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* Rhys wanders in out of the back room, bringing the smell of baking bread and chocolate-chip cookies with him. He rouses the fire in the fireplace and then unlocks the door. "Hall's open!" He returns back behind the bar. * Zoya comes through the door, her white hair falling in a single smooth braid down her back. She has obviously been working hard lately - dark smudges linger under her eyes. She leans against a barstool and nods at Rhys with a smile. "Good evening, Rhys... Is that bread I smell? When will it be done?" * Ragna descends the stairs, braiding the very end of her beard and tying it off. Her brown hair looks a few shades lighter, relieved of its usual tint of soot, and her cheeks are pink. "Evenin', Master Rhys. Been smelling that bread for the last half-hour!" <Rhys> Good evening, Zoya. Yes, that is bread you smell, among other things, and it should be ready in a quarter hour or so. It's cooling. Have you eaten in the past week? And can I get you anything? <Rhys> Evening, Smith Ragna. You'll be welcome to a slice of it once it's cooled. Can I get you anything? Spirits? <Zoya> ::ponders the question:: I'm fairly certain Glossaria made me eat at some point... But I would welcome a few thick slices of bread, when it's ready. And an ale, in the meantime, please. * Rhys pours Zoya an ale and sets it in front of her. "I haven't seen you about, lately. Have things been that busy?" * Zoya nods cordially to Ragna. <Ragna> Aye, if you please. ::nodding politely to Zoya and climbing up onto a stool:: * Rhys pours Ragna some spirits from the taps into a stone mug. "Here you are, may it please." <Zoya> Busy enough. About a month ago, I finally stumbled onto the key for a spell I've been researching, and it's been consuming an astonishing amount of time. Interesting work, though. ::drinks her ale gratefully:: * Tyl wanders in, her cloak's collar pulled up around her ears. "Could it *be* any more unpleasant out there?" <Ragna> ::grins at Rhys and nods thanks, taking a swallow and turning to glance over her shoulder at Tyl's entrance:: Aye, it could be rainin' ice and blowin' gales. <Rhys> In some areas, especially awful weather is accompanied with rains of frogs, so the answer is 'Yes, probably.' Can I get you anything to drink, Mistress Tyl? The bread and cookies will be served shortly. <Zoya> ::looks up and smiles:: Tyl! * Tyl shivers violently. "I'm frizzed. And hungry. And annoyed. How's everyone else?" <Ragna> ::looking back at Rhys with an air of extreme dubiousness:: Frogs? Real frogs, not magicked-up ones? <Zoya> Tired, but otherwise well. Come sit and have something warm to drink. <Tyl> ::nods, hanging her cloak up on a peg:: Rum toddy, please, Rhys, if you don't mind? * Michelle enters the hall, unwrapping her cloak only after the door is securely closed. Underneath the cloak she is wearing a heavy tartan skirt and black blouse. "Good evening everyone." * Rhys nods. "Real, honest, 'what-the-heck-am-I-doing-falling-through-the-air' frogs. I've heard something about very powerful winds pulling them up out of the swamps, but I don't know if that's the true cause or not." <Ragna> Had me a relaxing day and a good, long soak. ::grins:: Dangerous to start up the forge in weather like this. <Rhys> Good evening, Michelle. Can I get you anything? We should have bread and cookies... oh, almost any moment now. <Zoya> ::nods:: Michelle. * Michelle thinks for a few moments as she hangs her cloak up and approaches the bar, "I think a good mocha sounds lovely tonight." <Ragna> Hm. ::takes a swallow of spirits:: Still sounds magicked. * Michelle smiles at Zoya and Tyl, "Zoya, Tyl, I can't remember the last time I saw either of you. How have you been?" <Zoya> Busy. <Rhys> There is a saying that truth can be stranger than fiction, and if that is so, I can see no reason why it can't also be stranger than magic. * Tyl looks down at her fingers for a moment. Three fingers on her left hand are badly bruised and missing most of their nails. "I'm alive. Which is more than I thought yesterday morning. Sheer dumb luck." * Michelle quirks an eyebrow at Tyl, "Want me to heal that for you? And do you want to talk about your near death experience?" * Ragna frowns at Tyl's hand. "Looks nasty." <Tyl> ::shakes her head:: If I have to have any more healing in the next few days, I'm going to throw up. ::she laughs:: Sorry, 'Chelle. Been chasing a nasty bunch of illithid around the woods. Which begs the question of, is there a nice bunch of illithid somewhere in the universe? And if so, why haven't I met them? <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow:: Illithid? And you didn't invite me? ::grins:: How very rude of you. * Michelle smiles but doesn't say anything. <Ragna> Ill-what? ::blinks:: <Rhys> ::the lert toddles out of the kitchen, carrying over its head on outstretched arms a cutting board with a hot loaf of black bread on it, small crocks of butter and honey resting in dimples on the cutting board, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies in the other. It weaves over to the bar and slides the cutting board and plate onto the bar top and ambles back into the kitchen:: Ah, lovely. Who wanted bread again? ::Rhys starts slicing:: <Tyl> Kevil said exactly the same thing. My excuse for you is a bit different. Your apprentice told me you weren't taking visitors. * Michelle smiles, "I'll have some Rhys." <Zoya> ::to Ragna:: Illithid. Also known as mind-flayers. Look like bipedal purple octopi. If you ever see one, either chop it in half right away, or run very fast. <Zoya> I'll have bread, please, Rhys. ::laughs at Tyl:: Oh, I suppose I *did* tell her that, didn't I...? What excuse did you give Kevil? <Ragna> ::shivers, rubbing her arms:: I'll take a slice or two, Master Rhys, please. Mind flayers. Right. Sounds nasty. I'd just as soon try for the chopping. Dwarves are fine sprinters, but not very good over the long haul. ::grins:: * Rhys begins handing out slices of bread, accompanied with warm cookies. <Zoya> ::grins at Ragna:: Fine with me. One less illithid in the universe can only improve the place. ::offers a hand:: Zoya Natovna. <Tyl> Four less... ::she helps herself to a slice of bread and a cookie, folding the cookie up inside the bread like a sandwich:: * Zoya picks up a slice of bread and begins eating with - for Zoya, at least - astonishing appetite. * Tyl eats her cookie sandwich. "In any case, Zoya, dear, darling, best friend, sweetheart..." <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow at Tyl:: This should be good... <Tyl> ::very small voice:: I need help putting their ship back together. I broke it. * Michelle giggles just as she's about to take a bite of her bread. <Zoya> ::looks startled:: You... captured a SHIP? <Ragna> ::starts to shake Zoya's hand, grip weakening as she hears her name:: Ah-- the wild mage? Aye, heard of you, I have. I... uh... Ragna Irontongue. <Tyl> ::licks a dollop of honey off her fingers:: Mostly. <Zoya> ::grins at Ragna:: I don't bite, I promise. No matter what rumors you've heard. <Zoya> ::to Tyl:: With an intact helm? <Ragna> ::grinning weakly:: Bitin' wasn't part of the rumors. <Zoya> ::chuckling:: No, I imagine the rumors were much worse. * Rhys pours Michelle her mocha. "Here you are. Sorry it took a while. It wasn't hot the first few times it came out of the tap." <Tyl> I think so. I'm not too much good at these technical things... ::she finishes the bread:: The chair thing? That didn't break. The keel-thing? That's smashed to hell and back and has a very large tree stuck right up the middle. * Michelle grins, "No problem Rhys." Michelle sips her mocha and begins nibbling on her cookie. <Zoya> ::laughs and almost chokes on a bite of bread. She chews and swallows properly, then washes it down with a swig of ale:: No, the "chair thing" would be the important part. What did you do with it? <Ragna> ::alertly:: A ship, ye say? How'd ye get a tree stuck up a ship's stern? * Michelle looks over at Tyl, "Planning on going looking for Jelarthna?" <Tyl> Left it where it bloody well was... Pulling it back down when they were trying really hard to leave was draining enough. <Zoya> Hid it, at least, I hope. <Tyl> ::to Michelle:: That is indeed my plan, 'Chelle. Since Zoya was so kind as to lend my husband her ship and he's not come back for almost a year now... ::glowers at Zoya:: <Zoya> ::scowls back:: He *promised*... If you find him, make him bring my damned ship back. Building a helm from scratch isn't so easy that I want to do it again. * Ragna looks back and forth between the two women with a puzzled frown, shrugs, and has a bite of bread and a swallow of spirits to wash it down. <Tyl> ::shrugs:: It's got a revulsion on it... if anyone goes near it, they'll turn tail and run away. <Zoya> Fair enough. When you're recovered, you can bring it by the Tower and I'll see what can be made of it. <Tyl> ::snorts:: The plan is to beat him to death. Then I'll drag your ship back. <Zoya> Sounds about right. ::helps herself to another slice of bread:: <Tyl> ::in a lower voice:: I hope you got a chance to study the Preening Maiden some... I can't pilot these things, the way they are. * Ragna looks faintly pale as she chews another bite of bread slowly, hunched over her plate. <Zoya> You're going to go by *yourself*? ::looks thoughtful and chews on one lip:: That'll take a little longer to outfit. <Tyl> ::raises one eyebrow:: Planning on coming with? * Michelle looks quizzically at Zoya and Tyl, "How long would it take if I went with her Zoya?" <Zoya> Well, your husband stole *my* ship, after all... ::grins:: <Zoya> ::looks over at Michelle:: How long would what take, 'Chelle? There's no *telling* where Jelarthna is. <Tyl> ::snorts:: *You* lent it to him... you should have known better... <Michelle> No, how long would it take to get the captured ship ready assuming there's nothing wrong besides the hole in the bottom? <Zoya> I didn't have a lot of choice. I needed someone to anchor the other end of that portal. <Zoya> ::eyes Michelle:: She doesn't want to go again in the captured ship. It's a 'flayer ship. The things out there that'll recognize its lines are either going to be friendly to illithid - in which case you definitely don't want to deal with them - or will attack on sight, before you can prove that you're not allied with the damned things. <Michelle> So it will be faster to wait for the ship I'm having built to be completed? <Zoya> ::shrugs:: Probably. How much longer until it will be done? * Tyl yawns and takes another slice of bread, buttering it more than liberally. <Zoya> Besides, I don't know that you want to go with her, anyway. You've got different missions in mind. * Ragna takes another swig of spirits, edging her stool a little further down the bar and leaning over it to beckon Rhys closer. * Rhys walks down to Ragna and leans over. "Yes?" <Tyl> Knowing my husband, it'll take the better part of a few hundred years to find him again... ::rolls her eyes extravagantly:: Probably a good thing that I'm an elf. <Zoya> ::snorts:: <Ragna> ::keeping her voice low, a worried frown on her face:: Is it, ah, healthy fer me to be hearin' all this? <Michelle> The ship should be done in another six months. Well the building of the ship. It will still need all the modifications you need to make. * Michelle smiles sadly, "True. I'd just hoped to be out there finding my daughter, not sitting here wishing that I was out there." <Zoya> ::shakes her head:: I won't need to make any modifications, not if the builders are sticking to the requirements I gave you. <Zoya> Once the ship is done, it'll take me about three days to install and calibrate the helm. <Rhys> Oh, it's quite healthy. They have some odd traveling habits, but it's nothing for you to be concerned over. <Ragna> Ah. Right then. ::looking relieved:: Was beginnin' to sound like smuggler talk. * Michelle shakes her head, "I had to drag the original builder before the guild since he was using rotten timber and I've had guild officials check the progress once a week ever since so I assume they're following instructions. But I'm not an engineer. Ultimately I have to take their word on it." <Tyl> ::snorts:: Sounds like the idiots who rebuilt my house after Bai burned it to the ground. <Zoya> ::laughs, finishing her piece of bread, and grabs a cookie:: * Ragna has another bite of bread. * Ragna finishes her bread, washing it down with a swallow of spirits, and excuses herself to head to the washroom. * Tyl looks as if she'd like to dip a spoon (or her fingers) into the honey, but restrains herself. <Michelle> ::There is a loud banging on the Hall door, sounding very much like someone is kicking the door.:: * Ragna returns after a few moments and climbs onto her stool again. * Zoya looks around at the door, startled. "What in the-?" * Rhys looks up and walks around the bar to answer the door. He calls out as he walks toward it, "Who is it?" <Ragna> ::frowns, looking over her shoulder:: S'open, isn't it? <Zoya> Well, they might have full hands. <Stranger> Valkyrie, daughter of Cofenphren and Eden, Chooser of the Slain! * Tyl straightens up, brushing one hand down her vest in an overly casual manner. "Then again..." * Rhys opens the door. "Who?" <Ragna> ::frowns:: No slain in here... ::mutters:: Yet, at least.... * Zoya grins at Tyl, and cups a hand under the bar, tipping it to show Tyl a silvery-blue glow held therein. <Valkyrie> ::A tall women stands in the doorway, a large body cradled in her arms:: Valkyrie, daughter of Cofenphren and Eden, Chooser of the Slain. <Valkyrie> ::The body is large and terribly burned, blackened scraps of cloth hanging from the still sizzling flesh. One arm hangs limply from the body, ending in a freely bleeding stump rather than a hand.:: * Tyl leans back with elegant style against the bar. "How lovely. It's brought dinner." <Valkyrie> ::The woman is dressed in leather armor with a long sword and dagger at her sides and a shield slung over her shoulder. Her long blonde hair is held back by a simple leather band and her blue eyes shine in her face like twin pieces of ice. Her expression is simultaneously hopeful, terrified, and resigned.:: <Valkyrie> This is Sealgair's Meade Hall? <Zoya> ::frowns at the body, and then looks up at the woman:: It is. You bring your burden here because...? <Rhys> It is. <Ragna> ::frowns, muttering to herself:: "Sealgair's Meade Hall and Mortuary, come n' get pickled"? Naaah. * Valkyrie shakes her head, "He hasn't given up his burdens yet. And I brought him here because he told me to if something like this happened." <Rhys> Get in, get in! Put him there. ::pointing at one of the tables:: * Michelle looks on with concern, moving forward as Rhys invites Valkyrie in. <Zoya> ::releases her blue-silver fire, staying by the bar to stay out of Michelle's way:: * Tyl turns to Zoya, her eyes worried but her mouth forming her usual flip responses. "Why do I ever bother to come *here* of all places when I want to *relax*?" * Ragna eyes the slab of meat and grimaces, pushing the bread basket away and taking a long swallow of spirits. "Clangeddin hold 'im..." * Valkyrie enters the Hall, gently depositing the body on a table, its legs dangling off the edge of the table until she grabs a second table and pulls it over to the first. * Michelle looks over the body, "What happened to him? It looks like he was holding a grenade that exploded." <Zoya> ::half-smiles at Tyl, one eye remaining on the body:: Damned if I know... <Ragna> A what? Looks like he came off the worse of a tangle with a dragon... ::shudders and has another drink:: <Zoya> ::raising her voice slightly:: Is it someone we know, 'chelle? * Valkyrie steps back, pulling a red katana from somewhere and resting it on a nearby table. "He tried to stop Yb." * Zoya give Valkyrie a hard stare as she mentions Yb. "Bai." She looks back at the body. "And he's *alive*?" <Tyl> Yb? Oh, yes, charmingly deranged fruitbat who should have been put out of her misery decades ago. <Ragna> ::blinks:: *That's* alive? * Rhys heads behind the bar and comes out with a bowl of water and clean cloths. "It's pathetic, but it's all we've got." * Michelle pulls a chair over to the table and sits down, composing herself for the healing she about to perform. <Zoya> ::shrugs to Ragna:: The lady there says he hasn't given up his burdens, yet, so I imagine he's hanging on to life by *some* thread. * Valkyrie shrugs and moves to lean against the bar, her eyes watching Michelle, "He's a stubborn cuss to begin with and as I said, he still has work to do before he can die. We're the only two who survived." <Tyl> How charming for him to oblige you by not dying, then. <Zoya> ::eyes Valkyrie:: You seem to have survived unscathed... How many went down? * Michelle holds her hands over Bai's body, a soft white glow beginning to emanate from them and wash over Bai's body. <Valkyrie> Thirty six million seven hundred fifty three thousand two hundred and forty three. * Valkyrie answers Zoya with an ice cold gaze. <Rhys> Where? <Ragna> ::whispering, shocked:: Gods of the earth... <Zoya> Erdian's white- ::takes a breath:: What did she do, take a continent apart? <Tyl> Glad to know you kept an accurate count... who knows what sort of bureaucratic nightmare you'd have on your hands if you misplaced one. ::even she seems a bit pale:: <Valkyrie> The country of Than Weisstoko. <Zoya> ::frowns, consulting mental maps:: Never heard of it. <Valkyrie> It's on a different plane. Unfortunately Yb's still there. <Tyl> ::jerks her chin at Bai's somewhat scorched body:: His home? <Valkyrie> Yes. <Zoya> Erdian help those remaining, then... Why, by the nine hells, has she been allowed to rampage like that? <Michelle> ::There's a sudden flash of light and Michelle is thrown away from Bai's body and against the bar, crying out in shock and pain:: <Ragna> Pray all the gods it stays there, then. <Zoya> Michelle! ::goes to Michelle and helps her up:: What happened? * Valkyrie shakes her head, "This is just the start. She's become Chaos now. All anyone can do at this point is get out of her way." Pauses for several moments, "And count the dead." <Zoya> ::to Ragna:: The gods have nothing to do with it. At least, *those* gods. They have absolutely *NO* sense of responsibility to their own, that I've been able to tell. ::she glances at Valkyrie sidelong, then goes back to helping Michelle:: <Michelle> ::With Zoya's help Michelle stands back up, looking at her hands in shock. The reason is immediately obvious. Instead of two hands Michelle now has two hand shaped rose bushes, each bearing five red roses.:: <Ragna> ::frowns:: "Those gods"? <Zoya> Oh, sweet gods, she's infected him. Hold still... ::she cups Michelle's... rose bushes in her own hands, whispering arcanely. After a moment, they shimmer and morph back into hands:: <Tyl> ::nods, making a googly face at Michelle:: There are, unfortunately, more gods than grains of sand. Some of them seem to be highly lacking in sense. * Michelle sighs in relief, "Thank you Zoya. I'm not Lisl. I don't think I could function with something like that for very long." <Tyl> ::conversationally:: I suppose it was inevitable... all the good gods got used up... there had to be some place for the rejects and substandard ones to go. <Zoya> ::laughs softly:: Recover for a minute, and let me see if I can bleed off the worst of it so you can give it another try. ::She heads over to Bai:: <Ragna> Magic? He's infected with chaos magic? ::touching one hand to the cold iron of her hammer:: * Valkyrie looks at Tyl, "And you're familiar with the burdens that gods carry?" <Tyl> ::studies her hands carefully:: I've had more than passing acquaintance with a few. ::looks boldly up at the blonde:: Why, did I offend you? ::she allows sarcasm to drip from her lips and curl up on the floor around Valkyrie's ankles:: * Zoya eyes Bai for a long minute. "I hadn't planned to use you as the final test case, old friend, but I don't think we have much choice. Look at that flare...!" She looks back at Rhys. "This is going to be some strong magic. You might want to strengthen the wards, temporarily." <Valkyrie> Yes, but then, I understand arrogance is common to most elves. * Rhys places both hands on the bar. After a moment, the panes of glass rattle in their frames, and the wood beams creak and groan. "As you will, Zoya. Ladies, please, not now." <Tyl> Confidence isn't necessarily conceit... ::glowers at the woman:: And if you could have done something about Bai, you would have, so why don't you stuff it in your hat and let people help him? * Michelle looks up at the ceiling, "It would be undignified to hide under a table wouldn't it Tyl?" * Ragna looks around, the whites of her eyes showing. She takes her half-empty mug off the bar and cradles it to her chest protectively. <Tyl> ::grins at Michelle:: Not when it's justified. And the Hall boasts the strongest tables in Faerun. * Zoya lifts her hands, searingly bright lightning crackling between them. She stands at Bai's feet and extends her hands. The lightning crackles around his feet, and where it touches him, the white light flares in colors. After a moment, the colors bleach and fade back into white, and Zoya moves the lightning a little further up his legs, beginning the process again. * Ragna looks back and forth between Tyl and Michelle, slides off her stool (still holding her mug), and goes to sit under a table, turning the chairs on their sides to form a protective barrier. * Tyl eyes Zoya warily for a moment, then joins Michelle in crouching under the table. * Valkyrie watches Zoya impassively, "I begin to understand why he told me to bring him here if something happened." <Tyl> ::mutters:: Oh, it can be taught... * Rhys slowly begins to reach out, his arm leaving visual echoes behind it as it moves off the bar. Slowly, slowly, he reaches out, picks up a cookie, brings it to his mouth, and starts munching on it. * Zoya works her way slowly up Bai's body. By the time she's reached his waist, she's breathing heavily and sweating. She pauses at his neck, her silver eyes examining him in minute, critical detail. She takes a deep breath and allows her lightning to encompass his head. The color here is much brighter than elsewhere, and takes much longer to bleach. * Ragna boggles at Rhys. * Tyl waits a moment longer or so before coming out from under the table. "You never know, around here, when WHAM! something's going to explode in your face and distract you from your cookies." <Valkyrie> ::A blond male elf in rich silver clothes and a redheaded human woman in a green dress suddenly burst through the door, obviously frantically searching for something.:: <Rhys> Good evening, welcome to the Meade Hall, strangers. Can I get you anything? Cookie, perhaps? * Michelle gets up from beneath the table and approaches Bai once more, "Wish me luck." She closes her eyes and once more holds her glowing hands over Bai's wounds. * Ragna stays under her table, saying nothing, eyes wide. She finishes her spirits in several long swallows and, after a moment's consideration, puts the mug on the floor and pokes it in the direction of the bar. * Zoya looks up tiredly, then gets up and staggers back over to the bar. She picks up her ale and drains it in a single draught. * Valkyrie looks at the strangers, "Eng'lvail, Whisper Leaf, what are you two doing here?" * Tyl eyes the newcomers and groans. "More of them. It's like a disease... let one in and soon you're up to your eyeballs in undesirables." * Rhys reaches down, scoops up Ragna's mug, refills it with spirits, and sets it back to toddling back to her. <Rhys> Anything I can get for you, Zoya? <Valkyrie> ::The elf looks at Valkyrie:: Looking for Yb. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be training with Bai? * Ragna accepts her mug again with gratitude and toasts Rhys with it from under the table. * Zoya grins weakly at Tyl and sets the crystal on the bar in front of Tyl. "Here. Don't use it for a focus - if it crumbles, it'll turn back into raw chaos." The crystal is shaped like a perfect tetrahedron and appears to be made of perfect, flawless diamond. * Tyl eyes the diamond speculatively. "I know just what to do with it, then." She pockets the diamond with a smug grin. * Valkyrie points at Bai, "Yb got mad and sensei tried to stop her. I'd ask how you lost her, but I think you'd be more interested in knowing that the Faerie and Dark Elves are launching all out attacks against all the human settlements they can reach." <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow:: Don't have it cut, either. Or are you going to unleash it in your husband's face? <Valkyrie> ::The elf starts in on a string of dwarven curses.:: <Michelle> ::As the light washes over Bai's body slivers of wood begin to slide out of his wounds, falling to the table and floor as they leave his body.:: * Tyl smiles. It is not a particularly reassuring curve of the mouth. * Ragna draws down her eyebrows in a frown, returning the elf's words with a string of curses in elvish that speculate widely on his parentage and mating habits, "...to you too, laddie." * Zoya - used to Tyl's smiles - only smirks in response, then looks up at Rhys. "I could use another ale, when you get a moment." She picks up a cookie and eats it in a single bite. <Valkyrie> ::The elf blinks at Ragna and shakes his head, turning his attention back to Valkyrie as the woman asks:: Yb did this to him? I thought the entire point was that Yb wouldn't hurt him? * Tyl mutters under her breath. "We gave at the office. No, thank you, I already have a subscription to the Marsember Herald. No visitors today, the Lady of the House has typhoid." * Rhys pours Zoya another ale. * Valkyrie shrugs, "I don't understand her, and I don't think I want to understand her. She started pestering Bai about his fiancee, then she got mad about something he said and started frothing at the mouth saying she was 'Going to kill them.' Bai tried to stop her and Than Weisstoko was obliterated." * Zoya drains half the ale, then sighs and leans against the bar, her color beginning to return to normal. <Valkyrie> ::The woman gasps:: Than Weisstoko but... There must have been thirty million people there. <Zoya> Thirty six million seven hundred fifty three thousand two hundred and forty three. <Tyl> ::rolls her eyes:: Thirty six million seven hundred fifty three thousand two hundred and forty three. * Valkyrie waves a hand to Zoya and Tyl, "What they said." * Tyl turns to Zoya. "Very nice resonance there... have you been taking lessons from Kevil?" <Zoya> ::snorts:: Erdian forfend. <Zoya> Kevil's a *terrible* teacher. <Tyl> I pity his child... poor Loria, she seems like such a *nice* girl... <Michelle> ::Bai stops dripping as Michelle continues to close his wounds, a small pile of splinters, saw dust, and ash outlining his body:: <Zoya> ::laughs softly:: Well, he's not teaching *her* anything. * Valkyrie sighs and looks at Rhys, "I don't suppose I can get a meade?" <Tyl> ::very softly:: You can't just magic one up? <Rhys> We have that, in fact. ::Rhys pours Valkyrie a mug of the house special:: Anything for you, lady and gentleman?? * Ragna sits under the table, watching the body on top of the other table warily, and drinking steadily. <Valkyrie> ::The elf looks around for a moment, then shakes his head:: I'm afraid not. I need to be going. ::He kisses the woman's cheek, then runs out the door.:: <Tyl> ::looks a bit brighter:: One down, two to go... <Valkyrie> ::The woman sighs, watching the elf leave, then turns and heads towards the bar:: A glass of wine please, I think I'm going to be here for a while. <Rhys> Good night, sir. Have a pleasant evening. <Rhys> Of course, miss. Red, white, or blush? <Tyl> What a shame. <Woman> White please. <Michelle> ::Bai's body is finally starting to resemble Bai again, though he still looks like hell warmed over:: * Rhys pours the woman a glass of wine. "Here you are. Saerloonian Glowfire. If it's not to your taste, let me know and I'll find something else." * Valkyrie drains half her mug in one go, "I need to be going as well. Does anyone have anything they want to know about what happened before I leave?" <Zoya> Chances that poor gods-cursed bitch is going to cross over into the plane anytime soon? * Valkyrie blinks at Zoya in confusion. <Zoya> ::sighs:: Yb. What are the chances she'll come *here*? <Tyl> ::muttering:: If she is, I'm taking my chances with the illithid ship. Just so you know. * Ragna moans quietly and sends her mug scuttling out for another refill. * Valkyrie shakes her head, "I don't know. It would be nice if she did. She'd be weaker here. We might be able to kill her." <Zoya> ::eyes flashing silver:: She's your responsibility. Keep her away from our people. <Tyl> Nice is all a matter of perspective. ::she remarks thoughtfully to a cookie:: <Woman> She probably won't. As long as she remain on our plane her power will continue to grow. Coming here would be a decrease in her potential. * Rhys refills Ragna's mug. As he stands up from putting it on the floor he announces, "Last call. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." * Valkyrie shakes her head, "If I could control her I'd have spared Than Weisstoko." <Ragna> ::mournfully, from under the table:: But I live here. <Tyl> And after everything, you still expect her to respond *normally* to things... how do you know she wants her power to grow? Maybe she'd rather be a butterfly. * Michelle collapses into a chair, panting for breath and soaked with sweat, "I'm going to need a room as well Rhys. And a hand getting him up in a bed. He's stable but it's going to take another day or two at least to finish patching him up. I don't know if Lisl could have survived those wounds. I have no idea how he did." <Zoya> ::downs her ale:: Your pantheon, then. You made her what she is. Every death she causes is laid at the feet of those who allowed it to happen. <Zoya> ::looks over to Michelle and Bai and nods very slightly before turning back to the bar:: I'm just going to take a few of these cookies for Glossaria and Vallel, if you don't mind, Rhys. <Rhys> Of course, Ragna, Michelle. I was just making the point. <Rhys> Feel free, Zoya. Have some more for yourself. Put some color back in those cheeks. * Valkyrie finishes her meade and turns to the woman, "Whisper Leaf, can you keep an eye on him? I have to get back there. Between Yb and the elves and whoever else decides to take advantage of all of this I'm going to be busy for a very long time." * Tyl shakes her head. "What a night. I think I'll take Drach's habits up as a hobby and go to hell the next time I need a vacation." <Zoya> ::eats another cookie while she wraps a double-handful of cookies in a cloth and stuffs them into her sleeve, then flashes a grin at Tyl:: You could come back to the Tower with me, at least tonight... Tell me about your illithid hunting. <Tyl> If you like... ::yawns:: Not much to tell, really... \ <Whisper Leaf> ::nods to Valkyrie:: Go. I don't have role in these events. I can watch over him. * Ragna crawls cautiously out from under the table, giving the body and the two foreign women a wide berth, and walks a sort-of-straight line to the bar. She leans against it for a moment, getting her bearings, and puts the emptied mug down. "M'thanks, Master Rhys. Cookie, pleash--please?" <Zoya> Well, you can at least tell me what you remember about the ship. It'll help when I go to work out the re-design. Come on... ::she tosses a coin onto the bar and goes to the door, waiting for Tyl:: * Ragna sways gently as she leans against the bar. "N'whaddo I owe?" <Tyl> ::muttering:: Of *course* you don't have a role in these events. Heaven forfend any one of you should have the simple decency to *act* anyway, even if your little Master Plan says "this is the way it is." * Valkyrie stands and heads for the door, pausing at the door to turn back to everyone and bow formally, "Thank you for your hospitality. I apologize that I've been forced to arrive and depart in such haste." <Tyl> Oh, no, by all means, leave. * Rhys hands Ragna two cookies. "No charge on nights mortally wounded people are carried in the door. It's in our charter. Remind me to show you some time, it's an intriguing document." <Rhys> Good night, miss. Have a more pleasant evening after you depart than before you arrived. <Ragna> ::gives him a fisheye:: M'sure. ::squints around:: Mmmm... stairs thataway? ::points more or less in the right direction:: * Valkyrie smiles to Rhys and nods, "And you as well." * Valkyrie exits the Hall. <Rhys> Exactly, Ragna. Good night. <Ragna> G'night. Don' put the dead guy next to me, 'kay? Thanks. G'night, all. <Zoya> Good night, Mistress Irontongue. <Zoya> Coming, Tyl? * Ragna staggers towards the stairs, wavering slightly and muttering to herself. "How d'those words go again? Gold, gold gold... nonono... gold, gold, gold..." * Whisper Leaf looks to Rhys, "Does he still have a room here? And is it permissable to use magic to get him there?" <Tyl> ::nods:: Oh, yes... couldn't drag me away with a team of wild horses... ::she gives Whispering Weirdo a baleful glare:: <Rhys> He has a room perpetually reserved, Ragna, I'll simply put him there. And, yes, you're permitted to use magic to transport him there. If you'll wait until you hear Ragna's door close, however, that might be preferable. She's quite shocked from tonight's events." * Ragna totters up the stairs, singing slightly off-key in a rumbling basso alto, and disappears down the hall. * Zoya smirks and includes Tyl in her weather-protection spell as they exit the Hall. * Whisper Leaf nods and drains her wine glass, "Quite understandable." * Tyl follows Zoya. "Straight to hell. Do not pass the Hall. Do not collect two hundred gold..." <Rhys> Can I help you with anything, Michelle? * Whisper Leaf listens until the sound of Ragna's voice stops moving, then walks over to Bai, humming softly for a moment before his body levitates off the table, "Which room?" <Rhys> Third one, on the left. It might even still have some of his things in the closet. * Michelle sighs and stands unsteadily, "A mug of water and a warm bed. I'll worry about food in the morning." * Whisper Leaf nods, "My thanks, and my apologies." Whisper Leaf heads up the stairs, Bai's body levitating behind her. * Rhys pours Michelle a mug of water and puts some of the cookies and a slice of bread in a plate. Here, take this up with you, in case you get hungry in the middle of the night. And... I think at the end of the hall, on the right should be fine for you. * Michelle smiles and drinks deeply from the mug, "Thanks Rhys. Guess it was foolish to think things might actually be calming down around here." * Michelle picks up the plate and heads for the stairs, "Goodnight Rhys. Sleep well." <Rhys> You too, Michelle. * Rhys heads to the door and locks it. He looks at the tables and sighs. "I suppose tables first, then a good mopping of the floor." He heads back into the kitchen and comes out with a bucket and rags, and begins to scrub clean the tables. |
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