D&D II Act One Scene IV(a) - The Dead in Osinzir

Banjo

"dude, I'm turning into writing!" She exclaims to the raven, pushing on excitedly.

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"dude, I'm turning into writing!" She exclaims to the raven, pushing on excitedly.

By the time she enters the scribal chamber, her skin is as dark as the night, with stark white lines tracing out her bones beneath like a tattoo of a skeleton over her skin.

Some of the scribes look up and immediately bow.

"Psychopomp Retula...to what do we owe this honour?"

Banjo

"I...uh..."
She looks down at her arms
"Well for a start I was hoping you might have a mirror, so I can see what's happened to my gorgeous kisser! This is totally going to mess with my ink. Is it permanent? Am I being punished for all those times I lied and said I was an albino Drow?

More importantly, I need a tome.. um... Upon which grave matters shall be inscribed! You like that? Grave matters? No? Never mind. I just need some well bound paper or parchment, I hear you are the guys to hit up?"

She uses Hetyaro's eyes as a mirror to check her face, head tattoos etc.

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"I...uh..."
She looks down at her arms
"Well for a start I was hoping you might have a mirror, so I can see what's happened to my gorgeous kisser! This is totally going to mess with my ink. Is it permanent? Am I being punished for all those times I lied and said I was an albino Drow?

More importantly, I need a tome.. um... Upon which grave matters shall be inscribed! You like that? Grave matters? No? Never mind. I just need some well bound paper or parchment, I hear you are the guys to hit up?"

She uses Hetyaro's eyes as a mirror to check her face, head tattoos etc.

Through Hetyaro's eyes she sees her skin is pure black, but white in places that form an image of the skull. Her arms and legs are the same, black with a chalk white "drawing" of the bones, though in truth the white is simply skin pigmented differently.

"Psychopomp Retula, permanent? You..."

The head scribe looks at the others.

"...have been this way for a century, are we being tested?"

They look at each other in worried manner. One runs and quickly gets Retula the tome as the rest bow.

Banjo

"Tested? Yes, and you passed. Ha ha, good old psychohose Retula, loves her a test.

So, let's see - you! With the hair! What would you say were the 5 most important things that happened in the last hundred years, and you! Ears! Explain to me why he's wrong about two of them!"

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"Tested? Yes, and you passed. Ha ha, good old psychohose Retula, loves her a test.

So, let's see - you! With the hair! What would you say were the 5 most important things that happened in the last hundred years, and you! Ears! Explain to me why he's wrong about two of them!"

"Ehhm....the tax reform of our outlying territories...the restoration of the old royal line...ehmm..."

Another mutters something under his breath.

"...ehhh oh yeah, thanks Gorthai, yeah ehm, the construction of the lunar vessels, the discovery of the Akrana boat and....the peace treaty with Zassan"

The other man then speaks.

"Well, the tax reform was expected and not that revolutionary and ehm....the treaty with Zassan was a formality, we've never been at war...I think"

Banjo

Ooc : history proficiency activate! Does she recognize these events, and if so where on her timeline does it put her.

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

Ooc : history proficiency activate! Does she recognize these events, and if so where on her timeline does it put her.

Retula knows these events have occured within the last hundred years, all of them are consistent with her still being in the same time.

Banjo

She smiles and through gritted teeth telepathically mutters "we're being set uh-hup" to Hetyaro in a singsong manner.

"Excellent, both answers and rebuttals. So, how are things going in the scribing sector? Worried about new innovative technologies and techniques that might render your guild obsolete? I heard the writing was on the wall... No? Yeah, maybe I'll stick to the day job. So.... You know why I'm really here...."
She frowns, hoping it looks menacing, realising belatedly that if her skin is now as black as her eyeballs they might not be able to tell.

Fourier

"Well not really..." one swells with pride "...we are the fastest scribes in the known world, aided by a special magic, you see..."

One of them interrupts him with a shout.

"One of us is to die...that's it isn't it? Arrrrrgggghhh! I'M TOO YOUNG!!!!"

He runs from the guild screaming.

Banjo

"I don't want to spoiler anyone's destiny, but that guys doesn't strike me as one who has long left, whatever happens."
Calling after the screamer she adds "WATCH THAT SUDDEN DROP OFF WHEN YOU GET TO THE OUTSIDE!"

"Anyway where were we? Ah yes, scribing magic. So again, no spoilers, but I have a lot of paperwork to cover off in a very short time. I've always favoured a more traditional approach but needs must - I would be well disposed towards one who might assist me in expediting this work in.... In what's to come. Them and their families.."

Ooc : if screamer slips on his way out and falls to his death, I'm claiming that one as an OG for team Retula and conscripting his soul...

Fourier

OldGoat wrote: »

"Euh! I have 'saur frends and you expect me to eat this? I'll not let it past my lips, at least not without a sprinkling of lime juice and perhaps some pickled vegetables."
Mags takes the proffered food, pays for it and wanders happily in the indicated direction munching on the Kababosaur.
"Now then, ziggurat, ziggurat, ziggu...Joepaz, djuknow what a ziggurat is?".

As he plays the role of clueless tourist Mags watchs the crowds, notes merchants of interest and any likely venues where bards might gather to pass news.

"Ziggurat, basically a stepped pyramid dude, prefer the style to a typical pyramid myself"

The most interesting merchants by far to Mags are the diverse cooking stalls. He quickly finds out that the bards all gather around the South face of the pyramid for performances.

Currently the local bards aren't playing, but instead lounging in the sun discussing the philosophy of music.

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"I don't want to spoiler anyone's destiny, but that guys doesn't strike me as one who has long left, whatever happens."
Calling after the screamer she adds "WATCH THAT SUDDEN DROP OFF WHEN YOU GET TO THE OUTSIDE!"

"Anyway where were we? Ah yes, scribing magic. So again, no spoilers, but I have a lot of paperwork to cover off in a very short time. I've always favoured a more traditional approach but needs must - I would be well disposed towards one who might assist me in expediting this work in.... In what's to come. Them and their families.."

Ooc : if screamer slips on his way out and falls to his death, I'm claiming that one as an OG for team Retula and conscripting his soul...

The scribes quickly fetch the most expensive and lavish looking notebook, a massive heavy tome, bound in black leather with spirals on the cover formed from glass beads coloured to look like gems.

"I hope this is suitable Lord Psychopomp" the head scribe says, avoiding Retula's gaze.

OldGoat

Mags scouts through the merchants hunting for a scribe or bookmaker. When he finds one he commissions 50 flyers or notices regarding the Woodshock Festival, listing confirmed acts, patrons and endorsements and contact details.
He takes the first few drawn up and leaves to put on on the nearest noticeboard.
He then heads to the south face, hands out a few flyers to anyone with an instrument. As he hands the flyers out he briefly chats with the bards, asking about opportunity that might be on offer locally to an adventurous kinda gang.
Realising he needs some coin to pay for more food and the flyers he sets out his leather cap on the ground and noodles some tunes on his new axe, just to help get the feel for it, to settle it in.

Fourier

One of the bards, with braided hair, beating slowly on a drum, looks up at Mags, squinting in the sunlight.

"Dude, when is like this Woodshock festival happening and where?"

He refuses to take a flyer.

OldGoat

"Time is merely conceptual, it's like 'When is a piece of string'. The festival is happening whenever it happens man. If you play it they will come. Like, you know. I'm gonna get that guy selling the kebabosaurs so set up there too, primo snackage, right?
Now just imagine the greatest collections of bards and other folk all gathered in one place, like a land army, all together for the vibes. Pretty rad eh? You get to strut your stuff, make contacts, play your tunes."

Mags plays a major power chord on his axe, instilling into it all his enthusiasm and an unfailing confidence that this will happen , that the stars will align, that the time will be right and that the Gods of music will mix with the music of the Gods.

Building to a crescendo, firing out one-liners like a lead-shot from a trebuchet as he sings the ultimate appeal:
"Wine, women and song.
Rum sodomy and the lash.
Sex and drugs and Rock and Roll"

Banjo

Fourier wrote: »

The scribes quickly fetch the most expensive and lavish looking notebook, a massive heavy tome, bound in black leather with spirals on the cover formed from glass beads coloured to look like gems.

"I hope this is suitable Lord Psychopomp" the head scribe says, avoiding Retula's gaze.

"Beautiful! I am most pleased. I will remember the scribers guild when ... Let's just call it the Event, shall we? I don't want to ruin the surprise and if I keep saying Cataclysm I will ruin it. I sent signs - that girls yoghurt that turned to blood, the 3 winged frogs, im sure they were interpreted... aaaanyway... When the event occurs you will be foremost in my favour. So you were saying about your unique scribing magic....?

Fourier

OldGoat wrote: »

Building to a crescendo, firing out one-liners like a lead-shot from a trebuchet as he sings the ultimate appeal:
"Wine, women and song.
Rum sodomy and the lash.
Sex and drugs and Rock and Roll"

The other bards roar, more energised than they've ever been.

"Come my friends, we have forgotten what music is, let us practice until we bleed, you will see us at WoodShock oh mighty Mags"

They gather up their things and head into the Ziggurat, eager to surpass every other act that might be at the festival.

The locals stare a bit at Mags, shocked at the odd music, but appreciative.

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"Beautiful! I am most pleased. I will remember the scribers guild when ... Let's just call it the Event, shall we? I don't want to ruin the surprise and if I keep saying Cataclysm I will ruin it. I sent signs - that girls yoghurt that turned to blood, the 3 winged frogs, im sure they were interpreted... aaaanyway... When the event occurs you will be foremost in my favour. So you were saying about your unique scribing magic....?

"The Event....what is...." one of the younger ones begins before getting a clap across the back of the head from the head scribe.

"DON'T ASK HER...something called 'the event' is something we should leave alone, right?"

He turns to Retula.

"Sorry Psychopomp, our scribal magic permits material to be transcribed remotely by a pen, exactly as we see it, straight from our comprehension to ink"

Banjo

Fourier wrote: »

He turns to Retula.

"Sorry Psychopomp, our scribal magic permits material to be transcribed remotely by a pen, exactly as we see it, straight from our comprehension to ink"

"Aaaaand could I entice you to share such a magic, or perhaps one of you might acco- wait, what's a pen?"

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"Aaaaand could I entice you to share such a magic, or perhaps one of you might acco- wait, what's a pen?"

"Ha, in life you must have been from primitive..."

He pauses, realising how arrogant he looks

"...lands as far as scribing alone is concerned...only scribing. They carry ink my lady, an advanced quill"

Banjo

Ooc : ah, when I asked to buy a bic earlier or a quill at a push I assumed that this was a quill n ink land. Should she know about pens?

"A quill with the ink already inside it - awesome! So how do you get the blood of the people who displeased you into the pen in the first place? Explain it so my primitive brain can understand..."

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

Ooc : ah, when I asked to buy a bic earlier or a quill at a push I assumed that this was a quill n ink land. Should she know about pens?

OOC: No she wouldn't, Osinzir is advanced

Banjo wrote: »

"A quill with the ink already inside it - awesome! So how do you get the blood of the people who displeased you into the pen in the first place? Explain it so my primitive brain can understand..."

"Well...ehm...it's...well we pour the ink into a tube and seal it up, but it's not...well blood...not that there's anything wrong with blood"

Banjo

Ooc : so implied threat failed then?

"Sounds sweet. Show me!"

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

Ooc : so implied threat failed then?

"Sounds sweet. Show me!"

"......."

They all pause.

"...you wish us to construct a pen in your presence...ehm...of course"

They slowly take Retula through filling the ink from a container, placing the pieces together and sealing the pen.

They all look at each other nervously, hoping they have passed whatever subtle test the messenger of death has set them.

Banjo

"hey, you know all those stories about Retula of the infinite mercy and unending patience?

NEITHER DO I!

Are you going to show me how to do your remote scribing technique or not?"

Fourier

The head scribe slaps two others on the head.

"You idiots, show her the method...."

The younger scribes quickly prepare the ritual, pouring ink into a bowl, bathing a new pen in it and saying some odd prayer, however the spell encodes a magical formulae in the rhymes of the line endings, of the kind wizards use, it's not actually divine magic.

At the end, the pen stands up on its nib. One of the young clerics quickly reads a text and the pen begins writing on the ground.

OOC: Retula doesn't have the Wizardly training to directly work out the correct symbolic form of the actual spell underneath, stripped of the trappings of a prayer.

Banjo

Fourier wrote: »

The head scribe slaps two others on the head.

"You idiots, show her the method...."

The younger scribes quickly prepare the ritual, pouring ink into a bowl, bathing a new pen in it and saying some odd prayer, however the spell encodes a magical formulae in the rhymes of the line endings, of the kind wizards use, it's not actually divine magic.

At the end, the pen stands up on its nib. One of the young clerics quickly reads a text and the pen begins writing on the ground.

OOC: Retula doesn't have the Wizardly training to directly work out the correct symbolic form of the actual spell underneath, stripped of the trappings of a prayer.

Ooc : you can't say "ritual" and expect me to let this go but since her previous experiences would push her away from enslaving an innocent soul for laughs, I guess it's enough to that she understands how to make a biro and can experiment at her leisure with the bounds of her power on unworthy souls she happens upon...
Btw, I'm struggling with how she can be a recognizable psychopomp in a land where no one dies.

"That is gnarly! Can you control a bunch of pens from one head? Wait, what if you were the pen.... No, that's horrible! Certainly not something *I* would do to you... No, not my speed at all. Is it? I mean it would definitely be wrong, wouldn't it?

Well look, thanks for the book, unless you want to give me a demo of your magic pen by using it to inscribe the exact steps involved into a tome of my choosing, I best get back to why I'm here. No, not that, the race. The cata- er.. event comes later.. "
She grabs the biro they made for her, tries not to murder anyone, and heads for the pagoda on the far side of the zigg, occasionally checking to see if her pigmentation reverts. If not she focused on making a small set of three triangles which create the impression of a fourth appear on her wrist. If that works she'll eventually get around to fixing her face ink.

OldGoat

Fourier wrote: »

The other bards roar, more energised than they've ever been.

"Come my friends, we have forgotten what music is, let us practice until we bleed, you will see us at WoodShock oh mighty Mags"

They gather up their things and head into the Ziggurat, eager to surpass every other act that might be at the festival.

The locals stare a bit at Mags, shocked at the odd music, but appreciative.

Mags smiles proudly, happy that the happening is closer to happening. He picks up his leather cap off the ground and checks to see if he managed to busk any coin.

OOC:

Current playlist for Woodshock:
Woodshock lineup

Acts:
Carlton Crayfish and the Clickers
Gunther of Tallberone
The Semi-Sentinant Orchestra of the Music Gods Temple in Zhusarrum
Ziggurat (formerly known as 'The dispondant bards of Zhulugal')

Catering:
The Kebabosaur Guy

Patrons/Endorsments:
The Once a week Ring Djinn
The God of Music - Temple in Zhusarrum

Fourier

OldGoat wrote: »

Mags smiles proudly, happy that the happening is closer to happening. He picks up his leather cap off the ground and checks to see if he managed to busk any coin.

Looking down, he sees 2GP in total in his cap.