RP:A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: Xalious Village holds a political forum and fair, largely organized by Josleen. She calls for a militia and several people sign up. Then Josleen calls for mayoral elections in two months time and asks people to nominate candidates. Quave, the half-drow necromancer, runs through the crowd in a mask and throws a crystal at Josleen’s feet. The crystal projects an image of a shrouded black figure with a crown of brambles.

The obscured woman calls herself ‘The Dark Imp’ and mocks the election, casts herself as a candidate, and magically chokes Josleen on stage. Lanara, Linn, Larewen, and Hildegarde spring into action to defeat the lich/crystal and/or protect Josleen. Ansel and Reginae attack Quave. Hildegarde smashes the crystal with her boot, then shortly after experiences heart-attack like symptoms. Linn is also afflicted during the scramble and slips into a magical coma of sorts. Ansel goes wolf and wants to kill Quave, but Reginae needs Quave alive for questioning, especially after Hildegarde promises an alliance between Alithrya and Frostmaw if Reginae succeeds at this. Kenway, Hildegarde’s mentally-linked couatl, arrives and takes Hildegarde, Linn, Pilar, and Lanara to Frostmaw. Krystan arrives and helps non-lethally subdue Ansel, who Josleen had been trying to calm with little success. Reginae takes Quave to the tower for imprisonment.

Xalious Village

Kang nudges his way into the corner in the guise of an old elf woman. The disguise is physically perfect, albeit a bit tight in "areas", but should he speak, the ruse would be revealed. Then again, considering how tight it is, perhaps not. He finds a suitable place to lean, and huffs in impatience for the meeting to start.

The town square has seen better days. The cobblestone ground has been uprooted. In the south west corner a ten-foot wide by three-foot deep crater cuts off entry to a quaint stationary shop. The crater has been responsible for traffic snarls the likes of which this tiny village has never seen, and also inspired a series of rumors and wild theories of the type endemic to Xalious society since its genesis. Popular theories: The gods are punishing us for our sins! No, no, it’s that preklek, Kang; he’s behind all of this! No, no, we can no longer turn a blind eye to the fact this area if overseen by the evil drowlich Archmage Tiphareth. No, no, you’re all wrong, this is the work of evil necromancers embedded in the Guild acting independently. Today, all theories will have their moment in the sun, to be shouted for all to hear in what will likely descend into a ‘might makes right’ debate style. Josleen knows this, she knows her people, and loves them for it all the same. To entice the apathetic members of the community, she gave the meeting a commercial slant. The Dancing Destrier has a cakelog and beer stand. Why do you need cakelog and beer at a political event? Cause Xalious. A few other shops have their wares on display, turning this forum into a fair of sorts. The bard took the time to set up a small stage with a podium before the crater. In front of the platform is a table with sign up sheets and two locked boxes with slits cut into their lids for people to drop notes or coin. One box is unlabeled. The other announces a charity fund to help the Delicates, a hobbit farming family ruined by the recent storms. Hildegarde, by the way, has approved for Josleen’s player to lightly NPC her. Hildegarde is here! She stands on the edge of the gathering crowd with a dignified but approachable smile. She scans the crowd for troublemakers, but cannot resist the odd glance to The Dancing Destrier’s cakelog stand. The steward has already had two portions. After a half hour of mingling with farmers, merchants, hobbits,and mages, Josleen takes the platform. It’s been over two weeks since the attempt on her life. She covers the gash on her neck with a turtleneck. She begins by explaining what everyone knows: strange black lightning storms, a caustic black ooze killing local wildlife, an explosion in the sky above the town square, the near-summoning of a nightmarish creature from another plane, and a cover-up attempt after each debacle by unidentified mages. (The religious theories endure despite the hard evidence of real baddies.) “And how do we respond to this crisis? What institution represents the common folk of Xalious’s Village? The Guild protects us, yes, but we have no say in our own protection. We have no representatives in their ranks. The Arcane-Guard serve the interests of The Guild, which often align with the Village’s, but what happens when our interests misalign? The Guild has been slow to respond to the recent crisis and I must wonder if perhaps our interests aren’t misaligning now? For this reason, I call for a militia. Already we have seen mutated lemmings and birds in our forests! The Gertbey’s children have already been attacked in the park, and luckily survived, but only just. Events are escalating, and our response lacks cohesion and strength. We can change that. Join me is creating a community response to anything that threatens us. Join the Xalious Militia! Volunteers should sign up on the table below.” Hence, the sign-up sheet.

Emilia was here as a request from her husband to attending this town meeting in place of him. The snow Genasi was accompanied by her three toddler draconian children on this adventure away from the Gualon home, a lad on either hip and a curly haired girl on her shoulders. Perhaps not the best outing for little ones, but the farmer’s husband was out on a bigger errand and the witch that was staying with them had flown the nest, plus the nanny was out for a passing in the family. At least they are well behaved. Having arrived the farmer found her way to mingling with a few of those natives of Xalious, listening to their concerns and their fears over the recent events having occurred. To each, the farmer shared comforting words, but made no promises. Moments before the speech upon the stage to ask for volunteers for a militia for the town the farmer paid her respects to the farming family accepted by the strange events of late, a donation of high price from one farmer to another. After that the mother and children moved to stand within the crowd not too far from the main event to listen in for now.

Lanara is seated in the front row, listening intently to Josleen, with her chin resting on an open palm. Any anger she held towards the elf had long ago dissipated, as she now gave the woman her undivided attention. A head nod here, a quirked brow there, and it was obvious that Lana was deeply engrossed in the happenings in Xalious. Mages performing dark magic was generally unheard of, and necromancy was always frowned upon, no matter the area or its inhabitants. Though the feeling she got right before choosing a portion of cake log prior to the meeting, inclined her to believe that there definitely was some sort of dark magic in the works. Biting her lower lip the witch shakes her head, and tucks a chestnut lock behind a pointed ear, casting a glance around the room to see the reactions on the faces of those gathered. Feeling as though she had to get involved, considering she both practices and preaches about nature and positive energy on a daily basis, she sits up straighter and vows to assist, in any way that she can. Chocolate hues flick briefly to the sign-up sheets, as the witch slowly rises from her chair, and shyly approaches the table, to sign her devotion to aiding in the militia. The dark ooze that had burned through her boot from her tree planting with Hudson, still bore it’s ugly scar, as the witch returns to her chair with a noticeable limp. Once back in her seat, she smiles as Lynn skips over to her and finds a spot on her lap, the witch pulling her into an embrace and waving to Emilia.

Larewen was nowhere near the front, and rarely was at gatherings nowadays. As she grew more accustomed to her blindness, her other senses began to heighten more so than the vampiric curse had upon her death. The living smelled so much more fragrant to the necromancer, and the simple fact that she hated walking into others were reason enough for the woman to linger along the outside of the crowd. Her lips were pressed into a thin, thoughful line as she listened to Josleen's words, but the necromancer made no movement toward the table - probably because she couldn't see where it was located at, and thus felt unbothered to do so.

Pilar did so hate large groups of people. But she had to be here, had to learn what she could of the black ooze. For Darmani. She scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, and was surprised when she saw many. She wasn't sure who to approach, though she eventually settled on Larewen. She hadn't seen her benefactor in so long, and she was the one person in the group who she trusted to keep her safe. She she made her way around the perimeter the crowd, she listened to Josleen's speech. This talk of a militia made her frown. It sounded an awful lot like the beginning of a mob, and she had more than enough experience with THOSE. She eventually made it to Larewen's side. "Hello, Doña Larewen. it has been too long."

Linn wore the armor and pack that never left him, angled, reflective mithril plates making him rather conspicuous in the crowd. He had taken the forefront of trying to sort through the recent events which led him to earn the respect of much of the townsfolk. Having heard of the meeting he knew this was something that he couldn’t miss. He spent the time before the announcement mingling with the crowd and helping to explain some of the events and their nature when asked, meeting with some of the familiar and more unusual people around. He found Lanara to thank her again for the dinner last night as well as the illusionist that he hoped to work with on his own project. The Snow Genasi caught his interest in particular, notably the ice-white skin and chilly aura that he felt as he passed by in the crowd. A couple minor wounds ailed him; a scratch that ran down his cheek that was scabbed with a bright scarlet that still refused to brown in spite of its age, as well as a spot of his hair being scorched off the back of his head to reveal a slightly reddened and chaotically scarred scalp. With Josleen’s speech he crossed his arms at the political tone, though ultimately he agreed given his past experiences with the guild. As she concluded he walked to the table with the sign up list to take a pen and sign his short name in neat print. If the guild wasn’t going to provide a cooperative group, the town would just have to make its own, and he was going to be involved with it whether or not he signed his name here and now.

Reginae stands near the stage, in her common child-like form. The citizens of Xalious were already wary enough. Seeing a naga for the first time in...Aramoth knew how long would not put them at ease. Besides, Regi was here strictly to gather information and offer aid in hopes of aligning with the political power here. Which, as it turned out, was not interested in protecting the people or offering assistance for the events described by the bard on stage. The one she'd met in the forest. As she did not know anyone else here, the naga disguised as a child watched with careful crystallized eyes. Her snowy tresses were far too long, dragging the ground behind her without tripping her. Hildegarde is regarded with a human smile where fangs normally protrude. Then it was Larewen that caught her attention. That was a face she'd know. And look there, it was little miss Pilar! When had Reginae added so many friendly faces to her repertoire? After being shoo'd away from the sign in sheet for the militia (because she was a child after all) it would be Pilar and Larewen who she glided towards, calling out a greeting to the elder Vampire and giving the other a steady smile. "Lady Larewen, it has been a while." she said simply, still standing in an empty space beside her. It was strange; being part of a cause for something.

Josleen is an impressive grudge holder when she wants to be. She notices Lanara in the crowd and quickly stiffens her chin upward and makes sure not to look back at her. Several locals sign up for the militia to the boos and hiss of the religious folk who demand a new church be constructed to appease the gods. They are led by Doomsday Prophet Terry who starts heckling. As he spouts his rhetoric, Josleen waves at Emilia in the crowd. Terry runs out of steam as a well-known Guild mage (a mid-level potion specialist) starts addressing the crowd, saying that while the Guild certainly supports the village defending themselves, it’s ludicrous to think that the Guild and Village’s interests could ever not align, because both share a common home. As the mage talks, Josleen spies Larewen and Pilar and nods at the vampiric duo. Finally, she notices that Reginae is shooed away from the sign-up sheet and makes a mental note to reach out to the naga personally. After some time has passed, the bard clears her throat and addresses the crowd with the efficiency of a seasoned performer. Something about the way she seizes everyone’s attention and silences them so quickly seems almost supernatural — almost. “Thank you to everyone who volunteered for the militia. Before I give the stage to Terrence,” she smiles falsely at the doomsday prophet, “I want to raise one more point. We have not coped well with the crisis not only because we don't have a militia, but also because we don’t have a -process-. We have no council or mayoral seat. We have no authority figure that represents us, the people, in both times of peace and times of chaos. I say we demand a process! We demand representation, and self-governance! Process starts with action, and the first step can happen right here, right now. I propose we hold elections in two months for a council and a mayor. Nominations can be dropped in the unmarked box on the table below.” Needless to say Josleen’s name is already in there (Hildegarde did it!). One of Terry’s stooges drops his name in the box as well. A few others come forth (PCs welcome to do this too!). Just as Josleen is about to hand off the podium to Terrence, a masked mage in black and red robes runs up to the stage and throws a seeing-crystal at Josleen’s feet. It impacts the wooden platform with a defeaning boom and a holographic image snaps into relief before the crowd’s eyes. The image is double the height of Josleen, and of a shrouded black figure with a crown of tree branches. Dark storm clouds thunder overhead as the cloaked figure cackles. “An election! How delightful,” the magical hologram laughs. Its voice changes pitch frequently, but tends towards the feminine. “Cast my name in the box, please! Oh I do hope I win,” she mocks. The masked necromancer magically opens the box, removes all names, and submits on a large floating scroll the name ‘The Dark Imp’ for all to see. He shuts the box again and pats it mockingly. “I will be sure to add your little militia to my ranks first,” continues The Dark Imp. “Josleen, is it? Look!” Josleen’s body suddenly floats up to eye-height with the shrouded image. She’s clearly choking, unable to breathe, her face purpling. Her body goes stiff. She’s clearly in pain. “My future army, my future village. I’ll let you live long enough to see the elections through, of course.” The Dark Imp dumps Josleen unceremoniously on the hard platform. “I’m all about -process-.”

Emilia would find suddenly that her shoulder’s had lost the weight of the little girl and a small just of wind brushing against her cheeks as the wings of the child lifted her away from her mother. It was the sight of her Auntie making her way back from signing her name on a piece of paper that had stolen her attention, sending her skipping along through the crowd to find home in the lap of the elf. As such, Emilia was following the path of the child whispering, ‘excuse me’, and ‘pardon me’, as she found her way to join the duo, politely taking the chair offered to her by a local man. A quiet, ‘thank you, Sir’, offered in response to his kind gesture. Taking the seat the woman rearranged the two boys in her lap if only for a moment. The glinting armor of Linn’s had captured the attention of Liam faster than his mother could react to his squirming to get away to see the funny dressed man. As such, he managed to slip his mother in a dead flight path aimed directly at Linn with his arms out as if he was expecting this stranger to catch him. Alright, perhaps not all the tots were well behaved. Lana had one, one was flying off at a stranger, and the third was behaving like a little gentleman for now. And Emilia? Having a minor panic attack at how to handle such a situation with a crowd of mostly strangers and trying not to lose her focus on keeping the ice at bay so that she did not accidently freeze anyone. She’d worn boots just to keep from accidently causing the ground below to ice over. “Hold him?” A question without a wait for an answer as Emi distributed Leo over into her lap to join Lynn as Em leapt up to chase after the toddler flying at Linn. However, the toddler is quick to cling directly onto the stranger, wanted or not who refuses a frightened child? This is a response to the sudden sight of watching Josleen and the monster on the stage. Emi herself is stopped dead in her tracks at the sudden scene that had befouled, mind you she was still a bit surprised Jos had actually waved at her. Either way, the ice woman was now not too happy at the turn of meeting, the moisture in the air reacting with the ever freezing chill that emanated from the woman, causing it by all means to start to snow in the village as the worried frozen woman went to collect her son from Linn.

Lanara bounces the small draconian child on her lap, and runs her fingers through Lynn’s hair, while smiling up at Linn. He was more than welcome for dinner, she would know, though she did glance over his shoulder as if she were expecting her sibling to magically appear. A faint frown would ensue as Talyara was nowhere to be in sight, though the witch did think it best, considering they were forming a fighting force, and she didn’t desire to have her only blood harmed. As Linn heads over to the table, she nods in approval, glancing at the others that had yet to sign the form, or to speak at the meeting. They needed much more than those that had signed up! As the talk of an election surfaces, Lana’s big brown eyes light up, as she would have loved to held a title. Though as her gaze flickers to the box and she sees the shrouded apparition of a dark mage, she cuddles Lynn closer to her and wraps her arms about the child. “Let her go!” She yells out to the one that has now announced itself as ‘the dark imp’ though her words are unlikely heard as Josleen begins to turn a violent shade of purple. Hesitating for only a moment, she quickly passes Lynn to Linn and gives him a stern look. “Look after this little girl with your life. She is Emilia and Xersom’s daughter. I have to go and tend to Josleen.” It didn’t matter that Linn was left behind with two of the three draconian children, she knew she could trust the male, as they were becoming quite close friends. Without a further word, the witch scrambles over to the podium and manages to sneak past the Imp, who was delighted to have such a crowd watching his spectacle, and was now eyeing those gathered with glee. Lowering herself at Josleen’s side, Lana pulls her open her backpack and rests her hand on the elf’s forehead, speaking in a mere whisper. “Wake up, Jos… Come on. I need to get a better assessment of you.” As she speaks, she begins to extract some foul smelling herbs, and place them beneath the woman’s nose.

Linn paid little attention to the elections and the like to take place in the future, sticking to the bigger issue of making sure that they would even be able to hold them in the future. Finding a rapidly approaching figure he snapped his head around to find Liam barreling right into him, barely having time to brace for impact and catch the wily child. His attention snapped back around to the familiar red-and black robes where his colorless eyes widened as the stone was thrown under Josleen. As if to make things worse he suddenly found another child hanging on the plates of his armor before the genasi approached. Seeing her expression he knew that the kids were hers where he tried to hand them off as swiftly as possible as his head turned back to get a look at the projected figure in front of him and memorize its features. Lanara’s command was immediately disobeyed in the shadow of this ‘Dark Imp’ and the kids being handed back to Emilia as the armored man dashed around to the podium to find the object thrown just before the display appeared. Catching Lanara’s gaze from the other side he didn’t take the time to show any recognition before he found the sparkle of the crystal and lept right for it, ignoring the strands of magic that attempted to ward him off. As his hand closed around the crystal he suddenly began to jolt as electricity coursed through his body for a second before floating upwards, the projection of The Dark Imp turning to face him. “And you, a little shining knight who’s gone in over his head.” Another bout of cackling pierced the air as Linn’s own face began to blue under the choking pressure that gripped at his throat. “You’ve meddled too mu-“ The voice suddenly fractured into too many pieces to be recognizable as the projection flickered, the enchanter suddenly crashing to the ground heaving with breath as the seeing crystal slowly rolled away from his hand onto the ground inches away. The image recomposed and looked back down onto the near unconscious man, a “Hrmph” echoed back through the air as he was left there, gasping for air to return his face to proper color.

Larewen allowed the ghost of a smile to curve her lips in lieu of the greeting from Pilar. "That it has," she replied, and much the same was given to Reginae when the naga approached. Her gaze did not seem to focus on either of the two as they took up positions beside her. Her head tilted in the naga's direction, gaze a few inches above her head. "When you've a chance, and I am not otherwise tied up, I need to speak with you regard-" Abruptly, the elf cut off her own words and her head lifted, sightless eyes fixing directly upon the magical apparition. Her lip curled as the one that called itself The Dark Imp drew Josleen up from the ground: she could hear the woman's gasping as she sought to draw in breath. Then, she was dumped onto the ground and the resounding thud spurred the elder vampire into action. A sudden flare of magic burst outward from the necromancer, the unseen, arcane tendrils spreading through the crowd as if they were extensions of the elf's own body. Those between her and the platform would feel, at most, a prickling feeling on the back of their necks and perhaps those a bit more sensitive to such a craft might be urged out of the necromancer's way. Pilar and Reginae are left behind. It was a great expense of her ability, to use her magic to navigate so accurately through the crowd and up the steps of the platform, where she would come to stand near Lanara and Josleen, her face turned toward the image. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and then a sick sort of amusement twisted over the elder vampire's features as a peal of laughter left her lips. There was no denying her interest in The Dark Imp, and even as the image spouted its threats, the necromancer unfurled another finger of her magic toward the crystal through which The Dark Imp was communicating with them. Provided no ill effects followed upon contact with the crystal, the necromancer's own magic would close around it, much like a fist - its intent to dampen the crystal's magic and cut The Dark Imp's boasting short.

Pilar dipped her head in greeting to Reginae, though she couldn't manage a smile. The fate of her little badger friend weighed too heavily on her mind. The shouting of the crowd was getting to her, too. She took deep breaths to keep herself calm. She was fine, she told herself, it's not like it was back home. She had barely regained her composure when The Dark Imp began to throttle Josleen. Pilar watched in horror, unable to do anything to help. She held her arm out uselessly as Larewen took off, mouth opening to say something, though no sound came. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as fear took hold. She wanted to turn and run for the hills, but she remained where she was, paralyzed.

Kang waddles up to the stage, heaving deep breaths at the effort and pain. Let them assume it's arthritis, but we all know that the disguise is way to tight, -there-. He leans heavily on his ivory cane, a small spark flickering in orbit, easily missed. The naughty elemental had survived the blast and was behaving. . .for now. He clambers up to the box, acting completely oblivious to the medical struggle and drama unfolding, and scribbles a name on a scrap of paper. It could be Josleen or the Dark Imp or even Simo. It matters not, because the spark follows the paper into the box and changes the name to Kang. As penance for it's bad behaviour, the firey elemental stays in the box. If it gets hungry, it can always eat some of the other votes. Kang, still in his old lady guise, meanders over to the militia sign up, and writes another name, "Aruaven". He'd help defend Xalious, if for no other reason than it's a reason to fight. He makes an ambiguous gesture at the projection. Respect? Threat? A mocking salute? All of the above. Tendrils of magic lace around his throat attempting to strangle him, like it had the previous two people. The staff ripples, reinforcing the flesh around the preklek's neck. He can breathe, but it is a fierce struggle to escape from the dark force's hold. He'd made an enemy for sure. Then again, with a word at his throat, what's one more?

Reginae looked at the Elder Vampire, her breath stilled with anticipation as she began to speak. The draconian child in flight catch her eye, stirring a smile to her lips, right before the image appears on stage. The sight startles her, and she was not the type to be easily startled. This magic reeked of dark intention, as if the demonstration of it's power in hoisting Josleen into the air isn't enough to get that idea across. Naga fangs take the place of her human canines and jut from her lips while she scowls, looking around for some action to take on the bard's behalf. But just as quickly as the magic snatched Jos up, she was discarded. A woman Regi had never met has rushed to her side, the tension in her muscles slacking, but only slightly. This was hardly the last show of power this 'Dark Imp' would bless them with. And then Larewen is gone, and on stage, her own magics battling against the crystal conjuring the towering figure. It was in this moment that the naga looked to Pilar. Their conversation in the tavern flashed in her mind. 'I am afraid of everything...' The woman's words played back. "Pilar," Reginae said, waiting until their gazes locked together through the panicking crowd. "Don't be afraid." The naga reached out as a child and took her hand, the illusion dripping from her skin like melting wax. It takes a few moments for the naga to finally appear before the vampire, but her eyes and hair are still the same. The naga tail is curled, porcelain white and pristine, beneath her humanoid torso. Regi does not release her hand until she's sure the vampire is stable and not poised to bolt. Larewen and Linn had the crystal situation in progress. Lanara had Josleen. Regi was claiming the masked mage in the red and black robes, who'd thrown the crystal to begin with. The naga was quick, but most of the crowd was drawing back from the stage, scattering to a 'safe' distance. The mage was snickering just behind the stage when Reginae pounced. Her tail reached under the podium, an extension of her hands, and coiled 'round his ankles, before dragging him to the forefront of the conflict with a hiss. "I'll only ask once." She said, all traces of humor dissipated. "Where is The Dark Imp?"

Ansel was pacing all day whether or not to show up to the Town Hall. Then again, besides his current situation with Josleen, he was determined to show up anyway due to the safety of his family and the people of Xalious and Josleen, of course… After over-hearing the mages in the cavern gave him a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He could not stay away – he refused. Once Ansel arrives – late - hazel eyes scan the crowd. Too many familiar faces. Some on content terms, some not so much. He would nod to anyone who would send a friendly glance his direction, but otherwise he would remain in the background on the down-low. Eyes are lingering downward when Josleen is speaking to the crowd, he felt uncomfortable, and he did not want to be noticed and throw her off-guard. Then, hazel eyes snap up. The sound of the necromancer that was masked. Something was off. The cackles echo through his ears. Everything is happening so fast and suddenly Josleen is turning purple. He was right, so right (one point for Ansel – err, right, continuing!). Automatically, the man is pushing through the crowd, brows narrowed. However, the man was not focused on Josleen as much as the necromancer – Quave. Lanara was surprisingly taking care of the situation with Josleen, but he would not acknowledge that at the moment. “You, *insert something terrible here*. I knew this was where your big reveal would be. How original,” the wolf is menacing, the anger is building. This was coming from quiet Ansel? The thoughts of pleasing others is gone, the beast is corrupting Ansel’s mind now, and his eyes are slowly beginning to swirl from hazel to amber, however, the crowd would not see. His back was facing all, and this wolf was ready to attack. His attention was focused on the masked necromancer behind the chaos. The necromancer would only laugh. “You’re nothing but a whiney little dog,” he hisses from behind the mask. How did he know? Maybe it was just a phrase. And also, Ansel was not a dog, okay? Sheesh. Get it right. Ansel would then launch towards his direction to plow into the necromancer – no transformation yet, but the fury was there, just enough for this to happen if another nerve was triggered.

Hildegarde had been reaching for another portion (or three) of cakelog when suddenly there was drama! Some sort of magical drama, too, with a proclamation of ruling the township; a dramatic show and worst of all an attack on Josleen’s very own person. The Silver dropped her cheap plate and her cakelog (sacrilege!), fingers curling around the shaft of her halberd as she made a mad dash for the stage. “Move! Seize that mage!” she roared to any civilians and those gathered who would be too frozen by fear to run from the attacker; encouraging them to turn their attention to Quave who both Reginae and Ansel appeared to be already dealing with. Bedecked in armour as she is, the knight can move with some speed and would likely bulldoze whoever was foolish enough to try and block her path to the stage. With a ‘hup!’ of effort, the woman hopped up onto the stage; one arm reaching out to grasp Josleen by the waist – keeping the woman well out of the Dark Imp’s potential reach. The Silver stared at the Dark Imp for a moment, assessing her appearance and perhaps trying to discern her identity; the thundering of her own heart causing her to huff out her words near breathlessly, “Touch Xalious or my friend again and I will End you,” she warned icily, before her leg rose slightly only to slam down: mithril boot crushing the projecting crystal with a glassy crunch.

Josleen comes to quickly. Her groggy eyes sharpen quickly in panic as she finds Lanara, a beautiful face that inspires dread in Josleen, looming over her. She tries to speak, but instead starts coughing and clutching her throat. She rolls onto her side, then onto all fours, and starts dry heaving violently. It isn’t long before she starts choking then hacks up a thick, gummy ball covered in black ooze. Her entire body is trembling from the strain, and the sudden chill brought on by Emilia’s snow storm. Lanara tries to help her stand up, but her legs are like jelly. She needs to get off this platform before she becomes a casualty of this fight. Hildegarde sees to that! She’s swept up in the dragon’s powerful arm and immediately goes limp like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck, completely trusting and passive. Soon Linn is suffering the same fate as she and Larewen picks up where he left off. The image flickers as the dueling magics wrestle for dominance over the stone. The fading image crackles and abruptly ends just as Hildegarde’s boots shatters it into a million tiny pieces. It’s unclear if Larewen or Hildegarde ended the image first, both can claim victory. Sorry Linn, the crystal has been shattered! Reginae and Ansel both have the necromancer pinned and demand answers from him. Quave just laughs and says, “The Dark Imp is everywhere!” Then more specifically to Ansel, “There is nothing you can do to keep her safe. Or yourself. Or your children. All will fall to The Dark Imp, and it will be glorious!”

Emilia was handed back the two of her children that were within the arms of the strange man and the third scooped up off the ground. Definitely not a meeting to be bringing children to attend, but who would have expected this magical strange being to have suddenly showed up with powers beyond most those gathered here. With her small ones gathered up in her arms the mother did what any other mother would do and turned on heel to make a quick exit. She would move with an unnatural grace as she turned her back to the scenes happening on the stage before the crowd, careful to keep the eyes of her small ones shielded from second person gasping for air. Quick feet carried the little Genasi through the chaos of the crowd in their own terror and fear. From there she would make her exit to safety to get the toddlers away from here and back to safety. What a report for her husband she would have and a grave warning she won’t be attending things in his place again.

Larewen heard the crunch of the crystal as Hildegarde's boot came down upon it, putting an end to the struggling magics that fought over control of the crystal. Both were dark, both foreboding, and then quite suddenly one was gone. Another burst of magic flooded the area as Larewen seemed to take a moment or two to process the end of the battle, and when her magic was drawn back in, there were the faintest signs of fatigue upon the necromancer's features. Her gaze turned in Hildegarde's general direction, but with her magic no longer flooding the area, it was a guestimate as to where the dragon actually stood. A frown weighed her pale lips downward and she took a few steps forward, toward where the crystal had been prior to being crushed. That much, she could recall. Kneeling down, the elder vampire scooped up a handful of the crystal shards with little mind as to whether or not they might pierce the flesh of her hand. To the Silver, she canted her head once more, and it was to her and Josleen both that the elf spoke. "Whole would have been preferred, but I may be able to trace the remnants." Her voice was quiet, and perhaps a tad bit disappointed, though she was undoubtedly not the only one. Most magics dealing with communication worked both ways, after all. She will take what she can back to House Dragana.

Pilar was surprised when Reginae revealed her true form, but did not run. She gripped the offered hand tightly, for it was a source of comfort. But, she knew she could not keep Reginae from action. She let the naga go, then turned her eyes again to the chaos. She saw Ansel run toward Regi and the necromancer and felt something... off about him. She could smell it on him, animalistic and wild. Slowly, she made her way towards them. Her eyes moved to the stage, where Linn was still lying on the ground, being tended to by Lanara. Josleen was safe in the arms of a powerful warrior, and Larewen seemed tired, but unharmed. She could be of no use there. Damn, she hoped that maybe she could have an excuse to do something OTHER than wander towards a dangerous dark mage.

Linn didn’t have time to be disappointed that the crystal had been lost; just as he finished getting some air whatever effects had gripped Josleen hit him in full force. Suddenly an overwhelming weakness overtook him, causing him to slump like a ragdoll against the ground as a black darkness crept into the edges of his eyes, slowly consuming them and turning them in to orbs of black, the previously scarlet scab on his cheek rapidly turning to the same color. Eyes closed before a grey pallor came over his skin, whatever necromantic energies the Dark Imp may have imparted suddenly consuming his own. He grimaced before his face relaxed as death began to set in. Just as he hung right on the edge of oblivion he found a single thread of life that hung down for him to grab at and pull himself back up. Suddenly the breastplate that covered his chest blew off with a burst of light coming out from what looked like a handprint right over his chest, a wave of color making its way to purge the stony tone from his skin, eyes snapping open appearing as they should before the grey in his irises turned to a dark green as they shut again in pain. His body contorted and curled in pain before he wound up retching himself, after two or three tries the black ooze began to spew from his mouth into a puddle in front of him, leaving him still and unconscious, shallow breaths indicating that he was alive, but how long he would last in his current state is a mystery.

Kang exits the area, hoping that no one noticed the ripples on his 'walking stick' and his fading disguise. It'd taken a lot of effort to resist the attack. His doppelganger staff had found its limits, and they needed to retreat to recharge and strengthen for the upcoming battles. No doubt this was only a taste of the harsh struggle to come, and Kang couldn't wait.

Reginae looks up at Ansel, her all too sudden and all too close interrogation partner. An who would get to be the good one? The thought flickered in her mind as the necromancer spat some half arssed replies back at them. I guess we are both playing bad cop, she frowned, tightening her grip on his body with her tail. Possibly just holding him in place for Ansel to land a few blows that might change the necromancer's mind about his answer. Hildegarde has Josleen, the image is gone, and they have the Dark Imp's accomplice / subservient bag of wind on the ground. His insides were compact, swelling and near to bursting. "If you want to live..." She hissed, replicating the little attack on Josleen to his fragile form with her claws hands, watching his skin shift in hue. When Pilar approached the group, she flicks her slitted pupils towards her in recognition, but doesn't speak. The vampire appeared unharmed, and even though the naga was monitoring the criminal in her grasp to keep his life force from fading, she smiled secretly beneath her menacing expression.

Ansel has his hands wrapped within the garment of the necromancer near Quave’s collar. Good team work with Reginae! He was into this. As the necromancer speaks, Ansel begins to throwing punches every other word. “You won’t get away with any of it,” the man is throwing blows into wherever the naga does not have her tail wrapped around. Plus the man’s masked face. That was always fun. His face was red and full of frustration. With every blow, Ansel gets angrier and he pulls back in a sickly position. His back arched, his breathing off and he falls to his fours. It was happening. Woah, bro. Cool your jets. Snap, crackle, pop Ri—I mean, Ansel transforms quickly. The transformation is brief and the ashy brown and grey wolf appears from within. Sharp fangs, those wolf ears, paws, all of the qualities of a werewolf. Well, there goes Ansel’s secret. Though, the beast was mad, and was this really Ansel? All the narrator is trying to say is, people better run for the hills. Anger was building up for days.

Hildegarde ’s voice is loud enough to easily travel across the crowd, “Lady Reginae! I want that mage alive for questioning, deliver me answers and I swear unto you that alliance you ask for,” the knight was reputable enough for all to know that her word was as good as gold. The Silver dropped to a knee, tossing her halberd to the side – yet not so far it would be out of her reach – and gently holding Josleen; careful fingers gently pushing aside her luscious locks as she spoke gently to her, “Jos? Jos, are you… are you okay?” she whispered to her beloved friend, her own heart still thundering in her chest; thundering on and on she felt it must have been surely bouncing about behind her breastplate. “I… Jos, come on,” she said fearfully. If this Dark Imp had hurt her friend, no place on this world would hide her from a scorned dragon. Yet suddenly, the dragon knight is lurching forward: half covering Josleen as her hand left the woman to plant against the stage. “Oh!” she gasped, feeling as though her heart might well implode.

Josleen nods her head to Hildegarde several times to convince herself as much as the dragon that she is okay. “Yes, and you?” She’s bracing an arm around Hilde’s side to support the knight just as Linn starts sputtering behind her. Then she hears Ansel’s voice behind the stage, followed by the snapping of bones as he shifts from human to wolf. The shift reawakens her recent dread and drama with the werewolf, and for a moment she’s paralyzed. Hildegarde, Linn, Ansel, everyone needs her, and she is but one woman. She snaps into response. “Pilar! ” she shouts just as Hildegarde falls forward. Josleen catches herself on her back foot, nearly thrown off balance by the dragon’s fall. “Hilde! Are you alright? What are you feeling?” Seeing that the dragon is at least still conscious, she looks for Pilar again. “Pilar! I need your help!” Her frantic glance flickers to Ansel, who for the moment isn’t in immediate danger. Reginae has the mage pinned. Once Pilar presumably approaches, she says, “Help Linn, please. I want to get him to Frostmaw. We’ll call The Eyrie.” Than back to Hildegarde she asks, “Can you stand? How’s your head?” The necromancer gasps in pain as Reginae continues to squeeze him like a tube of fish paste. He manages to wheeze out the words, “You’re too late! The Dark Imp will have her army. You cannot defeat her. The Order of the Shade will manifest its destiny and rule the world. The Shade Nightmare will rejoin this plane and serve as her beast of war!”

Pilar 's eyes widened when she witnessed Ansel's transformation. Oh, a pissed-off werewolf, that's just what this situation needed. Upon being called, she turned and looked at Josleen, bewildered. What could she possibly do? Nevertheless, she hurried up onto the stage. She grimaces when she is directed to help him. Help him, how, exactly? She had no healing magic, no medicinal knowledge. Still, she had to do something. Shaking, she went to his side and, carefully, lifted him up. To any who did not know she was a vampire, this feat would have been quite the shock. She was quite a small woman, after all. She looked at Josleen, awaiting further instruction.

Linn just lay limp, unable to refuse as Pilar went to pick him up. What magic remained in the gems holding his plates together would be enough to keep his armor from falling apart for now, though his lost breastplate would have to be retrieved later. The vampire would find him maybe lighter than expected because of his armor, though the feat was nonetheless impressive. The shallow breathing continued, his state hanging in limbo.

Reginae watches Ansel transform,pulling the necromancer out of his reach and well above their heads. Naga tails were super amazing and useful. "Whoa now, we really need what he knows." Regi hears Hildegarde's promise and flicks her head back. That was too rash a decision, the naga would have argued, but this was hardly the place. But with Frostmaw's support...she could start on everything the naga had been striving for! A formal alliance! Written in stone instead of the mind of the secretive ruler, such as Satoshi had granted her. The naga believed the dragon...but she did not know if she could keep this hound at bay much longer. Her next thought became Pilar. You can't tell someone to not be afraid and then be nearby if they get hurt. Prevent this masked menace from escaping. It was the least she could do! Keep him alive? She'd do her damnedest. What a bust for him, literally! Regi flexes the muscles in her tail wrapped around the necromancer's legs, shattering the bones within. This wolf was too honed in to realize he might hurt someone who mattered. "Pilar," she whispers to will her from this place, keeping her eyes on Ansel while she moves around the newly formed beast with his target in tow. Thank Aramoth, Josleen calls to the vampire. Reginae isn't sure she can both defend Pilar AND keep Ansel from killing the prisoner. The length of her tail is surprisingly beneficial in this instance. Unless Ansel gains wings along with his transformation, he won't be able to reach him. The naga's eyes hold him, a low light building as she prepares an illusion in case he charges at her. Wild beasts did not always think before acting, and this dog was chewing very heavily on the raw tendons of Anger. Reginae would not throw such an important thing away to satisfy his bloodlust.

A pissed off werewolf is right! As Reginae lifts the mage out of the way from Ansel’s reach, the wolf begins jumping up trying to take a chomp. This is repetitive. Over and over again he is trying to reach for the mage within the tail of the naga. Ansel is not thinking. The beast has corrupted the mind of the reserved man and a new strategy comes to mind. Bite Reginae, collect the mage? Right on. The wolf launches downwards and begins to flash fangs towards Reginae’s lower half to throw her off guard. Perhaps the pain of the bite would lower her tail? Making it easier to reach for the mage to gnaw on him instead. The things this wolf would do for revenge was… terrifying.

Hildegarde ’s hand clutched at her breastplate so fervently that the sheer force of her own fingertip left an impression upon the mithril. “My… My heart!” she gasped to Josleen in an evidently pained manner. Was this some dark and foul sorcery afoot or perhaps the stress of her duty finally catching up on her? Maybe Dami had been right, maybe Aela had the right of it too: no blade nor magic would kill her, but that mysterious ‘stress’ would.

Josleen is about to keel over from stress too. Too many important things near and dear to her heart are competing for her attention at the same time. What’s worse, normally when she’s in a pinch it is Hildegarde the bard calls (after ghostbusters). But now Hildegarde needs her help, and while this has happened before, not quite this urgently. Thank Aramoth for Kenway, Hildegarde’s couatl who is fast approaching thanks to the mental link he shares with the steward. “Hilde, go with Kenway to Eleenin. Go!” She’s talking way too fast, her heart racing, eyes wides. She glances frequently to the drama unfolding with Reginae, Ansel, and Quave. Then to Pilar, still speaking a mile-a-minute as the wolf’s growling behind her grows louder and more agitated. “Go with Hildegarde. Take Linn. Make sure they don’t fall.” With her vampiric strength, hopefully Pilar can succeed in acting as a live seatbelt. “When you get there, find Leone.” More gently, but no more slowly, she says to Hildegarde, “I’ll be right behind you.” She cringes as the wolf lunges at a naga, for Sven’s sake. A naga! “I need to stay right now.” For Ansel, though she doesn’t say that explicitly. Somehow Josleen is going to break up a naga/werewolf fight on her own. Before Hildegarde can argue, she’s disembarking from the platform and approaching the periphery of the naga tail’s range. “Reginae, don’t hurt him!” Quave fights to stay conscious due to the pain and blood loss. His face is swollen thanks to Ansel’s fist. The rest of him constricted thanks to Reginae. “Ansel,” she pleads, crouching low, hands facing outward as if to tame him. Does she have a chance to get through to him? She never has before. He almost killed her once. The sane thing to do would be to run, but she can’t leave him here, facing off against a naga, to some horrible fate she can’t bear to imagine. “Ansel, please.”

Krystan is a man experienced with chaos, not so much the magic but the effects it can have when everything seems to go awry. Within moments the man seems to take in everything around him, as he studies it all with intense scrutiny that only one such as him can muster on such a short notice. Linn was down, it doesn't look good. So he needs to get to him to get him to one of the witches. The hellsteed, the nightmare that rests within the onyx figurine is only a call away. But first he will have to pass a giant snake woman and a damn werewolf to get to him. And what is the mage being dangled about by the snake? no time to ponder, it seems these people know one another. Blood didn't need to be shed. So, he reacts. Taking from his belt a bola, a length of enchanted chain with two round sphere at each end, the sellsword wastes no time in sending the item flying with pin-point accuracy towards the leaping and lunging lycan. The magical chain is enhanced by magic to be near impossibel to break, unles sby powerful magic. And not being silver, the bola will not overly harm the frenzied lycanthrope. Thus, if the bola lands, he will be more controllable. The naga seems not to be a villan, so it is overly ignored as the assassin moves with haste towards Linn. He is by the enchanter's side within moments, staying calm as best he can while maintaining his own senses in case of an attack. he has some tricks up his sleeve should things get more out of hand, but over all it is Linn who is Krys' focus. "Damn son, you're a mess." Comes the assassin's voice, trying to stir the man awake as he accesses the situation. Krystan looks to the one caring for Linn, as the enchanter is obviously knocked out, and says to the group getting ready to leave. " Look for the witch, Talyara. She can tend to the wounds, and is a powerful healer." The man figures there are shamans too, but Krys figures the sisters will want to help the man they consider a brother. And with Lanara being so close, their bonded magic will help in finding the other.

Pilar could hardly understand a word Josleen said. "Who is--?" Aaaaand she's gone, off to try and calm a savage werewolf. If it was a normal wolf, Pilar knew she could help, but a werewolf? Plus, she had her job. She stared up the man who seemed to know Linn. Well, if he was coming, great, if not, also great. Nervously, Pilar hefts Linn onto the couatl, then goes to Hildegarde's side in order to help her as Lanara climbed on. "C-come, Doña, we must go." Assuming Hildegarde complied, Pilar would then climb onto the couatl and hold on for dear unlife as they took to the skies.

Linn didn’t stir at Krystan’s remark. He had several reasons to be knocked out right now and some of them only faded with time. All he could do was just lay limp in his armor and Pilar’s arms, the scab across his cheek had turned from its scarlet to a pitch-black color, seems everything about this man was unnatural. Whoever would be taking him back to Frostmaw wouldn’t be putting up with any resistance with him for sure.

Reginae hisses, trying to twist her tail to keep the man out of reach. But she's failing. Ansel's teeth snap at her tail, drawing a fresh split in the scales between his jaws. Her blood would be strong in scent, and overpower any other injuries in the immediate area. Just when it seemed the body of the broken mage might tumble from her tail, the illusion she's carefully conjured will be projected to the werewolf alone. Within his mind, the wolf will see her tail extend to unrealistic heights. But, to the wolf, it will not seem unrealistic at all. If Ansel had still been man, the imagery might have sparked some resistance. The naga's tail dipped down, getting a better grip on the suddenly silent masked man hoping to lower his useless form onto the stage where Josleen, Linn, Pilar and Lanara were gathered. Or at least, they had been a moment ago. Now it's only Josleen the naga hears, and she's begging Reginae not to kill this beast. For Aramoth's sake...and then, from a newcomer that Regi had not noticed prior, a magical chain appears to wrap Ansel up! If that hadn't made an appearance, the naga would have dropped the mage's body and restrained the wolf herself. Instead of adding to the power struggle, she stays nearby. If he barred fangs at Josleen or acted like he was going to snap, Reginae would grab him with her tail in an instant and squeeze his throat until he lost consciousness. That wasn't killing him, right?

Ansel is succeeding and so the wolf is relentless. The illusion is now taking play and the tail is reaching more height. The wolf keeps lunging towards the naga and as Josleen comes into play. She is ignored – maybe growled at in warning, but he did not harm her. She is not getting through to him. It was a beast thing, and it was not really Ansel. The wolf makes no action towards her, but only keeps launching towards the naga. Trying to bite there, no not there, there! Then, the chains come into the play. The bola wrapping around the waist of the wolf, the wolf being pulled. His hind legs skid against the ground for strength the pull away from Krystan, but the wolf fails. The chains are too thick and Ansel is pulled to the ground roughly. He has been defeated – again. He stays put. The wolf panting thickly on the ground on his side, growling up at the necromancer that had been silent now after the beating Ansel gave him.

Hildegarde leaned on Pilar for some support, murmuring exasperated apologies for she knew she was a heavy woman. Her armour and sheer bulk and size made her a very heavy woman. “Kenway,” she whispered as she neared the couatl, feeling the ever-present touch of his mind more strongly against hers: concern, worry, determination to find aid, unabashed love and care was all he thought about the knight who was helped up onto his back. “Let’s go,” she breathed wearily, knowing full well that if she looked back, she would lurch from Kenway’s back and try to aid Josleen and that would likely only make matters worse. Within moments, the winged serpent is curling up into the air and heading to the frozen north the knight was called sovereign.

Josleen recoils when Ansel growls at her. Everything she feared about his lycanthrope is confirmed. She isn’t excluded from its malice. All the same, she shrieks reflexively when Krystan throws the bola at Ansel. Who is this blond man? She’s too focused on Ansel to notice that Krystan knows Linn and Lanara. Truth is, the bola was probably the best call right now. The werewolf is out of control, and with the beast pinned down, Reginae won’t need to escalate the violence and pain. Josleen is too scared to approach the fallen werewolf. If she frees him, will he attack her next? Probably. All she can do is wait until he resumes his human form. As she waits, she asks Reginae to take the necromancer to the Arcane-Guard in the tower for imprisonment, please. Whenever Ansel returns, she’ll give him her coat (which is actually his coat, again) and see to it that he gets home. But this time she won’t go inside with him, painful as it may be. She really does need space to think about this, and her village is in disarray. She turns back to town to deal with the mess.

Krystan watches as Linn and that group depart, knowing that Lanara will find Taly and they will take care of Linn. It surprises the assassin a bit, to see he cares as much as he does, but he will deal with that later. Right now he returns his attention to the lycan, who seems pinned down for now. The bolas were a useful thing, the chain strong, the magical weights on each end activate as to seems to weigh near a ton if needed, as the pressure is enough to keep the target down. But again, lycans can have surprising strength, so caution is taken as he nears. Obviously there was no attempt to kill the ravenous beast, so this hints at them knowing it. This taken into effect, from Krystan's own knowledge, the best way to deal with it as it is now is to put it to sleep, and allow the transformation to run its course. So, without hesitation the assassin flicks his right wrist, loosing the crossbow like mechanism that is strapped to both wrists to send forth a dart. If it lands, the lycan will feel the potent effect of the drow knock out poison. As with everything he does, the poison is potent enough to cause an ogre to feel its effects. Will this lycan feel them too? Krystan doesn't know, all he does know is that right now the beast remains a threat that is best dealt with by going to sleep.

Ansel still lays there in bitter rage. As Krystan nears, the beast begins to move but is still restrained. The dart shoots straight into his neck. After a minute or two… the poison sets in and the wolf is slowly fading into a thick trance of sleep. Yes, this dart works. So instead of Josleen having to walk the man home who is slowly forming back into a human on the ground, someone will have to lift the man home. A cart or an animal perhaps. Either way, Ansel makes it home, and Jenson helps take him in.