Hellgate Hotel: A Quest of Friendship and Demons

Character Sheet
Name: Maria Francisca Teixeira Carvalho e Lima Mão de Ferro Santa Rita Bandeira de Mello Borges
Spirit Magic: Stonelaw Enforcer
Sign: Lamparus, the Lantern-Bearer

Skills
Athletics 4, Stealth 2, Endurance 4
History 5, Esoterica 6, Perception 3
Socialize 4, Performance 5, Deception 3

Combat Abilities
Gravity Field
Strength: 1
Tags: Technique, Stackable
Increases the weight of all foes in an area, reducing speed, mobility, and the efficacy of any evasion-based defenses.

Rock Blast
Strength: 2
Tags: Technique, Basic
Hurls a stone at a target, dealing damage.

Earthen Shield
Strength: 3
Tags: Technique, Defensive, Cooldown
Conjures an ablative shield.

Spike Terrain
Strength: 3
Tags: Technique, Anti-Group
Projects spikes of earth and stone from the ground, damaging foes and rendering terrain hostile to their movement.

Disrupt Footing
Strength: -
Tags: Technique
A variety of tricks for knocking a foe off-balance, making it significantly easier to land attacks and lowering their speed and mobility.
 
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The following has been added to the Rules Compendium threadmark:

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Combat resolution in Hellgate Hotel, like in many quests, takes a middle path between pure mechanics and pure narrative fiat.

More specifically: the capabilities of every combatant in the system are rendered as a set of distinct abilities (collectively called "decks"). Each ability has a Strength score, one or more Tags, and a Description of its effect. Strength reflects how impactful something is, or, for defensive abilities, what level of strength it is capable of absorbing. A guideline for calibrating what a particular level of Strength means narratively provided below. Tags are descriptors for mechanical or narrative elements that may be useful to refer to in a shorthand way across multiple abilities, such as Fire, Weapon, or Stackable. The Description explains what the ability does narratively. Together, these allow a holistic comparison of the capabilities of teams of combatants who may fight in extremely different ways, to get a sense of how a fight between two sides might proceed.

At the beginning of each significant segment of combat, each side rolls 2d3. Each side's sum total determines how well circumstances go for them during that segment, and the difference between the results is how many degrees of advantage one side has over the other. This is then factored in to the comparison of decks: this way, a weaker combatant might seize an opening against a stronger one, or a stronger combatant who rolls well may turn a battle into a rout. What constitutes a "significant segment" of combat is variable, but generally a new segment will begin (and dice will be re-rolled) after battlefield circumstances change somehow or, conversely, after a period of combat in which no significant changes happen.

Finally, combats will generally involve an opportunity to vote for tactics. Well-chosen tactics that synergize the abilities available on your side and/or exploit the weaknesses of your opponents may confer additional stacking degrees of advantage, or conversely confer disadvantage if poorly chosen.

Strength Scale
-: This is not an attack.
0: This is technically an attack but not one which could be expected to seriously harm a normal human being, such as a physically infirm person attacking unarmed.
1: A fit person's unarmed strike. A weak weapon attack.
2: Attack with a deadly weapon. The kick of a horse. The bite of a dog.
3: Attack with a deadly weapon by a master. The charge of a moose. The bite of a wolf.
4: The charge of a rhinoceros. The bite of a lion.
5: The tusks of an elephant. The claws of a deinonychus.
6: The bashing of a brachiosaurus. The bite of a tyrannosaurus.

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A list of tags will be added at a later time.
 
Delfin Family Hospitality (DFH) is a mid-size corp at the forefront of the hospitality industry on Nivveas. Even on Morleas, Delfin hotels are a watchword for luxury. It's also noteworthy, at the present moment, for scandal. Ten years ago, the family heir left the corporation behind, fled Nivveas altogether, and set up her own privately-owned resort in the small city of Vindar, in the wilds of Zareas.
I feel it's worth pointing out that the luxury resort where we're all staying, at the moment, is actually run by a defector from Nivvean high society, which just screams 'plot hook'. At the very least, there are going to be some awkward interactions between the host and some of the guests.
 
Deepwinter 25 (Day 0) -- Part Two New
[*] Focus on cutting down the minor demons en masse before they can join the new threat or escape the field.

Tally

After a moment of hesitation, you sprint outward, away from the Hellgate, to help establish a perimeter. The lesser demons might be individually weak, but there's a small army of them teeming in every direction, against fewer than twenty spirit mage defenders that you can see and sense -- at least one of whom is already quitting the field for some reason? You can't see a reason why a coward would have answered the call in the first place, so you send a fleeting prayer that they know what they are doing and turn to the masses. Around the field, you see other spirit mages moving to cut down the lesser hordes, while the rest close in on the Hellgate and the... champion? who seems to be rallying demons underneath it.

You square your shoulders, hurl stones at two demons that were getting too close for comfort, and layer gravity on a group that is massing up. As if taking that as a stinging goad, they charge at you, slowed but not stopped. Your heart hammers, but, confident that you've got time, you take a deep breath. This isn't a use of your powers you've practiced, but you know the theory, and the soil here is rockier than you are used to. Expanding your senses, you take magical hold of the earth and stone, not allowing yourself to be rushed. You've never done anything like this before; if you screw this up, you probably get torn apart and die.

Anathon Grier believed you could matter here.

You shout, focusing your will to a sharp point, and the stone mirrors it obediently. Spikes erupt from the ground, jutting out angled against the oncoming horde, and the demonic charge breaks as if against a phalanx of spearmen. You allow yourself a grin of satisfaction, which fades as you notice a few larger demons struggling free, still intent on murdering you and too spread out to catch in one gravity field. You're going to need to cover yourself and pick them off one by-

Your train of thought is interrupted by a figure dashing up and jumping into your spike field seemingly without fear. Blazingly fast, they dance over the rocks and up to the demons, falling upon each in turn in a flurry of fists and feet. One or two manage to strike back before being discorporated, but the claws and fangs seem to glance off their skin. Finally, the demons are all gone, and you get a good look at the one who came to help you. He's even taller than you, maybe ten or fifteen years older, and garbed in a loose robe that leaves his powerfully-built upper body mostly exposed. You raise a hand to wave before second-guessing yourself, flushing, and trying to turn it into a simple gesture of acknowledgement. He smiles and raises a thumb back to you, then dashes off, presumably to pick off more demons.

You catch your breath and continue your circuit, doing likewise. Where demons are bunched, you repeat your gravity field and spike combination, and where you can find isolated ones you pick them off with stones. One manages to dodge and rush you, but you draw a slab of stone from the ground to protect yourself, and while it scrabbles uselessly you crush it.

[Savage Attack (Lesser Demon)
Strength: 2
Tags: Basic
Attack with fangs and claws.]

[Battle rolls:
Heroes: 3
Demon Horde: 3
No advantage for either side]

The nightmarish intensity of the battle never goes away, but it fades, in a way: becoming less sharp, almost routine. In between your engagements, you catch sight of the other spirit mages fighting the horde as you circle the field, in isolated flashes of action:

-A young woman dressed only in pajamas, lace trim fluttering in the breeze as she runs from a pack. You fight to get close enough to help, but your aid proves unnecessary: her shadow, stretched out in the morning sun, suddenly compresses and emerges from the ground behind her pursuers. The woman now turns to face them herself, and with a gesture of her hand, a circle of flickering dark flames springs up to trap the demons, which her shadow proceeds to tear through with weapons you cannot make out.

-An older man, dressed all in black and reaping small clumps of demons with a scythe. The speed with which his weapon snaps to and fro belies its size: either he is uncommonly strong and fast or his weapon is uncommonly light. But then his head jerks up and he pulls away from the demons, sprinting to the edge of the field; you follow the line of his run and see a very large wagon, with some terrified-looking cartiers, a yoke of oddly-muzzled oxen, and some large cargo you cannot make out. Then the black-clad man slows and makes a gesture, and the cargo gets up: the carcass of a tremendous ox, atavistic semi-monstrous kin to the harnessed animals below it, in that unnerving intermediate state after being skinned but before being further broken down. He gestures again and its exposed musculature surges into motion, wood splintering and ground shaking as the corpse charges from the wagons and into an enormous mob of demons.

-Another big man, this one built softer and rounder than the one who had come to your aid and looking ridiculously out of place in what seems for all the world to be a chef's jacket and pants. That incongruity only heightens as he extends what used to be his left arm and is currently a twenty-foot-long tentacle that seems like it belongs on some terrible sea monster, encircling a crowd of demons and crushing them like a child might a handful of twigs. A few escape his grasp and leap for him, and his right hand flashes out in terrible long claws, and that's all for them.

-A figure in emblazoned plate armor, cutting a furious swathe through a group of demons you'd hindered. Every two-handed swing of their sword describes a flashing arc that leaves the fighter in a new solid stance and position and, seemingly as a byproduct of its graceful motion, slashes through one or two or half a dozen foes. There's something on their back, though... wait, are they carrying a baby? Sure enough, after one strike that leaves them facing away from you, you see a small child firmly attached in a sling. As if conjured by your astonishment, a small cluster of fresh demons converges on them from behind while they are finishing off a different pack; you cry out a warning too late to be heeded, but a ghostly figure seems to step out of the fighter, sword bisecting the demons with serpentine speed and shield raising to cover the spirit mage from being flanked again. Seeing the specter, the baby claps with glee.

-A long-haired woman, the hem of her dress twirling to meet her braid as she spins to project concentrated bursts of something from her fingertips, inky-black blasts that tear through the fiends one by one. Demons gather up to mob her, but she makes a complicated gesture with both hands, a wave of that blackness emanates from her in all directions, and when it passes through the demons there is nothing left. Her hands assume a different position; she seems to pause there for a moment before returning to her previous stance and running off for more demons.

And then... and then there are no demons. No more little clouds of murderous malevolence. The larger figure under the Hellgate is gone now, too, with no sign of more demons appearing, despite the watchful glares of the newly-victorious and panting spirit mages clustering where it had stood. One of those distant figures stoops down briefly as you watch, and the others raise their heads to look up at the wards on the Hellgate, a check which you echo nervously. But Anathon's sealing-spells seem to be holding. All in all, the battle lasted maybe half an hour.

[Battle rolls:
Heroes: 4
Greater demon: 3
One degree of advantage!]

In the aftermath, a small crowd of people appear on the battlefield, like timid woodland creatures emerging from their hidey-holes after predators have moved on. Most of them are liveried servants of the Dolphin Hotel. They offer you a bed, and food, and comfort, and you go with them, unresisting. You're a bit shaken. You suspect everyone is shaken.

As you leave, you see a woman approach Anathon Grier's body, lower herself to the ground, and cradle it in her arms. You avert your gaze; you recognize her.



Little road-carts take you and the others (save the one who instead chooses to soar through the air) up a road, past the town of Vindar proper, and to the sprawling grounds of the Dolphin Hotel. You get off the cart under a vine-wrapped porte-cochère, feeling somewhat unmoored. The surreality of the experience does not fade as you enter the hotel itself: its handsome furniture and elegant decorations make for a stark contrast with the battlefield you were just on.

"Miss?" You jolt out of your reverie and turn, looking down to meet the eyes of an overawed-looking man in livery. He bows precisely and deferentially, in the Nivvean mode; a small engraved tag over his breast pocket reads Jᴇʀᴍᴀɪɴᴇ. "If you would care to follow me, I can escort you to your room. Compliments of the hotel; Madame Delfin appreciates that we here, and all of Vindar, owe you a great debt."

You clear your throat, feeling extremely awkward and like all the manners you'd studied for university events were going to be hopelessly inadequate to the task of existing inside this building. "It would be my pleasure to accept," you say, and follow him down a corridor to a geomantic lift, which raises you smoothly and soundlessly to the fourth floor. He leads you to room 418 and hands you a little card. "This keycard will grant you access to your room and to all of the hotel's amenities, with no need for multiple keys," he says, and you are immediately intrigued to know how that works exactly. "Simply press it against one of the receivers where a lock would normally be." You do so, open the door to your room after hearing a little click, and gasp.

This isn't just the nicest bedroom that you've stayed in, this might be the nicest room of any kind that you've seen. Everything is beautiful and ornate without ever crossing the line into tasteless gaudiness. Your eyes are drawn to the windows, which overlook a magnificent garden, and then travel back along the walls, noticing the subtle floral motifs and color choices that echo and suggest the lush beauty outside without competing with it, and you know without seeing that the rooms on the other side of the hallway, facing out to the ocean, will similarly match and complement the views from their own windows. The bed is enormous and looks decadently soft, with more pillows than you can imagine being necessary or even useful, and at the center of the bedside escritoire- You blink. "Is that a 'mantic music box?" You'd read about the newly-invented devices, miniaturized forms of geomantic music cabinets that played recordings, typically in exchange for coins, but never actually seen one.

Jermaine draws himself up proudly. "Yes!" he says. "Every room has one as of this past Highsummer. The guide to the hotel's music collection is in a booklet underneath it: please enjoy it as much as you like." You really want to know how that works, but the fear of breaking the fantastically expensive device dissuades you from thoughts of prying it open to look at its internals -- as does the fatigue accompanying a bone-cracking yawn. You glance at a clock: late morning. It was early evening in Caruva City when you left, so the time difference is... about a quarter of a day? Not terrible, but not insignificant. The sun being wrong probably has enhanced your general levels of disorientation; perhaps the hotel setting will be less overwhelming after you've slept.

Jermaine catches the yawn, not that it's easy to miss. "Is this room to your satisfaction?" he asks. For one insane second you consider saying "no" to see what even more extravagant lengths the hotel will go to in order to correct that, but sense and fatigue prevail and you nod. He smiles, indicating a pull-cord by the door. "If you need anything, this will summon one of the attendants on duty, at any hour," he says, then bows again. "Please, enjoy your stay."

You enter the room and sit down on the bed, pulling off your shoes and grimacing at the aches in your feet, then take the music catalog and begin to browse through it. At some point after noting that there was apparently a new Lady Blaze release that you hadn't heard yet, you pass out.



Some hours later, you rouse yourself, a bit sore and stiff. A small paper has been pushed under the bottom of your door; it is an invitation to a private dinner, addressed to you and the "Heroes of Vindar," a term that makes you simultaneously proud and uncomfortable. You wash yourself in the en-suite bathroom, get dressed again (painfully aware that these are the only clothes you have with you and entirely unsuited to the occasion), and then pass the hour until the event listening to music and seeing if you can sense the geomantic manipulations making it possible, doodling speculative diagrams on a notepad.

Then it's time, and you head down to the Hearthfire Grille after consulting a map of the hotel. There are a collection of small tables spread around the perimeter with chairs, with larger and higher tables inhabiting the center of the room. You take a spot at one of the little ones, looking out at the room. You recognize the other spirit mages who fought at the Hellgate alongside you, both those who fought the horde and those who fought the larger demon. At the appointed time precisely, a stately Nivvean woman walks in.

"Welcome to the Dolphin Hotel," she says. "Thank you, very much, for coming. We are all greatly in your debt. My name is Xiomara Delfin. It would be my honor if you would continue to enjoy the hospitality of my establishment while you are in Vindar -- which, I am informed by those who understand such business better than I, may be some time." Made sense. If the seals broke, they might break again, and it would take time before further support could come by non-portal means. A flash of sadness for Anathon goes through you, but you force it down and listen to her. "I can generally be found at the concierge desk. Please let me or my staff know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, or support you in dealing with any further developments of the demonic incursion. I know that many of you must be eager to contact your home cities; I have some limited access to the geomantic messaging network, which I will be happy to make available to you."

"But before I let the staff of the Hearthfire Grille take over to sate your hunger and thirst after a difficult day, please indulge me a moment. The days that come will, undoubtedly, be written into stories. What has happened today already will be written into story. This is a moment for sentiment, and for honor. But the sentiments that matter are yours, and the choice of what to honor belongs to you." Waiters smoothly glide around the room, placing flutes of sparkling wine before each of you. "I would be glad, and grateful," she continues, "if you would each take this moment to offer up a toast. And as your hostess, I will seize the privilege of beginning with my own. To Mr. Grier's heroism -- and yours." She lifts her own glass, and you beat back another flush.

"Now you, sir." She gestures to the man sitting nearest to her, who you don't recognize from the fighting. Is he the one who left? He has a classically Drovonian look to him, you note as he rolls his eyes.

"To these demons leaving us a bounty of treasures, the likes of which cannot be found upon Orolin," his voice booms as he raises his glass, wine sloshing within. His other hand holds... something you can't really make out.

A middle-aged woman standing near him shoots him a steely look as she sets down a small wriggly child to pick up her glass; that and the crest on her clothing let you connect her to the armored Ancestral Scion from the battle. "To valor and victory, no matter the cost." The cadence has the sound of a phrase with well-worn grooves.

Next around the circle is a young man about your height with pronounced cheekbones and startlingly blue eyes. The baby toddles toward him and he gives it a warm smile and little wave before raising his own glass. "To the people we've protected today, who we will continue to protect to the utmost," he says.

The black-clad man from before is next, leaning on a cane topped with a bird skull as he toasts with his other hand. "To Anathon Grier's resolve under pressure."

Next to toast is a beautiful woman with Vespalonian features wearing a rich gown and a beautiful necklace. "To the task ahead of us," she says, "and the raveling thereof."

After her is the man who was in the chef's outfit earlier, now wearing a colorful shirt and linen trousers, his limbs back to normal. "To the hope of more interesting fights than that one!" he says, his voice warm and resonant.

Another young woman speaks next: her elegant dress fits in perfectly with the surroundings, tasteful earrings completing the look, making you painfully aware of your own deficiencies in dress. "To peace and stability," she says gravely. Her shadow, cast on the wall behind her, seems to be turning its head independently of her own movements, and you blink at the change in appearance she has managed to effect.

The well-muscled man who came to your assistance earlier speaks after her, his robe now worn so as to more fully cover up. "To whatever needs to be done, and the doing, one day at a time."

A thin older man with a thick beard and a circlet toasts next. "To our world," he says, in a surprisingly deep voice. "Which we will not surrender."

There's a pause, and then you realize with a spike of adrenaline that it's your turn. You clear your throat and raise your glass. "To Anathon Grier," you say. "Who saved me once, and has saved us all again." You cast a glance at the woman next to Madame Delfin, but she is looking elsewhere.

Beside you is a lanky middle-aged man with greying hair and an expensive-looking tweed jacket, a gash torn in one sleeve. He raises his glass. "To Grier and his brilliance," he says, a little too loudly.

Sitting close to him and apparently patiently waiting to resume an interrupted conversation is the woman you saw fighting the hordes with strange energy. "To the pursuit of truth and virtue: small targets within vast fields of error," she says, raising her glass.

A woman whose slight build makes her look too young to be here raises her glass next. She's wearing some sort of uniform, and on its breast is a patch with a set of symbols you can't decipher. "To heroism, and excellence, and victory."

Next to her is a... you squint... a Nivvean person in a similar but distinct uniform, wearing a similar but distinct patch. "To our strength and valor," they toast.

Finally, the woman seated next to Xiomara Delfin raises her glass a few inches. "To... to Anathon," Miella Leistes says. You only met Anathon Grier's partner once, briefly at a formal university event where he was the guest of honor, but you were struck by the experience of seeing them together. Even when they were across the room from one another, they moved like they were orbiting a common center of gravity. You cannot imagine what she must be feeling, now. She looks somberly around the room. "He gave his life to bring you all here. I won't forget this. If I... can assist you in any way, please, consider me at your service." She takes a deep breath as if to say something more, but after a moment, just shakes her head.

The glasses hang in the air for a moment, and then Madame Delfin lowers hers and drinks, prompting the rest of the room to follow suit. She nods solemnly. "Once more, I thank you all. I will be at the concierge desk if you require me." She bows and sweeps out as the waitstaff descend upon you and your summoned compatriots. You immediately forget the name of everything you've ever eaten; thankfully, some of them are carrying dishes of finger foods on small plates, and you angle for those instead.

The man who toasted after her snorts, getting to his feet and following Xiomara Delfin. "I'm going to go get this place's workshop into better shape," he announces to nobody in particular as he leaves. As your gaze follows him, you notice Miella drifting out a side door, her glass of sparkling wine still full and untasted. As the door closes behind her, the greying man who toasted Grier seemingly makes a decision and cuts across the room, exiting the same way as her.

You have a plate of delicious food in one hand and a glass of sparkling wine in the other, and you are in a room with a dozen people Anathon Grier saw fit to bring here to save the world. Who are you going to go talk to?

[] The woman who brought the baby with her has marched over to the bearded man with the circlet. Judging by their body language, it is a tense conversation.

[] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

[] The two uniformed people appear to have refilled their drinks and gone to a dark corner to chat.

[] The three women in dresses have formed a cluster, the two older ones speaking energetically while the younger one sips her drink and listens.

[] Go after Miella and the man in the torn jacket.

[] Seek out the workshop and the man who went there.

[] Flee to the concierge desk and talk to Xiomara Delfin.

Upon reflection, you notice that the necromancer is missing from the room.
[] Call public attention to the fact that the black-clad man is missing.
[] You can sense someone striding purposefully away. Go after the black-clad man discreetly.



As a result of writing this chapter I have sped up my plans for you learning everyone's name just so scenes like this are less of a pain. Speaking of which, it's true that by voting the way you did, you didn't get to see the big demon for yourself, as some pointed out; however, to balance that out, you got to see more of the other heroes fighting than you would have otherwise, which hopefully is fair compensation.
 
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[X] Go after Miella and the man in the torn jacket.
To Anathon Grier!
[X] Seek out the workshop and the man who went there.
Workshop sounds interesting too.
 
I liked seeing more of the heroes! I also liked the way the power and sharp focus metaphysically melded with the stone! Seeing some of the others, it really did feel like we weren't particularly refined at what we did, but boy oh boy did that not matter to the clumps of charging demons.

An alternate to naming them is having her internally give them nicknames and then try her best not to reveal that she gave them codenames/nicknames in her head (she has terrible stealth) :V

[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

Let's hang out with some commoners and also maybe the monk has good Esoterica just like us! Which will . . . I duno!

There's also a baby! Time to find out Maria Francisca's opinion on babies!
 
[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

Funny shapeshifting chef I like.

[X] The three women in dresses have formed a cluster, the two older ones speaking energetically while the younger one sips her drink and listens.

Shadow ladies!! Let's mingle with them!

[X] You can sense someone striding purposefully away. Go after the black-clad man discreetly.

Vindication!! YOU CANNOT ESCAPE MINE EYES COOL NECROMANCER!!


This is really fun and while it's a devil to figure out who's who I believe the cool necromancer isn't one of the option's to go speak to. Initially thought the mother was confronting him but nope! Just some rude dude, so she can chew him out for all I care.
 
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This is really fun and while it's a devil to figure out who's who I believe the cool necromancer isn't one of the option's to go speak to. Initially thought the mother was confronting him but nope!
Oh, huh, now that you point it out, you're totally correct. I seem to have left the necromancer out. What a silly oversight.

...he's not in the room, now that you think to look.

Two voting options have been added:

[] Call public attention to the fact that the black-clad man is missing.
[] You can sense someone striding purposefully away. Go after the black-clad man discreetly.

(Peek behind the curtain: He rolled Stealth and beat your Perception, but you didn't botch, so the fact that someone OOC noticed that he's missing means you IC notice he's missing and can do something about it. Despite the fact that this is appearing as a "bonus" vote option, there is no guarantee that what he's up to is more interesting or useful than the default voting options: it would have been a default voting option if you had made your roll.)
 
[X] Go after Miella and the man in the torn jacket.

Who else is going to answer the questions burning in a young woman's mind about what her savior and mentor thought about her.
 
[X] The three women in dresses have formed a cluster, the two older ones speaking energetically while the younger one sips her drink and listens.
 
[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.
 
-A young woman dressed only in pajamas, lace trim fluttering in the breeze as she runs from a pack.
-Another big man, this one built softer and rounder than the one who had come to your aid and looking ridiculously out of place in what seems for all the world to be a chef's jacket and pants.
There's something on their back, though... wait, are they carrying a baby?
Oh boy. I guess Grier's call got several people who were not expecting to fight demons at that exact moment, heh heh. Makes you wonder how several of them seemed to have gotten new clothes in time for dinner...I expect at least one of those ladies in gowns is merely using an illusion to look fancy.
As you leave, you see a woman approach Anathon Grier's body, lower herself to the ground, and cradle it in her arms. You avert your gaze; you recognize her.
...the mysterious Miella?
You get off the cart under a vine-wrapped porte-cochère, feeling somewhat unmoored. The surreality of the experience does not fade as you enter the hotel itself: its handsome furniture and elegant decorations make for a stark contrast with the battlefield you were just on.
And that contrast is what this quest revolves around, no? Hobnobbing in a luxury resort by daylight, fighting demons by moonlight. Or whenever, demons probably don't stick to a fixed schedule. They're here to tear down all the laws and constructs of mankind, including time.
Compliments of the hotel; Madame Delfin appreciates that we here, and all of Vindar, owe you a great debt."
I caaalled it!
"Is this room to your satisfaction?" he asks. For one insane second you consider saying "no" to see what even more extravagant lengths the hotel will go to in order to correct that, but sense and fatigue prevail and you nod.
Hee hee, Maria Francisca has a cheeky side to her.
Finally, the woman seated next to Xiomara Delfin raises her glass a few inches. "To... to Anathon," Miella Leistes says. You only met Anathon Grier's partner once, briefly at a formal university event where he was the guest of honor, but you were struck by the experience of seeing them together. Even when they were across the room from one another, they moved like they were orbiting a common center of gravity. You cannot imagine what she must be feeling, now. She looks somberly around the room. "He gave his life to bring you all here. I won't forget this. If I... can assist you in any way, please, consider me at your service." She takes a deep breath as if to say something more, but after a moment, just shakes her head.
The mysterious Miella! Who, upon finally meeting her and getting an explanation of her deal, is actually quite mundane. And sad. Her lover just died - probably while they were vacationing together!

[X] Go after Miella and the man in the torn jacket.

[X] The woman who brought the baby with her has marched over to the bearded man with the circlet. Judging by their body language, it is a tense conversation.

[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.
 
[X] You can sense someone striding purposefully away. Go after the black-clad man discreetly.

[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.
 
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[X] The woman who brought the baby with her has marched over to the bearded man with the circlet. Judging by their body language, it is a tense conversation.

[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

[X] You can sense someone striding purposefully away. Go after the black-clad man discreetly.
 
[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

As someone who pulls faces at babies in checkout queues I can vote no other way.
 
[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.
[X] Go after Miella and the man in the torn jacket.
 
Adhoc vote count started by mirror_lock on Apr 3, 2025 at 8:54 AM, finished with 16 posts and 15 votes.


So top 2 contenders are partner of the wizard that yoinked us all here or baby of the scion mage plus squid chef and guy that saved us. Oh and whoever the babies playin with
 
[X] The young man who waved to the baby is now crouched down and earnestly conversing with it, joined by the man who helped you and the man previously in the chef's jacket.

Either this is a normal baby, and we get to do normal interacting-with-baby things, or it isn't. Both of these options are eminently worthwhile.
 
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