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Post by Stix on Oct 10, 2009 9:25:47 GMT -5
(O...kay, I guess we'll carry on with one.)
The high courtyard, roughly square and a hundred yards to a side, borders on the concert hall, a vaulted structure built with a plain appearance but marvelous acoustics. Impossibly beautiful song carries out from within, echoing over the hills.
Father Cedric, a human monk dressed like all the others save for a green and blue vestment, waits patiently, drinking in the faith carried with the music.
On spying John, he offers a respectful nod, speaking in a smooth, clear baritone. "You have come to help the bebilith."
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Post by john on Oct 10, 2009 10:49:33 GMT -5
John blinks under the helmet, looking to cedric and queries, "Help the Bebilith? I thought I was here to help the deva that saved me when I was lost..."
He grunts, "I don't remember owing my life to the Bebilith. Perhaps you can explain?"
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Post by Shadow on Oct 10, 2009 15:29:09 GMT -5
Footfalls just loud enough to be heard over the music echo as the young Indep comes hustling out of a hallway on the verge of a run, muttering a hair short of being below earshot. "Soddin' monk hours, 'nough to drive a body barmy... and berks wonder why I don't follow a power..." Cutting off with a small flush as he sees the pair, he gives the helmeted man a hasty nod and a short "basher," before turning to the monk. "My apologies Father, but I was just informed you wished t' see me." He straightens the papers in his hands absently as he speaks, as though trying to gain knowledge by feel. "Stayed up rather late goin' over my notes, and anyone who knows me will tell ya that little short of violence wakes me early." The last is punctuated with a sheepish grin and a low rumble from the half-elf's gut. "Have yet t' eat as well, but this seemed more important."
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Post by john on Oct 10, 2009 16:20:46 GMT -5
John eyes up the new person, his vulture helm concealing only partially a face that has been stripped of flesh, to the bone in some places, and covered in horrific burns. His splint mail looks battered, and his green cloak overtop is a bit threadbare from wear, at this point. Only his uncharacteristically shiny riding boots give any sign of attractiveness to the short, squat little brute.
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Post by Stix on Oct 10, 2009 16:37:44 GMT -5
John blinks under the helmet, looking to cedric and queries, "Help the Bebilith? I thought I was hear to help the deva that saved me when I was lost..." He grunts, "I don't remember owing my life to the Bebilith. Perhaps you can explain?" " Ah," Cedric starts, regarding John with a new clarity. " Then you are the debtor. Of course." Footfalls just loud enough to be heard over the music echo as the young Indep comes hustling out of a hallway on the verge of a run, muttering a hair short of being below earshot. "Soddin' monk hours, 'nough to drive a body barmy... and berks wonder why I don't follow a power..." Cutting off with a small flush as he sees the pair, he gives the helmeted man a hasty nod and a short "basher," before turning to the monk. "My apologies Father, but I was just informed you wished t' see me." He straightens the papers in his hands absently as he speaks, as though trying to gain knowledge by feel. "Stayed up rather late goin' over my notes, and anyone who knows me will tell ya that little short of violence wakes me early." The last is punctuated with a sheepish grin and a low rumble from the half-elf's gut. "Have yet t' eat as well, but this seemed more important."" The bebilith is in great need of aid. Thank you for attending." You have both met this fiend -- and indeed, suffered injury by it. You know its capacity for evil, just as it does. What it does not understand is its newly-developed ability -- and desire -- to accomplish great good. It acts as it always has, as it feels it must, and creates dread, panic and terror... but now, with the spark of Ybdiel within, it suffers along with its victims by the burden of guilt, a concept it cannot begin to understand." Without moral guidance, the bebilith will go mad, destroying without regard until it, too, is dead. At that time, the bebilith and deva will both be lost, and the cost to this realm, its people, and its Power will be too great to bear." |
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Post by john on Oct 10, 2009 17:38:09 GMT -5
"I'm not entirely sure what moral guidance a man with the nom de guerre of Taker of Blood is going to be good for. But if saving the Bebilith is the price to save Ybdiel, then it is one I shall gladly pay."
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Post by artemis on Oct 11, 2009 11:10:25 GMT -5
Xianna slinks in behind the Indep. "You missed breakfast," she whispers.
She overhears the last bit of the conversation when Cedric says they need to save the Bebilith.
"Whoa, wha..?" Xianna can't help but say. "You mean save a giant spider that's gone barmy? I don't follow. I ain't no leatherhead but it don't make sense to me. Who is Ybdiel? Why save a fiend? And why in the nine hells did I get dragged into this?" she mumbles the last question, not really knowing if she wanted a response. But she does add,"HOW does one save such a fiend from itself?"
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Post by Stix on Oct 11, 2009 14:26:57 GMT -5
"Whoa, wha..?" Xianna can't help but say. "You mean save a giant spider that's gone barmy? I don't follow. I ain't no leatherhead but it don't make sense to me. Who is Ybdiel? Why save a fiend? And why in the nine hells did I get dragged into this?" she mumbles the last question, not really knowing if she wanted a response. But she does add, "HOW does one save such a fiend from itself?" Father Cedric explains while strolling toward a tall oak in one corner of the courtyard. " Ybdiel is a deva, first servant and proxy of The Song. A portion of his spirit was separated from him, though the mystery of why and how remains. All that is known for certain is that a piece of the angel now dwells in the heart of the bebilith. While Ybdiel is separated from it, he weakens; in five days' time he will certainly die. While the Abyssal creature has it, it consumes the deva's power unintentionally, becoming more like Ybdiel, but still itself." The bebilith must come to terms with its nature and learn to control its impulses. The risk if it does not is incalculable." The monk stops by the oak, laying one hand on the trunk and looking behind it. " Are you at home?" he calls toward the roots of the tree. " You should meet our guests." |
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Post by Tllith on Oct 11, 2009 16:11:13 GMT -5
Father Cedric explains while strolling toward a tall oak in one corner of the courtyard. " Ybdiel is a deva, first servant and proxy of The Song. A portion of his spirit was separated from him, though the mystery of why and how remains. All that is known for certain is that a piece of the angel now dwells in the heart of the bebilith. While Ybdiel is separated from it, he weakens; in five days' time he will certainly die. While the Abyssal creature has it, it consumes the deva's power unintentionally, becoming more like Ybdiel, but still itself." The bebilith must come to terms with its nature and learn to control its impulses. The risk if it does not is incalculable." The monk stops by the oak, laying one hand on the trunk and looking behind it. " Are you at home?" he calls toward the roots of the tree. " You should meet our guests." There's a scramble under some boxwood bushes a dozen feet off to the side. A lizardly head with a fluted and ridged plowshare of a plate-mask pops out from underground. "Good morning Cedric! I wasn't eavesdropping!", the creature proclaims. A bit more scrambling, and a dull brown winged lizard the size of a medium-small dog pops out of the ground. "Hello, guests! Who are you? I'm Lorezÿkirjavatÿkinkäärmehetÿsothÿ, but you can call me Tllith, everyone does." (The 'll' is the hissy Welsh 'll' sound, and the voice is touched with the sound of the clarinet.) "Who are you? Are you saving The Song? I've never met anyone how saved The Song, except some monks did I think." The beast glances at Cedric quizzically. |
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Post by john on Oct 11, 2009 18:10:00 GMT -5
John grunts, and scowls at the talky little lizard. He lets Cedric do the responding to Xianna, and quietly sits and waits for the part where all the bone-box rattling is done, and the planning of action begins, nervously twitching his fingers as he does so. When the little lizard asks who he is, he simply says.
"The Taker of Blood. John."
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Post by Tllith on Oct 11, 2009 18:18:51 GMT -5
John grunts, and scowls at the talky little lizard. He lets Cedric do the responding to Xianna, and quietly sits and waits for the part where all the bone-box rattling is done, and the planning of action begins, nervously twitching his fingers as he does so. When the little lizard asks who he is, he simply says. "The Taker of Blood. John." " Hallo, John!," says the lizard, quite happy to rattle its own bony bone-box. " What do you do with blood when you take it? Do you have a collection? I think you look like me! We both have a big piece of armor in front of our face!" |
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Post by john on Oct 11, 2009 18:46:19 GMT -5
"Aye, we do. As for what I do with the blood, well... generally when i take it I don't keep it often. I exchange it for pay, or fame in the Pit." John's mien has softened slightly. Perhaps he amused by the lizard. Or, reminded of someone he used to care very much about.
John touches his helm and armor, that is indeed, still stained in areas with the blood of slain or defeated foes from the pit, or elsewhere. "There is a collection of sorts upon my armor, but I fear it has all been mixed up and put together.... I can't show you this stain or that and tell you where it is from."
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Post by Tllith on Oct 11, 2009 19:54:18 GMT -5
"Aye, we do. As for what I do with the blood, well... generally when i take it I don't keep it often. I exchange it for pay, or fame in the Pit." John's mien has softened slightly. Perhaps he amused by the lizard. Or, reminded of someone he used to care very much about. John touches his helm and armor, that is indeed, still stained in areas with the blood of slain or defeated foes from the pit, or elsewhere. "There is a collection of sorts upon my armor, but I fear it has all been mixed up and put together.... I can't show you this stain or that and tell you where it is from." The lizard spreads its useless wings and dips its head to John. " Oh, no! Having a collection get all messed up is terrible!" It flickers its long pointed tongue near his armor. " I can't smell what's what at all." It cocks its head and spreads its ears. " What is the Pit? We don't have a pit here. Except maybe my bedroom, I suppose. Do you sleep in the Pit? " |
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Post by john on Oct 11, 2009 19:59:41 GMT -5
"No, I do not. I kill in the pit. Or die."
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Post by Tllith on Oct 11, 2009 20:07:23 GMT -5
"No, I do not. I kill in the pit. Or die." , says Tllith, not understanding at all. "The monks don't like me to kill things in the garden ... or much anywhere really. So I don't. But I'm really very fierce! ... What is the pit though? |
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Post by john on Oct 11, 2009 22:18:25 GMT -5
"It is the pit of blood, in Sigil, where men fight for blood, or money, or simply because they need to fight. Men like myself... some are more corrupt, some less, but all of us take our lives and philosophies and prove them with the edge of a blade."
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Post by Shadow on Oct 12, 2009 0:02:26 GMT -5
A thud sounds as the half-elf sits down hard, seemingly oblivious to the activity around him. Eyes wide and mind visibly buzzing with thought behind them, his mouth twitches between concentrating frowns and excited smiles, never quite settling on an expression. Suddenly he mouths "spark within it" and his head snaps up to look at the monk. "How?" is all he says, staring at the monk with what in another man's eyes would be called a fervor.
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Post by Tllith on Oct 12, 2009 5:23:25 GMT -5
A thud sounds as the half-elf sits down hard, seemingly oblivious to the activity around him. Eyes wide and mind visibly buzzing with thought behind them, his mouth twitches between concentrating frowns and excited smiles, never quite settling on an expression. Suddenly he mouths "spark within it" and his head snaps up to look at the monk. "How?" is all he says, staring at the monk with what in another man's eyes would be called a fervor. Tllith turns its head back to face Shadow. "Maybe it ate the spark? Monsters eat all kinds of things. I like to eat woodens spoons, and glazed pottery, and beef jerkey, and rope, and dewdrops. Maybe a bebilith likes to eat sparks?" |
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Post by Tllith on Oct 12, 2009 5:28:31 GMT -5
"It is the pit of blood, in Sigil, where men fight for blood, or money, or simply because they need to fight. Men like myself... some are more corrupt, some less, but all of us take our lives and philosophies and prove them with the edge of a blade." Tllith's eyes gleam like polished brass as the lizard adds "2+2" and gets "coffee". "Oh! Men need to fight and get money to grow up too? I did not know that! I thought they did not! I never see when Lania fights! She must, though. She's lots and lots bigger than she was last year." [rand=24604142719990363344404821473480951079324977397270211004765167285335] |
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Post by john on Oct 12, 2009 7:47:24 GMT -5
"The bebilith didn't eat the spark. It.... took it. I don't exactly know how. I was there and I still don't understand it... it just exploded and end up in the beblith. The explosion is what took my face away."
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