Observations at the Observatory
Log Info
- Title: Observations at the Observatory
- Emitter: Dolan
- Place: Shining Chalice Observatory
- Summary: Andelena, Dolan, and Dirk step inside the Shining Chalice Observatory to discuss matters of demons and devilry with Telamon. An exchange of information is had, along with introductions to Feadril, Telamon's ancestor. The group departs with deeper understanding of what's going on.
"Last time I found him, it was here," Dolan tells Andelena, approaching the outside door of the observatory with relaxed and easy strides. The day off had done him good, and his lone brown eye is bright and clear. The weather has even permitted him to eschew the brace on his left shoulder, for a change, although the evening breeze prompts the inclusion of the sheepskin longcoat over his shirt. "I sent word back to Joffrey, but I've got a feeling we ain't done with that arsewipe, and Tel knew that guy. I want to know what's going on."
Andelena's eyes are trained on the entrance to the Shining Chalice's observatory, squinting. "Huh," she remarks, looking up at the building before she looks back down to Dolan. "I was gonna say, 'what kind of places does Telamon haunt', but... It's married man we're talking about here. I'm sure I could find him neck-deep in ooze and I wouldn't blink much."
She takes in a breath as she walks with Dolan. The Sunguard's wearing her typical armor and white cloak, Deliverance hanging off her usual swordbelt. "We're definitely not done. Let's get some answers."
The door into the observatory is unlocked, admitting the pair of Daeusites inside. There are small sitting rooms inside for discussion and quiet reading, as well as a door leading to the observatory and orrery proper. That door is open, and beyond, voices can be heard.
"...You did ask me to come here, you know." A rough, older voice, laden with hard-won experience. And then Tel's clear tenor. "I know, but... damn, I was hoping for something more useful than 'fiends are raging assholes'."
The rough voice responds, "Piquant, but apt. One cannot expect to understand their minds because their minds are tuned inextricably to dark purposes."
The sound of clip-clopping hoofbeats can be heard coming up the road, preceding the trundling of cart wheels. And over those is layered a boisterous voice upraised in song. "Ahh, ye drunk, ye drunk, ye silly ol' fool, so drunk ye cannae see! That's a lovely blanket that me mother sent tae me! Now many's the day I've traveled a hundred miles or more! But buttons on a blanket, sure I've never seen before!" The cart rounds the corner, and there's old Dirk Stormgrip, merrily singing his heart out as he drives his cart. His pony Thistle clops along, tail twitching in time to his booming drinking tune, while Lulu perches on the buckboard next to him.
He glances towards the observatory as he passes by, and spots his friends. "And woah, laddie!" he says to Thistle, gently pulling back on the reins. The shaggy pony comes to a halt, giving his golden mane a shake. Hopping down from his seat, the old snowbeard lumbers over with a warm smile. "Oy, friends! Up fer a spot o' staragazin', are ye? I always figured you an' Andie were more day-star fans, Dolan!" He rumbles an amused chortle, passing out Dwarf Hugs and hearty shoulder claps when and where appropriate. When the door opens and he hears those voices within, he tips back his tricorne, squinting a bit into the gloom. "Er... is... is this a private affair then?" he inquires. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "I can sod off if ye need me to. Just thought I'd be sociable."
Dolan takes the hugs and handclasps in stride - remarkably well, actually, and greets the old khazad with a good-natured grin. "Brightest of days, Dirk, it's good to see you. I don't mind at all, just tracking down Telamon. There's a group of demons and devils that I've got history with, and now they're after my family. Looks like Tel might know more, so I thought I'd drop in and pay him a visit now that I can see straight." Even that admission holds much of his former easy good humor.
The words are loudly enough spoken that they float down the hall into the orrery and observatory from where Dolan had left it open when he'd turned around at the greeting, and he calls into the hall, "Tel, my friend, if you had needed to know that fiends are raging assholes, you may as well have dropped by our place."
"And when people mess with Bry here, naturally, they mess with me--especially when they're fiends. C'mon in, Dirk," Andelena offers, giving Dirk a warm smile.
And when Dolan calls over Telamon, she turns her attention back into the observatory. "Hey, married man, who're you talking to back there? Can we meet 'em?" she tags onto Dolan's greeting, grinning. "Promise we're not going to drag in anything awful, 'specially not when Bry's the opposite of awful! Can't make any promises about me, though." The steel-grey eyes are alight with humor for the moment.
Inside, the voices fall silent for a moment. Then the rough, older voice comments, "As inconvenient as it is, boy, it's good to have friends." Telamon heaves a loud sigh, and mumbles something, before calling back, "Come to the orrery, Dolan, Andie. Straight down the hall. I'm working here, but we can talk." A pause. "And then I get to explain things, again."
Dirk reaches up to doff his tricorne, chortling softly. "Well, ye are bringin' me along," he says. "But I promise tae be on me best behavior." He looks back over his shoulder and lifts his fist, blowing a soft hooting call through his fingers. "Lulu, you stay out here wi' Thistle, all right?" Lulu perks up her head and gives a hoot in response, before winging up to perch on the pony's withers. Thistle turns his head to regard the little owl, giving a whickering neigh, which the owl answers with another hoot.
Turning back to the observatory, Dirk lumbers through the door with Dolan and Andie, offering Telamon a warm smile as they pass through the hall and into the orrery. "Telamon, great tae see ye, laddie. Hope you an' Cor'lana are keepin' well," he says. "And as fer fiends, anybody who's even a little bit sober can tell ye that they're ragin' arseholes. When they're nae bein' sodding sheepfuckers, or possibly even clean-shaven shitbirds."
Dolan's wicked chuckle at Dirk's descriptive language fades, along with the easy grin, at Telamon's words. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" he asks, more soberly, as he enters the orrery, looking around with great interest for a moment before returning his attention to Telamon. "Brightest of days, Tel. This can wait if you're busy." Andie, however, gets a glance over. "The biggest reason why I'm so good is standing next to me, baby."
Andelena actually flushes a little, grinning from ear to ear with Dolan's compliment. She takes Dolan by the arm and kisses him on the cheek for that one, followed by a whisper in the ear--and then she gives Telamon her undivided attention. "What's going on, Tel? Something we could help with?"
Inside the orrery is an experience. It's not strictly speaking solely a celestial orrery, but a planar one -- designed to help visualize the orientation of the various planes. Designed with an eye towards air-walking casters as well as sages still bound by the earth, the orrery's glimmering metal spheres rotate slowly around the central axis.
It appears Tel has been researching, as there are several tomes, probably taken from the small attached library in the observatory building, with one open and hovering -- presumably held by an unseen servant. The half-elf himself stands in the center, hovering about six inches off the floor thanks to his flight spell, and he's not alone. There's a robed and hooded man, an elf presumably from his slight build, standing next to him.
Except 'standing' isn't quite the right word. There's something translucent about the hooded fellow, and his robe hangs strangely on him, as the cowl turns to regard the trio of Telamon's friends. Telamon, for his part, raises a hand. "Brightest of days, and nights, to you... Dolan, Andie, Dirk." He smiles wryly. "What's on your mind? Beside our apparently perpetual fiend problem."
Dirk looks around at the orrery, giving a low whistle. "Beards o' me fathers... isn't this fancy?" he mutters. He leans close to a bit of clockwork that lazily brings a spinning sphere within reach. And reach he does, extending a fingertip to lightly poke at the device. He's rewarded with a ZZZAP and a spark of electricity that makes him yelp. "HEEK!" He looks over at Telamon and his companion with wide eyes, his beard momentarily poofed out like a tuft of thistledown. But he shakes the pins and needles out of his fingers and smooths down his whiskers, puffing up his chest with an 'I meant to do that' look.
"I was just on me way home from Alex, an' I spied yon troublemakers," he says, nodding to Dolan and Andie. "Thought I'd stop by an' be sociable. But if there's fiends in need of huntin', why, I'm yer dwarf fer that, I'll warrant. I've been studyin' up on how tae track those bastards down an' send 'em shufflin' off this mortal coil an' back tae their own."
Dolan turns his head towards Andelena at the whisper, grinning wickedly up at her with a bright-eyed look on the mobile half of his face. He whispers something back, but the grin becomes and out-and-out belly laugh at Dirk's antics. "Didn't your mama tell you to keep your fingers to yourself in someone else's house, Dirk? Serves you right."
He's still laughing, and it only stills a little at the more serious question. "Who was Mortin, really? Besides being a fiend? Sounded like you knew the man." He keeps it casual, but there's a razor-sharp focus in there.
While Dolan's laughing, Andelena's more preoccupied with looking over the place, her steel-grey eyes fixing onto the hooded figure for a long moment as the grin on her face from Dolan's whisper fades with the strange sight. She gives the cowl a steel-grey squint, but nothing more as she turns her attention back to Telamon.
"What Bry said," Andelena remarks, a little coolly. "Now, don't think for a minute we're accusing you of shit. Just, y'know--if this is connected to something else, Bry and I might be helpful there. Or maybe we're just barking up the wrong tree like a nosy dog, in which case, tell us that, too, but... You do a ton already for us, Tel. Least we can do as friends is help where we can."
Telamon snorts as Dirk manages to shock himself. "For gods' sake, Dirk, don't do that." He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a breath. "It's... complicated. Or maybe not. Just one more reason why fiends are arseholes."
The hooded man tilts his head at Andelena's regard. The light in the chamber illuminates a jawline very, very much like Tel's, and the mouth curves up in a faint smile. "You're stalling, lad."
Tel flicks a glance at the other man. "...I see where you're going. Getting me to start from the beginning." He squares his shoulders. "Alright. First off, the important matters. That devil... was taking the appearance of a mul'niessa named Daechir. I don't know where he got the name of 'Mortin' from. But I do know, at least somewhat, who Daechir is. He's the boyfriend -- fiancee, maybe, I don't think they're married -- of the adventurer Aya. She was the one who was replaced by a fiend for a time, only to be freed by her sister Aryia."
He lets that sink in, before continuing, "Needless to say, it seems the fiends don't appreciate having their toys taken away. And since they couldn't get at Aya, they've grabbed Daechir instead."
Dirk harrumps softly. "Well, if ye dinnae have such fascinatin' things here tae hypnotize folk intae touchin' 'em, I wouldnae have tae worry about it, now would I?" he mutters into his beard. But it's all in good humor. Although that good humor sobers a bit when the discussion gets underway. His shaggy white brows furrow in consernation, and he looks up and around at his friends. "This... I'm guessin' this is summat other than our business wi' the Red Maw an' his puppers?" he inquires.
All trace of laughter and smiles has fallen away from Dolan's features, once the explanation starts. He'd nodded in agreement with Andelena, but didn't add to the explanation. "Doesn't matter if I don't know them or not, Tel," he starts gently. "It's like Andie said. You've done a ton for us, and I'm in this more deeply than you know. It's not just about my family. From what that thing said - I've got personal, unfinished business with them." He gestures offhandedly to the golden gem, set where his right eyesocket ought to be. "We're here to help, if you'll have us."
For the first time, his gaze turns towards the cowled figure, appraising him with interest for the first time.
"And Dolan's business is my business, too. Our business," Andelena replies, her arm curling around Dolan as she stands on his right side. "Fact of matter is, we're sworn to Daeus, and when someone's been wronged, we're going to help put it right."
She looks to Dirk. "There's not really any connection to the Red Maw, no--I think Bry's found out that there's some kind of demonic link, but I think it's a convenient "enemy of an enemy is a friend" thing more than anything."
Finally, she looks square at Telamon. "Now, uh--you gonna introduce us to slight and spooky here or what?" she asks, gesturing to the hooded figure.
A soft laugh comes from the hooded figure, and he reaches up with one hand to push the cowl back. He's clearly an elf, but his face is deeply lined -- an old elf. Very, very old. There's a resemblance to Telamon though -- more than just the pointed ears.
"Sometimes it's hard to tell," Telamon comments to the others. "Trying to figure out when they're chasing their own agendas and when they're working together, even begrudgingly. And of course, their motivations."
At Dolan attention, and Andie's comment, Tel takes a breath. "Fair enough. This is... well, was, Feadril Atlon. My ancestor. It's a long story. He's not a ghost or undead, but... well, he's dead. Been dead a while."
Dirk looks up at Dolan, headtilting curiously. "Is this the same bugger who put up that wanted poster of ye awhile back?" he asks with a dour frown. "Hrmph. Well. Nobody pisses about a friend o' Dirk Stormgrip an' gets away with it." He nods to Andie in understanding, then turns his attention back to Telamon. "Aye, I'm in too. I'm gettin' quite good at puttin' blessed shot up demon an' devil arses. So if ye all might find me thunderbelcher needful, it's yers fer the askin'."
He looks up at the shade of Feadril, his expression going from dour sourness to astonishment. His shaggy brows arch and his eyes get wide. "Wait. Nae a ghost, nor undead, but... still dead?" Blink. Blink blink. "How... how's that even work?"
"I'm thinking so, Dirk, or at least someone who claims to have bought that debt." Dolan's tone twists the word debt into something scornful. "As if I owed them something." His gaze, though, is mostly on Feadril, and a light shudder ripples through him, but it's no worse than that. He says nothing of it, only introduces himself politely, "Dolan Donnelly. Pleasure." It doesn't take him long to go on, though. "They've always got their own agendas. Fiends serve another out of fear, or because they think they can use them to advance themselves. They have no real loyalty, although they might band together against a common enemy. I think - this one may be tied to a fiend known only as V. They're the offspring of a demon and a devil, from waht I've been able to find. A devil with some of the properties of demons, and possibly the ability to command both. Damned dangerous, but I've been chasing down more on this for a while."
He shakes his head. "Never mind that, though. That wasn't possession we saw. The spell I used is one that breaks possession. I think - it was actually polymorphed to look like your friend. They're probably not going to let your friend out. Do you know where this Daechir is?"
Andelena stares at the introduced Feadril again as he's introduced. And then the stare turns into another squint. Finally, however, she nods. "Andelena," she says at last. "Soon to be Andelena Donnelly." Her lips quirk up into a warm smile at that notion before she listens to Dolan talk.
"Do you think what we stepped into the other night was supposed to be a trap?" she asks at last to Dolan and Telamon. "Were they hoping to get all three of us in one neat little package? Or were they just plotting for Bry and me to be there?" Andelena looks thoughtful--and quietly angry.
"I don't know," Telamon admits to Andelena. "It may have been dumb luck, or happenstance, or a plan. Feadril tells me it's a mistake to try and anticipate how they think, because mortal minds don't get twisted up like that--"
The shade helpfully adds, "From what I saw, it takes a few centuries of being a whipping boy in the hells. Thankfully not something I experienced."
"Thank you, Feadril." Tel says. "So it's hard to tell where that was going. As far as Daechir, though, I have a pretty good idea where he is. Aya sprang for some scrolls, and Lana and I did some divinations. We think they took him back to the Hells--"
Feadril's face tightens. "And this young idiot is going after him."
Telamon whirls around suddenly to face Feadril. "I can't leave him there! I know it's not my fault, or Aya's, or anyone's except the fiend's but it still has to be done. I can't... I can't walk away."
Dolan reaches out to snake an arm around Andelena's armored waist. Granted that it's like hugging and being hugged by a turtle, only louder, but he takes it in stride. He lets out a low whistle, though, at the mention of the man being in the Hells. "Tall order, but if I know anyone who can pull it off, it's you, Tel. Still, if we can help, say the word. I hunt fiends. It's what I do," he confesses, semi-offhandedly.
Dirk looks between Tel and Feadril, his eyes getting wider and wider. His face turns pale, and he gulps hard. But he still puffs up his burly chest and plants his hands on his hips. "Aye," he says. "I'll go wi' ye. I'll follow my friends, even in tae Hell itself." He pauses. "Never thought I'd literally be followin' ye all tae Hell, but..." He gulps again, hoping that his knees aren't knocking together as loudly as they sound in his ears. "A poor friend I'd be if I let you all go an' face those shitbirds alone."
Andelena actually gives Feadril a little bit of a glare. "An idiot? No. Married man here might be a fool, and frequently at that--he'll admit it himself--but he's not an idiot for wanting to do the right thing. I've got the exact same opinion as Dolan here, although Bry here's the demon-hunting expert."
She turns back to Telamon and gives him a little smile, especially as Dolan's curled his arm around her. "So--I don't know how much help I'll be, if any, but let me know, yeah?"
There's a long moment of Telamon and Feadril glaring at each other, a wordless clash of wills as the ghostly eyes of the long-gone ancestor lock with Tel's starry gaze. Finally, though, Feadril averts his stare. "Please, lad," he says quietly. "Don't take any risks. Load the dice, stack the deck, do whatever you need to so you can get home."
Telamon drops his gaze as well, taking a deep shuddery breath to focus. "Thank you, my friends," he says quietly. "Don't pack your fireproof smallclothes just yet, though. Lana and I have discussed this with Aya and Aryia. It may just be us -- a small group might have a better chance of going undetected, than an army." His lips quirk up. "Though if I thought I could get away with it, I would bring one. An army, I mean."
Tel taps his finger on his chin. "I wonder..." His brow furrows. "I need to talk to Aya and Aryia. Maybe along with Lana. Maybe cause a diversion, something to draw these bastards' eyes. It might be the edge we need."
Dirk lifts a hand to tug his beard. He glances up at Dolan and Andalena, then back over to Telamon. "Well, laddie," he says. "I imagine two holy Daeusite warriors and a ranger packin' a thunderbelcher blessed by the Green Word would certainly be gettin' someone's attention down there," he says. "I expect between the three of us, we'd be all the distraction ye'd be wantin'." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "But... I'm hardly the expert here."
"You ain't the only one with a score to settle, Tel," Dolan counters the half-sil quietly, the mobile half of his expression closing. "I'll help you however I can. Just remember that fiends are the masters of deceptions. They've been at it for thousands of years. If you think you're going to beat them at their own game, you'd best not miss. What's your plan?"
"Well, here's the thing," Andelena replies, getting that squinting look in her eyes again. "Do you know anything about what this particular demon wants? You can put out cheese and get a mouse to walk into a trap, but you put out cheese and a cat--"
She stops mid-sentence and thinks. "Nevermind, Spot has stolen cheese before," she says. "Okay, a cat that isn't a tiny little weirdo like my baby-kitten isn't going to take the bait. Point is, Bry's right. Come up with something solid and we can help--but if you need someone to dredge up details so you can get a plan, Bry here will likely be your man."
Telamon looks like he wants to argue again, but Feadril forestalls it. "You don't have so many friends you can afford to ignore them, Telamon." The shade looks on with a small, sad smile. "Take every advantage. The Hells won't play fair -- why should you?"
Tel's eyes flash, but then he drops his head slightly. "...You're right. I can't do this alone, after all." He beckons to the others. "Let me lay out what we know so far. Then I want your opinion. I'm not going to say this is a great plan, but it does have the benefit of simplicity."
As the group gathers, Tel begins to explain. "We were able to scry on Daechir, and at least get a look at where they're holding him. Lana is going to take us there, using a plane shift spell, and then I'll teleport us as need be..."
The battle goes on against the forces of darkness, but for now it is time to plan the next strike.