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The torrent of water that falls upon your head is as loud as it is heavy. The constant gushing downpour gets in your eyes and blinds you to the beautiful sight of the forest that hides this treasure.

At least that's what this vista appeared to be when you spied it from afar. Now it seems much less a treasure and more a roiling, raging monster that is unrelenting in its attack.

You have no idea how Gabby can find peace in such painful and disturbing conditions. You'll never find your center like this.

You turn your head to where she sits beside you, despite the supposed futility of the act. By some miraculous fortune you are granted sight and let your gaze drink in Gabby's form. She's . . .

“Why are you naked?” you quickly inquire, as water fills your mouth and restricts your speech.

She laughs as she looks at you, her eyes crinkling in mirth. “Do you want to walk home in wet clothes, Al?” Obviously you don't. It's why you're naked as well. But still, no matter how hard you try you can't seem to focus your mind.

“This isn't working, Gabby!” you shout over the waterfall's roaring.

“Of course it's not,” she agrees, “You've gotta be at one with yourself to access your ki. And we're not going to accomplish that by meditating, are we?”

The expression on her face changes. Her standard grumpily content visage shifts to a much more knowing one.

The two of you didn't come out here together to meditate, that's for sure.

>Kiss her
>Kill her

>>46569288
>kiss her

>>46569288
>>Kiss her

Writing!

I mean, we still love Rowe, and we're still going to settle down with her after this is all over, but being the only guy in the party, and considering Gabby's alignment, I'm perfectly okay with Alan providing stress relief for the party.
We won't be able to hide this from Rowe, so, I hope that an arrangement was already prepared beforehand with her.

>>46569783
I'm hoping to include Gabby as our partner alongside Rowe when we settle down.

>>46569853
Alan and Gabby might be able to keep their alignments from clashing too badly, but Gabby and Rowe are another matter.

You lunge for her violently, thrusting your lips onto hers. She responds immediately with equal passion and the two of you forget where you are as your bodies entwine. Hands roam – touching, squeezing and feeling each other. Moans and gasps louder than any waterfall. Coiled power and strength held tense for years finds release. You enter her roughly and thrust, breathing hard as you drown and screw. You feel light as a feather and free. You undulate and flow, building and building towards a climax, rising and rising to a crescendo, the whole affair reaching one explosive –

KRAKOW!

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of thunder. Your brain quickly reorients itself to the waking world, your vision glued to the stone ceiling of Rowe's dorm. In the split second you seek to ponder whether the sound of a lightning strike was real or imagined, Rowe provides your answer by leaping from the bed. Unless you're sharing dreams again, that was real lightning.

You really hope you weren't sharing dreams.

The beauty of shacking up with a fellow soldier who's been through some shit is that there is never an issue in regards to domestic accoutrements. In other words, there are weapons all over this room all within an arm's reach at any given moment. As Rowe rolls out and grabs her bow along with a handful of arrows near her nightstand, you slip your saber from its scabbard and move to the door.

You listen at it for the sound of a scuffle and hear silence. You look back to see Rowe staring out the window.

(Night sky's clear. No way that was natural. Magic.)

“Sounded like it came from inside the building, to the right,” you whisper back to her.

(Towards your room.) she thinks matter-of-factly. Yeah, nobody else living on this floor anymore. Most moved up to the fifth or down to the third. There are five casters on this floor – about a third of the remaining casters in Seaside – and you're two of them.

>Move now, no time
>Spare a few moments to get dressed

>>46570004
>>Move now, no time

>>46570004
>>Move now, no time
Well, at least it was a dream.

>>46570004
>Move now, no time
Some temporary embarrassment is worth saving some precious seconds.
Besides, thankfully we trained with Gabby and have a monk's defenses without armor.

Writing!

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You quietly but expediently unlock and open the door, taking time to search the dark for any sign of assailants. Rowe creeps up behind you, ready to nock an arrow. After you've both determined you can't spot anything, you move out, stalking down the hall towards your room. Rowe watches your rear while you listen intently as you move towards the source of your night's disturbance.

You faintly hear the sound of commotion coming from your room and you see light shine from beneath the door. The noise sounds like rapid movement. Shit, Ed's all alone in there.

You quicken your pace as you bound for your door and your friend, Rowe falling behind.

You grab the door knob and find it unlocked. Good, you left your key in Rowe's room and you don't want to bust down your own door. As you turn it and push it open, a sudden force slams against the wooden frame, in an attempt to close it shut.

“Hey!” Ed shouts, as you pit your strength against what you soon become aware is Ed's forearm to keep the door from closing. You relent at your discovery and the door closes shut.

“Ed?” you ask in a whisper. “The fuck's going on?”

“Oh, Alan!” The door cracks open and you get a good look at Ed's face. His face is flush and sweaty. “Sorry, I was – uh – just, y'know, experimenting and stuff and . . . you're naked,” he finishes as his eyes drift down a bit to take in your form. They quickly shoot back up to your face, the flush on his face growing a bit redder.

“We heard thunder,” Rowe explains as she moves forward. Ed looks over to her.

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I was casting Lightning Bolt,” he tells you.

“At two in the morning?!” Rowe asks incredulously.

“Uuuuh, yeah. Hey, Rowe, has anyone ever told you you can really pull off the bow and nightie look. It's true.”

Rowe sighs and tries to look indignant.

You fold your arms.

>Ed, let me in
>Alright buddy, just don't destroy my side of the room
>What are you doing, Ed?
>Something else? (write-in)

>>46571069
>>What are you doing, Ed?
>>Something else? (write-in)
have Rowe watch him while we go put on some pants.

>>46571069
>>What are you doing, Ed?
Suspicious

>>46571069
>Alright buddy, just don't destroy my side of the room
>Something else?
"This to impress Quissonce or Eve?"
If he answers Quissonce, everything is okay. If he answers Eve, we know something's wrong and can plan accordingly. Hopefully Ed gets it.

Writing!

“What are you doing, Ed?”

“Nothing. Just, casting Lightning Bolt. Experiments.”

“I thought you didn't even know Lightning Bolt. It's not transmutation, it's not your style. You said you disliked the blasty stuff.”

“I know. I don't know it, it's why I'm trying to learn. And, y'know, with the whole, there being a lot less wizards and shit I figure'd I'd have to pick up the slack and diversify. Whole range of stuff for whenever, ugh, newbies get brought to the Island. Someone's gotta teach them. Right?” He smiles nervously.

Rowe starts to laugh silently to herself, shaking her head.

“Is this to impress Quissonce or Eve?”

At your question Ed's eyes go wide with dread. “What are you talking about, buddy? I'm not trying to impress anybody. Hehehe. Except maybe you.” He sticks his arm out and playfully punches you on the shoulder. “You're looking good, by the way. Been working out?”

>Give up, go back to bed
>Ed, let me in
>Flattery! Your one weakness.
>Something else? (write-in)

>>46571641
>>Ed, let me in

>>46571641
>>Flattery! Your one weakness.
>Ed, let me in

>>46571641
>Something else?
Where's Muffin? Have him check out the room while we keep talking with Ed.
If everything feels okay to Muffin, go back to sleep.

Writing!

“Ed, let me in.”

He looks at you intently before correctly assessing that you aren't going to relent.

“Alright,” he tells you. “This is your room still, even if you don't sleep in it anymore. Just, give me a second to get dressed. I'm naked and I have a little too much dignity to strut about in front of others in the buff, unlike some people.”

“Why were you casting lightning bolt, naked?!” Rowe asks, astonished.

“Because I was going to bed soon!”

“Since when do you sleeep in the buff?” you question.

“Since my nosy roommate left. Now I'm going to need a second of privacy, so if you'll excuse me . . .” he closes the door on you.

You hear the sounds of rapid, frantic movement.

Rowe gives you a look.

>Open that fucking door
>Go put on pants while you wait

>>46572133
>>Go put on pants while you wait

>>46572133
>Go put on pants while you wait
Ed has done right by us so far, I trust him.

Writing!

You sigh out and then walk back to your room. You put on some pants and grab your room key and your Muffin.

By the time you make it back down the hall, the door is already open, light spilling into the darkened hallway. You walk inside to find Ed, dressed in a silk robe, standing next to Rowe, both of them looking up at the scorch mark on the ceiling right over Ed's bed. Ed's bed is an absolute mess with the sheets and pillow strewn all around his sleeping area.

“So what I don't get,” Rowe begins, holding a finger in the air. “Is why you thought it was a good idea to cast the spell upwards.”

“Well,” Ed begins chuckling nervously, rubbing the back of his head, “Much better than casting it to the side. Might have lit something on fire.”

“But why not out the window. Why naked and, what, were you lying on your back?”

“Yeah, I was practicing, going through the motions to see if I learned it properly.” He mimes the gestures in a quick dumb show of the events that transpired.

“But why do it at two in the morning?”

“People are asleep. It's an out of the way time!”

“Exactly. If you had done this in the day no one would care but because it is TWO in the MORNING it woke us up. I'm surprised Eve and Quissonce haven't knocked on your door complaining yet.”

“Eh, you guys are probably just light sleepers,” Ed waves away Rowe's concerns. Ed smiles at you as he spots you.

>Alright, back to bed
>Investigate (how?)
>Ask Ed something (what?)

>>46572743
>>Investigate (how?)
the scorch marks, for starters.
maybe outside the window?

>>46572743
>Ask Ed something (what?)
Ask him if he's ever cast a spell in his sleep.
And next time, just cast spells during the day.

Writing!

“Do you cast spells in your sleep, Ed?”

“What?” he asks, a bit taken back. “Uh, no. That'd be impossible. Maybe if I could cast naturally, I guess, but I have to use components and proper verbal commands. Too complex to do in my sleep or subconsciously.”

“Alright, well, make sure to just cast spells during the day, alright?” Ed nods in absent-minded assent.

You go to inspect the scorch marks and are a bit puzzled by their location. You look to Ed and he just stands on his tiptoes for a second and doesn't give you much in the way of facial cues.

You decide to satisfy your curiosity. You lay down in Ed's bed and point your arms straight up. Sure enough, it doesn't line up with the scorch marks. They're much further down the bed, far from directly above where the head would usually lie. You scoot your way down the bed until your legs are hanging off the end of it at the knees and only then are your outstretched arms roughly aligned with where the scorch marks are.

“This is an odd way to lie down in your bed, Ed. This is uncomfortable for me. And you're seven inches taller. This would be unbearably painful for you to just lie down and cast up. Half your body would be out of the bed.”

You sit up. Huh, much more comfortable. “Were you sitting up?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he sort of shrugs as he says it.

“You told me you were lying down,” Rowe chimes in.

“Lying down, sitting up, does it matter? I casted Lightning Bolt at the ceiling, you can plainly see. Won't happen again. I promise,” he huffs.

Muffin doesn't smell anything from around the bed. Not even Ed's scent. Which is weird.

>Alright, back to bed
>Investigate (how?)
>Ask Ed something (what?)

>>46573569
>investigate
Put our hand out for a shake, then grab Ed's hand and give him a light cut to see the color of his blood.

Writing!

>>46573937
Also, roll me a perception check of 1d100, +10

Rolled 69 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46574004

Rolled 15 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46574004

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>46574004

“Sorry about all the hassle man, I'm just jumpy is all,” you tell him.

“It's cool. Sorry about the disturbance,” Ed assures you.

“Alright, well good night,” you say as you stick your hand out to shake. As he extends his own, you grab his hand and pull it towards you, quickly drawing the blade of your saber across his arm as lightly as you can manage.

Still, he yelps in pain and recoils, red droplets of blood spraying from the minor wound.

“You fucker!” Ed shouts as he holds his wound. “The fuck was that for.”

“Making sure you weren't a doppelganger, I apologize,” you tell him as you step up and apply a quick divine fix to his arm.

“Well I'm not. God dammit Alan,” Ed shakes his arm out. “Are we done interrogating me now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Try to get some sleep.”

“You too. I apologize for the disturbance,” he mutters after you.

You and Rowe exit your dorm and begin the walk back to bed. As you do so however you realize your hand feels a bit . . . wet. You look down at it and roll the moisture around in your hand. It's the hand you shook Ed's with. You sniff it a bit and it's . . . musky. It certainly isn't semen, thank The Great Will for that. But it is . . . weird.

>Leave well enough alone, wash your hand
>Investigate!

>>46574799
>Investigate!
Something's not right. Is Ed using some kind of new soap?
Or is it a flesh golem of some kind.

>>46574799
>>Investigate!

>>46574799
>>Investigate!
Spooky.

Writing!

Oh for Christ sakes it's lube, eds being doing the dirty or something it doesn't matter, he ain't a Doppler so just go to bed

No, you can't just leave this alone. This is weird. This is not right. You need to analyze this. You cast detect magic on it. Nothing, not even a trace. Which means it's all-natural.

(Something important going on in your hand, Alan?) You look up to see Rowe critically judging how fascinated you are with your hand.

You stop walking and turn to her. “Some odd residue came off of Ed and onto my hands when I grabbed him. It is gross and intriguing.”

Rowe looks at your hand inquisitvely before grabbing it and inspecting it thoroughly. She eventually leans in and sniffs, before recoiling.

(Woo, that's pungent) she thinks. (Probably . . . pheromones?)

“Pheremones?!” you ask tryin to ascertain if she's being serious or not.

(Maybe? Orc pheremones? Gilda was telling me Island orcs were rather different biologically, maybe Ed's starting to develop a few of their physical characteristics.)

“That sounds like something out of those trashy porn novels Gabby reads.”

(I don't know Alan, maybe it's fucking tree sap. They're part plant matter and they're an aggressive species at that. If Quissonce no longer needs to sleep maybe Ed's starting to leak all over the place in an effort to spread his roots, so to speak. Or maybe I'm taking blind shots in the dark. He might just do that whenever he feels threatened from now on.)

Huh.

The fuck was Ed doing?

>Any ideas? (write-in)

I'm writing the next section regardless.

>>46575718
Not smelling like Ed is a weird thing.

>>46575718
I got no ideas. How about we consult some of the others?

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The next morning comes to you by way of a very early knock on the door. Rowe's still asleep, but you've been up for some time praying, studying and . . . breathing. You always breathe, obviously, but now it feels even easier than before although it wasn't particularly difficult in the first place. Everything seems much more natural about your body. You feel something about your center of gravity. It feels lower to the ground and charged with strength. It's complicated to process but the end result is you are much more in control of what your body can and will do.

And right now it's answering the door, granting your lover at least a few more moments of rest. You are greeted with the visage of a visitor you've never seen before. He startles ever so slightly at the sight of you, before it melts into quizzical bewilderment.

“I apologize, I thought this was Rowena's room,” he tells you.

“It is. I'm her lover,” you explain.

“Ah,” he comments, with an undertone of disdain in his voice. “I didn't realize blatant fraternization was being allowed now by this institution. And who, may I ask, are you?”

“Alan Rodain,” you tell him.

“Ah!” he exclaims, letting the blatant scorn drip away. “I'm looking for you as well. I am Azdor, Magister of the Circle and I've recently returned to take up my post once more. The remaining magisters, Flid Havrang and myself, are having a meeting about the direction the Circle must take in the coming days later this afternoon. Both you and your . . . lover are invited to join us.”

So this is the wizard who's a part of Irontide's delving group.

>We'll be there
>Something else? (write-in)

>>46576751
>>We'll be there
How nice.

>>46576751
>>Something else? (write-in)
are we allowed to bring our friends?

>>46576833
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iy0SEaUHlSE

>>46576937
now i'm just terrified Bane's going to walk into the meeting and kill everyone.

>>46576751
>We'll be there
>Other: is this to be an internal Circle matter? Perhaps with the depeleted numbers, Quissonce should attend as well.

Writing!

“Is this an internal matter?”

“Completely.”

“Then, may I suggest inviting –”

“Quissonce, Eve and Ed to the meeting?” Azdor cuts you off. “Yes, the entirety of your gang with any speck of magical acumen is invited.” He spits the words out like an accusation.

You stare at each other. And then he chuckles and relaxes, putting his hands up in surrender.

“I'm sorry. I tend to overreact to stupid suggestions from my lessers about the obvious. But I digress. I know you've encountered Dart and let me be the first to apologize for whatever buffoonish antics she has subjected you to in her primitive territorial concerns. I have had enough of anxious friction between our two 'factions' and I find nepotism in all its forms rather dull-minded so the next time you feel the need to advocate for your friends . . .” he trails off for a moment, “don't.”

And Azdor turns on his heels and walks away. “We'll be there!” you shout after him.

You're not looking forward to this meeting.

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That afternoon, Flid Havrang gathers the five of you and brings you all up to the meeting room on the sixth floor of the Circle. Food and drinks are provided at a small side table and eight chairs are set out around a large, stone circular table. Seven of the chairs are of a plush, purple color while an eighth is made of golden vines. Flid and Azdor sit to the right and left of the Archmage's chair while the rest of you sit nervously and anxiously in your seats across from them, awaiting the news.

“So,” Flid begins, “with the unfortunate loss of most of our upper echelon and our Archmage absent we need capable people to take up the reigns of leadership. We have come to the belief that the five of you, considering your accomplishments during the siege of Seaside, have proven you've earned consideration for that right.”

“Despite the fact that some of you are woefully unskilled, magically speaking,” Azdor opines.

Flid looks at Azdor like he just pissed in his cereal.

“Anyway,” Flid continues, “This is mainly a formality, but to be inducted as a Circle Magister, the current Circle Magisters must review and approve any potential members. Azdor, I recommend and approve these five individuals: Eve, Alan, Quissonce, Ed and Rowe.”

“I second your recommendations,” Azdor states, “For Eve, Alan, Ed and Rowe.”

There is a moment of silence in the room as everyone slowly realizes Azdor neglected to mention a certain person's name. A certain giddy person whose smiling face belies the rising panic.

Flid closes his eyes and sighs before putting his face in his hand. “You also second Quissonce's recommendation as well, correct?”

“No.”

“Azdor, you fuckstick!” Flid shouts like a striking cobra. “You told me –”

“I saw no reason to cancel this event because I did not approve of one of five candidates.”

>Why not Quissonce?
>Something else? (write-in)
>I'm not joining if Quissonce isn't
>She helped save the city
>Say nothing

>>46578441
>>Why not Quissonce?
>She helped save the city

>>46578441
>Why not Quissonce?

>>46578441
at the end of his explanation

>I'm not joining if Quissonce isn't

Writing!

>>46578566
What? No, that makes it more difficult for Quissonce to be made a magister later.
She'd get support from everyone else and overrule Azdor if everyone else became magisters.

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“Why not Quissonce?” you ask, actually confused. Quissonce is probably the one most worthy of being some high ranking member of this place.

“She's a necromancer and a diabolist,” Azdor mentions casually.

“I am not a necromancer!” Quissonce exclaims, offended.

Azdor sighs and then lazily points with his quill towards her. “What are you wearing right now?”

Quissonce looks down and grimaces, noticing she's wearing the robe of bones. That thing has a strong necromantic aura. “We found this in a temple. And I don't use it.”

“You have a pet ghoul,” Azdor continues.

“He's not a pet! And I'm trying to cure him.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Quissonce narrows her eyes as she stares at Azdor. She knows what he wants her to say.

“You summon devils –”

“I summoned one devil –”

“And that is more devils than anybody else currently sitting at this table. Now, I understand why YOU might think you deserve to join or why your friends might think you deserve to join, but Flid, really,” Azdor turns to his sorcerous counterpart, looking at him like he was a mentally retarded puppy.

“You and the cabal of idiots Essentia decided to surround herself with overlooked minor details like that when you allowed Stephen onto this council and now ninety casters are DEAD, the majority of our supplies are GONE and all of our books and research materials are DESTROYED!"

"This isn't even to mention the case of that Chant fellow who was sacrificing orc children. I've spoken with Blackburn about this travesty of an organization and quite frankly I think he's glad most of us are dead. He obviously can't trust us to look after ourselves and with a much thinner herd he needs less spies. Or babysitters. If we're going to rebuild we need a solid base and that means discarding the fouler disciplines. No necromancy. No diabolism. No demonology.”

Flid shakes his head. "Well you've said your piece Azdor. Your opinion is noted. And you've certainly made an ass out of yourself today.”

“Stick and stones may break my bones” Azdor rhymes, “But my words can always kill you, Flid.”

“Fuck off Azdor, you sound like a bratty ten year old. Quissonce, if you wish to be reconsidered you can apply to be inducted six moths from today. As for the rest of you, do you accept your positions as Circle Magisters?”

>Yes
>No

>>46579379
>>Yes
We don't have to use it, but being a circle magister might be useful.

>>46579379
So it's
Agree to join and use our influence to get Quissonce in the Circle later
or
We decline, won't be considered for the position, and the Circle is understaffed?

If we jump onboard without Quissonce, can we overturn Azdor's decision?

>>46579379
>Yes
Because the more Magisters are on Quissonce's side, the better. And we'll need the resources here to plan to kill Azdor.

>>46579505
It seems like there's a cooldown period between considerations and you need over 50% of the council to agree.

Which mean you can, but in half a year's time.

>>46579536
Is resignation a thing? What are the rules for that?

>>46579555
You can just quit. But then you're never allowed to join again.

Writing!

Eve leans over to whisper to Quissonce. Quissonce nods her head assenting to whatever Eve asked, obviously trying to remain composed. You can see she's trying to hold back tears of disappointment.

“Yeah, I'll take it,” Eve says, disgruntled.

“I accept,” you state, echoing Eve's sentiment.

Rowe comes back from the food table, munching on crackers and gives a half-assed thumbs up.

“I appreciate the consideration,” Ed says, “But I really can't accept. I was with Quissonce for the entirety of that tragedy and, uh, I probably would be dead without her. So, when there's a council that recognizes her heroism, then and only then will I join. Thank you though.”

Flid nods curtly in response to Ed's rejection. You look to Ed and see that he's holding Quissonce's hand. Squeezing it reassuringly. She smiles ever so faintly at the physical contact.

(Huh.) You turn to look at Rowe and see she's noticed that little moment as well.

“What's up?” you whisper to her as she hands you a few grapes to munch on.

(Just, uh, thought of something.)

Flid gets up and shakes Ed's hand and Quissonce's hand and gently escorts them both out of the room, talking with them in private, probably apologizing profusely.

“What?” you ask, rolling the grape around in your mouth.

Ed and Quissonce give a short goodbye to Flid and walk out of sight, still holding hands.

(Quissonce knows how to cast Lightning Bolt.)

Flid returns and sits down, pulling out a large book and starts the meeting in earnest. You cock your head as you stare quizzically at your lover. She shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth.

(But maybe I'm just taking blind shots in the dark.)

>End of Thread
I will most likely run this next time on Saturday. https://twitter.com/TrickQM

>>46580318
and the mystery is solved.

Thanks for running Trick.

>>46580318
Also, if we can, try and assure Quissonce that we'll try and get her in the Circle.