Endgame

As Johon barks orders to his party members, he uses Seerus's immensely high quality brushes and rare paints to create what may be the finest piece of art to ever bless a canvas ever known.

"It's West of here. The signage will guide you. I can't wrap my head around the place, that's all. Perhaps my own lack of attention span..." QM Note: Da Smash Bro has only about 12 to 16 hours to respond before I seek a replacement.

"The... Wayward Angel. I do believe I passed it today... On the foot of Sungold hill. I never set foot in that place, though, so I'm surprised you've met someone who has..."

"You're right. Though, to be perfectly honest, after *wheeze* all is said and done here, I don't ever want to step on a *cough* battlefield again." The party continues through the gallery, arriving in Seerus's studio... Or something similar. The od machine from the Interception Room is back, accompnaying vials of paint. A journal sits next to a blank canvas. On the left side of the room are two metal tentacles - perhaps hollow, so they can be used as molds in case Seerus gets amputated - and a set of paintbrushes.

The watchman looks at the Half Giant, expecitng muttered grunts instead of actual speech. "...Ah. That place. Due to the... Nature of it, I'm going to have to ask you why you want to go there."

Alice drags her finger acorss her name, smudging the "i" in "Alice" a bit. She wipes the ink off of her fingers. "Mine is fresher than the others..." "We walked past a whole hallway of complete *wheeze* exhibits. Looks like he's still working on this one, though..." "I was, once upon a time. It won't be happening again." He tighetens his grip on Karie a bit.

In a ring of chairs sits five eccentric storytellers, talespinning experts huddled up in one of Uland's more obscure taverns. A friendly, yet slightly unsettling bartender sits to their needs, silently filling up their drinks as they weave story after story, tell yarn after yarn. All of their meeting proceeded this way, all of them sharing stories... Perhaps ones they devised, perhaps ones they witnessed. Who can say? The meeting was now in full swing, one story already reaching its conclusion. One of the oddest of the storytellers takes a drag of his fungal cigar, before clearing his lungs of the noxious fumes. He speaks, clearly and distinctly: "Hmm. A good bloodbath, though I was thinking of spinning a different type of tale. Bloodbaths are so... Impersonal. As if every life lost is just collateral. The tale I have in mind is one of deadly dedication." One of the white-garbed man's compatriots folds his hands on the bar, already ensnared. "A bold proposition. You had me at "deadly", Isaac." Lucas takes another long drag from his pipe, exhaling a large smoke ring. "Don't keep us in suspense! The night is still young, after all." "Hey, it doesn't have to be personal or dedicated - when the sea itself runs red, it won't much matter who's dead. But now that that's all been said..." Val drummed her fingers against the tabletop. "Well, go on, we're all waiting!" "Ah, dear Hellsinger, but where is the build-up or the suspense if we know the what and when? Though I'll admit your tale did awake in me some of those blood-lust feelings of my primordial ancestors. Hidden dedication and intention, now that's a story worth hearing, tell on my glowing friend." The Sharkling ordered a drink bubbling and overflowing with green steam. "Bloodshed has its time and place, but the time has come for a different pace." She catches Val's eye, for a brief moment the faintest hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. "Speak, Isaac. We await your account." "Very well, friends, very well. You know I am not man of commitment. Hell, I'm surprised I'm still in this society, to be honest. And do you want to know why? Because passion, dedication, obsession... They are the most brutal killers Olegaia has ever seen Fellow Midnight Society Members, I present, for your delectation... The Tale of One Bleach Too Many." ------------------------------------- The two heroes chosen for their task - to rid a man's manor of disturbances - find anote addressed to them, pinned to the questboard. With their objective known and their destination in mind, the two heroes set off. Those two heroes are... Vindsval Half-born (Immune to Fire) (Asphalt) 37 year old, Male, Half Giant, Cleric (immune to Sealed effect) Level: 5 Power: 13 (5+8) (x2 VS Aquatic, Flying, and Mechanical) Defense: 3 (Fiery Robes of the Archmagi) Health: 13/13 (9+4) Ether: 14/14 (5+4+5) Gold: 7 Equipment: Spark Hammer (WP:8, (X2 against Aquatic, Flying, and Mechanical) lightning-elemental hammer) Fiery Robes of the Archmagi (SP:3 Bodywear +5 Ether, immunity to Sealed Effect and Fire) Inventory: Consumables: Remedy X3 , Potion X3, Smoke Bomb X2, Mead X2, Tools: Bed Roll Weapons: Broomstick (WP:7, ranged; suitable for mages, clerics, artisans and necromancers) Artefacts: Tailored Overcoat (SP: 1; Immunity to wind-, earth-, and water- damage; suitable for rangers, rogues, hunters, and beast warriors; back wear) Zunde Xravia (Da Smash Bro) 40 years old male ogre barbarian Level 1 Power: 4 (1 + 3) Defence: 0 (0) Health 8/8 (8) Gold: 10 Equipment: Bronze Axe (WP: 3) Inventory: Potion, Bottle of mead The two set off into the streets of Eubric, a crescent moon hanging above them. However, they soon reach an impasse... They had no idea where the Inn of the Wayward Angel was. They found that they were quite wayward themselves, darting around the streets of Eubric, confounded. Finally, a man weidling a spear stops them. "I've seen you walk past here twice now. Are you lost?"

The party chooses the Left Path, heading towards Seerus's quarters. They walk down the hallway, the oppressive black soon becoming a far worse sight. As they walk, odd drawings and maddening scribbles begin to line the obsidian walls... Before long, portraits begin to appear... With human subjects. "I - I... I don't see my sister here..." Who knew if these were actual pieces of art, drawn by Seerus, or just living, breathing, human beings trapped within a canvas for eternity? Their question is answered when they rech a more chilling part of the hallway gallery. Empty canvases... Adorned with thear names. "How long do you think he's had these *wheeze* ready...?" "Disgusting..."

Chosen Heroes For For Quest #115: The Tale of One Bleach Too Many >Vindsval (Asphalt) >Zunde Xravia (Da Smash Bro) QM Note: The quest thread will appear by tomorrow night, folks!

"I'd think the captain would know the most, so lets go see him."

Masson remains silent. "...I can't say I blame you." "normally, I'd be wary, but... You're 8wheeze* right, Mortimer. Seerus needs to go down, almost as much as The Regret."

Technically they're all gonna die eventually.

"...I'm worried about you, Karie." he says mournfully.

Masson gives a reluctant nod. "Very well. And I make the same promise to you - all of you."

"...I have a lot in my future right now, Boomingham. A wife, a child, a familly. I just can't allow The Regret, you, or anyone else to tear me away from my family. Perhaps I'm being overly cautous, but here? You need to be."

"Because you want the honor of dueling with me, am I right? And he might've made that bout impossible?"

"I want the quickest route to The Regret. And, honestly, Seerus hanging around Iris's domain would seem pretty typical of him. I vote we head to his gallery, see what we can find in there, and forge onwards. I hate The Regret far more than Seerus... Because Seerus is just another puppet. Ultimately, it was The Regret who brainwashed me, and did this to Karie..." He uses one hand to signal to Karie's contorted, gasping body, his other arm stuck in her lustful grip.

"Seerus is smart. He may be in either one, or neither of them, maybe even both. Who knows...?"

The party continues onwards, arriving at a junction. Masson cradles his head a bit, before speaking. "I... I have memories of this place, from one I was brainwashed. They gave me bits and pieces of the layout of the Citadel, the upper half, where I was going to patrol if and when I defeated you, and... Here, let me just draw it out." Masson takes the map scraps from earlier and begins to draw on them. "The bottom Purple Dot is where we are now, and the top purple dot is the observation deck right before The Regret's inner sanctum. The red path is the left, and the blue path the right... Either way, we're going to have to ascend part of the tower, walk across a connecting bridge, and cut through the Upper Citadel. After that... Well, we're there. We'd be at the top. If memory serve - and this will influence our decision - the tower the Red Path takes us to holds Seerus's Gallery, while the Blue Path takes us to Iris's former residence. Before you guys... Well, killed her... We should all weigh in on this choice. We're nearing the top, and that's where this onslaught ends."

Heroes Currently Signed Up For Quest #115: The Tale of One Bleach Too Many >Vindsval (Asphalt) >Zunde Xravia (Da Smash Bro) 24 Hours Remain... QM Note: The quest is not battle centric in the slightest, so if a higher level player would like to sign up, it'd be fine!

"i think I learned the source of it... His friend's family was being held hostage, his friend being our tour guide. It seems The Regret is not above using the living to bully the dead."

Masson gives a slight scowl before responding. "Fine! Fine. I know every part of your brain is just screaming to put that dress on. If you really must, have some modesty and do it someplace private, please." "I doubt The Regret would put such an easily circumvented potion in our path. This is stronger than any hex or chemical I've seen." "Next time, just... Just respect her ability to decide for herself." QM Note: I have a set to prepare before we move along - sorry, folks.

"Trust me, I was *wheeze* concerned about you and Mortimer too. Times like these, you need your *cough* best comrade by your side." "You look oddly amused, Boomingham."

"Love potion. Strong one. Specifically said she didn't want it, too - and I can assure I wasn't the one who fed it to her." He looks towards his wife, who was gleefully modelling her body and wardrobe. His eyes fixate on her swaying hips and thrust out chest before he regains his normal composure, his reasoning quickly triumphing his more primal instincts. "Karie, put the dress away."

"There was a *wheeze* giant... a forty foot tall giant, and he... We escaped. A warmachine. He was a *wheeze* giant, mechanical, warmachine... Carried a spear and everything, a shield too." "The Regret told you to do something, and you obeyed. Especially since you deceived her into taking it!"