Posts from RPG 2 – The demons are coming!!!

I hesitated for a long time – I have urgent business... And the wounded elf can't wait. But they drew me into their dance, persuaded me, and whirled me around... Unable to resist any longer, I said: "Alright, alright... I'll gladly play with you... But first, help me!". I explained to them what ingredients I need to find here... And in an instant, 2 out of 3 of the required ones appeared... Fantastic!! Only 1 remains... this is more difficult... Because it won't appear near the source on its own... I'll have to look for it myself... But I promised the fairies – and I'm ready to keep my word!! It's a pity I can't fly like them....:rolleyes:

You were caught up in a merry dance, singing songs, laughing, and didn't notice how evening fell.
- Bye, Tanya! - Don't forget about the silver stone! - but what was surprising from the very beginning was that there were no silver stones in the spring or near it. Is this a joke? Or some kind of symbolism? Meanwhile, the moon appeared in the sky and illuminated the grove. The light played on the water's surface, as if on a harp, and the lunar melody gently flowed, cascading down onto... the Stone! The wet stone under the stream of water in the moonlight seems silver (Oh, these GMs and seers - why not just say directly: look under the wet stone:))!

What the heck, I thought. This hex... or rather, hexagram, again. I hope it's not connected to the amulet, and that... damn it! I don't want this amulet to be connected to the attack on me! And I don't want all of this to be connected to this whole mess around the stolen censer! (by the way, it occurred to me that, no matter what, it's a rather idiotic weapon).
And at the same time, I felt that it was all somehow connected. At least the amulet is almost certainly connected to the attack and the drawings.
I glanced at my captive, then at the street around us. It seems empty... I really don't want to remove the gag - not only might they notice, but this dancer might even call for help, and then, even though I was defending myself, I won't be able to prove my innocence! But at the same time, it seems there are no other ways to find out from him about the symbols on the wall...
After looking around again, I pulled the hood off the death dancer, removed the gag, and, pointing a dagger held in my uninjured right hand at him, ordered him to tell me everything about the amulet, the symbols on the wall, and their connection. The elf looked lifeless, and I was already worried that he might faint, but then...

I headed after Lyzea, and then I saw a dagger... I grabbed it and hid it under my cloak...

Such revelations stirred up a whole whirlwind of thoughts in me, made me happy and at the same time worried: I was glad that he finally started talking and that he seemed to be sane and even peaceful, but at the same time I became worried, suspecting a trap from the forces that gave the dancing amulet - it was too sudden for him to come to his senses. Maybe they just allowed it? That is, they saw everything that was happening to him, now they removed the spell, and when I relax - as they expect - he will attack me? Or do they have something more insidious in mind? Or maybe he's just pretending?
Then I decided to use my own little trick - before asking questions, I demanded that he swear that he would only tell the truth and not touch me. Even if spells were acting on him, I would notice it by the obvious internal struggle, which would inevitably happen - as I have already noted, the dancers are simply obsessed with honor, oaths, and promises.
After that, having clearly formulated in my mind everything I wanted to find out from him, I said:
- Of course, I forgive you, since you did not act of your own free will. I will not touch you and I will let you go after you tell me: who and why ordered you to kill me? Whose house is this and what were you doing in it? Did you see anything like a censer with the one who hired you - you know, a bowl on chains, used by monks? Who were you ordered to deliver the amulet to?
Speak as quickly as possible!
He stood for a moment, remembering my questions, nodded at me, and...

And yet I was glad... But now, how to remove the stone in order to find that very moon ribbon? Maybe my Dimension Door spell will work on the stone too? If I slightly reduce its power? Let's try:
-Move to where I command you to be! (I trace the direction with my gaze).

He was about to answer, but a terrible spasm seized him. Some passers-by began to glance at you sideways.
- I... I... Cup... - the dancer shrieked in pain, as if something were devouring him from within. His skin blackened more and more, the tattoos began to change color to a poisonous green, and a pungent smell of carrion hit your nose... Necromancy?! The warrior's body became covered in ulcers and, decomposing in a few moments, the dancer with death crumbled into grave dust. The people watched as the elf you held bound died under the influence of black magic.
- Necromancer! Help!
- Call the guard! - shouted the women. Some of the men stepped toward you, slowly rolling up their sleeves...

Ah, may the archdevils of Urgash take my soul! This is exactly what I feared most! — this was the second thought that hit my head with the speed of an assassin's arrow; the first, flying through with the speed of an elf hunter's arrow, was "I'm out of luck."
Switching my staff to my left hand and drawing my sword with my right (I tucked the dagger back into my sleeve), I slowly backed away, preparing a haste spell — as I felt, it might come in handy... The main thing, I told myself, is no provoking movements... They don't seem to be in a hurry — so there's no need to rush them. I'll try to reason with them instead.
I was able to make a few conclusions immediately — first, the forces possessing the elf had either left him and killed him almost instantly, or they saw through his eyes and didn't kill him to keep their secrets hidden; regardless, I would have preferred the first option. Second, someone had clearly woken the people and attracted their attention — I hadn't looked around and chosen a quiet, deserted spot for nothing; in principle, this could indicate that whoever cast the spell on the elf: a) saw everything through his eyes and b) was nearby, thus managing to drive the people here. Although, in principle, it could have been his agent, with whom he also had a mental link. Or it could have been... but enough guessing, I have more important matters at hand, namely, angry peasants.
So, I could surrender — with a high probability of being killed — I could run — best of all to the priest, who seems to trust me, could shelter me, and would most likely understand that I'm telling the truth: servants of Elrath feel truth and goodness more acutely than others. And finally, I could try to convince the peasants not to harm me and — if I'm very lucky — find something out from them.
I decided to try and convince them, and if that didn't help — summon lightning and try to bolt; it was riskier than running away immediately, but I decided to take the chance.
Quickly casting haste on myself and beginning to prepare lightning, I addressed the peasants, raising my hands to the sky for greater effect:
— Listen, brothers! Strange things are happening in this city!
— That's for sure, — one of them grimaced, a burly fellow with a club in his hands, — it's not every day Necromancers (he spat on the ground after that word) wander around here...
The growing crowd cackled in approval, but I didn't react.
— I see you have judged me quickly. But is this what Elrath, the patron of mankind, desires? Does he not want justice? And is there no longing for justice within yourselves? Before deciding whether I am a Necromancer, find out something about the situation and at least hear my side of the story!
I suspect that if they had crossbows or bows instead of clubs, they wouldn't have listened; but now, standing with short, poor weapons against a half-human with a longsword, they preferred to listen first. Not that they thought they could defeat me, no; it's just that no one wanted to take the two or three sword strikes I could land, or the spell that I, as a suspected Necromancer, had surely already prepared. Using all my powers of persuasion, I continued:
— So, it happened like this... — having come up with nothing better, I simply told them my story in brief. Finally, I said:
— If you don't believe me — here are my wounds (and I showed them my injured arm and the bloodstain on my side). If I am such a powerful Necromancer that I can kill just as easily as you think I killed this elf, I would hardly have allowed myself to be beaten like this. And wounding myself would be very strange.
I fell silent. I couldn't see the effect it had on the crowd. They were silent, thinking about something... And then another idea occurred to me, and I grasped it like a straw:
— You can call the priest here. I can't leave now anyway (and this was true, as too many people had gathered), so you needn't worry...
Having said this, I froze in anticipation, praying to Elrath and clutching the sleeve with the "lucky dagger"...

You kept running further and further, according to Lyzia, towards the exit. But suddenly, she stopped:
- I... I don't understand... There should be a turn to the right here... - the corridor turned to the left. - I'm sure it's to the right. It's an illusion! He knows we're trying to escape! I don't want to... Maybe we should go back and apologize?

The stone obediently flew into the bushes you indicated.
- Oh, damn...*elven curse*!!! Who's throwing things there? I'll come out and knock your horns off!

Tanya, note: this is a mushroom druid :D

- Let's take him to the priest!
- Yes, to the stake! - you, of course, inflicted the wounds on yourself to provide an alibi when you publicly commit murder:D But the lynching was interrupted by a huge fireball that crashed into one of the houses. The blast wave threw you back, and unfortunately, you fell right on your injured arm. A hero must have cast that powerful spell. It's not a siege anymore; it's a massacre! Demons have already infiltrated the walls and are cutting down everyone indiscriminately with their staffs. Women's cries, death screams, the sound of collapsing houses... The church bells were ringing – a fire alarm. Perhaps the priest is still alive.