Gameplay - The Dragon That Opposed an Empress

Mavis discovers that some of the hookah choices are mind altering substances, and those are the direct requests for some patrons. But all in all, those dream riders aside, most people are here for an authentic cultural tradition. It's "The Feast of Aldrus the Wise."

Ooo, how exotic. Not one too back down from trying new delights, Ruby graciously accepts the food and tea. Because she can actually comprehend Mavis's warning she hesitates, but doesn't back down from sudden challenge. "I think it's supposed to be cold. If I spit it out that's a sign something is amiss." Tentatively she brings her lips to the cup, sipping the tea. She swallows, eyes closed in contemplation as she explores the flavor profile. "This...is good. Different, but good." Satisfied with the result she smiles and places the cup down, and begins to eye up this...smoke machine.

She grabs one of the "hoses" and watches a few of the patrons (and Mavis) to study their technique, having not smoked in quite some time, and never from such an apparatus. Well, they look like they're having fun, time to make some memories. She takes a drag...

And who would blame you. You have a long ride across the desert ahead of you, who wants to be sober for that?

The hostess suggests you try the blue: it's the new red.

Whilst giving Ruby a cheeky grin, Mavis takes a long draw on the blue.
Her big, brown dwarven eyes glaze over as she falls, falls, falls, and...

Pictures herself in a cart in a mine shaft
With tangerine seams and marmalade shale.
Somebody calls her, she answers quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope chainmail.

Mavis in the mine with diamonds
Mavis in the mine with diamonds

Ruby is starting to feel a little funny. Now really funny, like her hands are floating funny. Now it's pitch black and everyone is gone. Oh look, she is standing before a massive pile of corpses now, each cold body staringback at her with glowing red eyes and twisted malformed faces. Some are familiar: enemies, friends, even family she used to know all those years ago. She can't run for her legs do not move; she can't fight them all for they are legion. And so she is consumed by the charging mass, her entire being smothered in the conglomeration of bodies. And yet she does not die, even while she is being crushed and pushed around the writhing mass. At some point Ruby can't pinpoint the squeezing, pushing, pulling sensation ceases, and she realizes once again she is alone in the dark.

Suddenly the darkness departs, leaving Ruby in what she will later describe as a barren landscape of monochrome, disrupted occasionally by brief flashes of color. She can't see anything on the horizon, nor another soul in sight. Ruby is confident this is death, or at least the closest approximation she's gonna get given her drug induced vision.

Ruby decides not to share this experience with anyone else. They might think she's going a little crazy.

Hmmm. While Hehsh can see why other, lesser species would enjoy hookah, it doesn't hold much appeal to him. Afterall, as a half dragon, blowing smoke is a small minor indulgence for him. The tea is pleasantly refreshing though.

He unknowingly hums along with Mavis. That is a catchy tune.

He still doesn't know how to feel about his father. This is afterall, a curious rendezvous.

After an hour, Mordenth in the guise of da'Norto Illianstar enters. He comes to your table indirectly and then sits. "The wizard is two doors down. The door is concealed behind a sandstone wall. Watch when I open it so you know the trick. The thing we could decide before we go is who should he scry upon. He will keep an eye on you during your infiltration and if you get into too much trouble, he'll contact me, concealed nearby, and I'll try and extract you. We want to keep your magical aura as mundane as we can, so you don't rouse suspicion. Scrying is the best way to keep tabs as he can end the effect if anyone begins to notice it."

Hopefully we will be close together, so really any of us would be fine.

Garth thinks for a moment.

Speaking of magical auras, what about magic items we are carrying?

"Many hobgoblin heroes carry such weaponry. Spoils of war and of other dark deeds. Indeed, their possession sells your image as sell swords and reavers."

Excellent. Mavis is as good a scrying target as any...if you don't mind that is, Mavis.

Hehsh is fine with this. He doesn't like the idea of someone watching him, at least while he is a hobgoblin.

Little Mavis took a man sized hit, and is still coming down. She nods at Garth with serenity of Buddha Axebreaker (who was a pretty serene dwarf despite his name). She answers Garth slowly, keen to pass on her important cosmic insights.
To distant lands. Takes both my hands. Never untrue with golden blue.

She smiles at Garth, strokes his face and sighs, eyes unfocussed,
Through the ages she's heading west. From far away. Stays for a day. Never untrue with golden blue.

Blinking at Garth, she tries again to help him grasp the infinity of infinities.
I scry with my little eye. Little eye. Little. I.
Scry. Little. I.

Smiling she slowly scans the room.
Where are the Barrelstalk crisps? There should be crisps. Did the crisps travel west?

You eventually wind down enough to go to the wizards shop. You find a sandstone wall, and Mordenth places his hand on the wall and says, "Castronignam" after which the wall becomes translucent and he steps through it.

Inside you find a tidy courtyard with a sitting bench and a small collection of well watered shrubs and plants in ceramic pots, and a small sandstone hut with no windows. A stone door is etched in the wall. Touching it lightly, it opens smoothly on cleverly hidden hinges.

Inside the hut is a sitting room with eight chairs along the walls and no other adornments. A lizardfolk man in neatly tied wrappings stands against the far wall.

Mordenth stands to the side so you can all enter. "Castronignam, these are the individuals we spoke of. We need disguises that will not be detectable to the magically sensitive, disguises suitable for entering the Vermillion Reaver camps."

The man purses his lips. "What forms would you like? Hobgoblin may be the obvious choice, but other races can be found in their ranks."

"Hmmmm. Would there be lizard men amongst the enemy?" Being a hobgoblin isn't the ugliest thing Hehsh could be transformed into (at least this plan didn't involve him turning into a human or gods forbid an elf) it would be nice if he could retain some of his handsome features.

Ruby raises her hand, speaking politely. "Oh I didn't know we had options. What 'forms' do you have for...smaller people."

"Lizardfolk, yes. Most races have a few who seek the glories of war."

To Ruby, he suggests, "Goblin, or Kobold will be common. There are rarer races if you prefer to stand out." His expressive eyebrow tells you that he casts aspersions on the notion of standing out.

Mavis seems put out by the option of changing her mind.
Ah said ah'd be 'obgoblin, an' ah meant it. Now stop fartin' 'bout and let's get it done.

She nods to herself. It needed saying.

People say dwarves are stubborn. Obviously people are right about that. But why?
Dwarves feel that to their minds are who they are. It's not like any other body part is helping with the thinking. If they change their minds then they change who they are. They'd rather be wrong than somebody else. Ironically - that's exactly what she's about to become.

Hobgoblin is fine. If we are to be a small war band, would it be normal for us all to be hobgoblins, or would something else be in charge?

A thought occurs to him

Will we be able to speak to them?