Dioe/Logs/before-the-storm

[The Broken Blade Tavern]
Thick fragrant rushes on the floor, large comfortable rooms, clean tables and the broadest selection of ales in the province explain why the Broken Blade is famed for both its hospitality and the brewing skills of its proprietor, Amechra Tushise. Weary off-duty guards sit swapping stories and mild insults over a pitcher of Amechra's finest at the far end of the immense bar while, at nearby tables, traders ply local merchants with whiskey in an attempt to squeeze the last gold dokora from their contracts. You also see some stairs, a doorway, Amechra and a menu.
Also here: Black Widow Ophiliah, Sophister Deatly who is darkened by an unnatural shadow and Natural Assassin Parned.
Obvious exits: none.

>read menu

Welcome to the Broken Blade! 

"Our ale is the finest sold anywhere!" 

1 - Amechra's Own Ale............................... 6 

2 - Piet's Wicked Ale............................... 3 

3 - Gor'Tog Bloodgrog............................... 3 

4 - Boar's Head Ale................................. 4 

5 - Ishra's Pale.................................... 5 

6 - Dragon Foam Dark................................ 6 

7 - Amechra's Reserve Ale........................... 9 

8 - Jainder's Keg Ale ~ In memory ~................. 6 

9 - Black Road Whiskey............................. 9 

** All prices are in good bronze Dokoras. Don't be **

** handing me any of that clipped coin! **

>order 1

Amechra slides a pint of Amechra's Own Ale across the bar. You pay him 60 copper dokoras for it.

>get ale from bar

You get a pint of Amechra's Own Ale from atop the bar.

>drink my ale

You take a sip of the Ale.

You sigh.

Ophiliah says, "Hello."

You glance at Ophiliah, a female Elf.

>look Ophiliah

You see Black Widow Ophiliah of Elanthia, an Elf.
Ophiliah has a triangular face, pointed ears, tilted almond-shaped violet eyes and a small nose. Her snow-white hair is long and straight, and is worn loose. She has ebon skin and a curvaceous figure.
She is a bit over average height for an Elf.
She appears to be an adult.
She has a tattoo of a troop of goblins struggling to hoist a slobbering goblin king over their heads on her back.

She has faint scuffing to the neck, faint scuffing to the right leg, faint scuffing to the chest.
She is in good shape.

She is wearing some burgundy leather gloves trimmed with raven feathers, a dark burgundy leather cowl embossed with raven feathers, a warrior's duffel bag, a raspberry-hued berrybomb bast skirt layered over white petticoats, a woven girdle formed from platinum wire with blackwater jet beads, a thigh pouch, a twisted hexwood ring braided with black hair, some bloodvine thorn handwraps, a round ecru sipar with a raised anlora-avtoma boss, some thick punka greaves with fitted seams, a thick punka coat with fitted seams, a blackened iron eyebrow ring scored with diagonal slashes, a scarlet witchweft purse secured with an inverted hexwood pentagram, a black gem pouch, a ghost-white cloak fastened by a muracite claw clutching a spherical blood ruby, a richly tooled leather thigh quiver, a small sack, a simple leather sling, a gwethdesuan, an umbral sanowret crystal set within a damite nightstalker unyn, a heavy khaddar haversack, a boxy persimmon canvas tote with cougar-hide handles, a rugged heavy khaddar rucksack with cloth straps, a morgawr leather armband tooled with severed tentacles, some silver-chased elbow spikes, a hook-bladed steel wrist knife, an oak parry stick with various faces swirling across its surface, some polished thin-edged zills with silvered esoteric filigree, a hand-tooled highwayman's belt of black morgawr leather, a light spidersilk hip pouch stitched with a dragon ouroboros, a lockpick ring, a black gem pouch, a tan leather harness with a polished lead clasp and some blackened steel knee spikes.

Ophiliah nods to you.

Parned nods to you.

You say to Ophiliah, "Evening, love."

You nod to Parned.

Ophiliah bats her eyelashes.

You see Natural Assassin Parned, Swift Dagger, a S'Kra Mur.
Parned has slitted crystal green eyes, camouflage scales and a slender tail.
He appears to be elderly.
He has a tattoo of a dragon coiled about itself with its sleeping head resting on his tail.

He is in good shape.

He is wearing an agonite lamellar helm sculpted with the visage of a blazing phoenix, a gwethdesuan, a light damite plate mask, a steel biomechanical harvester spider, a shield-shaped backpack detailed with a set of golden scales, a heavy silk duffel bag, a bloodwood competition longbow, some sleek black leathers tinged with oceanic blue, a small demonscale shield pyrographed with a map of the Blasted Plains, a sanowret crystal, a simple steel parry stick, some light chain gloves with an interlinked basketweave pattern, a dark obsidian ring inlaid with an ivory Ranger Guild crest, a tight bundle, a wide weaponsmith's toolbelt covered in kertig buckles, a red pouch embroidered with a pork chop, a black gem pouch, a metallic lockpick ring, a pearlescent shagreen belt bag fastened with an Imperial dira, a black gem pouch, a cambrinth tailband inlaid with jade, an ice-veined leather kilt fastened with an icesteel pin, a narrow green leather thigh quiver stitched with a scale-like pattern and a complex lockpick ankle-cuff composed of interlocking ka'hurst bands.

You smile.

You ask Ophiliah, "How are ye faring this eve?"

>look deatly

You see Sophister Deatly of the Monks, an Elothean.
Deatly has an angular face, slightly pointed ears, silver-flecked blue-grey eyes and a straight nose. His blue-black hair is short and thick. He has pale skin and a wiry build.
He is tall for an Elothean.
He appears to be in his prime.
He has a long thin mustache on his upper lip and a thin beard.

He is in good shape.

He is wearing a large crystal prism suspended from a fine tel'athi chain, a cut-crystal hand wrapped around an amber jewel, a canvas scribe's pack, a velvety dergatine cassock draped with a thin silversteel mesh, a frost-green sanowret crystal, some brass knuckles, a telescope tube of dark fur and polished bone endcaps, some fitted grey trousers and a pair of expertly shined black leather boots.

Ophiliah stretches her arms.

You lean against the bar.

Ophiliah says, "Nihts early .. plenty to drink."

You laugh!

You say, "Aye, 'tis, and there is plenty to drink."

You smile at Ophiliah.

Ophiliah says, "Never been to this bar.. but im assuming a "thin cookbook" is not a drink."

Ophiliah taps the bar.

You laugh!

Ophiliah grins.

Amechra slides a tall glass of Dragon Foam Dark across the bar.

Amechra slides a tall glass of Dragon Foam Dark across the bar.

You laughingly say, "Safe assumption, lass, but in taverns like these, ye never know."

Parned gets a tall glass of Dragon Foam Dark from atop the bar.

Ophiliah says, "It could have a different or undertone meaning."

One by one, each face on Ophiliah's stick fades away until the stick is empty. Without warning, a single giant face suddenly appears, snarling and snickering! The remaining faces pop back into visibility, each silently laughing a moment before resuming their normal movement.

He spits it out immediately with a look of utter revulsion!

Ophiliah nods.

You say to Parned, "Evening, mate. They all me Dioe."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Ello. Parned."

Raising your Amechra's Own Ale to Parned, you give him a toast. Cheers!

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Bah....revolting stuff here."

Amechra slides a shot of Black Road whiskey across the bar.

Parned shudders.

Amechra slides a shot of Black Road whiskey across the bar.

Amechra slides a shot of Black Road whiskey across the bar.

Amechra slides a shot of Black Road whiskey across the bar.

You say, "Pleasure to meet, ye, Parned."

Ophiliah gets a shot of Black Road whiskey from atop the bar.

Ophiliah leans against the bar.

You glance at Ophiliah, a female Elf.

Ophiliah glances at you.

You ask Ophiliah, "Whiskey?"

One of the faces on Deatly's hat splits into two smaller faces, and every face on the hat begins to follow suit! After a moment, the hat is a murky collection of pinpricks, all jostling around. Gradually, the moving dots begin to coalesce into larger and larger faces, until each returns to its normal movement.

Parned puts his Dark on the bar.

Ophiliah says, "Whats wrong with it."

Ophiliah gasps and chokes as her face takes on a bright reddish hue!

You laugh!

Amechra slides a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale across the bar.

Parned gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

Parned jumps back a few feet and lands on his rump, looking dazed!

You say, "Not a thing. Get the job done - well done."

Ophiliah says, "Oh that ale looks good as a chaser."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "That's better.....i'd advise against the dark for anyone thinking of it."

You grin at Parned.

Parned frowns at Amechra.

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

Deatly gets a cambrinth orb from inside his scribe's pack.

Ophiliah gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

You say, "I'll stick with Amechra's own in that case."

Ophiliah jumps back a few feet and lands on her rump, looking dazed!

Ophiliah stands up.

>glance Deatly

You glance at Deatly, a male Elothean.

Ophiliah says, "Smooooth."

Deatly gestures.

Deatly's cambrinth orb emits a loud *snap*.

Soft beams of ambient light swirl around Deatly, covering him in a barrier of bright light.

Parned takes a sip of his Ale.

Ophiliah glances at something on top of the bar.

Ophiliah draws her ghost-white cloak away from her hips.

You ask Deatly, "Spellcaster, I see. How do ye fare this evening, mate?"

Deatly says to you, "I am doing well, just listening to the moons."

You chuckle.

A whirring noise drifts up from Zehira's mistglass anklet as a number of the miniature gears careen into a blur of spinning metal. Each one helping to propel the next one until one unmoving gear causes the whole thing to come to a sudden squealing halt complete with a puff of dark smoke.

Parned coldly says to you in a S'Kra accent, "Don't get him started on the moons."

You say, "They've not said aught to me I could make sense of, but perhaps you'll have better luck."

>l

[The Broken Blade Tavern]
Thick fragrant rushes on the floor, large comfortable rooms, clean tables and the broadest selection of ales in the province explain why the Broken Blade is famed for both its hospitality and the brewing skills of its proprietor, Amechra Tushise. Weary off-duty guards sit swapping stories and mild insults over a pitcher of Amechra's finest at the far end of the immense bar while, at nearby tables, traders ply local merchants with whiskey in an attempt to squeeze the last gold dokora from their contracts. You also see some stairs, a doorway, Amechra and a menu.
Also here: Black Widow Ophiliah, Ershta Zehira who is covered with whitened ridges, Sophister Deatly who is protected by a bright candlelight barrier and Natural Assassin Parned who is sitting.
Obvious exits: none.

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Zehira gets a thin silver cigarillo case from atop the bar.

Zehira puts her case on the bar.

Zehira gets a thin silver cigarillo case from inside her deathfiber carryall.

You say to Deatly, "Ye are a Moon Mage, I take it. Valuable skills in that calling."

A small *click* followed by a whirring of gears can be heard as Zehira opens her cigarillo case.

You glance at Zehira, a female Human.

Zehira gets a long white cigarillo printed with sky-blue eyes from inside her cigarillo case.

Parned nods to Zehira.

Zehira snaps the top of her cigarillo case into place.

Slender pieces of deathfiber in Zehira's crown flutter slightly in an errant breeze, moving about in a haphazard dance. The fabric's motion casts ghostly shadows across the already gloomy moonsilver, further highlighting the gold inclusions within the scoundrel's diamonds and the vivid blood-red vengeance rubies.

Zehira raises an eyebrow.

You say to Zehira, "Evening, love."

Zehira puts her case in her deathfiber carryall.

Zehira gets a diminutive tin magma viper from inside her deathfiber carryall.

Zehira points her tin viper at a long white cigarillo and a flame shoots from the creature's mouth, making the cigarillo quickly catch fire.

Zehira puts her viper in her deathfiber carryall.

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

Zehira nods to you.

Zehira takes a long drag off of a burning white cigarillo.

You say to Zehira, "We've never been introduced, but I imagine I know your name. I am called Dioe. Well met."

Deatly says to you, "I am just that...though I am relearning my skills."

Zehira exhales, opening her eyes as wide as she can. Though hardly any smoke can be seen, the fragrance is clearly evident, evoking a sense of wonderment with the natural world. The heavenly scent of fresh white rose emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with a simple, inspirational aroma.

You grin at Deatly.

Deatly says, "In my thoughts."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "{dioe I imagine everyone knows my name, and Dioe. I will try and remember."

Ophiliah asks, "Did you offer to mud wrestle parned?"

You laugh!

Parned snickers.

Zehira gets a cup of rosehip tea from inside her leather carryall.

Lazy curls of smoke drift off of Zehira's white cigarillo.

Zehira shows Parned her rosehip tea.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I have my own."

Zehira takes a long drag off of a burning white cigarillo.

You say to Zehira, "Aye, and if I have my way, ye won't have to try hard."

Zehira exhales, opening her eyes as wide as she can. Though hardly any smoke can be seen, the fragrance is clearly evident, evoking a sense of wonderment with the natural world. The heavenly scent of fresh white rose emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with a simple, inspirational aroma.

Parned swears, "I will protect these lands from sand to sea."

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Playfully darting around Zehira, an itsy-bitsy pixie brandishing a vial of violaceous glitter peeks out from behind her left forearm.

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "Bold."

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

Ophiliah nods to Zehira.

Zehira takes a long drag off of a burning white cigarillo.

Ophiliah says, "Evening."

Zehira exhales, opening her eyes as wide as she can. Though hardly any smoke can be seen, the fragrance is clearly evident, evoking a sense of wonderment with the natural world. The heavenly scent of fresh white rose emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with a simple, inspirational aroma.

Ophiliah stands up.

You say to Zehira, "Boldness is not a quality I lack, yet it's something more... fate."

Zehira says to Ophiliah in a Velakan accent, "Hello."

Raising her Piet's Wicked Ale to Zehira, Ophiliah gives her a toast.

You lower the Ale and place it on the ground at your feet.

You get a whiskey-laced cigar from inside your brown backpack.

You get a small golden crocodile from inside your brown backpack.

You quickly flick the switch on the back of the crocodile, pointing it at a whiskey-laced cigar as flames shoot out the creature's mouth, making the cigar quickly catch fire.

You put your crocodile in your brown backpack.

You pick up the Ale lying at your feet.

You take a long drag off of a burning whiskey-laced cigar.

Smoke rolls from between your lips, building a depiction of a proud brigantine ship. One by one, the sails drop open from the yardarms, billow with wind and the ship sails off over the waves.
Roundtime: 4 sec.

Deatly shakes his head.

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "We will see."

Zehira smiles at Ophiliah, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

Tiny puffs of smoke rise from your whiskey-laced cigar as it burns.

An image of a sailing brigantine ship dissipates into the air.

You say to Zehira, "Ye will. Count on it."

Zehira laughs!

Zehira stares fixedly at her tutu dress, studying it intently.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I prefer cold coin and a well placed shot over trusting in fate."

Zehira carefully adjusts the fit of her tutu dress, making sure the fabric falls perfectly into place.

Parned chuckles.

Ophiliah smirks.

Zehira's white cigarillo glows faintly as it burns down.

Zehira takes a long drag off of a burning white cigarillo.

Zehira casually flicks some ashes off the end of her white cigarillo.

Parned takes a sip of his Ale.

Zehira exhales, opening her eyes as wide as she can. Though hardly any smoke can be seen, the fragrance is clearly evident, evoking a sense of wonderment with the natural world. The heavenly scent of fresh white rose emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with a simple, inspirational aroma.

You say to Parned, "It's not trust, mate oh no. No manner of faith moves an elf to his destiny. It is will."

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

Deatly asks, "So I shouldn't keep the coins I give you in my pocket?"

You laugh!

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Ophiliah ponders buffet or bar ...bar

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Fair....ones will can overcome anything if properly motivated."

You say to Deatly, "Ye may find your pockets filled with coins, depending on your choices here tonight."

You nod to Parned.

Deatly nods.

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

You say to Parned, "Aye."

Deatly says, "I enjoy the jingle of a coin, but not as much as the knowledge of the moons and what they bestow upon me."

You say to Deatly, "Knowledge is power, mate, but coin don't hurt."

Death's Shadow Moriora came through a doorway.

You grin at Deatly.

Moriora cocks her head.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I enjoy the freedom coin gives me to pursue my interests. bribes to guards and judges is expensive."

Ophiliah nods to Moriora.

Zehira takes a long drag off of a burning white cigarillo.

You laugh!

Parned nods to Moriora.

The shadows encircling the hems of Moriora's pants writhe, and for the briefest of moments the image of a stylized figure drawing forth a small, sharp-edged object is seen within the shifting greys and blacks before they meld back into the larger amorphous darkness once more.

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "Don't forget though, power is power."

Zehira exhales, opening her eyes as wide as she can. Though hardly any smoke can be seen, the fragrance is clearly evident, evoking a sense of wonderment with the natural world. The heavenly scent of fresh white rose emanates from the cigarillo as fragile tendrils fill the air with a simple, inspirational aroma.

Zehira takes a sip of her tea.

You say to Parned, "Aye. Though that coin deserves to be spent as ye wish, rather than greasing the palms of parasites, as I see it."

Parned nods at you, obviously agreeing with your views.

You say to Zehira, "Can't disagree, love. Power is power - but it's deceptive, elusive, ever changing. Few understand it, for it is not merely force."

>look Moriora

You see Death's Shadow Moriora, an Elf.
Moriora has a radiant complexion, pointed ears, long wispy lashes framing twilight purple eyes and rosebud lips accented by faint dimples. Her shimmery black-cherry hair is very long and has large glossy curls. She has flawless ivory skin and a voluptuous figure.
She is perfectly petite for an Elf.
She appears to be an adult.
A champagne-hued eldring artlessly faceted in an upside-down teardrop sits between her eyes. It is attached to a slender wire of icesteel that holds more of the tiny gems as they arch gracefully over her eyebrows.
She has a tattoo of skulls of all sizes and varieties atop a bed of striated twilight purple hex lilies. Garish grins and empty eye sockets gaze out with apathetic indifference, beginning at her shoulder before winding around the elbow and forearm. Lily leaves bleed forward spelling out "Death is Beautiful" in black ink where the tattoo terminates on her wrist.

She is in good shape.

She is wearing a starry black quiver stamped with a golden key, a lumium ring helm, a gold jadeite gwethdesuan, a tinted monocle, a pair of Elven silver earstuds, a light vardite plate mask, a hexagonal cambrinth prism suspended from a long electrum chain, a prismatic glass medallion, an intricate tyrium hand suspended from a cord of darkly glistening spidersilk, a dark green gardener's apron studded with bronze rivets, a pale cream steelsilk crafter's apron, a pale cream steelsilk crafter's apron, a tiny glass bottle, a kaleidoscopic sanowret crystal set in a tomiek wildling spider, a swirling eddy of incandescent light bound by a gold-striated coralite frame, an arrangement of eldrings inlaid in icesteel, a striped red haversack with a gold-buckled shoulder strap, a patchwork traveling bag with a thick braided handle and button closure, an amber duffel bag, a midnight-purple dergatine backpack embroidered with tiny darting shrike figures, a faded muslin backpack clasped with an agonite gargoyle medallion, an abyssal black robe composed of tattered deathfiber, a modest blouse, a faded red farmer's shirt, a sleek bear-hide lootpouch fastened with a haralun leviathan, some vykathi tibia elbow blades, a small morgawr-scale shield sealed with protective wax, a simple mistwood basket woven with gingham ribbons, a dainty white wrist purse composed of kirmiko, a filigree bracer of silversteel cobwebs, a demonbone armguard made of thin strips of bone, some bloodvine thorn handwraps, some lumium scale gloves, a sturdy blackened iron band stamped with a crest, a gleaming viper ring with dark ruby chips for eyes, an ornate alerce ring, some asini zills etched with a bat-eared puppy, a sturdy blackened iron band stamped with a crest, a polished ebony pillbox with a fine silver chain, an amber-eyed dusky blue glaes taipan charm, a segmented berry-stained purse with beaded drawstrings, an icy-blue satinwood spellbook case inset with gleaming sapphire frost scythes, a small sack, a light spidersilk hip pouch stitched with a dragon ouroboros, a dark gem pouch, a finely honed belt knife, a tapered agonite skinning knife punched with a flying raven, a polished uthamar lockpick ring stamped with a scythe, some dark red pants with writhing shadows encircling the hems, some platinum mail greaves embellished with rose-hued ribbons, an abyssal black thigh bag, some razor-edged demonbone knee spikes, some poloh'izh hide footwraps and some beaded mauve velvet slippers.

You glance at Moriora, a female Elf.

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "It is all those things, but I"ve seen it up close and personal."

You ask Zehira, "Ye speak of the Islander, perhaps, or the powers he calls upon?"

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Both. I"ve seen it from both."

A light haze of smoke wafts off your whiskey-laced cigar.

Parned coldly asks in a S'Kra accent, "Islander?"

Deatly asks Parned, "One from an island?"

You say to Zehira, "I doubt it not, yet that power is restricted in ways that cannot be ignored."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Yes, one from an island."

Zehira smiles at Deatly, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Moriora raises an eyebrow.

Moriora leans against the bar.

Deatly nods.

You say, "The freest among us is more powerful than a mighty being that is held at bay."

(Dioe's gaze passes again to Moriora.)

You ask Moriora, "Evening, lass. They call me, Dioe. May I ask your name?"

Moriora says to you, "I am Moriora."

Moriora nods politely.

You smile at Moriora.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Those who hold the power are always the most satisfying prey."

You say to Moriora, "And quite beautiful. I assume you know this woman, yet ye seem unafraid..."

Deatly asks Parned, "Do you eat your prey?"

You gesture at Zehira.

Moriora says to you, "I know of her."

Parned smiles at Deatly.

You nod at Parned, in complete agreement with his views.

Moriora nods to you.

You say to Parned, "Ye speak the truth."

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "I told you, everyone knows me..or of me."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "It's a curse."

You laugh!

Parned coldly asks Deatly in a S'Kra accent, "What else is prey for than to be devoured?"

You laughingly ask Zehira, "A curse!?"

Deatly looks at Parned and shrugs.

You exclaim to Zehira, "'Tis a blessing! And one you stole from the gods with your own strength and will!"

Zehira winks at you.

You say to Zehira, "Never let anyone tell ye it's a curse."

Tiny puffs of smoke rise from your whiskey-laced cigar as it burns.

You puff on the whiskey-laced cigar.

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

You finish off the rest of it, and set the mug aside.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Only one here I know is the crazy mage there."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I know what I am, not everyone agrees and not everyone likes it but here I am still. I'll show them all just how much of a blessing I can be."

Parned points at Deatly.

Deatly says, "The moons know everyone."

You say to Parned, "Your words have inspired me, mate, and I find myself in such fine company, I hope I can impose on the patience of those whom fate has summoned here tonight."

Deatly says, "Yes."

Deatly says, "I am what they call."

Deatly says, "The Looney Mooney."

You grin at Deatly.

>order 1

Amechra slides a pint of Amechra's Own Ale across the bar. You pay him 60 copper dokoras for it.

You get a pint of Amechra's Own Ale from atop the bar.

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Moriora says, "I wandered in for what I expected to be an empty bar, but this will do fine as well."

Moriora leans against the bar.

You chuckle at Moriora.

Ophiliah says, "Theres booe too."

You say to Moriora, "Ye are brave indeed."

You say, "Some of ye I know. Others I know not."

You say, "Sailors are fond of tales, and if ye wish to speak of yourself, I would be pleased to listen., but for those who love action, let me lay before ye a proposal."

(Dioe gestures for those he's been speaking to come closer.)

Ophiliah casually observes the area.

You say, "I have sailed many leagues, mates - father than most, and seen many places and many things."

You puff on the whiskey-laced cigar.

(Ophiliah cautiously steps closer)

You angrily exclaim, "But everywhere I look, I see parasites feeding on those who should be free!"

You say, "They call themselves lords, ladies, barons, princes ... queens."

You frown and a cold hatred shines in his emerald green eyes.

Zehira asks in a Velakan accent, "Oh..should I take off my crown?"

You laugh!

Zehira laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.

Your whiskey-laced cigar goes out and crumbles away.

Moriora smirks.

You exclaim to Zehira, "You have earned it, but they are rats!"

Zehira nods to you.

You say, "Feeding on those they despise! Aye, they despise the very folk who work the vineyards where their wine is pressed, cobble their shoes, brush their hair, prepare their meals."

Deatly laughs!

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I do not like rats."

Ophiliah says, "Depends if its earned or inherited."

Ophiliah nods.

Deatly cackles like a lunatic!

A soft voice from somewhere near Deatly babbles, "Bi tee!"

You say, "Even as wild magic devastates the world, even as primeval monsters fill the skies, they care only for their gold, and to command like dogs their servants, though they deserve it not."

You say, "I will bring chaos to their doorstep. I will put fire to their houses, and I will smash every law that serves them."

Ophiliah gets a shot of Black Road whiskey from atop the bar.

You take a sip of the Ale.

You say, "And if ye wish to join me mates, I cannot offer ye vast sums of platinum coins, nor rich trinkets and treasures, though ye will take all ye can. I offer only this:."

Ophiliah raises an eyebrow.

You say, "I will stand with you against the so called "nobles," and all their boot licking minions who bow and scrape for their favor - weaklings, who deserve death, but enslave people who would be free, with laws and customs for their own greed and lust."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I care little for the scuttling insects that allow themselves to be chained.....but if there is decent prey and good coin color me intrigued."

You move a pint of Amechra's Own Ale to your right hand.

Raising your Amechra's Own Ale to Parned, you give him a toast. Cheers!

You exclaim, "Aye!"

You say, "I will start in Riverhaven, where the Baron's rats feast. I will steal, I will rob, and I will murder."

Parned gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

Moriora says, "Hmm."

You say, "Anything I take will be mine, and the people will tremble, though I will fall."

Deatly says, "In my thoughts a moment."

Moriora says, "An interesting proposal."

You smile at Moriora.

Parned nods to Moriora.

You say, "Yet death has no power over me, and I will rise again."

Parned ponders.

You say, "If ye wish to join me, I offer my support, such as it is, and the opportunity to steal the meteor crown of fame with bloody deeds, and show the world the will of people who would be free."

Parned takes a sip of his Ale.

Moriora asks, "You aim to fight against the establishment then?"

Ophiliah raises an eyebrow.

Ophiliah takes a sip of her whiskey.

Ophiliah guzzles down some of her Ale and then smacks her lips and wipes them with her sleeve.

Ophiliah stands up.

Parned coldly asks in a S'Kra accent, "Is your goal for change or just for chaos?"

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Therengia will never change."

Ophiliah says, "You forgot.. fun."

Moriora says, "Either is interesting."

Deatly says, "Chaos is always fun."

You say to Moriora, "My true designs must remain hidden, but I aim to show the world what they can do, the chains they can break, the fires they can spread."

Ophiliah chuckles.

You laugh!

Deatly says, "Like the changing of the tides that is caused by the moons."

Moriora says, "I must admit, I have been bored."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Agreed.....a little chaos could be just the thing."

You say to Ophiliah, "Aye. I aim to have a wonderful time that few will forget."

Glancing at her woven girdle with an expression of dismay, Ophiliah quickly flicks a dirt speck from her woven girdle.

Parned coldly asks in a S'Kra accent, "Will the prey be worthy or just some of the rabble?"

You say to Zehira, "We shall see. Long have those in power bled their people, caring nothing for their lives. It is time to shake their thrones."

Parned takes a sip of his Ale.

You say to Parned, "The unworthy will fall quickly. I will not hold back."

Deatly ponders.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I am sure they haven't been shaken in a while. Their...idoiot Northern Watch though."

Zehira waves dismissively.

You laugh!

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I'm inclined to join you in this until such time as our goals diverge."

Deatly asks, "Goals?"

Moriora nods to Parned.

You mumble a word of general praise.

Deatly chuckles.

You say to Parned, "Then I will have your back, until we part ways, mate."

Parned stands up.

Parned shakes your hand.

Ophiliah says, "Im willing to sacrifice time to bloody my blades."

Moriora says, "I am inclined to support a bit of mischief to alleviate the boredom."

Soft beams of ambient light swirl around Deatly, covering him in a barrier of bright light.

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

You say, "The Northern Watch and any other boot lickers who support the rats feeding on free people will face us. I will fight to the death. They may overpower me, but time is on my side."

Deatly says, "I may not be the best at the fighting yet, but as I learn my skills again I shall help travel when I can."

You smile at Deatly.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I"m willing to make others bleed, I do hate getting dirty, just ask Zithri, but I know my way around a blade or two."

Zehira twitches several times as the ridges encompassing her form recede and vanish.

Deatly laughs!

Ophiliah says, "Im not ooppsed to going down fighting."

You say to Deatly, "Thank you, mate. We thank ye for the help."

You nod to Ophiliah.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "My specialty is well placed arrows from the shadows."

You say to Zehira, "Then join us, and we'll take as many as we can to the gates of death."

Zehira says to Parned in a Velakan accent, "Mine is flaying people alive."

Zehira nods to you.

Parned grins at Zehira.

Ophiliah gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

Ophiliah chortles softly at some secret joke.

Parned coldly says to Zehira in a S'Kra accent, "We'll get along just fine then."

Something pops in Zehira's eye and discharges a sickly lime-yellow fluid that runs down her face.

You smile.

Ophiliah smiles into her drink imagining mortaly wounded being flayed

You say, "It seems I had luck wandering upon this company tonight, and the tides of fate are now changing..."

Parned coldly asks Ophiliah in a S'Kra accent, "You mentioned blades earlier, your prefered form of murder is?"

You glance at Ophiliah, a female Elf.

Ophiliah says, "From the shadows."

Moriora smiles, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

You smile.

You say to Ophiliah, "Ye are in good company, love."

Parned ponders.

Ophiliah says, "I suspect a lot inthe room enjoy sharing the shadows."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "And I do love my new pet, who is, I imagine hiding in the shadows here."

Ophiliah nods to you.

Parned searches around for a moment.

A pale grey death scarab with miasma-filled wingcases's motions slow, its assembled joints loosening and creaking.

Moriora searches around for a moment.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Impressive, didn't see it til you alerted to it's presence."

Ophiliah asks, "Scarab?"

Moriora says, "Someone is indeed hiding."

You say to Zehira, "I have no love for the Islander, that ye should know, but I will not be holding back when I raze Riverhaven. Every power I can call on will be unleashed."

Moriora searches around for a moment.

Zehira nods to Ophiliah.

Moriora searches around for a moment.

Moriora says, "Very well, in fact. Impressive."

Ophiliah searches around for a moment.

Ophiliah says, "Lovely pale gray."

Zehira says to you in a Velakan accent, "No need to have any love for the Lord, just know that is my path as it has been for many years. I don't expect many to have love for him."

You nod to Zehira.

Parned ponders.

You smile at Parned.

Moriora says, "Mmm."

Moriora leans against the bar.

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

Ophiliah asks, "Shall we drink on arrangement?"

You say, "Aye. It's been a long time since Therengia has faced anything to touch the hearts of the its rulers with fear."

Parned nods at Ophiliah, obviously agreeing with her views.

You exclaim to Ophiliah, "Aye!"

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "To chaos."

You exclaim, "To freedom and the will to take it!"

Ophiliah grins evilly.

You hold a pint of Amechra's Own Ale high into the air for all to see.

Deatly says, "The Baron has not been seen in many years...time to see if he answers the call of his people."

Raising her Piet's Wicked Ale to you, Ophiliah gives you a toast. Cheers!

You take a sip of the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

Moriora gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

Deatly cackles like a lunatic!

Moriora says, "To interesting ventures."

Moriora turns a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale in the light, looking at it admiringly.

Deatly raises his arm skyward, chanting.

Moriora jumps back a few feet and lands on her rump, looking dazed!

Moriora says, "A satisfying kick."

Ophiliah says, "To a most intersting adventure ,which should not be boring."

Parned nods at Moriora, obviously agreeing with her views.

You smile at Moriora.

Moriora nods to Ophiliah.

Raising her Piet's Wicked Ale to Moriora, Ophiliah gives her a toast.

Raising her Piet's Wicked Ale to Ophiliah, Moriora gives her a toast.

Moriora takes a sip of her Ale.

Ophiliah guzzles down some of her Ale and then smacks her lips and wipes them with her sleeve.

Parned leans against the bar.

You say, "I must impress upon ye all the importance of secrecy."

Moriora chuckles.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Agreed. would be a shame to have our plans found out before it's time."

Deatly says to you, "Only the moons hear my whispers."

Ophiliah says, "Slit throat to anyone who talks."

You nod in agreement.

Parned nods at Ophiliah, obviously agreeing with her views.

Moriora says, "Surprise is a powerful weapon indeed."

Moriora smiles, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Moriora takes a sip of her Ale.

You say, "I will be taking from the nobility. Anyone who commands others, and lifts no hand to earn coin. Ye may do as ye wish. Take all ye can, and show the world the weakness of the Therengia."

Ophiliah gets a shot of Black Road whiskey from atop the bar.

Parned coldly asks you in a S'Kra accent, "So i assume you have a plan in motion for when we do this grand raid on Haven?"

Ophiliah says, "For the record.. i love the crown."

Ophiliah nods to Zehira.

Zehira smiles, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Thank you."

Moriora says, "I shall have some brushing up of skills to do. I've been in my books for far too long."

Moriora rubs her hands together.

Parned grins at Moriora.

Deatly nods to Moriora.

Deatly says to Moriora, "I have been in the mountains studying but not using my skills."

Moriora nods to Deatly.

You say to Parned, "The nature of my true design will be born in due time. This is but the first step. As far as where and when that first step is taken, aye, but we will plan to take it when all who wish to take it are ready."

Ophiliah says, "Perhaps a spar to remove the dust."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I will have to relearn how to work with others myself......i tend to be solo most of the time."

Ophiliah grins at Moriora.

Moriora chuckles at Ophiliah.

Moriora nods to Parned.

Zehira says to Parned in a Velakan accent, "You and me both."

Parned grins at Zehira.

You say, "Your success in battle is less important than your willingness to step on the battlefield, but I can help any who wish to sharpen their skills."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "At least none of us have killed one another yet.....i'd say that's a fine start."

You laugh!

Ophiliah laughs!

Deatly says to Parned, "Not sure I could."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "I love how you say...yet."

Parned grins at Zehira.

You grin.

Moriora says, "It's more efficient to point our blades and spells at our targets."

Moriora smiles, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Ophiliah says, "Know the room."

Ophiliah grins.

You nod to Moriora.

Parned coldly says to Zehira in a S'Kra accent, "Hope for the best but always plan for the worst."

Deatly shakes his head.

Parned nods at Moriora, obviously agreeing with her views.

Zehira says to Parned in a Velakan accent, "Always. Always."

You say, "If ye wish to discuss tactics, or to practice in spars, reach out."

You nod to Deatly.

Ophiliah nods to you.

You say to Deatly, "Your hat has the right of it, mate."

Deatly says, "Cursed item it is...but helpful."

You grin at Deatly.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I'm always happy to test my skills and learn new tricks to be more efficient."

Moriora nods to Parned.

You nod to Parned.

Deatly says, "May have to take up on that, but maybe when the skills get a bit higher and more...my own."

Deatly cackles like a lunatic!

Moriora snickers at Deatly.

Parned coldly says to Deatly in a S'Kra accent, "In worst case when you blow your hand off just blind them with the blood and run."

Parned looks at Deatly, obviously trying not to grin.

You laugh!

Deatly cackles!

Moriora laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.

Deatly says to Parned, "Sound idea...I will have to try that."

Deatly says, "Or maybe carry pocket sand."

You say, "Then in a short time we will set sail on a new course. I will contact each of you and seek the moment that will give us the greatest advantage over our enemies."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "It's rare i can say this with honesty but i think I can say it's been a pleasure to meet all you."

Raising your Amechra's Own Ale to Parned, you give him a toast. Cheers!

Deatly says to Parned, "We think it was good to meet you as well."

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Mmm it would be rare if I said that too..I'm not a people person."

You say to Parned, "Pleasure's mine, mate. I will fight by your side soon, and we will earn fortune and fame in blood."

Parned nods at Zehira, obviously agreeing with her views.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "But as it stands, it is a pleasure at the moment."

You smile at Zehira.

Deatly says, "Pleasures are so rare at these times."

Parned nods to Deatly.

Ophiliah says, "I have a feeling pleasure will continue."

Ophiliah chuckles.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "As is meeting people who enjoy the same pleasures."

You say to Zehira, "Ye are well known and feared for a reason. Thank you for lending us your strength."

Zehira nods to you.

You stand near Ophiliah.

Ophiliah smiles at you.

You smile at Ophiliah.

Deatly asks Zehira, "Oh soorry...am I to be feared?"

Ophiliah chuckles at Deatly.

Deatly says, "Afraid even."

Moriora laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "It's been a while but I'm up for it and I still know how to strike fear."

Zehira smiles at Deatly, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Maybe."

You smile at Zehira.

Deatly cackles!

Moriora says, "I wouldn't doubt it."

You say to Zehira, "When the bodies start to drop and the zombies start to rampage, they will remember."

Ophiliah says, "Ive got cobwebs and suspect ill fumble some. but i will try."

Ophiliah says, "And will be fun trying."

You nod to Ophiliah.

Moriora nods to Ophiliah.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "Yes they will."

Deatly says, "Fumbling is fun."

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "Fear is for those who hold too tightly to things and have things to lose. i like to leave that to others."

Ophiliah says, "Have the fun of making mistakes is learning .... not to do that again."

Raising your Amechra's Own Ale to Parned, you give him a toast. Cheers!

Parned gets a goblet of Piet's Wicked Ale from atop the bar.

Raising his Piet's Wicked Ale to you, Parned gives you a toast. Cheers!

Moriora gets a tall glass of Dragon Foam Dark from atop the bar.

You say to Parned, "Ye are wise, mate. Your words are not to be ignored."

Moriora takes a sip of her Dark.

Deatly shakes his head.

Zehira says to Ophiliah in a Velakan accent, "That is how I got to where I am. I made many mistakes, but once you learn not to do it again, you soar."

You nod in agreement.

You say, "Fear and hesitation are the only enemies that can stop us. Otherwise, we will overcome anything in time."

Moriora takes a sip of her Dark.

Deatly babbles incoherently.

You exclaim, "Ye have inspired me! Me, a soul that has long thought himself dead to such feelings!"

You guzzle down the Ale. It tickles your tongue and throat with its effervescence!

You finish off the rest of it, and set the mug aside.

Ophiliah says, "That and the booze helps."

Moriora takes a sip of her Dark.

You laugh!

Ophiliah grins evilly.

Deatly says, "Booze makes the voices quiet."

Deatly says, "I am lonely when the voices are quiet."

Moriora laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.

Parned coldly says in a S'Kra accent, "I suppose since we share this pact if any of you are in need of help while out and about solo you can call on me and I'll help if i can."

Ophiliah asks, "Not a new set ofvoices if keep drinking?"

You nod to Parned.

Moriora says to Ophiliah, "Now that would be interesting."

You say to Parned, "Aye. Same for me."

Ophiliah nods at Parned, obviously agreeing with his views.

Ophiliah nods to Parned.

Moriora says, "How much quantity to drink in order to switch to new voices."

Moriora looks thoughtfully at Deatly.

You say, "I will contact you soon, and we will determine the time for our raid."

Zehira smiles, revealing the dimples in her cheeks.

Parned nods to you.

You say, "Till then, fair winds. Reach out if ye have need."

Deatly says to Moriora, "I have yet to reach that point to wher they change."

Ophiliah says to Moriora, "Using the voices tell me to be naughty more fun that way."

Ophiliah says, "Erm usually."

Moriora laughs softly, trying to hide her amusement.

You grin at Ophiliah.

Zehira says in a Velakan accent, "My gweth is always open, unless I"m in jail for a moment."

Moriora says, "A convenient excuse."

You laugh!

Ophiliah chuckles at Zehira.

Parned grins at Zehira.

Ophiliah says, "Oh we all have that problem."

Moriora nods to Zehira.

>go doorway

...

[OOC note from Dioe's player: The following takes place sometime later. I was not logging training, so the initial words here are lost.]

A torrent of sizzling, bile-green acid sprays outward from Zfora!

You ask, "Do I?"

Zfora says, "You mentioned you had walked away from your little accident..."

A torrent of sizzling, bile-green acid sprays outward from Zfora!

The wave directly blasts into a young wyvern's scaly chest, destroying the majority of the torso as it does so. All that remains is a bleached center of a skeleton that clatters to the ground.

A young wyvern squeals in pain and thrashes its leathery-black wings about its frail body, before falling silent with a final desperate trill.

Zfora says, "And yet I've never seen you use a trans spell."

You ask, "Oh?"

You get a blade-bone skull inset with demon gaze agate eyes from inside your brown backpack.

You begin channeling mana through your blade-bone skull, forming the spell pattern of Manifest Force.

Turning your focus solemnly inward, you allow the configuration of the Calcified Hide spell to spread across your skin as a shadowy design of fractals and geometric abstractions.

Zfora nods to you.

You ask, "Ye don't believe I can use true arcane magic, and ye mean to test me?"

Your blade-bone skull vibrates slightly as the spell pattern you were tracing with it completes.

You feel fully prepared to cast your spell.

>cast

You hold out your arms to either side as you prepare to focus mutation through your entire being.

You shudder involuntarily as streams of black energy slide back up across your arms from your fingertips before arcing along your entire body.

A brief mixture of pain and euphoria surges through you as whitened ridges rise up from beneath your skin all across your limbs and torso, strengthening your body's ability to absorb damage.

Turning your focus solemnly inward, you allow the configuration of the Kura-Silma spell to spread across your skin as a shadowy design of fractals and geometric abstractions.

Zfora sweetly says, "It would be so kind of you to humor me for a moment."

You gesture.

The air around you shimmers with a weak yellow light that quickly disperses.

The air around you shimmers with a blinding yellow luminescence. The scintillating light writhes and twists, abruptly coalescing into a translucent field before blinking out of sight.

You begin channeling mana through your blade-bone skull, forming the spell pattern of Obfuscation.

You say, "Not being an elf of faith, I'm happy to humor you."

You gesture.

Your eye feels swollen and heavy as an infinitesimal eddy of mutation twists inside, sowing it with many delicate cyst-buds.

A cluster of conjured cysts burst open in your eye, around the pupil. Despite the soreness when blinking, you begin to view the world through pleasingly stretched and skewed angles.

The cysts swim across your vision, dipping into Arcane mana to draw watercolor-esque signs of the Great Work for your eyes alone.

Zfora smiles at you.

You say, "Ye notice a spell or two you recognize."

Zfora says, "Thank you Dioe, I'm so happy I don't have to hate you - yet."

You gesture.

You project around yourself a field that suggests total normalcy to any who view you, drawing some measure of attention away from you and making it easier to conceal yourself.

You laugh!

You say, "I am a liar, so ye should get used to it."

Zfora says, "Not uncommon in the crowds we frequent..."

You say, "Aye, but I warn ye now, ye should not trust me."

You begin channeling mana through your blade-bone skull, forming the spell pattern of Researcher's Insight.

Turning your focus solemnly inward, you allow the configuration of the Ivory Mask spell to spread across your skin as a shadowy design of fractals and geometric abstractions.

Zfora says, "Oh, I don't."

You gesture.

Color leeches from the skin on your face as you feel the bone structure underneath shift to accomodate changes on the inside of your skull. Crippling pain and nausea give way to euphoria as your mutation takes hold and the aetheric structure of the plane becomes visible in a blood haze.

You say, "And I have much to learn when it comes to arcane magic, but I learn quickly."

Zfora asks, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

You say, "Aye."

Closing your eyes, you carefully bend some mana streams through the tattoo on your leg.

The saturated tunnels in the tattoo form the foundation of a spell pattern. With this template in place, you begin preparing the Sure Footing spell.

You gesture.

A smoky film of grey mist exudes from your palms as you draw them close to your face. Breathing in deeply, you immediately feel a thrill of euphoria. Your mind is opened up, new thoughts and insights forming that were previously beyond your grasp.

Zfora says, "I find that it's all fun and games until someone dies."

You ask, "Does it stop then when someone dies? Is that something that hold ye back?"

You gesture.

You feel steadier.

Zfora says, "Oh honey, nothing holds me back..."

You begin channeling mana through your blade-bone skull, forming the spell pattern of Call from Within.

You get an acid-washed chunk of ape material from inside your leather haversack.

You gesture.

Caustic violet green lights ensheathe an acid-washed chunk of ape material as it leaps restlessly from your hand. Arrested in mid-fall, the gleaming, well-cleaned bones swirl down and begin to rebuild themselves. Amidst a loud but ordered clatter, ligaments grow over the new connections, soon giving shape to a small, long-bodied beast with a thicket of limbs.

In a flurry of legs and a ripple of its segmented back, the skeletal centipede drops to the ground at your feet. One end of it quests upward, jointed mouthparts gaping at you, before it runs off into the shadows with a rustle.

An acid-green skeletal centipede with an elongated body fires a bone spine at a young wyvern. The spine lands a light hit to its back!

An acid-green skeletal centipede with an elongated body fires a bone spine at a young wyvern. The spine lands a good strike to its left leg!

You say, "So I hear."

Zfora nods to you.

Turning your focus solemnly inward, you allow the configuration of the Quicken the Earth spell to spread across your skin as a shadowy design of fractals and geometric abstractions.

You begin channeling mana through your blade-bone skull, forming the spell pattern of Call from Beyond.

>look

[Wyvern Mountain, Breeding Grounds]
Several large stones are arranged in a circle, marking the site of an abandoned wyvern nest. Fragments of eggshells are still visible within, scattered and broken with the hatchlings long gone. Pointed peaks rise from various points in the breeding grounds, creating natural perches from which the wyverns can survey their young. You also see an acid-green skeletal centipede with an elongated body, a young wyvern, a young wyvern which appears dead and a young wyvern that appears stunned.
Also here: Zfora who is covered with whitened ridges.
Obvious paths: northeast, south, southwest.

You bend over the wyvern's corpse to make one long, continuous cut with your ritual knife that just barely pierces into it. Unseen energies seep into the creature's fluids, suspending the corpse in unnatural stasis for a time.
Roundtime: 4 sec.

You kneel over the wyvern's corpse and carefully carve a ritual design across a handspan of its body. You stand up satisfied that you have prepared it to arise as one of the undead.
Roundtime: 10 sec.

Zfora says, "I hope you're at least not lying about being a quick study Dioe. It would be delightful if you prove to be interesting."

Your skeletal centipede directs an insidious assault at a young wyvern.

A cacophonous keening wail erupts as a young wyvern's body is quickly quartered through the scaly back by some invisible slashing force. Each chunk of the now lifeless body falls with wet thuds to the ground as blood quickly stains the area around them.

Zfora says, "I shall leave you to your training, take care."

You say, "Time will tell, and time is on my side."

You draw a slight cut across your palm in ritualized fashion, drawing forth a small but useful amount of blood without any real injury.
Roundtime: 3 sec.

From out of thin air you say, "Farewell."

You reveal yourself.

Disregarding the pain, you grind the dirt brutally into the palm of your hand, blood and soil forming a viscous paste.

The gritty colloid smearing your skin sears with flaring heat! Just as the smell of burning flesh begins to assault your senses, a coral-red cloud billows forth from your grasp. You clench your fist and the swirling torrent of particles responds, coalescing into an immense humanoid construct of sodden loam.

Abruptly the exterior of the being solidifies into a rocky shell, trapping a smattering of liquid on the outside. The viscous fluid runs labyrinthine trails down the front of the creature before being reabsorbed by its skin. Its head mechanically snaps up and it immediately scans the area for targets.
Roundtime: 1 sec.

The dirt construct begins to advance on a young wyvern.

You feel a slight pressure behind the eyes as a swell of arcane energy builds within you. Directing the flow along ritual lines cut in the body of the wyvern, you connect each essential node in turn. Abruptly the power surges forth, a dam bursting as wild torrents stream into the body! You siphon off a small amount of the energy and direct it into reconstructing damaged tissue, the wyvern's flesh knitting together before your eyes. The creature's recumbent form jerks once and then, as if awakening from slumber, its eyes snap open. Flexing with newfound strength, an arisen wyvern zombie levers itself upright and awaits your command.

>look

[Wyvern Mountain, Breeding Grounds]
Several large stones are arranged in a circle, marking the site of an abandoned wyvern nest. Fragments of eggshells are still visible within, scattered and broken with the hatchlings long gone. Pointed peaks rise from various points in the breeding grounds, creating natural perches from which the wyverns can survey their young. You also see an arisen wyvern zombie, an immense dirt construct, a young wyvern and a young wyvern which appears dead.
Obvious paths: northeast, south, southwest.