Immersive Ink

Aye

That's the list I remember, thanks for finding it.

Armando and Helmut accept these instructions, as do a number of pilgrims ordered by Ulric to bring hither any mirrors on the premises. And so the great search of the infirmary, laundry, and kitchen is undertaken while Josiane examines the staff as Wen finishes translating her missive to Gallaine before joining Highbough in his pursuit of the deeper matters expounded upon within his spellbook...

Josiane doesn't find the little staff to be overly striking; certainly not an object of renoun that she recalls from any history or tale, or even any song. Most likely, she concludes, it would have belonged to one of the more senior nuns before the werewolves came. Possible an aged dame with bad knees relied upon it's support? And with the Enigma being key to the hidden reliquary, possibly a person of rank within the abbey?

Thereafter she has time to roll the missive into a tiny scroll which might be attached to Bejesbakk's leg with a clever string so that he might get onto the wing at last.

Now the pilgrims begin to patter back, reporting to Ulric (of all people!) of their fruitless searches here and there. At the last a young woman returns from the depths of the kitchen store with what might have been a broad, metal food platter; it looks dented and tarnished to almost black. "This'll polish up good," she suggests timidly.

And finally Armando and Helmut return from the infirmary. Their search has also been toilsome but at least the canny Armando has had success! In his paw is clasped a 9in square metal mirror, found at the bottom of a drawer full of dusty of glassware. Helmut looks on grimly, having enjoyed no such reward himself...

The hour passes.

Josiane attempts to identify the walking stick; 1d6=2.

The pilgrims collectively rumble through the well know areas searching for mirrors; 3d6=6,2,3.
Armando and Helmut search the Infirmary; 2d5=4,2.
Wen and Highbough have memorised their spells.

Armando holds the metal mirror before himself and is momentarily startled by the gaunt, untidy visage staring back. Best put the thing to better use ...

"Master Wen," he says approaching the elf, and wary of disturbing the ireful Highbough, "might this item suffice to activate the Ring? Do we need one mirror for each passage? Perhaps we can snip this in two, facilitating a round trip ..." He moves the mirror thus and so to estimate its thickness until — "Ah! Miss, please bring that servingware here for my inspection, if you please."

Armando absentmindedly passes the metal mirror to Helmut and grabs the platter from the comely pilgrim, who he eyes with no little relish. "We need but a splash of vinegar, some sand from the courtyard, perhaps a bit of elbow grease and this will do quite nicely, Miss... Miss ... ?"

Highbough concludes his spell studies with a meditatation upon the third eye. He removes obstacles in anticipation he may soon need to activate his Sixth Sense. (He also has a few other tricks up his sleeve.) Rested, canny, and confident, he's not quite so prickly as an hour ago.

"Ah, good, mirrors! Yes, that's right, we'll need at least two mirrors, one for each leg of the voyage. The larger the mirror, the more passengers we can fit in the field of vision. That's why only Wen and I are standing here; my silver dagger was only wide enough to reflect two Elves (or one fat Man)."

Now an experienced traveler in time and space, the Elf stands tall, gathers his night-cloak, and takes up the Ire Spear.

"Before we go flitting off to another dimension, has anyone seen the runts of the litter? Wasn't there a wee thing with two heads, and some sort of dwarf-like creature? Off gathering acorns with Dhren, I imagine."

It is perhaps well that Josiane is too engrossed in her own investigations to mark the Grey Elf's latest verbal indiscretions. (In any case she has resolved to subject him to the ancient ritual Women of Faith reserve for males who have transgressed against The Higher Wisdom, usually referred to in layman's terms simply as "The Silent Treatment..." )

"Not as I hoped," she murmurs, shaking her head in disappointment as she finishes her examination of the walking stick, passing a hand across her weary brows; "And yet the signs point me most clearly back to that time. Lady, what do you intend here? What do I miss?"

A pause. She blinks a couple of times. Revelation hits.

"Of course."

She looks up at Wen suddenly, a light shining triumphantly in her grey eyes.

"The Guore leaf we found at the camp site when Garven betrayed us! The sleeping Guore we found beneath the manse! Yes, yes, it begins to make sense!"

She chatters on excitedly.

"Do we search the infirmary for any leaf that might be of a similar sort the instant Dorgan returns! If we can find something with the same properties an enchanted sleep might be able to keep Death at bay longer yet if all else fails! Praise the White Lady!"

Looking decidedly happier she attaches the message gently to Bejesbakk's leg, ruffles his feathers and plants a little kiss on his head.

"Fly safe, my friend."

She carries him to the nearest window and lets the owl fly, watching after him, a hint of tears in her eyes.

But then she is all about the business of mirrors.

"This is bravely done, Sister," says she to the young woman who has discovered the metal platter; "Thuul bless you for this! Let us make all haste to restore its shine as swiftly as we may!

"And well done Lord Armando, Lord Helmut" she adds as another mirror is added to the collection; "And, thanks to friend Dhren, we are further aided..."

She adds the Elf's steel mirror that he vouchsafed to her to the other two.

"Friend Wen, what say you? Do you judge these to be enough to transport us unto Alcazar and return from thence with our lost comrades?"

"It's Matilda, milord," answers the pilgrim girl--for she can scarcely have seen 12 summers. Even hidden in a misfit habit and a goodly layer of honest toil's grime, and with a scruffy head of tanlged hair--or perhaps because of it--it is amply clear to Armando that she is a comely thing.

flightcommander wrote:Armando ... grabs the platter from the comely pilgrim, who he eyes with no little relish. "We need but a splash of vinegar, some sand from the courtyard, perhaps a bit of elbow grease and this will do quite nicely, Miss... Miss ... ?"

The referee takes this opportunity to develop the pilgrim further: Is she indeed comely--or a nag? Three dice for charisma will tell: 3d6=15. Aparently Armando's judgement was good. And her age?

Dragons detail a six-stage life history model which might well be applied to other creatures also, so a single die will tell: 1d6=1. So she is a mere waif!

Wen would give Highbough a helpless smile as the question start to bombard him. "Yes, Yes any mirror used to trigger the Portal will be consumed by the magic. The trick is we need a large enough surface to view all those who need to travel, and RETURN. So these two are enough to go and retrieve are lost heroes. The question is who shall pass through?"

Wen would inspect the mirrors to get an idea of how many people can reflected and judge which is the larger and must be saved for the return trip.

"I will protect the Lady, " says Helmut with a nod toward Josiane, "else I fear the dwarf will have my head, poison or no."

"I go where she goes."

"I go to Alcazar," says Josiane quietly but determinedly; "If your sword will stand with mine, Friend Helmut, I would welcome it."

She flashes a grateful smile at the grim Templar.

"Friend Wen? What know you of Olaf, Dieter and Torben's intentions? Were any plans of action discussed with them before your return?"