playing her tiny instrument. She looks at Samgori, then back at Zyblina. A happy ending for now, and almost time for her to sleep. She goes over to Trisk and hugs him, and he gets the sense she is saying goodbye again.
(Piccolo will soon disappear again. She needs to recharge, and .....change seasons. She will return shortly, somewhere in an outdoor environment....OOC: Im not leaving the game, just have a sort of weird PC, who has other duties to attend to)
<honestly, i dont really know what to do from here. The plan was ro run the last two AL adventures in the DRW path: Cold Night and Szazz Tam. I know Sam wanted to do some crafting in the bastion, and Picollo is hanging out. This definitely sounds like time for a bastion turn. 2024 DMG has a whole chapter on it, which differs lots from the UA version. I have to read it, but if you already know how a bastion turn works, you're welcome to proceed with it>
The ballroom hums with residual magic, gilded chandeliers casting eerie reflections in the polished floor. Zybilna stands near the cauldron, fingertips tracing unseen patterns in the air. Her golden eyes flick to the goblet as if it were an old acquaintance, her smile sharp and knowing.
"Ah. That treacherous little thing finds its way home at last."
With a flick of her wrist, the goblet materializes on the ballroom floor, gleaming darkly beneath the glow of enchanted candlelight. Its very presence feels… wrong, as though the room itself resists acknowledging it.
"You may take it, of course. But tell me, what do you plan to do with it now? Pour? Spill? Drown the world in its gift? The cauldron has slumbered in my absence, but the goblet—oh, the goblet could wake it time and time again."
She steps closer, her voice quieter, more intimate, weaving into the air like a spell.
"There is a price for power when it flows without end. You will hold it, yes—but it will hold you in turn."
Her eyes flicker toward the cauldron, then back to the party. Her laughter is soft, almost indulgent.
"Take it, then. But know this—when next the smoke coils through these halls, it will not be so eager to depart."
Sam steps forward to meet her “the strongest choices require the strongest of wills” he looks at the witch queen “my intention is only for me to decide and see what my lord wants from me” he takes the goblet and for the moment would place it his portable hole as he then begins to leave he turns one last time “tasha a war is coming the storms on the horizon but the hurricane is coming, I wounder what side you will stand apon” he then leaves looking at his companions, with the feeling that pic will be needing to change he bows his head “till next time my” he walks out of the castle as he does theirs a sense of not urgency but a spark of an idea with that goblet, possibly enhancing him and his goals
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"Yes, I agree wholeheartedly!"
Trisk looks down at Piccolo holding his hand.
"How about you, agree or disagree?"
She easily keeps up with Trisk as they head over. At the question, she just looks at him and smiles, seeming to be quite noncommittal at this time.
As the assembled members
Mercion (calm and resolute):
"Today, we stand before a crossroads carved by our long struggle. Kelek and Zargash have long basked in their own deceptions—a darkness that they thought would remain unchallenged. I propose we offer them their final, fateful choice: embrace truth and rebuild with light and artistry, or be consumed by the very radiance they’ve tried to extinguish."
Strongheart (steady and earnest):
"It is not our way to end a life simply because it has fallen astray. True justice does not come from destruction, but from accountability. If they choose truth, they may yet rebuild what they’ve shattered. But if they refuse... then let the light of our conviction themselves be their undoing."
Ringlerun (measured, his tone echoing wisdom):
"Every lie leaves a scar upon this world—a blemish on nature’s masterpiece. Our wish, then, must act as a mirror reflecting every hidden deceit. In that reflection, they must confront who they truly are, and choose whether to mend—or be forever tarnished by their own failures."
Elidon (sparkling with irreverent modern flair):
"Imagine it—a final boss battle, but instead of clashing swords, they’re faced with the ultimate plot twist of self-reckoning! Their choice isn’t about brute force; it’s about rewriting their narrative. Will they rise, craft a future worthy of song and art, or be lost entirely in a flash of blinding, unforgiving light? I mean, talk about a mic drop moment!"
Mercion (soft smile mingling with fierce conviction):
"Elidon speaks the language of our times, and his words ring true. Let this wish be our beacon—a chance for redemption, not a curse. In that undeniable light, may they see the beauty of truth and the cost of deceit. They must decide: transform into creators of beauty or succumb to the very luminance they once feared."
Strongheart (nodding, voice filled with quiet determination):
"The power we wield is not for punishment alone—it is for inspiring change. Let our wish resound like a clarion call: a final reckoning to choose what legacy they will leave behind."
Ringlerun (reflectively):
"Think of every star, every ray of pure light that pierces the darkness. We are that light now—a force of truth meant to inspire even those steeped in corruption. Today, they must answer to that brilliance."
Elidon (energetic, with a playful gleam in their eyes):
"Alright, team—time to flip the script. Let’s cast a wish that’s as epic and poetic as our journey. May this light force them to confront their true nature and choose their destiny: redemption through truth or an end they can no longer deny."
Mercion (firmly, as the final words echo in the chamber):
"Then, with our voices intertwined, let the wish be cast. Let the light reveal all—and let every deceiver face the choice alone, in the simplicity of truth against the legacy of darkness. So it shall be."
With a nod of assurance Mercion signals Elidon to free Zybilna. The unicorn bows his head, touching his horn to the frozen archfey as he speaks her lost name, "Natasha".
Once more able to move, Zybilna lurches forward a step, then quickly regains her balance.
“Damn. Too late!” she says with a snarl.
Her eyes dart around in search of enemies before fixing on you*. “Have we met?” she asks.
<* "You" is referring to any and all player characters. In fact, she's mwt Valor's Call, but you're strangers to her.>
Piccolo curtsy’s bashfully, shakes her head yea, then no.
Sam looks at her “only in tomes, not in person” he looks ready for a fight thinking which ones that he would need to kill of the valour’s call before everything gets hectic
"No. I don't believe I've ever even heard of you before."
Trisk adjusts his sleeve while inspecting it for lint, trying to effect an aura of being unimpressed.
Deception: 18
Piccolo sits crossed hoofed, studying the entire group, curious what they will do. She looks at the witch and valors call, (perception 15), wondering what they might do as she watches her friends to see how they will act in the interesting situation she created. Such fun.
Mercion, whom, you will recall, was feozen right beside Zybilna, informs the archfey, "these brave souls set us free, that we might swt things to right. The coven is disbanded. Their coconspirators have been apprehended."
Zybilna nods as she listens, but what she hides is more than an understanding of the events Merxion dewcrives, she is nodding to distract from the shrewd machinations of her mind, as she knows with absolute certainty the depths of personal knowledge thst must have been unraveled to free her in this manner, once she see the cauldron, without doing anything to suggest that any of it matters. Zybilna lnows thst at least some.of those assembled here know she is the infamois witxh queen Iggwilv, or was, once, and even more that she was the daughter of Baba Yaga. Who knows these thongs? Is that the limit of their knowledge? What is the risk of them exposing her foemer identity? Would they even be so inclined? A chess matxh unfolds in Zybilna’s mind even as Mercion yet speaks. As she examines the potential outcomes witb the limoted information available, she decides her course of action with reaolute certainty. Whether they wish her ill or to curry favor, whther well intentioned or motivated by greed alone, Zybilna lnows there js one thing thst will sate any who set foot in the Palaxe of Heart's Desire, and she has the power to grant it.
"Loyal patrons, ahe announces to the court, who have fallen silent as they watched the unicorn revive their hostess, "these heroes, members of Valor's Call and the new faces that now grace this ballroom have done us a great service and Prismeer and I are in their debt. For service to the Court of Prismeer, it is my pleasure and honour to bestown upon you your heart's desire. Ruminate, then, and when you have found the words, I shall.grsnt your wish."
The court bursts into appause, soon scattered.servants, some familoar by now, crawl from the woodwork ... including iggrick, the toad, as well as some unfamiliar faces.
Actually, we've decided what we need, ehat everyone needs, is hope. The villains who froze you, they slimber yet in this castle, a d though we could slay them where rhey lie, we have seen violence beget violebce in a vicious cycle fkr too long. Even if ee end their loves, who's to say that they wouldnt come back somehow? Stranger things have happened.
Zybilna seems oitwardly shocked, "They dwell yet here?! In these bery halls? But, after what they've done, all they've hurt, all you've lost. And what, you'd just let them.go? Off to ravage new lands and ruthlessly slaughter countless more innocent souls?"
Strongheart answers, "Tis true, the league of malevolence has shown little remorse for their depraved acts, yet it is not their souls I would spare. It is mine own, and thinr and his and hers. If we strike them.down today, in the name of the innocent, thrn they are innocent no longer. For all the children who yet play unfettered and all thoae whose innocence has been scoired by the cruelty of black-hearted scoundrels, we wish for another way."
Ringlerun, staff at arms length, soeaks last for Valor's Call, "We wish," he begins, with thise words, the world stands sti), no one moves, the courtiers and servants all seem grey, duffuse and ethereal, as an onomancy holds the very flow of time at bay whilst the syllabkes form upon the tongue of the speaker, he continues, "to offer Kelek and Zargash a mirror, and looking withon, they will see they hold in it their final, fateful choice: embrace truth and rebuild with light and artistry, or be consumed by the very radiance they’ve tried to extinguish. Show rhem what theyve do e. Show them all theyve hurt, ahow it to thier heatts, to their very core. And when they have seen this, let them decide whether they will embrace the light, or if it is the light which will consume them."
Piccolo looks over at the discussion, unconsciously playing with a piece of grass she found as she waits for the daugther of Baba Yaga to make her decision. She begins playing a gentle, peaceful tune, then it switches to one of tension and strain, then back to peaceful. (An image of Kelek and Zargash needing to choose their fate, one of reconciliation or one of death). The tune just amplifies the importance of the moment. She also shows an image of the two being awakened, and her binding them with rope and placing a gag in their mouths so they can not cast spells.
The air hums with a resonant energy as Mercion completes the wish. Radiance floods the chamber, pooling like liquid sunlight against the walls. Kelek and Zargash, once feared and ruthless, are suspended within the glow—a moment frozen between salvation and annihilation.
Kelek (sneering, voice laced with desperation): "You dare to force my hand? A trick, a manipulation—you’re no better than those who twisted fate before me!"
Zargash (writhing, eyes wide with realization): "I—No, wait! This light… it sees everything, doesn’t it? It knows. It knows what we’ve done… what we’ve become."
The luminous force coalesces, illuminating every deed, every deception—the ruin they sowed under Orcus’ command. The weight of their own truth presses upon them like a mountain. Their choices ripple before their eyes, stark and undeniable.
Zybilna watches from the edge of the chamber, her expression unreadable, yet profoundly knowing. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is steady, thoughtful.
Zybilna: "I once stood at the precipice, as you do now. I bound my fate in darkness, consorted with those who devour the world. And yet here I stand, renewed. Choice is the one force that even magic cannot strip from us. It is yours, now. But the light does not lie. It does not forgive—it simply is."
Kelek clenches his fists, his breath ragged. The light pulses again, demanding resolution.
Zargash (whispering, in awe or terror): "We can’t hide from it. Not anymore."
For a long moment, the chamber is silent. Then Kelek throws back his head and laughs, wild and reckless. But his defiance falters as he looks at Zargash, whose face twists with conflict. And something changes. He drops his staff. His shoulders sag.
Kelek (softly, as if admitting defeat): "I was meant for something greater than servitude to Orcus. But what am I, without my power?"
Zargash (shaking his head, weary): "Perhaps something new."
Then, in one final surge, the light folds inward—engulfing them completely. Their screams echo, but they are not of agony, nor of defiance. They are the raw cries of men stripped of their lies, their masks, their illusion of self. When the radiance fades, they remain. But changed. Their forms flicker, touched by new purpose… or, perhaps, the absence of old corruption.
Mercion watches, her light unwavering, "Let truth give life to beauty,"
Zybilna exhales, as if releasing something long buried within herself. She turns to Mercion, Elidon, Strongheart, and Ringlerun, "A wise wish. One that does not merely grant, but reveals. Let us see what they make of themselves."
"I think we can remand these two 8nto your recognesence," Zybilna says of Kelek and Zargash to Strongheart and Mercion. I can sens you home, wherever that may be, if rhat be your desire. Bur first, I must ask, is the palace safe? Is there anything that needs be dealt with before i remove this temporal curse from mine halls?"
After confirming rhat the larty knows of no imminemt damger, she also asks Thinnings and Igrick, who likewise know of no preasing matters other than the unknown fate of the hags (at least Bavlorna lives, i dont know for sure about Endelyn).
Assured it is sade to do so, Zybilna asks Elidon to touxh his hirn to the cauldron, "would you be so kind?" She requests, politely.
As she motions with her hands, evoking the image of one stirring a pot, abd the swirling brew within, Zybilna recites a poem:
"Eight cats perch atop eight dead attending
Eight lizards flee from eight rats scavenging
Eight toads climbing meet eight dead and falling
Eight snakes sneak under eight bats screaming
Eight eyes open, always dreaming
All on the cauldron that is ever seeming"
At this, all creatures on the palwce grounds frozen in time resume their prior cadence.
<ooc: So, what do you want ro do? You can aks her anything you like. Want ro hunt down the last hag ir just be sent somewhere or anything?>
Piccolo shakes her head in satisfaction of the fair resolution. Those she had chosen to intertwine her destiny with had chosen wisely. She finds a tree to climb into, hands her legs down from a branch and plays a beautiful melody, a tune that for some reason, seems familiar to all who listen, reminiscent of a sound heard in childhood.
Samgori looks at the witch queen not in amazement but with a sign of respect “do you know who I truly am now that they are gone” if she doesn’t know he will introduce himself properly, if she does he will says “I believe you have something that my god wants me to have know a goblet of sorts, once belong to bat god” he looks at here with a stair with his one eye “do you have what I’m required to have”
The ballroom hums with residual magic, gilded chandeliers casting eerie reflections in the polished floor. Zybilna stands near the cauldron, fingertips tracing unseen patterns in the air. Her golden eyes flick to the goblet as if it were an old acquaintance, her smile sharp and knowing.
"Ah. That treacherous little thing finds its way home at last."
With a flick of her wrist, the goblet materializes on the ballroom floor, gleaming darkly beneath the glow of enchanted candlelight. Its very presence feels… wrong, as though the room itself resists acknowledging it.
"You may take it, of course. But tell me, what do you plan to do with it now? Pour? Spill? Drown the world in its gift? The cauldron has slumbered in my absence, but the goblet—oh, the goblet could wake it time and time again."
She steps closer, her voice quieter, more intimate, weaving into the air like a spell.
"There is a price for power when it flows without end. You will hold it, yes—but it will hold you in turn."
Her eyes flicker toward the cauldron, then back to the party. Her laughter is soft, almost indulgent.
"Take it, then. But know this—when next the smoke coils through these halls, it will not be so eager to depart."
Piccolo continues to sit on the tree, innocently playing her tiny instrument. She looks at Samgori, then back at Zyblina. A happy ending for now, and almost time for her to sleep.
She goes over to Trisk and hugs him, and he gets the sense she is saying goodbye again.
(Piccolo will soon disappear again. She needs to recharge, and .....change seasons. She will return shortly, somewhere in an outdoor environment....OOC: Im not leaving the game, just have a sort of weird PC, who has other duties to attend to)
<honestly, i dont really know what to do from here. The plan was ro run the last two AL adventures in the DRW path: Cold Night and Szazz Tam. I know Sam wanted to do some crafting in the bastion, and Picollo is hanging out. This definitely sounds like time for a bastion turn. 2024 DMG has a whole chapter on it, which differs lots from the UA version. I have to read it, but if you already know how a bastion turn works, you're welcome to proceed with it>
Sam steps forward to meet her “the strongest choices require the strongest of wills” he looks at the witch queen “my intention is only for me to decide and see what my lord wants from me” he takes the goblet and for the moment would place it his portable hole as he then begins to leave he turns one last time “tasha a war is coming the storms on the horizon but the hurricane is coming, I wounder what side you will stand apon” he then leaves looking at his companions, with the feeling that pic will be needing to change he bows his head “till next time my” he walks out of the castle as he does theirs a sense of not urgency but a spark of an idea with that goblet, possibly enhancing him and his goals