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Post by moralhazard on Mar 18, 2019 18:07:40 GMT
The collar would click into place on Ivor - but Orin wouldn't feel him in her mind, even after a minute had passed. He was awake now, glaring at both of them.
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Post by Ossular on Mar 18, 2019 18:11:59 GMT
"..." Orin would purse her lips, looking at the Druid. "He's resisting. Just so you know. I don't... feel him," Orin would tell Arioch bluntly.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 18, 2019 18:55:00 GMT
"You talk in might have, vould have. Justify your covardice in vhichever vay it lets you feel better. But the fact is there was a battle being fought, and you took no part in it, only arriving vhen victory vas certain. You could have done something, but you didn't. Doing nothing is a choice. You stood somevhere safe and did nothing until the last possible moment. Vords are vind."
That was all he had to say on the matter; it was clear to him at least. From his point of view Orin had done nothing during the battle, all the way into the last possible moment. She hadn't even been fighting when he arrived, even with all the noise, and the guards coming his way to fight against him she had achieved nothing in the meantime. Not one of them was weaker, or worse for wear. Not one of the cages had been open. Nothing. He had been fine with her not taking action... If she acknowledged that was what had happened. Because it played into his mistrust of other species. He hadn't had much contact with elves. But now he was reevaluating further.
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Arioch listened to the tale of Marguerite. He had empathy for other people, but he wasn't moved by it. The sad story about the circus being destroyed by wild beasts, the poverty that ensued and the collars providing a way out... It seemed familiar to him. In a way. But they were admittedly complicit in it. To know and be complicit in something that is wrong, do nothing to stop it, and then plead innocent was foolish to him. When he watched her react almost with anger to the name of Petrus he felt it made sense, since he had killed her friend, or lover, or whatever he was. But he had come to him with weapons in hand, in fact they had attacked him before he had a chance to say anything. And he had dealt with them in the same fashion. Whatever remorse or shred of pity he could have felt for them was eclipsed by that knowledge. Live by the sword, and die by the sword. Nothing stopped them from running away, should they have decided to.
He had asked his questions come and go, until they finally reached one of the topics that interested him the most. The origins. The collars. The background. He remembered Thea had mentioned someone when she talked about the circus, that someone had tried to drag her along to them. Dominic from Urmlaspyr. That name meant nothing to him. But.. Phi... He had heard that name before. That was the name that Thea had spoken when she mentioned... He clenched his hand into a fist, reflexively.
"Vhere is this Phi?"
The compasssion in his expression was quickly being replaced by that same dead-eyed determination that had taken over him when he decided to come to the circus and do exactly what he had done. Thea was trying to protect this Phi. Why? Why would she do that when...? Marguerite replied that she knew Phi was in Waterdeep, but then all he had was a name and nothing else. Waterdeep was a pretty big city, and he was not well connected enough to just know the right person to ask. Ivor perhaps...
And in that very moment Orin had seized the chance and placed one of the collars on Ivor.
"Vhat the fvuck Orin"
He said surprised, and seemingly slightly upset and disapproving of the act, it was not that he didn't appreciate the poetic justice of putting one of his own collars on him. It was the fact that they didn't need to, paired up with the fact that the artifact was a danger. A way for those of lesser means to impose their will on those they otherwise couldn't. Figures the elf would be such.
"That man vas no threat vhen he vas still in perfect shape and armed. And now that he's tied and beaten up, you're vorried?"
Arioch started to wonder what kind of person was Orin. He saw the gem. He didn't like what he was seeing.
"Resisting vhat? Are you trying to control him?"
He frowned.
"Don't you have to use vocal commands for that?"
The suspicion grew bigger. What if it didn't? What if that was the whole reason for putting a collar on him, to control what he would be able to say?
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Post by Ossular on Mar 18, 2019 19:11:05 GMT
His little speech, at the top of the hour, was meant with an quiet eye-roll.
After she had clasped the collar around Ivor, though?
"No, I'm not worried. It's a precaution-" Orin would look to Arioch dully- "-and no, I'm not controlling him. You don't need this to cast a Command spell, or attempt to detonate a fireball. If he starts casting a spell, I can order him to stop. That's the extent that I plan on using this gem before I destroy it." Orin would inhale. "It's the gem. I can feel the people I can command. The collar works, I'm sure- he commanded the cockatrice to attack you." She wouldn't say that he did it without a verbal component, though. "I can feel Citrine, though she's unconscious at the moment, and I can feel the satyr in the cage.
"Just because we have different methods and views on how to handle presented situations doesn't mean I want you hurt- or worse-" the eladrin would explain, walking back to her perch on the stage. Thea surely wouldn't like to come and see that Arioch had been killed somehow, or Citrine or herself, even.
"Besides. Poetic in a way, is it not?" she would muse out loud.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 18, 2019 19:19:50 GMT
Wisdom saving throw: bOYL2E3r1d20+5Like a little switch flicking on, Orin would feel her mind connect to Ivor's.
Ivor had been watching them, listening as they talked. He was tied up, and utterly weak from Arioch's attacks; he could barely move. He felt it as much as Orin when the collar tightened around his neck. And it was tight. It was not so tight that he couldn't breathe, but just tight enough to make him feel like he might lose the ability at any moment.
Marguerite had been watching him, almost as intently as he had been watching Arioch and Orin. She turned away, unable to watch, her gaze fixing on the bleachers off to her right, where there were no heads and no Ivor.
Ivor was already almost panting, his gaze fixed on Orin, even with Arioch right in front of him. He didn't hesitate, although his whole body tightened and tensed. He began to murmur the words of a spell, gaze shifting to Arioch as if he might attack him. Ivor's fingers twitched, and a little flame flickered into existence before him.
1d20+5
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Post by Ossular on Mar 18, 2019 19:32:57 GMT
Orin would bring her eyes onto the two of them, Ivor and Arioch, as there was a connection that came to life between them. Her ears would flattened as she focused, and almost immediately, Ivor's fingers would fold, his lips would whisper, and a small fire flickered. It was definitely more of a reaction than anything else, and as she had promised, the eladrin pressed her presence through the connection in an attempt to overwhelm the druid.
"No magic!" the eladrin would order Ivor harshly, eyes focusing on him like a bird on prey as she snarled.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 18, 2019 19:35:50 GMT
Wisdom saving throw: AKjjjUve1d20+6Command successfully resisted!
Damage to Ivor from resisting: 1d10
Ivor snarled his defiance at Orin. In the harsh, flickering light of the flame he'd made, he looked more inhuman than any of those he'd collared: a wild, desperate beast preferring to make his last stand here than fight any longer. He brought all his will to bear, and he resisted.
Orin would be able to feel him fighting her - and feel, sharply and cleanly, the backlash of the spell against him when he succeeded, like a whip.
Ivor's eyes fluttered shut, the flames flickered out - and he was gone, slumped dead against the bleachers.
Marguerite let out a choked sob, shaking.
1d20+6·1d10
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 18, 2019 19:55:49 GMT
On one hand, Arioch had no idea what a Command Spell was, other than what could be inferred from the name. It was like naming a sword metal that goes through things. Not much there to wonder about it's function. On the other hand, he started to think about it. Nothing stirred in the cage except the Cocatrice, that came straight for him. And Ivor had said something back then? He tried to remember. He chanted something and bark grew from his skin, yes... But he never said anything about the cockatrice, it came out on it's own. So... mental commands?
The vernacular was confusing, so he spent some seconds thinking it through. She hadn't said no, he realised then.
"If he could cast something, vhy vouldn't he have? He vas fighting for his life back then"
He pointed out. Orin said she was on his side, and granted she hadn't attacked him yet. But neither had she helped him; other than help herself to the gem and then collar Ivor, replacing the dead cockatrice. He was watching her actions, not her words. He didn't like that collar there. He was going to take it off of him afterwards.
"You have a strange vay of going about that"
Arioch added, though not in an angry tone. He then crouched near Ivor to look at him in the eyes as he spoke.
"Ivor, I'm going to ask you some questions now. If I'm not satisfied with the answers, I vill kill you, or hurt you until you answer. You should know by now that I am no liar, and I am not one to come from the back. Lie to me at your own peril."
He announced, before finally stepping back up and gripping his greatsword.
"Vhere is Phi and vhat does he look like?"
Probably he shouldn't have led with that, but it was the first thing on his mind. If Ivor would have instantly exploded after only answering one question, he would rather have it been that one. After which, he would proceeded to ask him questions regarding of what was his deal with the collars, about the debts, in case he wanted to add something that Marguerite had left out. Most likely, he had been out cold during the moment that she confessed to him, thus, he wouldn't know what he did and did not know.
To his surprise it wasn't Ivor the one that spoke but Orin, shouting "No magic!". His gaze turned sharply towards Orin immediately, startled by the sudden yell and then back at Ivor when he realised what was going on. A thread of fire formed from Ivor's fingers, his desperate pained expression then freezing in place as he expired. Arioch had absolutely no idea what was going on, but from the choked sobs of Marguerite it appeared like she did. Clearly, Ivor looked dead now, but Arioch was dumbfounded. He felt like he had missed something. He turned back towards Orin.
"Did you kill him?"
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Post by Ossular on Mar 18, 2019 20:12:57 GMT
The eladrin's eyes would focus as she snarled the command at Ivor.
The druid resisted, willing against the magic of the gem, the magic that Orin used. Then? That same magic punished Ivor for resisting. It was almost as she brought back the whip and lashed it into his back for disobeying. As Ivor's eyes fluttered shut and Arioch had turned back to ask his question of her, Orin's eyes would grow wide in a distinct horror, her jaw slackened in shock, and she exhaled a shaky breath.
She was her brother, captain of the Argent Prince: A vicious devil of a pirate that had purposely sought out his twin sister, sunk the ship she was on, and tortured her, gave her to his crew to do as they saw fit, and then, when she was broken and he had used his mesmerist abilities to erase his own sister from his mother's memories, turned her into a living charter, scarring her back with his ship's charter, and then instructing each person of his crew to etch their name into skin, signing pacts to the ship with his own blood, and bind monsters to his service with her as an offer.
She was a witch in a different realm, leader of the Coven: A seemingly carefree woman that had reincarnated in a cycle of life and death. There were secrets to that power, though, and when it came down, she would use her power to drive others to her whims. She had started with good intentions, but had become consumed by that power over others. She enjoyed when they resisted. She enjoyed when they tried. She enjoyed watching the punishment when they failed against her orders.
She... was Lady Susan: her matron, her Winter Lady, Paragon of the Winter Court of Golarion, Benefactor of Baba Yaga, Successor to the Mantle of Winter, the Unseelie Queen Who Is To Come. Lady of Air and Darkness. Manipulative. Cold. Considerate. Understanding... but never forgiving.
"I- I didn't mean to-" Orin would stammer out, taking a step back, the longsword from her hip fizzling from existence in a poof of wintry mist as she lost focus. "It was just- just a command, It was- I-" another step back as looked at the ruby red gem in her hands. It was the gem, wasn't it? It had felt like she had did it, though. A punishment for resisting- how very fey of Orin. The whip fell to the ground, and Orin turned away from Arioch, walking out of the back of the tent. The eladrin would look around for a moment, making sure there wasn't anyone out back behind the tent like she had been before throwing the gem into the dirt before taking a moment to compose herself.
She would inhale, then Orin would look at the gem. No. No more orders. No more bondage. The eladrin would fold her hand and hit her shield with a metallic thud. The ringing from the scrape of metal on metal would amplify as Orin focused on her magic, and the gem would start shaking on the ground. There would be a cracking from the gem, but it wasn't completely broken- not to Orin's liking. A second spell, another gauntlet-clad fist into her shield, and another ringing sound amplified through her magic. This one would be deeper, more powerful than the last, and the gem would break into shards and dust across the ground.
The eladrin would fall to her knees, looking at the gem- at least what was left of it as she gathered herself.
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