A Handful of Dust

Castle on the Edge of Waking, early evening (maybe)

The great hall of Leca'fi Amdamu, the Castle on the Edge of Waking, is a large room with a vaulted ceiling. Banners hang from it, bearing the crests and signs of past stewards. The sable and silver banner of the Lupecyll-Atlons now hangs at the head of the hall, a black banner with a silvery crescent moon, a raven perched in the curve of the moon.

A solid looking table of some dark wood has been placed there in the hall, along with eight chairs. The chairs all have thick cushions and elaborate engravings of trees and stars in their wood, stoutly made and reinforced. Standing at attention along the walls are the translucent servants of the castle, clad in shimmering mithril mail and bearing halberds. Silent and ready to heed the master's will.

Standing at the head of the table is the lord of this place, Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. Clad in long elven robes of deep black trimmed in silver, the half-sil sorcerer reviews the room with a pursed expression. "Maybe flowers? Hm..." He makes a gesture, as if molding clay in his hands. Along the walls, tall vases spring up from the stone floor, before sprouting a wild profusion of flowers not found in Ea. "Better," he says approvingly.

The archmage turns to his apprentice, who seems quite starry-eyed (not literally, but figuratively anyways). "Shuichi, you have the list?" Shuichi nods briskly, shaking off his wonder. "Yes, master." The lad holds up a sheet of parchment. "Though... I feel like I should be genuflecting to a couple of these." Telamon chuckles. "Heralds don't genuflect. But if they correct you, accept it and move on. Once you're done, head down to the library -- there's some texts for you to read, and snacks if you're hungry."

Tel looks to his friends, and smiles. "Anyone need anything before this gets started? The guests will be here soon enough."

Auranar, in deference to the theme color of the day, is dressed in a black and pink dress. Though that description hardly does the dress justice. The upper half is black with a slightly pink hue to it, a fitted corset dress with long gloves that leave Auranar's hands free save for a ring around her thumb. The lower half of the dress is three layers of fluffy pink trimmed in black lace. With a pair of black hose underneath it's some dress. However she is not unarmed. Her bow is across her back and her quiver is belted around her waist though this particular quiver is black rather than brown. It matches her dress after a fashion.

Auranar stands near to Telamon, her dark eyes wary. "Just who might we be expecting?" She wonders aloud. She's curious as to whom Telamon invited to this occasion.

Corey never gets enough of this place. The paladin of Gilead is all awed eyes and smiles as he's standing at attention in his armor, ever-trusty rapier on his belt (even if it is an unusual choice for a paladin of Gilead, although Wardens are rare as it is). "These flowers are lovely, Telamon!" he remarks. "Did you model them on the Llyrenesi forest flowers? Of course, they're not the _same_--nothing in the mortal realm looks like them--but they seem similar enough, and..."

He looks up at Auranar and seems to remember something. "My sister says hi," he says. "Ok, with that out of the way, hello again, Lady Auranar." Corey even bows a little at the waist. "As always, you're dressed fashionably! That seems to be a trend with your family, though."

The Goblin strides around as if she has been here before, and she greets the translucent guards, each of them having their own nickname. Her idea of dressing up seems to be a more formal set of robes, the copper more lustrous, the blue more vibrant and bright. Her holy symbol is on display around her neck, and a blue hat is set upon her head.

"Chichi!", she calls out, running up to hug Telamon's apprentice, before the Goblin hugs at the man himself. "Gosh Telamon, you've started to get really creative with the decorations. They're very pretty!" She then waves hello to Auranar and Corey. "Hello!"

Carver was not invited, not in so direct a fashion. Perhaps by virtue of representation of the natural world's wisdom, a consultant of the common. It is unclear from whom she received fashion advice from but her cloak is styled in imitation of a raven, of heavy dense fabrics with embroidery of silver and sealed with a mithril token of the union; a shiny badge of honor she nervously plays with.

The commoner's dress beneath it is cut for riding though her most treasured companion is nowhere to be seen. It is assumed she argued for her appearance and was firmly denied. She, too, wears her strange bow and quiver visibly with the bone-handled knife tucked to her belt. Most strange of all?

No warpaint and fresh faced youth, no raccoon mask or stylized chaos of bright colors. "Hello, uh, honor to be here."

"I wouldn't want to spoil it for you, Aura," Telamon replies with a twinkle in his eyes. "But rest assured, they're friends. I wouldn't let them come here otherwise." He looks a bit bemused. "It seems... I am noticed. Ah well... can't go backward."

Tel grins at the others, nodding. "I've been experimenting a bit. But... sadly, you can't take them with you. Some things must remain within this place, between dreams and waking. But at least the memory will stay with us."

A soft bell sounds, and Telamon nods to Shuichi, who hurries to the door and opens it. A pause, before Shuichi straightens his shoulders, pulling out the sheet of parchment. "Master and friends, your guests have arrived."

Shuichi announces first, "Rathbone Fiendsbane, champion of Daeus!" What strides in is clearly not a human. His head is that of a Myrrish lionhound, ears up and eyes bright. But he walks like a man, clad in a white and gold doublet and breeches, the sunburst of Daeus emblazoned boldly on his chest. A leather baldric across his chest holds the sheath of a truly massive greatsword, which he bears with no strain, as the warrior salutes briskly. "In the name of the Knight, I bid you greetings."

Shuichi next announces, "Tupeli Fire-Blossom, the Righteous Inferno." This personage is clearly female, but that's about where the resemblance ends. She seems to be sculpted of living flame and lava, poured into a long gown of silver. Her eyes are pools of gold, and she smiles broadly. "Well now, you'd be the illustrious new steward! I -love- what you've done with the place -- it's so much better with a little more color." Heat wafts off her like perfume, but her feet do not so much as scorch the floor.

Lastly, Shuichi announces, "Crag Sharkmun, representative of Cloud City." Where the first two were almost intimidating in their sheer presence, the third seems less inclined to stand out. Perhaps it's his own heritage -- his skin is a pale violet, with slightly bulging orange eyes and a quartet of short horns, two on each temple. He's clad in blue and gray robes of a Veyshanti cut, with a large medallion depicting a city on a cloud hanging round his neck. He says nothing, but simply bows to the assembled group.

GAME: Corey rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (6)+8: 14
GAME: Auranar rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (12)+12: 24
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/the planes: (11)+10: 21

Auranar smiles at Telamon, shaking her head a little then turns her attention to Corey. "Hello to you... and to your sister." She seems lightly amused by the greeting. "I appreciate the complement. I've been looking for an occasion to wear this."

She allows her gaze then to fall to Simony. "Hello..." And then there's no more time for greetings, Shuichi is hurrying to the door at the sound of a bell and Auranar straightens somewhat in preparation of their guests. Whoever they are.

As it turns out they seem to be individuals of an outsider nature. With each being of their own domain. They're a collection of unique individuals for sure, and though Auranar does not recognize them specifically she recognizes certain things about them. She inclines her head politely to each of them in turn, still curious as to who they are specifically and why they are here.

Corey is staring in a rather childlike wonder at Telamon's guests, and as he looks at Rathbone Fiendsbane in particular, his silver eyes shine like he's seen the bestest, most awesomest toy in all of Llyranost and mommy, mommy, _please_ may he receive it for Yule this year if he is good? "Wow," he murmurs to himself, before he seems to remember that he, too, is a paladin, and there's some expectation of some kind of professionalism, although he's never exactly let that get in his way.

But the Warden of Gilead does do a light throat-clear and stands up a little straighter in his armor. Not that there was much room for slouching to begin with. "Greetings to you, champion of Daeus! I am called Cor'ethil Cari'thana, sole son of the Cari'thana family of Llyranost, Warden of Gilead... But, um." His cheeks pinken a little. "You can just call me Corey. Most people do. The name's a mouthful."

The Goblin grins and waves to Carver, and nods to Auranar as the other guests begin to get announced. She watches with wide eyes as the planar representatives present themselves, and Simony offers each a bow as they offer greetings.

"I am Simony Smithsdottir, of Alexandria. Temperance of Navos." She bows once more.

Is not read enough to make sense of what these creatures are, or if the dreamworld is exaggerating certain features. She does know most men do not have lion's manes outside of romantic exaggerations put to print, nor do most women have the certain vivacity of living fire. Her uncertainty is at least tempered as she looks at the last of the planar representatives. He's just a chill guy.

She strokes her cheek with the knuckles of her left hand as Corey clearly finds admirable all the very paladin-like grandeur of someone who would dare to call themselves 'Fiendsbane'. "Goods to meet all yous. 'm Asana. Just a ranger."

With that, everyone takes their seats. It's intriguing to note that despite Tupeli's rather... fiery nature, the wood of her chair does not char or burn, nor does the table as she sets her arms on it to smile at the mortals. "Oh, don't say 'just' anything, sweetheart. Some of us can see you, you know. The real you. And while Rathbone over there is too reserved to say it, I like what I see."

Crag slides into a seat, looking vaguely... uncomfortable. Maybe because of the august company he's in. "Not all of us, but... reputations have a tendency to spread." His voice has a rough edge, but a curious lilt to it, as though Tradespeak isn't his first language. Or even his second. "Still, we're not here to admire each other."

Rathbone hangs his greatsword off the back of his chair before sitting down, harumphing a bit. "Indeed. We come to discuss the final disposal of the remains of the fiend called Koz'gon. It is a grand thing that you slew him, for in truth we all have sought his demise. You seek to ensure his stain is purged from the universe forever. I would therefore ask that the remains be placed into my care, where I might carry them to the Door to Heaven. No evil, no matter how potent, can endure the light that comes from it, and thus it would be purified."

Auranar takes her seat politely. She herself has wondered what Telamon intends to do with the remains of Koz'gon. She watches the archmage as the conversation moves to this topic, trying to gauge his reactions and what he intends to do. "Handing them over to anyone - however esteemed and trustworthy - feels... Wrong." There's a long delay between the word 'feels' and the word 'wrong'.

"After everything that Telamon went through, we all went through, to procure those ashes, seeing the fiend's final end to the finish seems like a thing that we must do." Her words are quiet and respectful but slightly firm.

Simony's seat has an extra cushion, allowing her to sit properly among such august company. A little notebook is pulled from a pouch on her belt, as well a sharpened pencil. "I shall take the minutes of this gathering, if no one minds? Please feel free to speak in your native tongues should you wish, I am fluent in a dozen languages, and familiar with numerous others."

Along with recording words, the Goblin also sketches out the participants.

She nods in agreement with what Auranar says. "He was such a thorn in my side, I have half a mind to contest this, to deal with his remains myself. However, I have come to realize just how deeply he had wormed his way into different societies. He has, in my esteemed estimation, ruined countless lives." Simony looks to Auranar, "In deference to everyone's suffering, we should listen and seriously consider what they have to say."

The Goblin looks to the others in turn. "Let us not allow ol' Kozzy there to do in death what he could not achieve in life: divide us. I have two ideas which I will reserve until I have heard everyone else's ideas."

Carver does not know what is meant by the Living Inferno's words, and trying to discern has her brow furrowing. She glances briefly at Simony for if the Temperance has any clue, and if it could be shared. She thought she was the real her. Then the conversation turns to matter of the day and she shifts to sit a little straighter. Her fingers make their way back to the silver brooch, twisting it once more.

This way then that. As if her thoughts were a physical impediment that could be so deftly manipulated. "I can't speak what is the safest. I can say tha' the world seems constantly at threat for beasties outside to wander in and take. When a great foe is slain, you build a monument in display of this. I don't know that taking the remains of such a honored kill from the world into, uh, the heavens is the right choice. Maybe the wisest... but, feels wrong. I would prefer a warning to such creatures in the future."

"Like uh, she said. Unless yous were there. It's his skullcup." Carver says, nodding briefly at Auranar.

Cor'ethil contemplates things for a very long moment. It's one of his strengths and his banes. Indeed, there's been many a game of chess where Karasu has stared at him for a very long time as Corey mulled over his next move, only for Wuya, beloved bird of Karasu, to politely remind him that it is a game rather than a staring contest.

One must come to a decision eventually, however.

"Can we not do... a bit of everyone's idea?" he asks. "We could all have a part in this. Although I don't know that all of us can go where Rathbone can, some of us could still... Make handoffs in different parts? Contribute in different ways?"

Corey looks a little bashful as he says, "A little relay for demon-disposing?" Yet he grins, hoping it might earn him a warm applause of laughter.

Telamon sits back in his chair at the head of the table, listening. "While I do not have much of an ego when it comes to this, my sister has a point. I do wish to see this through to the end. And unless I've been remiss in my studies, Sir Rathbone, mortals cannot approach the Door of Heaven. That's... kind of the point of it. Only spirit abides."

Rathbone inclines his head, conceding the point, and then Tupeli steps in. "Ah, but mortals can go to the elemental planes -- with a bit of protection, but you all strike me as being wise enough to take precautions." She runs her hand through her fiery hair, before continuing.

"There is a place there, between the planes of fire and earth. We call it Ceinara's First Step, because we believe it was where she first started to dance. Where she kindled the fire of passion, art, and fervor. Since then a great volcano, the first volcano, has formed. Both mortals and immortals have come there to seek communion with Ceinara, but also to use the fires there to forge tools against the darkness. Bring the remains there, and anyone you wish, and we will cast it into the flames and drink toasts to our victory."

Crag Sharkmun chuckles a bit at Corey. "You'd think there wouldn't be this much discussion over taking out the trash," he quips. "But... with no disrespect to our host, could we see the remains? I don't wish to go back to the Shaykh with 'well, he told me Koz'gon was dead'."

Auranar passes a glance at Simony that isn't entirely friendly. Still, she listens to the next idea without comment - as requested. Crag's inquiry gets a raised eyebrow from her, but such a decision is up to Telamon; not her.

With her little pencil wiggling back and forth as she takes down the words spoken, Simony inclines her head towards Corey. "That was, Corey, my second idea." She smiles brightly briefly, before her expression takes on a serious mien. "I don't think I deserve that look. I was charged by a servant of my deity to see Koz'gon dead. That fucker tried to kill me with said servant, and I take that very personally. I've as much a right to demand those remains as any other here. More so, in fact."

"Now... as those who are magically inclined would know, and even those not so inclined could probably guess, the lack of a body is no impediment to bringing back the dead. However, no Temple in the Light, or of Balance, would ever entertain bringing back a fiend. And I dare say the evil deities, and even Koz'gon's allies, are glad he is dead, and wouldn't want him to come back to life. It would only be someone most desperate who would attempt such."

The Goblin smacks her hand on the table. "We are doing this to prevent the taint of his evil to stain our good worlds. The best way to do that is to spread it out as thinly and widely as possible. So it is Corey's idea that would best serve us. These planar scions could prove to their associates that Koz'gon is, indeed, dead, as well, they would be responsible for seeing a small part of him is scattered where none may casually find him."

Corey is earnestly quite happy that someone laughs at his joke, and he listens in rapt attention to Tupeli's description of the very first place where (allegedly) Ceinara first started to dance. His eyes are alight with curiosity. "Wish I could bring An with me," he murmurs. "She'd _kill_ to see such a place with her own eyes."

Then he looks at Auranar. "Or... Maybe not. She keeps asking about you, Auranar." Cor'ethil rolls his eyes.

Cor'ethil frowns at Simony. "Let's not get into the quagmire of who has 'most claim' to the remains. Really and truly. Koz'gon has tried to kill just about everyone here, just as he did to you, and I do not wish for such discord to exist. If people like my idea, that's great! But let's cool it down a little, yeah?"

The paladin offers a thumbs-up. "Everything will be okay in the end. The whole point is to put an end to the end. And we move on from there." Cor'ethil smiles brightly. "So let's talk more about this very interesting place! And, Telamon, it's safe to present those remains. I'm not detecting any interlopers-in-disguises here." Apparently he'd checked at some point, probably with the frowning. Cor'ethil's getting pretty good at that.

Carver's brows go up at mention of such a wild place. She had seen a volcano before. What would the First Volcano actually look like? Then, she thought of the magic that was required to bring her here, and the brows slowly pinch together. Maybe she does not care enough for the spectacle to see that. Simony's hand clap stirs her from muddled introspection and back to the discussion.

"Isn't it jus' ashes?" Though... would a fiend's ashes appear differently? Bones certainly would, and bones hold more power than dust. This is known. She looks up to the Archmage, curious. Guess they might see shortly.

"Ah, so you'd part and parcel him out like party favors?" There's no reproach in Tupeli's voice -- instead, there's a touch of mischievous glee. "I mean, I wouldn't object. It'd serve the monstrous little filth right." Clearly she likes the idea. Rathbone rests his chin on his fist, but he doesn't shout the idea down, instead commenting, "It would make it harder to attempt any restoration of the fiend. I ...am hesitant, but not unwilling." He flicks an ear. "Old habits die hard for my kind."

Telamon lifts his eyebrows as well at Crag's request, but he nods. "A fair request. I wouldn't want to put you in trouble with the Shaykh." He focuses for a moment, and a foot-wide hole opens in the center of the table. Smoothly, a pedestal rises up, covered by a crystal cover. Within is a rather ordinary wine bottle, sealed with lead and scribed with wards against evil. Inside is a large quantity of what looks like dust, or ashes.

Crag looks frozen in place as he stares at the bottle, his hands flat on the table. Like he wants to flee. Then he whispers, "It's true." And then he does something truly startling: he begins to cry. Great, ugly sobs wrack the planetouched man's body as he covers his face. Between his sobs, he says one word with a shaky breath. "Free. I'm free." Rathbone and Tupeli, for their part, stare in confusion.

She allows the others to speak around her as she reins in her temper at Simony. She will have to talk to the other woman at a later point, but Corey makes a good point that they need to focus on the importance at hand. So she, listens intently to Tupeli's notation and frowns. She dislikes the idea of any of Koz'gon's body possibly remaining in some way. If one of the people who took part of him failed in their quest... It could mean Koz'gon's resurrection. Still what's more startling is Crag's reaction to seeing the ashes. He's crying. Which Auranar can actually understand, her first reaction had been near to the same. She had been so relieved that tears had come to her eyes. Yet his words of being free suggest something else... and she feels a moment of suspicion. "Free?"

The Goblin frowns right back at Corey, though she does listen to his words. She eyes Auranar momentarily, a ghost of a frown there, and then looks to the other guests. A nod is given to Carver, "It is. But even in death, even as ashes, the fiend's power resides, diminished but not gone."

Her expression brightens as the Hound Archon, and Lady of Fire, seem to be open to the idea of splitting the ashes, but she blinks at the reaction of Crag. After a moment, she dismounts her chair to move to the Cloud City representative. She lays a comforting hand on his side.

"He had worked his way into your mind, hadn't he? Stolen your lifeforce, too, I would imagine. You felt that life return on his death... but you had to be sure. To be certain it wasn't another of his ruses, his tricks of the mind."

Corey frowns deeply as he witnesses Crag's tears. There's not a man alive--at least in Corey's humble estimation--that would not be moved by this display. He gently approaches Crag. A paladin might not be inclined to casually touch someone who appears to have horns that could well be associated with fiendish descent, but he comforts Crag, his hand going to the other man's shoulder.

"It's okay," he says. "It's okay. He's got no power over you anymore."

Corey squeezes the shoulder a little. "You can move on. He's gone. Not even a ghost. All we've got are ashes in a wine bottle that's stopped up with lead, and pretty soon, there won't be that, either," he says gently. "You're free."

"Right..." Carver says, at the great display. Other than the ostentatious bottle? It looks like ashes. She did not doubt that it held power but to her eyes? Dust. Dust and gone with not even its bones to rest in a grave. Then the Chill Guy is crying. She cuts her gaze to him in bewilderment, even as Simony's words to her are accounted for. Seems like they still had power judging by the representative's utter breakdown. She does not join in on the laying of hands. At some point? Too much.

"I do not understand. The fiend held you at his power?"

Crag sniffles, and wipes his face on his sleeve, his face still a little twisted. "No. Yes. I..." He gulps a little, then plunges on ahead. "The bastard was my ancestor. Great something-or-other-papa. And he'd amuse himself by chasing me, trying to get me into his schemes."

"That's how I wound up in Cloud City. I knew they didn't allow fiends, but... hells, they wouldn't deal with Koz'gon either. Ibrahim, the court wizard, made me swear an oath before anything else." He coughs, then offers a shaky grin. "I mean, can you blame him? I didn't."

"And then the rumor came out Koz'gon was dead and Ibrahim sent me to find out if it was true. I don't... I don't have to look over my shoulder any more. Don't have to wonder if he'll come knocking."

Auranar can feel for the tiefling. To have Koz'gon in one's life is hardship enough. To be a favored 'chase' of his must have made life a living hell. No pun intended. She doesn't join the others in comforting Crag physically; he has quite enough people around him at the moment, but rather nods. "As the others have said... He is gone now. If we do this right none of us will ever have to worry about him again."

Simony pats at Crag's side. "You are free now. And better yet, you have a say in what happens here. You are in full control of your life." She looks around at the others gathered. "Perhaps you should be allowed to have the final say. To determine what happens to his ashes. Not only is he family, he tormented you as he did all of us here."

"I would say that Crag Sharkmun should decide, and we carry that out to the best of our abilities. Let him smash his chains as a cathartic moment."

Cor'ethil nods gently, making an expression that could be easily read as 'not half bad' as he listens to Simony's last remark. "I can only imagine--and fail to live up to the reality for the imagining--of having had that fiend as an ancestor," he says gently. "Especially to feel as though that might have doomed you to some destiny or another, to have to flee and to find refuge in far-flung places. I do not envy you, Crag."

He smiles at the group. "Let's do just that," he says. "And then, a nice big feast to celebrate? Actually, Auranar, I have a letter to give you from my sister as well, over dinner, and by a letter, I mean it's practically a novella..."

Carver bites her bottom lip, to suppress whatever her thoughts must be. She instead looks to the planar representatives, to mark their reactions to this reveal of familial blood living on. In this Crag, certainly, but also potentially in others.

"Carve the bastard up," is Crag's immediate response. "Dump his bits before heaven's gate, fry him in the volcano, I'll take some to blast to bits in the storm-guides in Cloud City." His hands clench, before finally relaxing. "I'd dump him in a sewer if I could get away with it."

Telamon laughs softly, as does Tupeli. The half-elf comments, "That was actually a thought I'd had -- something about dumping the ashes in a privy. Still... I think this idea has merit. Splitting up the remains and purging them in our own way strikes me as a good solution. Just as we all face evil in different ways."

Rathbone nods his canine head. "A point well made, and an acceptable solution. I agree to this."

Tupeli leans back in her chair with a lazy, if cheerful smile. "No objections here, darlings. Maybe we can trade notes later on how well our solutions worked. I for one wouldn't mind visiting again." She gives Corey a nod. "Something spicy, perhaps? It's one of the best ways to my heart, you know -- a good Am'shere dinner always gives me a warm glow."

-End