They spend the next six hours sitting in the other diner, player's handbooks spread out over one of the booth tables. Jamie's hands are still shaking, and both of them turned away Jane's attempt to get food and drink in them, but they haven't been alone. Not at all - Xander and Lightning are both crammed into the seat across from them right now, reading some expanded material from some edition or another, for all that neither seems to really get the appeal of the game.
They hadn't been able to explain anything. They had not been able to compose themselves before going to meet the Champions clamoring for answers at their door. But now, after all this time, the sight of Jamie and Bolton so shaken stopped most of the surviving Champions short. No one understood what had happened, CECE said that there could be no cleanup without a new murder and a new trial, and J...Bolton had been the only thing holding J upright. Xander had stepped forward to take his elbow, and only then did he realize how badly he was shaking himself.
They couldn't explain what was wrong. No one understood what had happened, or what was in the art room. But they knew that the Overseers needed help, and Jane was the one who ran to retrieve the books that Chitanda had exclaimed over so long ago.
Most of the Champions are here now, even Thomasin, who's meticulously jotting down a note on something she's found in an index. "I...know naught of any of this," she says, her voice hesitant. "We have tales of witches, but they do not..."
She goes quiet, and Bolton smiles softly at her before returning to his reading. Magic spells and demonic transformations; the poor child shouldn't have to deal with any of this. It must be bringing back awful memories. "It's okay, Thomasin. Just having you here helps. Not everyone can be old nerds like us."
But she frowns and shakes her head firmly. "There is naught in these books of the magic I know of. But...Good - Jamie is a Sorcerer, and no Cleric, yes? This is why he cannot cast the Resurrect spell?"
"That's right." That was the first thing they'd checked, and J had castigated himself viciously for not choosing another class, so badly that Bolton had to hold his wrists until he calmed down again. But who could have predicted they'd need a cleric so badly? Besides, it's a seventh-level spell, and they'd never progressed enough in the game to level up that far. He couldn't have learned it before now no matter what.
"And he hath a..." Thomasin peers at what she's written. "A crystal focus?"
"Y-yeah." The conversation's gotten Jamie's attention, and he looks up from the book he was staring at. "It's right here."
"This sayeth that...if in need, a Sorcerer may sacrifice his crystal in order to disregard the spell table, and use more power than is his normal due. It says not what the limits may be."
Thomasin flips through the book to another section, and Togami shifts to peer over her shoulder. "It appears to be a valid strategy," he says after a moment. "It would allow you to cast a seventh-level spell, regardless of your current prepared ones. The rules do not specify that it must be a spell belonging to your class. They didn't put very much thought into it, but I can understand why. Doing that would limit your ability to cast any spells in the future - doubtless, that is why it is only in this expansion. Is this long-dead bird creature really so - "
But Jamie has vanished out the diner door, and Bolton is hurrying after him.
At this point, neither of them knows what the hell the rules are anymore. They aren't supposed to let anyone know about their own former Champion status - but they also aren't supposed to turn into dragonborns and tieflings either, and the laws of time and space would seem to forbid their dead friend's year-old corpse materializing out of nowhere. And yet.
Jamie scrabbles to a stop down the hall from the art room, tail lashing. "Wait, wait, how do I do it? What do I do? Do I have to...B, I don't know if I can go in there again, what if it doesn't work?"
"You did the lights, didn't you?" They'd thought to test that, at least, before pouring so much time into researching a way to game the rules of D&D. Jamie had waved a hand, and suddenly little fairy lights spun into being around him, shining red and violet on his scales. It would have been beautiful, under different circumstances.
"That was a cantrip, B! This is - I don't know what this is, it wasn't even in the book we were using?"
"'Twas the sorcerer's book," Thomasin adds, breathlessly catching up with them. "But there were many spells for the resurrection of the dead, you simply could not use them."
"She's right." Bolton takes Jamie's shoulders and looks into his slit-pupiled eyes. "It's Dungeons and Dragons, J. There's lots of ways to bring back PCs. I will be right here with you, and if this doesn't work, we'll find something else. You can make another arcane focus, and we'll try again."
"You must but dash your stone upon the ground, meaning it to break, and cast the spell you wish. I know not how that is done. Yet you cast the other already, it cannot be so different."
Jamie leans forward until his face is buried in the crook of Bolton's neck. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. Just...keep trying and failing. I've - " He makes a hitched noise that's almost a laugh. "I've been doing that so much already. But if I don't try, I couldn't..."
They stand like that for a long while. Eventually, with the other Champions watching from an uncertain distance, they shuffle into the art room, still holding each other. It's worse to see in person than on a screen, and Jamie slams his red crystal into the floor before either of them can think very long about it. There's a blinding light, but it's the heat of it that surprises Bolton most. It feels like Jamie's scales are on fire, but he makes no sound at all; his brow is furrowed in concentration, a faint glow trailing from his eyes. He looks so different, but Bolton stares at him, suddenly wanting to keep this picture in his memory as long as he's able, until his demon's eyes start to burn and he's forced to shut them.
The light dies as an avian screech rises. " - SHIT SHIT SHIT, GRIFFIN!" Bolton pulls Jamie out of the way just in time to avoid being clipped by a flailing wing. Easels and paint fly, and then everything goes still as the Aarakocra tries to press his whole body into a corner of the room, dark eyes wide, panting in the strange way of birds. "Griffin?" It's not a familiar voice at all, and Bolton can't remember Max ever sounding so frightened in all the time he knew him. But he knows the way one talon rises to skim over the feathers on his head, trying to run through hair that isn't there. "Hey, where are you, dude, something has gone super wrong?"
"M?" Jamie lurches forward, then halts as the birdman's big wings twitch. "Max, it's...it's me, it's Jamie!"
It's hard to tell where exactly he's looking with those barn owl eyes, but Max stares at one or both of them for a long moment. "...Jay? B?"
And then they all fly at each other, a mess of scales and horns and trying to figure out how to hug with two enormous wings in the mix. The Champions watch from the doorway, until Xander starts to herd everyone away. He doesn't know the exact reason for all these tears, but he suspects that they should be given privacy nonetheless.
in which we bullshit dnd rules are you happy now
They hadn't been able to explain anything. They had not been able to compose themselves before going to meet the Champions clamoring for answers at their door. But now, after all this time, the sight of Jamie and Bolton so shaken stopped most of the surviving Champions short. No one understood what had happened, CECE said that there could be no cleanup without a new murder and a new trial, and J...Bolton had been the only thing holding J upright. Xander had stepped forward to take his elbow, and only then did he realize how badly he was shaking himself.
They couldn't explain what was wrong. No one understood what had happened, or what was in the art room. But they knew that the Overseers needed help, and Jane was the one who ran to retrieve the books that Chitanda had exclaimed over so long ago.
Most of the Champions are here now, even Thomasin, who's meticulously jotting down a note on something she's found in an index. "I...know naught of any of this," she says, her voice hesitant. "We have tales of witches, but they do not..."
She goes quiet, and Bolton smiles softly at her before returning to his reading. Magic spells and demonic transformations; the poor child shouldn't have to deal with any of this. It must be bringing back awful memories. "It's okay, Thomasin. Just having you here helps. Not everyone can be old nerds like us."
But she frowns and shakes her head firmly. "There is naught in these books of the magic I know of. But...Good - Jamie is a Sorcerer, and no Cleric, yes? This is why he cannot cast the Resurrect spell?"
"That's right." That was the first thing they'd checked, and J had castigated himself viciously for not choosing another class, so badly that Bolton had to hold his wrists until he calmed down again. But who could have predicted they'd need a cleric so badly? Besides, it's a seventh-level spell, and they'd never progressed enough in the game to level up that far. He couldn't have learned it before now no matter what.
"And he hath a..." Thomasin peers at what she's written. "A crystal focus?"
"Y-yeah." The conversation's gotten Jamie's attention, and he looks up from the book he was staring at. "It's right here."
"This sayeth that...if in need, a Sorcerer may sacrifice his crystal in order to disregard the spell table, and use more power than is his normal due. It says not what the limits may be."
Thomasin flips through the book to another section, and Togami shifts to peer over her shoulder. "It appears to be a valid strategy," he says after a moment. "It would allow you to cast a seventh-level spell, regardless of your current prepared ones. The rules do not specify that it must be a spell belonging to your class. They didn't put very much thought into it, but I can understand why. Doing that would limit your ability to cast any spells in the future - doubtless, that is why it is only in this expansion. Is this long-dead bird creature really so - "
But Jamie has vanished out the diner door, and Bolton is hurrying after him.
At this point, neither of them knows what the hell the rules are anymore. They aren't supposed to let anyone know about their own former Champion status - but they also aren't supposed to turn into dragonborns and tieflings either, and the laws of time and space would seem to forbid their dead friend's year-old corpse materializing out of nowhere. And yet.
Jamie scrabbles to a stop down the hall from the art room, tail lashing. "Wait, wait, how do I do it? What do I do? Do I have to...B, I don't know if I can go in there again, what if it doesn't work?"
"You did the lights, didn't you?" They'd thought to test that, at least, before pouring so much time into researching a way to game the rules of D&D. Jamie had waved a hand, and suddenly little fairy lights spun into being around him, shining red and violet on his scales. It would have been beautiful, under different circumstances.
"That was a cantrip, B! This is - I don't know what this is, it wasn't even in the book we were using?"
"'Twas the sorcerer's book," Thomasin adds, breathlessly catching up with them. "But there were many spells for the resurrection of the dead, you simply could not use them."
"She's right." Bolton takes Jamie's shoulders and looks into his slit-pupiled eyes. "It's Dungeons and Dragons, J. There's lots of ways to bring back PCs. I will be right here with you, and if this doesn't work, we'll find something else. You can make another arcane focus, and we'll try again."
"You must but dash your stone upon the ground, meaning it to break, and cast the spell you wish. I know not how that is done. Yet you cast the other already, it cannot be so different."
Jamie leans forward until his face is buried in the crook of Bolton's neck. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. Just...keep trying and failing. I've - " He makes a hitched noise that's almost a laugh. "I've been doing that so much already. But if I don't try, I couldn't..."
They stand like that for a long while. Eventually, with the other Champions watching from an uncertain distance, they shuffle into the art room, still holding each other. It's worse to see in person than on a screen, and Jamie slams his red crystal into the floor before either of them can think very long about it. There's a blinding light, but it's the heat of it that surprises Bolton most. It feels like Jamie's scales are on fire, but he makes no sound at all; his brow is furrowed in concentration, a faint glow trailing from his eyes. He looks so different, but Bolton stares at him, suddenly wanting to keep this picture in his memory as long as he's able, until his demon's eyes start to burn and he's forced to shut them.
The light dies as an avian screech rises. " - SHIT SHIT SHIT, GRIFFIN!" Bolton pulls Jamie out of the way just in time to avoid being clipped by a flailing wing. Easels and paint fly, and then everything goes still as the Aarakocra tries to press his whole body into a corner of the room, dark eyes wide, panting in the strange way of birds. "Griffin?" It's not a familiar voice at all, and Bolton can't remember Max ever sounding so frightened in all the time he knew him. But he knows the way one talon rises to skim over the feathers on his head, trying to run through hair that isn't there. "Hey, where are you, dude, something has gone super wrong?"
"M?" Jamie lurches forward, then halts as the birdman's big wings twitch. "Max, it's...it's me, it's Jamie!"
It's hard to tell where exactly he's looking with those barn owl eyes, but Max stares at one or both of them for a long moment. "...Jay? B?"
And then they all fly at each other, a mess of scales and horns and trying to figure out how to hug with two enormous wings in the mix. The Champions watch from the doorway, until Xander starts to herd everyone away. He doesn't know the exact reason for all these tears, but he suspects that they should be given privacy nonetheless.