Wizard's First Rule (Part 3)

There's a man standing before you in the room that you just entered. He's got brown hair and in fact looks fairly ordinary. He's tall for a human - which is what he is. At least there's no trace of any other race on his features to suggest that he's anything else. He's a touch thin, but not overly so, and he wears robes in a middling shade of blue that are comfortable but unremarkable. In fact the most remarkable thing about him is his eyes. His eyes show his true nature and they're the eyes of someone who can read anything at a glance. Those eyes say that they know everything about you, but don't really say much about what he thinks about what he's figured out. His mouth though, says surprise. The way it's turned up in an 'o' shape and he hasn't said anything about the people who are clearly intruders to his domain. Finally, and just before anyone can say anything to him, he does manage one word. "Adventurers?"

Mikilos steps forewards and bows politely. "Sir, please forgive the intrusion. I am the wizard Mikilos Mithralla, originally of SilverMoon, more recently of Alexandros. My companions and I are investigating a White Tower, in our timeline known to host a vampire, Kol Demontry, and the one her refers to as his Mistress, who is known to mark victims with a snowflake scar. I suspect you, sir, to be innocent of the actions of said villains, but under the circumstances I would be far more comfortable with an independent verification of your identity. If you would please be so kind as to place a blood of blood on a sheet of parchment, I can use the spell known as Blood Biography to verify who you are. I am, of course, willing to submit myself to similar measures to verify to truth of my own statements."

It's a moment before Iolaire can recover from the surprise, but as Mikilos takes over, Iolaire immediately secures her weapon and steps back half a pace to let him, keeping her arms at her sides and assuming something like parade rest.

Hey, when you're out of ideas, let the training take over.

Erendriel often is the one to speak, or try to, using the natural born talents she has. And magical items, but mostly the former. But Mikilos is trying it, and she stands behind, quietly, listening.

Morgan was about to speak but lets Mikilos, but she does pay all notice what is said.

Verna has no qualms with allow another to speak for the group for the moment. This gives her further opportunity to study the man and his immediate surroundings. Very little has proven as it appeared in this tower to date; she expects this to be no different.

The man blinks back his surprise and lets his gaze linger over you all. "If you've come all this way you must know who I am, but it seems rude not to verify you've found me so very well." The man pulls open the top of his desk drawer and out comes a small letter opener. In spite of it's intended purpose in opening letters it seems quite sharp and it is proven so when a drop of his blood spills out from his forefinger.

As the spell is cast the blood is drawn out and away from the man, his name written out in clear letters where everyone can see it. 'Zeheir' the spell says. As if that one name is enough to identify him, and it is. 'Male, wizard, human. Blood shed by a letter opener. Today.'

Zeheir flips the letter opener deftly in his hand and offers it to Mikilos with a small slightly amused smile.

GAME: Mikilos casts Blood Biography. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22

Morgan eyes open wide as she wishes she could his face "Oh I have a billion questions, hope we can ask some of them." she seems excited at this chance, but then all bards and lore masters want this chance.

Mikilos nods, and relaxes a fair bit as the spell confirms the man's identity. With a smile and polite nod, the elf accepts the offered letter opener, and flips the paper to the other side, casting again.

Mikilostravia 'Mikilos' Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, male, wizard, Dawn Elf. Shed by letter opener, today.

Erendriel remains quiet, her eyes following the actions of both men carefully. Though wincing at the drawing of blood, because ugh. Gross.

The war-bird's head tilts to one side as the test is performed, but she keeps her peace for now. Her posture relaxes a bit, however, and the imminent-attack-awareness glint has left her eyes.

Verna is pleasantly surprised, as she trusts direct magic far more than words or even senses at present. "Now that identities are proven, perhaps we can get to the crux of the matter."

"So, now that you have verified that I am who I say I am... What are you doing here?" Zehier looks at all of you. "A group of mages with some martial support... did I park my tower too close to someones house again? Some noble perhaps?" He flashes an unrepentant grin. "If so just tell them that the tower will be gone in an hour or so. It won't leave any permanent marks I promise."

His gray eyes flicker to Morgan and the grin fades somewhat, showing more caution. "Ahem. A fan are we? I really don't have time for that many questions. I'm very busy."

Mikilos sighs. "A demon, a vampire, and a demonic plague that has killed dozens." the elf smiles faintly. "And maybe a little fandom. But mostly serious matters. At some point, so near as we can tell, a demon lord will take over the Tower and abuse its powers. We're trying to stop them. And had thought the magic door we used would bring us to them, not to you, sir."

Morgan nods "I am a Lore Master that has encountered this tower a few times in the past. And one day I will make one like this for myself." She leaves it at that so the Archmages can talk to each other.

Erendriel will briefly speak for herself. "I am an adventurer who takes requests. I came to support them. The plague is deadly and it concerns me." she steps forward to say, with a bow, before stepping back again.

"Also," Iolaire speaks up, clearing her throat, "my apologies about the golem."

It may get them in trouble, but, hey, the golem was fixing itself, and sooner or later he wouldn't be able to tell it had been beaten into scrap, right?

Zeheir meets Mikilos' gaze squarely. "That sounds troubling indeed. You probably don't mean this tower though. This is just a testing site for some of the similar magics I have been installing in my main tower. Which is likely why you found me here rather than the..." He purses his lips and shakes his head. "Someone like that using my tower, if it does what I intended it to do would be very bad indeed."

The wizard nods to Erendriel and then lets out a light chuckle at Iolaire's words. "Oh George? Did you run afoul of him? He'll be fine, the tower is set to repair itself and him. I'm glad you all made it here okay, but it's really not safe here."

Verna frowns. Moreso than usual. "This is an alternate tower, then? That is disturbing news... though not without benefit. I presume that you could direct us how best to locate or even reach the true tower to which is referred, and expect that you are no more keen on malicious intruders than anyone else."

GAME: Iolaire rolls knowledge/military theory: (4)+14: 18

Mikilos blinks. Blinks again. "....a testing tower? ...huh. But yes, I am fairly certain you are successful. Will be. Something like that. Movement, time travel, shows up on other planes of existence, and some sort of shield that prevents scrying." He frowns a few moments. "...what can you tell us of the ones marked with snowflake scars?" The elf rolls up his sleeve, where a snowflake has been carved into his own flesh. "I have something of a personal interest."

Morgan remembers the Golems name so she hopes that will stop him if she is back here again. She then gets a look in her eyes and was about to something but Mikilos asked what she was going to but adds "And the magic eating slimes that have left them."

Erendriel does the same as Mikilos, tugging at her armor, and her dress, to show her own scar of the same kind.

"Master Zeheir," Iolaire says diffidently, retaining the thousand-yard stare mastered by all soldiers during General Inspection, "I would *like* to point out that if I were a demon lord, and had at my disposal a living, plague-bearing weapon that consumes active magic to propagate further, and I wanted access to a Master Wizard's stronghold? Assuming I knew where to find it, all I'd have to do is chuck a potion bottle filled with plague-slime at the wall and wait."

Iolaire's wings rustle, and she continues to look at nothing whatsoever of interest. "I would probably wait until the tower's owner had left, and activated all their defenses."

Clearing her throat again, she breaks her stare to regard the wizard directly. "I would proooooobably hope that the wizard has a testing ground for his hobbies."

"....Master Wizard Zeheir."

The wizard shakes his head. "Unfortunately it sounds like you are from the future, I could tell you where it is now, and I can summon it myself, but..." He trails off his eyes falling to the scar that Mikilos shows reveals itself. One that Erendirel shares. "If you found bodies here you must have found them in your time not mine... those are interesting marks though. Very similar to the scarification of a tribe of a small sect of northmen from the Icewall. I was lucky enough to see some when I was studying... well that's not important."

Zeheir shakes his head again and looks at Iolaire. "Undoubtedly you're right. Whoever this is waited until my tower was unguarded and took it. Likely they've taken over my secondary research facilities as well. Which is why you're finding bodies and other such unpleasant things. Wise of them, I keep my most up-to-date information in such areas."

Morgan hmms "Well I hope you know the cure."

"I presume, then, that this tower can manipulate time as it does with distance?" Verna frowns further. "It that is the case, we may be able to prevent the invasion of the tower. At the very least, you could provide us with information concerning this plague, or a cure, if you concocted such."

"Our time," Iolaire mouths, and works very, *very* hard to suppress the put-upon sigh that comes to all adventurers of a primarily martial persuasion at least once in their life.

It's not easy.

Freaking wizards, man...

But Verna asks the practical questions she'd been likely to, so, luckily, she can simply concentrate on being a sharp set of ears again.

Mikilos sighs. "I'm much less confidant about trying to change the past. Seems dangerous under the best of conditions. I quite understand you would not want to share the vulnerabilities of your own home, but if there's some method to neutralize the Tower so the demon and vampire are less able to defend themselves, such knowledge would save many lives."

Zehier nods to Verna. "If you wanted to prevent the fall of my tower you would have to know the exact instant that it fell into enemy hands. Then and only then could you move to be there before it happens. Acting even a bit before or after would end disastrously. As for a plague... I have nothing to do with a plague. I never have and never will. I know that my towers having something to do with this conundrum means it's easy to think I do, and there's nothing I can say that would change that opinion. But seeing that I don't know anything about a plague, I am equally oblivious to the cure."

He looks around at you, moving around his desk to the right hand side and stopping there. "There is one thing I will tell you about my tower. In all of them I have this room. A room for myself. If you can reach it, there is a control system on the floor which will allow you to control the tower." He smiles. "From here it's controllable at a thought, so if you can reach this location at the tower that is being commanded by this demon from your time; you can easily rouse them by dismissing them from this plane of existence."

Mikilos nods. "To clarify, the 'plague' is a manufactured ooze that feeds upon magic, living inside it's unwilling host. I understand you haven't worked with normal plagues. Have you worked with ooze, slimes, puddings, or other such creatures?"

"A manufactured ooze?" Zehier sounds curious now, seeming to consider the idea. "I can't say that I have, but what an idea. It would make an excellent method for transference. Plus oozes and slimes are very malleable, magically unstable and puddings are created of course I'm sure you know all this. Sorry I tend to ramble on if I'm allowed."

Morgan sighs "We just gave him the idea to start our troubles."

"Quite all right, Master Zeheir," Iolaire says, smiling as she may. "I don't suppose you'd be able to help us determine which of your towers is the problem spot? Only, it'd be clearly better for all concerned if we ended this issue as swiftly as possible."

"Well, if I were some evil force looking to cause mayhem, I would infiltrate my main tower. The one I'm currently building. It has all the abilities that Mikilos here described and a few other tricks that would keep it from being easily found or taken over. It looks..." He waves a hand and mumbles a few arcane words under his breath and a small illusion hovers in the air between him and you. It's a short white tower that looks something like a spike that had been struck into the ground. "It looks like this. It's not terribly large, only two stories tall from the outside, but I didn't want it to draw attention to itself."

The illusion fades quickly and Zeheir considers Mikilos's question. "Eclavdran. He's a demon, a pit fiend. He's on the Arcanist's list. A wizard fell in with him a few years back, became a lich and very powerful. He deals in favors as many of his kind do."

Mikilos frowns and nods. "He's somehow tied up in all this, was found at least once in the Tower when it was on the Plane of Fire. But his connection might not come until later." The wizard, sighs. "May have actually triggered that directly... the whole time travel thing makes cause and effect iffy." He considers a few moments. "....do you have a particular name for the final project? We likely should stop just calling it 'The Tower'... makes for confusion."

Morgan takes a moment and studies the tower. "More of these towers... good." is all she says and is glad to have the chance to explore more.

"Demons." Zeheir sighs. "You may call it the Shard if you please, that's what I call it in any case. Well, if that's all I can do to help, I really have other things to attend to. I don't mean to be rude, but there's quite a lot going on in my time as well and I should attend to it."

Mikilos nods, and considers. "....just to be sure, when exactly is your time? The records I've come across were poorly documented."

"They are only consistent in that they always promote their own interests," Verna shares her dim view of demons, "no matter how their acts may be perceived." She considers further questions to one who may, at some future point, know more of the situation... or may be in some other form entirely. If nothing else, they have a target in this Shard, once it's location can be determined in the appropriate time.

"Few things are more helpful than speaking to the source," Iolaire comments cheerfully, bobbing her head. "I hope your plans at least turn out reasonably well, Master Zeheir, and it was good to meet you in person."

Zehier's answer to Mikilos' question is the current date - from his perspective. Which is a little over a thousand years into the past. It seems remarkable really to realize now that you're talking to someone who by all accounts is actually long dead. This is a rare glimpse into a time when Alexandria was barely formed. He, oddly enough, doesn't ask what time you're from. "It was a pleasure to meet you all."

Erendriel reacts to that. Going wide-eyed, shifting, looking to Mikilos, content to let him continue to lead.

Mikilos has so many questions, but is also more than a little wary of messing with the timeline too much. Best to be going... and remember to avoid the trapped stairs.

You head down the stairs, and out the still-open door and to the outside. It's chillier than you remember it being, but you leave the tower behind each of you deep in your own thoughts. Until you stumble upon a patch of snow. You're not far from the tower yet, but snow... it's a bit early in the season for snow. Nor do you remember there being a patch of snow on your way back to Alexandria. In fact quick observation of the woods around you reveals that there is indeed something... off about the region that you can't quite put your finger on.

Did you take a wrong turn?

There's a snap of wood underfoot and as you as a group turn toward it you see a small boy standing in the woods. He's no more than ten or so perhaps younger if he's tall for his age. He's very thin, almost starved looking, his clothes dilapidated and worn. He looks at you in surprise with bright green eyes and stands there as if he's done something wrong by being here.

Mikilos looks around and sighs. "Wrong place... hopefully right time." He glances to the child, more curious than wary. "Hello. Do you happen to know today's date?"

Morgan sighs as she looks around "Well lets ask that young man where we are, then maybe we can scry before we teleport home... by the way I am not good with kids any one want to talk to him?" asked as she does not want to.

Verna considers this, and looks to the rest of their surroundings. A woodswoman she is not, but there may be some blatantly conspicuous landmarks. The young boy could qualify, especially now that others have made the inquiry.

"I'll take care of it," Iolaire sighs, her motherly instincts already rearing their crest. Edging around the pack of scholars, she puts on the most gentle, sweet expression her raptorial face can manage as she comes to a halt well out of reaching distance -- more for the benefit of a frightened starveling than out of any concern for herself. "Sorry, dear, it seems we've gotten rather turned around. Are you all right, is there anything you need?"

The boy isn't particularly set at ease by Mikilos' instant question, and seems more startled by Iolaire than anything else. After a moment he hesitantly replies. "I know it is winter." His voice is heavily accented, making it difficult to understand him initially, and his voice is young enough for you to cut a few years off your estimate of his age. Seven. At most. "I am looking for food. For the baby." He surprisingly doesn't seem intimidated by you, but /is/ cautious. His bare feet dig into the hardened earth.

GAME: Erendriel rolls knowledge/local: (15)+6: 21
GAME: Morgan rolls knowledge/local: (18)+12: 30
GAME: Mikilos rolls knowledge/local: (8)+15: 23
GAME: Verna rolls knowledge/local: (15)+9: 24

Erendriel will slowly approach the child. Ducking down, smiling to him, she gestures openly with her hands, doing her best to be very soothing. Her voice soft. "Hello. Is there a house or a town nearby we can talk to people in? We're very lost. We don't want to bother you."

GAME: Erendriel rolls diplomacy: (8)+16: 24

'Food for the baby.' If there are any words better tuned to getting Iolaire's attention and assistance, they're probably in some secret journal kept by her old captain and nowhere else.

"Then we've no time to waste," the war-mom says, straightening. "I'll not see a baby starve on my watch if there's aught *I* can do about it." And here, she flashes a Look at the assembled scholars as if to ask if they have an issue with this, and say how wonderful they are for Not Having Issues With This. "How old is the baby, then? Only I can certainly help, but younger children have more specific needs."

Mikilos says, "....would now be a good time to mention I recently learned to conjure a feast to feed a hundred and shelter them for the night?"

Morgan hmms "I also think he is also lost."

The word 'feast' makes the boy's face light up like Mikilos just promised a holiday, but he nods very seriously to Iolaire. "Can you bring your feast to the baby? She is very little, and can not walk or crawl yet." He takes a small step back and eyes Morgan. "I am not lost. The house is this way." He points the direction he had taken a step in and you can barely make out his trail. Bare foot prints on dirt and snow make a fairly clear path though his size means he didn't leave a sizeable trail.

"Now that I don't know," Iolaire muses, turning her head to give Mikilos another Look, "but I do know that I can show you how best to feed her after we've gone our way, and see if there's anything else I can help with to make things better for the girl. But show us where to go, and we can better help when we've gotten there."

Morgan smiles and says "Sorry I am glad you are near your house." She notices the bare feet and she gets a sad look on her face. Her mind wonders a bit as she thinks that this boy might be a few things like a slave or to the very rare humans in elven lands.

Mikilos nods. "The spell makes a magic door. On the other side of the door is a grand mansion, with magical servants, a massive feast, and bedrooms for a dozen dozen people. It's warm and dry inside. But once the door is made, I can't move it. So yes, we should move close before I make the door." He glances to the others. "If nothing else will give us safe place to rest before moving on."

Really that's more than enough to convince the boy. He leads you back through the forest to his house which... turns out to be more of a little hut. It's run down and doesn't even look like it has seen better days. There's no front door at all, so he just walks in, leading you to the main room where there's a wooden cradle holding a very quiet baby in it. There's no sign of an adult, nor that the home holds any sort of food at all. Just two smaller rooms without doors off of this one. One with a bed and one with a blanket on the floor. The cold wind sweeps in unabated. There's nothing to stop it. The boy immediately makes to the baby to check on her.

"Let's give them a good night's sleep," Iolaire murmurs in Mikilos' ear. The moment she walks in and sees the state of the hut, she sweeps off her pack and starts digging through it, hunting for her travel rations and, especially, the bars of pressed, dried meat and berries that may exercise jaws and fuel a long march, but tend not to provide joy until contrasted with the camp cook's evening meals.

Once she finds a good half-dozen, she straightens and asks the question that needs asking, but is not going to make anyone happy to have answered. And she *knows* it's not going to be a fun ask.

"Lad... Where're your parents?"

Erendriel starts looking around. Carefully. Trying to understand what's going on. Not wanting to do too much extra peppering of the boy with questions.

Morgan waits for the boys response as her mind is working on something that does not seem right.

"Kol." The boy says, supplying his name in that manner that children have when they feel they've been mildly insulted by an adult. "My name is Kol." He shrugs to the rest though, clearly not knowing where the adults are or to expect them back anytime soon. "Father is probably out drinking, and mother..." He shrugs again and picks up the infant who rouses slightly at his touch, he holds her inexpertly but in a manner that suggests that he does it this way all the time.

Erendriel jerks her head and looks at the boy, then at Mikilos, her hand going right to where the scar is on her arm, though above her dress and armor.

GAME: Iolaire rolls perception: (18)+17: 35

"Kol, then," the bird replies apologetically, bobbing her head. "Well... I'm not sure how best we can help, but I know that we can at least make sure you and your sister are warm, safe, and have full bellies for a night."

Her eyes flick to Erendriel when the sorceress starts, one eyeridge rising faintly, but nothing more is said. "Master Wizard? Would you be kind enough to show these good children some magic?"

And with that, she steps aside to let Mikilos show them a wonder, as she mentally catalogues things that might help these poor kids in some small way.

Morgan mutters about wanting to do some vile things to Kol's parents in Sylvan, but switches to tradespeak "Yes lets get warm and help the wee one with some milk." She then looks to others trying to calm down.

Mikilos nods very slowly at the name. "...interesting name. I've met another Kol. I think I like you a lot more." nodding the wizard murmurs a few moments before drawing a glowing outline in the air. A moment later, the outline opens as a door. "The servants don't talk, and are kind of dumb, but will help as best they can. The door will be invisible and magically sealed once we enter. The bedrooms are to the sides." he glances to Iolaire "And there are nesting spots towards the back. If you need to leave for some reason, please let me know, I don't want to accidentally lock anyone out."

The boy meets Mikilos' gaze seriously. His green eyes have a force of personality behind them, a strong will which this boy has probably needed to survive. He flashes a smile at Mikilos and... suddenly he's familiar in a way he shouldn't. As if that smile completes him. It's an expression that lingers on his face. "I am Kol /Demontry/ though; so you do not confuse me." He steps toward the doorway fearlessly, taking the infant with him. Now that she can feel the warmth of the other side pouring through she gives a little hungry cry and automatically Kol puts a finger in her mouth to quiet her. A movement that he's clearly done before many times. "You said there would be food?"

Morgan thinks on it as she enters "I am so going to get this spell." she does enjoy the new warmth as she is inside.

Erendriel keeps her eyes on Kol Demontry and Mikilos the entire time she follows them to enter inside. Ears open, not wanting to miss a thing.

GAME: Morgan rolls knowledge/local: (2)+12: 14
GAME: Erendriel rolls knowledge/local: (2)+6: 8

Mikilos tries not to start at the full name. He mostly succeeds, and nods. "The grand hall is past the alcove. Sit wherever you like, if anything is out of reach just ask one of the servants to fetch it." The servants are silent golems, translucent blue, faceless, with grey uniforms with a simple aspen leaf upon the shoulder. The grand hall is fitted with a massive table, pile high with food. Fruits and breads and cheese and hams and roast hen and scones and really more food than could possibly be eaten, even by a hundred people. Stepping inside himself, he nods to Morgan. "It's very posh, but sort of wasteful. The food all disappears if you try to leave with it. You stay full with what you eat, but sadly can't keep any for tomorrow."

GAME: Mikilos rolls knowledge/local: (1)+15: 16 (EPIC FAIL)

Erendriel wanders to the ones who may not seem to recognize the name, and murmurs "The Kol Mikilos mentioned is the one who is associated with the tower, and kidnapped me to one, where I was cured of the you know what." Facing away from the boy, she then gives them a wide-eyed facial expression and tilt of her head toward the boy.

You are safe and secure in the mansion, and even if you keep watch there's no sign of the children's parents. You feed, and house the pair through the evening. The boy eats carefully, as if he's wise to the fact that eating too much will make him sick. He's careful of the baby too, feeding her until she's satisfied but not too much. Then they fall asleep. Leaving you all to talk amongst yourselves about your next step.

"....Hm," is all Iolaire says, and sighs. Then, she simply sweeps off to gather up the boy and his sister, carefully only using the sheer force of the Bustling Gentle Mom, toward the table, where she heaps a plate for the boy, and instructs the invisible servants to bring a sausage casing and warm milk, cheerfully showing the young boy how best to feed the baby.

Once the children are asleep, Iolaire now looks *furious.* Perched upon one of the stools near the fire, a goblet of wine in one hand, and a raging storm in her eyes.

"I will always and forever fight for the betterment of all the world," she says carefully, "but *damn this world* for putting us here, now."

Mikilos has a chair set off to the side where he typically sits for these feasts. It's raised so he can keep watch, but out of the way and not too fancy. he seldom eats or sleeps anyway, but this is usually a good time to get some reading done while everyone is asleep.

-TBC