Chinook wrecks havoc. Log so far is incomplete, since I had to crash.

 

Announcement: Chinook shouts, "Anyone who wants to see Sandy tortured should come to Sandy's place!"

<Meet> You offer to meet Chinook.

Lady Sandiel's Manor - Courtyard

    Stone and mortar walls, standing about two and a half feet tall, enclose the wide, desolate courtyard. Passing years have left the stones weathered, once sharp edges rounded by wind and rain, their craggy surfaces smoothed by the forces of nature. The mortar in between the stones crumbles away, every breeze taking a little more, until some of the stones seem to hold more by luck and habit than design.

    The flagstone pavement has seen better days. Dirt, ground into the pores of stone leaves a dingy wash, no matter the scrubbing, and cracks wind through the whole, sometimes crumbling away entire corners. The outer walls of the castle bear the same faint, dingy stain, giving the whole a marbled appearance. The courtyard is empty, but for a ragged circle of stone enclosing a small patch of withered grass. The tree within, though, shows surprising life against the faded exterior surrounding it. Thick and gnarled, its trunk easily tops the guard wall, reaching up higher than the door which leads within the castle, the tree itself easily ten feet in height. Twisted branches reach to the sky, the thick profusion of glossy leaves throwing a flickering shadow on the ground beneath it.

    The front of the manor faces the courtyard. Built of the same weathered stones as the low wall surrounding the courtyard, the manor rises two full stories, narrow turrets at each corner. Narrow slits in the wall allow those inside to look out, but are too shadowed, and too high to allow any to look inside. A wide door, looking sturdier than any other part of the edifice, allows entrance to the manor. Built of thick, wooden planks stained dark brown and banded in blackened steel, it seems somewhat newer than the rest of building.

Contents:

Djordo

Graga

Chandrakanta

Chinook

Sandy

Obvious exits:

Manor <M>  Out <O>

"Sausages! Free sausages! Get your free sausages here!" An older man is standing near the entrance to Sandy's place with a tray of sausages. He's already attracted a small crowd of people who are interested in an early-morning snack.

"What the fuck is all that racket?" asks Sandy, irritably. She's busy building WEAPONS to kill ogres with, dammit! She does not need someone selling sausages this close to her gate! Of course, she's inside her house at the moment and snarling a lot about the gathering crowd. For the moment.

The morning might be clear, the sun might be bright and shining, but so are a certain sith'makar's features. He rides along with Graga, and seeing the vendor, halts Srassha from the roadside and points, saying something too far away to be overheard. The intent is clear--and the intent...is food. Laughing, he nudges the swift down towards the grasses, though as he does, he looks more alert. "Watch out...one hears she has the devil himself on her property..."

Djordo has reconnected.

"Sausages! Free sausages! Get your free sausages here!" An older man is standing near the entrance to Sandy's place with a tray of sausages. He's already attracted a small crowd of people who are interested in an early-morning snack. (re)

Ugh, street meat. That certainly isn't why Chandra's here. She seems to have come from the direct of her families home, escaping the obligations and guilt trip at this ugly hour. There are other signs of the visit to her parents, the veil that covers her hair and a crumpled letter in her hand.

Djordo takes off his hat, coming up to the sausage-monger with an eager look on his face. "Free sausages, eh?" He hefts his coinpurse. "How much? Can I get a discount if I only get two? Or do you want me to buy four, and give a bulk rate?"

A little girl--not Ganesa or Samantha, for once--skips up the path with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, in full view of those buying sausages. She promptly knocks on Sandy's door.

"They're free, son, but only one per customer," the man says, laughing and handing over a sausage inna bun. He has, perhaps, created that rule upon spotting Darshan in the crowd.

Srassha interrupts Djordo by shoving her nose past him--drool falls liberally onto the druid's shoulder, and the swift, grabbing reign in hand-like claws, shuffles forward to come eyeball-to-eyeball with the older man. "Ruuuuhhh..." she says, and clearly expects him to understand, by the bright, eager look on her face. Her rider eyes her, and yanks hard on the rein--it of course, has no effect.

"Who?" Graga, terse as usual. He's obtained a horse for getting around the city, somewhere. It's not difficult to guess where, given who's paying him wages these days. "Is your beast trying to eat people again?" Fortunately the horse looks to be a placid and phlegmatic creature.

Djordo happily takes his for-free sausage, and considers it carefully. "Very well then my good fellow, how much do I owe you for the bun?" The joke is ended abruptly by the entrance of Srassha, who makes her presence known and unforgettable in very short order. "Whoah there! You'll get your turn!" He holds his sausage up and away, defensively.

For her part, Sandy is doing her best to ignore all of this. That is, until there's a knock on the door. Sandy's servants are *mostly* off today. It's, after all, the last day of the week. This leaves her to go down and open the door herself. (Probably because its funnier that way.) Anyways, she opens the door and looks down at the little girl.

Djordo has partially disconnected.

Chandrakanta looks at the grill the man is using to heat the meat, "Here, use this to keep your fire burning." She offers over the crumpled paper in her hand. Making sure to rip it into a few pieces before handing it over. She skips the offered sausages.

"Ruuuh-ruh...ruuuh!" the swift 'says,' and looks in plain earnest at the sausage Djordo holds. Looking irritated, Darshan reaches forward to grasp hold the rein. Inches, inches...he leans forward, the look determined, hand outstretched. The little girl earns little more than a glance. The reign, and Srassha, angry looks. "She...no, mrm. One believes one cleared her of that--habit!" grab. And, back around swings the head, with drool dropping onto the grass again. 'You are no fun,' that look says. 'You are a fuddy-duddy.'

The sausage man...let's call him, oh, say, Dubbler...laughs and winks at Djordo. "Not much gets past you, does it, son?" He's then confronted by Srassha. "One per customer," he says, holding a sausage out in front of the swift's muzzle before tossing it up and away, trying to get her to go running after it. Only then does he take the paper from Chandra, feeding it promptly into the flames.

"For you!" the little girl says, holding up the bouquet of flowers, and looking cute.

Flowers? Really? Flowers? Sandy looks horrified about this. She hates flowers. They are the spawn of the devil! So are little girls, actually. Sandy eyes theose gathered over by the gate to her estate, pauses for a moment. "The fuck?" She asks, no doubt causing said little girl to be horrified by her language. She reaches out to take the basket. "Yeah, here kid." She hands her a copper coin as a tip. Pauses. Looks down at the flowers. "..I am going to murder someone. Slowly."

The little girl giggles, too young to know what swearing is. "'Fanks!" she says, beaming at Sandy before turning around to run away. Sandy is left holding flowers.

"Perhaps a few more beatings, to be certain," suggests the orc. Graga leans forward to eye the sausages the liazrd is after. Without comment he sits back up. "That elf looks familiar." The comment goes with a tilt of his head towards Sandy. "I think I may have visited this house, once, as well. All these stone walls here look the same."

Chandrakanta turns away from the vendor, just in time to see the little one running away and Sandy holding the flowers. She stops, giving herself a pinch before she laughs. Oh, yes, the Veyshanti laughs, "Secret admirer?" She queries those around.

Djordo takes a bite of his sausage, hopefully getting to keep at least one of the bites before the swiftie takes the rest, or learns to make puppy eyes and connive it out of him. "You should teach her some tricks," he says, "then I'd let her earn it--can she sit?" He turns around to watch the scene with Sandy and the flowers.

YANK! the swift's half about before the slower rider catches her--a firm pressure on the rein turns her back around, but her tail lashes now. Displeasure, anger. He backs her up from the group, Darshan does, but the look of the elf collecting flowers is enough to cause anyone distraction. "What the..." a look at Graga, then, "The Lady Sandiel," he says, wryly, "And I'm afraid...someone wishes a hug to Vardama, mrm, or the world just went mad. ...does it suddenly appear a different color, to you?" He mutely shakes his head to Djordo, but it doesn't appear he'd quite heard it the first time around. Srassha, meanwhile, eyes the spot where the sausage lies.

Once the girl is out of sight, Sandy casually pulls a flower out of the basket and stomps on it repeatedly. "*hate* fucking pretty flowers.. fucking.." She then pauses. Looks towards the gate. Someone is going to pay. Oh yes.

Speaking of the gate, there are...more people coming in. More girls with baskets of flowers. They're all heading toward the elf. Worse, there's suddenly a halfling girl behind Sandy--who knows how she got in. "For you!" she says, scattering rose petals on the carpet as she makes good her escape.

Those who are at the sausage cart may notice a wagon headed in this direction.

"The elf is crushing the flowers. Is that your sign of madness?" The orc's horse doesn't care for the swift's display and takes a step to the side. Graga grunts, though presumably not at the horse's movement. He's quite able to handle himself in a saddle. "I think this admirer will be disappointed. Or is destroying gifts the way among elves?"

Chandrakanta arches a brow, this may be too much for the Averite, "What? Do you think this is from Moonflowers father? Is he wooing Sandy?" After all who else would dare go this far, "Being a hero might have gone to his head.." She begins to look around for wayward elves in the trees.

It's a good thing Sandy d oesn't quite hear Chandrakanta's comments. But as more flowers arrive, there are soon too many for her to crush. She pauses. She looks slowly in horror at the number of children and the wagon coming this way. Rising horror. "Oh gods," she says, "..all right. Who did this? Who's behind this?!" Her pitch is rising.

Djordo thinks a moment, chewing, and off-handedly tossing the sausage to the swiftclaw. "Moonflower is the loremistress, yes? I didn't feel this is her father's normal way of getting attention--though it's certainly not my place to speak on such matters," he says, regarding the scene, and glancing towards the incoming wagon. "I wonder what's in there."

The children begin, as much as they can, to run around Sandy's legs and into her house, where the flowers are thrown willy-nilly into rooms. Then...then they run back to the wagon (which is driven by a kindly-looking old man instead of a cute kid) in order to...re-stock. Yes. The wagon is filled with flowers. And...are those *more* wagons, on the way?

"Yes, the loremistress." Chandra adjusts the veil she's wearing, best hide her face, "It might not be, but ever since he became a hero.. who knows what is possible." She looks towards the wagon that is moving towards Sandy's estate.

"Mrm...it seemed to go red there, for a moment," the sith'makar says, and then the flowers appear to grow, multiply, in size. Or number. He stills, and eyes them as one would eye a, "...one is very glad to hear you see them also, Graga. For a while there, I was sure I'd gone mad." And a long pause, a longer one, and a trace of a grin. "She is." And then the grin vanished, replaced by one of disbelief.

Sandy blinks her eyes at this. Slowly. She very, almost somewhat dazedly, makes her way towards the gates as the wagons go rolling by. There's really nothing to be done about this. Oh, she's certainly flailing, cussing, and otherwise acting up a storm at the moment. "Who?" She asks, very tightly. "...there shall be vegeance. Swift, brutal, bloody vengeance."

Graga shakes his head. "I do not understand this custome. Humans and elves do not eat flowers, so why give them dead flowers?" He gestures at the scene. "The smell, alone." A snort. "I do not think she will be nearly so pleased when she has to gather up all the wilted petals."

Djordo raises a finger to make a minor correction. "They're not dead yet. You can actually grow an entirely new plant from many types if you let it grow some little roots in water. If she's smart about it," he says, demonstrating the process of planting in pantomine, "She could actually get more flowers out of this than she started with."

Darshan laughs, "One doesn't think she's pleased /now/." And he looks over that way, towards the wagon and the smiling, grandfatherly fellow, and the flowers, and the little girls... "Excuse me. We should probably go and prevent a murder," wry. And he hauls the still-focused Srassha around--she /protests/, eyeing the food, of course.

More wagons roll up, and now adults begin carrying armloads of flowers into Sandy's house, along with all of the cute children.

It's about then that a carriage rolls up, and out jumps...Ganesa. "What's happening, Darshan?" she demands of the lizard.

The sausage man, seeing Darshan's mount's distress, walks over and picks up the sausage on the ground to feed to her.

"I don't think she really wants more flowers.." Chandra says, stepping back into the shadows to observe things a little more subtly. "but I might possibly be wrong.." Nevermind what Sandy is saying about her hate for flowers.

This is...truly horrifying to Sandy. There are no words. NO WORDS. She can't even begin to speak. She even looks like she might cry from the horror of it all. "Gods, no," she manages to finally croak. There will be a slow death. SLOW DEATH.

"Prevent a murder," Graga echoes. One can almost see him mentally weighing the options. The orc doesn't move. "Someone must be happy. I think even here so many flowers will not be cheap." One of the wagon drivers eyes the orc. The orc eyes the driver. There's no attempt to ask the orc to move. "Do not look so glum," he adds to Darshan. "At least she has no flowers for you."

"YOU--" and he stares at her, Darshan does, stares at that mischief-demon of a tiny child. Stares at--"I left you in Myrridion," he says. And to Graga, "I left her in Myrridion! Did you suddenly gain the ability to /teleport/? Some, unknown mischief? Some--" he groans, and clambers down from the saddle. Srassha takes off, running towards the vendor and the tasty sausages Sandy has in her lawn, and leaves her rider there.

It is, at least, wildflower season...and it looks as if many of the flowers have been hand-picked, and not particularly carefully arranged. Regardless, Sandy's house is slowly filling up with flowers before the elf's eyes. This probably has something to do with Whitebone.

"This may be a bit much even for Atar." Chandra decides, she begins to wave down one of the people guiding the wagons to Sandy's house.

Djordo looks between Darshan and his young charge, and thinks for a minute. "Well, now that she's here, you don't think she'd like to play with the flowers, do you? Surely more fun than hand grenades--and safer too. Though I worry about the other powderkegs in the area," he says, conspiratorially, glancing towards the gates.

"It was -boring- there, Darshan," Ganesa whines. "Aunt doesn't *do* anything. So I got into your trunk again. Why are there so many flowers? Can I go play in them? Please, please, can I go play with the flowers?"

Graga grunts. "It is fortunate that the people are not my concern. Clearly you did not leave her as successfully as you thought." He leans forward again, casually. "The shaman said often that there are many plants that are poison. How many of those weeds are poisonous, do you think?"

Oh gods. Ganesa is here.

 

 Sandy just looks even more horrified. She's also coming to the conclusion it was Whitebone. "...I am going to kill that Naga," she intones after a moment. "But why would she send *flowers*?!" She grimaces, sinking in defeat to the stone fence. Flowers. So many flowers. SO much hate.

She's so, so, *so* not paying attention to anyone else too much at the moment.

"...boring," the sith'makar says, and grumbling, crouches down to pick her up. It's an age-old trick, a very old trick, used by parents everywhere, though he is not, and this is not, and the child in question is of a different species. Her feet are lifted off the ground, and perhaps, just perhaps he gains a slight advantage should she decide to run away again. "Boring. No, you may not run in the flowers," and he looks at Graga and Djordo as he says it, the look distracted--and then a sharp look at Sandy. As though putting two and two... "Sandy. Those might have had poison on them."

If they do, there's going to be a lot of dead little children here in a moment or two. "My girls picked these themselves, there's nothing wrong with them," the old man in the wagon calls, sounding a little upset that anyone would suggest he had put poison on them.

"No, they're not fucking poison. I wish they *were* though. At least then they'd be useful." Sandy scowls, darkly, still slumped. Oh, the bitterness of DEFEAT.

Djordo moves to the wagon and plucks one of the flowers out of an adults bundle, and sniffs it tentatively as he heads back towards the sausage vendor. "Seems like a normal flower to me," he says, knitting the stem through a button loop on his shirt and placing it to rest quite nicely and fragrantly "And quite lovely too! I'm sure they'll smell wonderful for the next week or so, until they begin to fade. These wildflowers are tenacious little spirits," he says with Druidy pride.

Graga squints. He reaches over to punch Darshan in the shoulder, in case the sith is not listening. "What is a naga?"

It's then, in the midst of the flowers and the children and the defeat, that there's a flash of light that leaves behind *quite* the after-image. Why, if no one knew any better, it would look like a skeletal snake with a human head and a flying, many-headed mutated starfish/vargouille had just appeared in the middle of the flowers.

Whitebone looks around, blinking at the presence of all the people, and the flowers. "...What the fuck?" she asks. And then she begins laughing, forgetting to take the opportunity to cast a spell.

Valeska enters from Vardeth Way.

Valeska has arrived.

"You! This is you're doing!" Sandy races right towards Whitebone. "You're going to die! Again! Finally! For real, this time, Whitebone!" She rushes straight towards her and leaps directly at her, drawing a shining, glowing sword! She drives the blade down in a slash towards this undead creature, cutting into bone as if it were flesh and then beaming at her. "Say hello to my little friends. Dawnbreak, say hello to Whitebone," she says to the sword.

 

 A polite voice from the blade: "Hello, Whitebone!"

Valeska was coming over to her respected colleague's house! She had a pillow and other things on her floating utility cart, such as blueprints and such. But what the blazes was going on here?! She gasps, running in to see.

Djordo seems remarkably surprised to see the VOMPing into reality of a giant hideous creature and the equally hideous undead snake person monster thing. "Egads! Children, inside or away! Now!" He dispenses with his usual flash and begins concentrating on a point in the air, summoning spell coming without fanfare as a few lights twinkle and nothing more. He looks sideways to the adults near the wagons, thinking quickly. "Tarienites, do we have any holy water with us, for the flowers, or in the wagons? If not--we could use some backup! Or your the pies, at the least!"

Making a keening noise, the mutant-starfish-thingie flies across the intervening space, getting between Sandy and Whitebone. All five of its heads dart down, and all five come back with mouthfuls of elf-flesh. Whitebone...continues to laugh.

Whitebone is laughing. "I didn't do this!" she crows. "But I *will* do...Maugrim's dick in a sling, now I know how everyone feels when they're fighting *me*," she says as her spell fizzles on Sandy's hide.

Darshan'd been about to say, 'don't run in the flowers,' he'd been about to say--he'd been about to say alot of things, but what comes out instead is strangled, half words a paladin shouldn't say and he shoves the little girl behind him. "Ganesa...Lady Valeska is setting an admirable example of what a young lady should do in this type of situation. Please GO FOLLOW HER EXAMPLE!" and the sword comes out, and a word to Daeus--and the blade strikes home.

The fill-Sandy's-house-with-flowers game is no longer fun. The children are running as fast as they can, into the house or away, away from the huge monsters. "I have a couple, but I don't think they'll help much," Dubbler says, opening up the bottom of his sausage holder to reveal four holy-water pies. The old man in the wagon, not a member of the conspiracy, apparently, is trying to get down from the wagon in order to run.

It's fortunate that the orc doesn't fight from horseback since it would probably take him a goodly while to convince this particular horse to get close to the fighting. Graga slides off the beast and moves in, bracing himself to draw his weapon and strike in one smooth motion. A pity that style isn't everything. At least a few of the flowers are now very, very crushed. And the flagstone beneath them is likely cracked, in the bargain.

"Ha!" Sandy yells when the spell fizzles on her person, then she promptly turns around and lifts her bracer up, aiming to return the favor back to Whitebone. A blast of cold, icy shards spray out onto Whitebone to... absolutely no effect.

 

 "...dammit!"

Djordo's magic coils in the air, and he focuses it above the crazed starfish beast. The magic spiral ripples outward as a small bubble appears inside it, and the form of a Hippogriff appears, and the magic bubble seems to implode to invisibility. The noble creature lets out a cry, it's feathers and fur tinged in the orange and green of Tarien's flock, as it turns it's wrath without hesitation towards the beast under it--latching on viciously. The Druid, for himself, creates a handful of green fire and prepares to use it.

Valeska rushes out of the house, only to nearly bump into Ganesa. She was fully clad in half her things, which were stored inside. If only her new secret weapon was complete though! With her instruments in hand, she tries to identify what the heck is going on, shielding the little girl. "Go fetch something that looks like a weapon! Inside!" she shoos at her, drawing her aether pistol. She points the brass thing at what surely should not be here, that evil Whitebone person she's met once perhaps!

 

Though blades rip into the flying mutant starfish thing, it distends all of its jaws and...screams. Screams an unearthly scream that freezes most of the children, the old man, the Tarienite priest...and a few of the adventurers in place. Whitebone cackles in glee when she sees the elf stop moving. "KISS HER!" she...well, only her mouth can be seen moving over the horrible, horrible sound that is coming from the mouths of the terror.

Once the creature's noise has died down a little bit, Whitebone crows with delight. "Kiss her!" she shrieks, pointing with the tip of her tail at Sandy. Turning to see others that could potentially stop the monster from doing so, she points at Graga instead and intones words in Draconic. Whatever she tried to do, however, he manages to shake off.

Darshan finds a battlefield frozen in place, people frozen in time--and him in the middle of it, with the creature still screaming, its mouths waving, cruelly in the air. And then he's snatching kids, stiff, little kids, and piling them into Srassha's saddle. Somehow, she stands still to let him do it. One, two--all little girls. It's not exactly a pony ride. But it'll do.

One of the disgusting heads with the distended mouth, jagged teeth, and dripping saliva...begins to kiss Sandy. Yes, french-kiss the elf. This is clearly Sandy's best day ever. Whitebone crows in triumph, even as the monster can barely defend itself against Graga.

The orc reels from the noise, perhaps even cries out, but that's lost to the screams if that's the case. Graga shakes his head and then shakes himself again after whatever it is Whitebone wanted to do passes over him. "Graargh!" The shout is in true orcish fashion and is followed by two stout blows to the creature. All these screeches and magic appears to have done wonders for his focus.

Valeska Can only watch in horror!

Sandy is horrified. Because she really has good reason to be. Also, she can't move. She's really, really, really traumitized and is going to have nightmares forever.

"Ooops. Time to go. Next time I'll be sure to scry before I come," Whitebone promises, rising into the air. She can't seem to help herself, though--she has to cast one final spell at Sandy. This one seems to get past the elf's natural defenses, but...doesn't seem to do anything else. "Well, balls," the naga says.

Srassha RUNS, runs, taking off, her legs eating the ground towards the house and taking the children with her. The poor kids, poor lizard--it's not a pony ride, but it'll do. The rider stays behind, aiming blade again, again--and this one hits, the shrieking, gibbering terror falling over. He snarls something, too, but he's too distracted, busy for words.

Graga looks at the naga, floating on up into the air, and then looks at his weapon. After another look at the naga he lifts the maul and swings it back, twisting his torso, and then twists back around with enough force that he spins in place. Just before he turns about himself he releases the hammer. By dint of luck, or perhaps even divine intervention, it strikes the skeletal being. What goes up must come down, and so does the big maul. It lands not a foot from Djordo's foot.

This is like the worst day ever.

 

 No, really. it's the worst day. First there were the flowers and little children. That was bad enough. Then there was Graga and Djordo and Darshan here -- not to mention Chandrakanta -- and *That* made it even worse! And then, of course, there was Whitebone. And that thing with her! That made it even WORSE! And then it KISSED HER! And then it was even WORSE. And then? -Whitebone- had the temerity to try to make her stupid again. That bitch is gonna pay!

 

 So Sandy gets this idea. Her eyes gleam with a terrible evil and she reaches into her pouch and produces a pair of statuettes. She hurls one directly at the Naga. "Hey, Whitebone! Catch!" Of course, after a day like this, one couldn't blame her for having a slightly less sure arm than she normally does and the wily naga is able to duck out of the way of the... hey, wait. Is that a flying goat?

 

 It's a flying goat. It suddenly became a flying goat (flying because its hurtling through the air in the same arc the statuette was thrown in) on its way at her. It arcs some more and sails right past the no doubt somewhat surprised naga.

 

 It flies. It flies going 'baaaah! baaah!'

 

 And then it... lands on Darshan. No, really.

 

 It totally just lands DIRECTLY on top of the lizard. Crunch.

 

 Then it bites his face. Just because. Clang.

 

 Sandy stares at this. Well, Darshan suffering made her day a little better.

"...well, that's not so bad as misses go," mutters Sandy.

Darshan stares at the thing--instinct tells him to open his mouth, stupid instinct gets him a mouthful of greasy, gnarly goat fur.

And then he's down. Shoved underneath the goat.

 

Djordo's foot lurches back from the falling weapon just in time--the maul smashing into the ground comes as the creature dies and Djordo is once again capable of movement. But his mind has been racing and planning, and his second action it to yell, "Grab it!" as his finger points--a globe of green flame bursting from his hand and exploding into a ribbon of flame that strikes the Naga just as the Hippogriff sweeps up behind Whitebone and grapples it.

 

Valeska decides to try to do something useful, hopefully! She grabs the first thing she can from her pile of things, one of her compressed chaff projectors! Aiming into the air, she depresses the plunger, spraying sticky metal shavings into the air!

 

Whitebone twists in the hippogriff's grip, high in the air. Unfortunately for her, the blind hippogriff manages to kick her tail aside at *just* the right point, and the long line of Draconic words she's spouting amounts to nothing.

 

There's creatures fussing about high in the air, his hammer's over by Djordo's foot, so... Graga pulls out a piece of plaid cloth. It's not something anyone who is not colorblind would wear, but it is - or at least looks - clean. The orc offers the handkerchief to Sandy. "You have something," he gestures about his own mouth, "there."

 

"...oh, *fuck you*, Whitebone," says Sandy. She points a finger at the naga and, in a fit of pique, apparently makes her glow. 

 

Pink.

 

*Sparkly* pink when combined with Valeksa's spell.

 

Valeska looks disheartened as her chaff spray actually goes wild. She tosses aside her spent cylinder, and decides, since she's likely to get only one last shot, to pour every bit of her accumulated arcane charge into one powerful aetherblast! With her weapon aimed carefully skywards, she fires... and drives herself into the ground. Fortunately, the beam of energy lances upwards, true to it's target!

 

Whitebone rises into the air, glaring malevolently at them all. "Next time I'll see to it that you're alone," she hisses toward Sandy. "That is, if you manage to stop yourself from turning into a vargouille." With that, and with another flash of light, the naga disappears, a few pink sparkles drifting toward the mounds of trampled flowers on the ground.

 

By DM fiat, Djordo's thrown pie? Arcs over and hits Sandy in the face, much like Sandy's goat hit Darshan. Oh yeah. Best. Day. Ever.

 

Best. Day. Ever. Sandy looks like she wants to cry.l

Graga blinks a few times and then lifts his eyebrows. A glance at his kerchief. "I think you may need a bigger cloth." He flaps the plaid square he's holding.

 

Djordo seems completely distraught as he goes to see about the terrified and possibly wounded children and others who had hoped to make a simple joke to forcibly brighten someone's day, and have it completely go awry.

 

Thankfully, no one but the adventurers seem wounded, aside from a few bruises. The children weren't targeted. However, some saw Sandy kissing the vargouille-head, and *that's* gonna cause permanent nightmares.

 

Sandy really just stands there. Looks like she wants to cry. "I need a cleric," she announces, and then turns one heel to walk away.

 

Also, to vomit. Which she does about five steps later.

 

So much for the handkerchief. Graga puts it away and goes in search of his hammer. His wounds, if they bother him at all, are ignored. It's probably in the orcish honor codex. "At the least this has stopped the flowers," he comments upon finding his weapon amongst some specimens that are now worse for wear.

 

Sandy is still vomiting. It's messy vomit. At least some of the flowers soak it up. Or not.