Immovable Objects
Log Info
- Title: Immovable Objects
- Emitter: Seldan, Cryosanthia
- Characters: Seldan, Morgan, Lanier, Acedia, Duncan, Aya, Cryosanthia
- Place: A10: Temple District
- Time: Saturday, June 27, 2020, 6:39 PM
- Summary: Seldan is telling Reunion about a new echantment he has for it, when Morgan and Lanier arrive. Lanier is sick with the plague, and the Silver Guard attempts, and after a few tries, succeeds in curing it. Morgan assists, and offers Seldan a ring to allow him to cure others. Acedia and Duncan arrive, and soon after Aya does as well, with a discussion of Salina and Eclavdran occuring, where Eclavdran's involvement may be greater than initially assumed. Cryosanthia arrives, asking Seldan to discuss with Zeke whether Salina could be planning to use their relationship for something, then Seldan and Acedia leave for prayers. Cryo discusses her feelings of ineffectiveness and the things she has been prayering for, as well as her (skewed) understanding of Serriel and Tarien. She can't relate to a diety that has only existed for a dozen years or so, and Alexandria's followers of Tarien tend more to the cruel pranks than supportive aspects. Morgan talks about her work with tiny dragons as a librarian, and then the group decides to relocate to the Fernwood to explore the stories each other seem to have.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The air of solemn, heavy divinity in the area is often broken by laughter. The dual presence of the deities Althea and Daeus, man and wife, stand towards the center, with their children and their children's temples positioned around them. The presence of the divine is felt not only by their temples, but also by the actions of their worshipers. The great plaza is as a social center, paved in brilliant, white flagstones and covered in benches and sitting areas. Priests, acolytes, and servicefolk of all stripes roam the plaza, going from one task to the other.
At the front of the temples of Daeus and Althea, at the Plaza's centermost point, rests a great fountain, the cheerful waters reflecting the Sun during the day, and the Moon and Stars at night. The fountain is strategically centered, and is oft a place for wisdom and lesson-giving. It is not uncommon for a priest of some stripe or the other to stand there, surrounded by the curious and faithful, delivering messages of hope or contemplation. At other times, it and the plaza become a landscape of celebration of the holy holidays.
Few vendors are seen in the plaza--the nearby temples provide most food or services. Towards the west, the great Bridge stretches across the river, and towards the east, the Redridge mountains. The plaza rests in the midst of it all, the temples massive and grand on the Alexandrian scale.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Morgan 4'10" 79 Lb Half-Elf Female Short pixy like half elf with fair skin Lanier 6'0" 245 Lb Human Male Young, lean and strong Acanian wearing hide clothing. Acedia 3'4" 39 Lb Goblin Female An ebon-skinned Goblin in leather armor. Duncan 5'0" 200 Lb Storm Dwarf Male Tall Khazad often accompanied by a Khazad Digger. Aya 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing. Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Finally, a clear and beautiful summer day that isn't disgustingly hot or sauna-like. Bright sun and light breezes make for a busy temple district, and a busy fountain as well, and the district is even more crowded than normal. Seldan is no exception to this, a thin silver headband attempting with limited success to hold bright hair off of his face. He wears a sleeveless shirt of the style favored by dockworkers, light trousers, a sleeveless open-front robe over the shirt, and low black shoes with flickers of lightning darting across them, and sits cross-legged on a bench with an unsheathed sword across his lap.
"The enchantment is the same as that of an _immovable rod_," he is saying, to - nobody. Or so it seems, until a voice from the sword across his lap answers, a crotchety old man. "I don't see the use in that, Seldan. I hope you have no intention of hanging from us."
"It would also allow you to anchor to an enemy once I struck - to pin it in place."
Morgan comes walking down from the south today she is wearing a elven style sundress of a blue and gold leaf design "They are also good for baring doors when you are some one small like me." Said to the talking sword about the magic rod.
Emerging from the Temple of Gilead, his mighty companion Spud loping alongside him, Lanier is stretches his arms wide to the sides before dropping them to his side. His skin is pale and sweat rolls off of him in large droplets. He passes by Seldan, looking at him and then the sword in his lap. He turns his attention forward, unshoulders his pack, and then nearly immediately falls into a heap of humanity and leather, scooting and sliding until he's sitting with his back up against the edge of the fountain's basin, his eyes locked on Seldan and his talking sword. Spud emits a mournful whine, which is gone as quickly as it came, and settles next to the ranger.
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (18)+6: 24
Several people eye Lanier warily, and make it a point to give him a wide berth as he puts his back up against the fountain. One of these people brushes Seldan's knee on the way past, and the paladin frowns, looking after the hurrying acolyte. It's Morgan's remark, though, that draws his attention up, but the sword is paying no mind to what Seldan sees.
"We are not a door bar, my lady. We are a sword, and a mighty one at that, of fine old lineage. If you must bar a door, use a lesser object."
The paladin's attention, meanwhile, is drawn by the people giving one figure a wide berth. It isn't hard to see why, from the look of him, and Seldan says, "Reunion, we will discuss this later," in a tone that fairly screams _I have other matters to attend to_.
"That name is so inappropriate, Seldan. You should choose another more befitting of us."
"The more you talk, Kanian, the more apt the name becomes." He sheathes the blade amid vocal spluttering and stands. "Loremaster, Her light upon your path." The greeting is somewhat absent, and he unfolds himself, pushing through the crowd to kneel before Lanier. "You look unwell."
Morgan nods to Seldan and then to Lanier she walks closer but keeps her distance as she does not know him. "Long day I hope." said as she does not want to hear about some one else sick.
Lanier takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he turns to look towards Seldan, "Caught some kind of crud in the Felwood. I keep feeling hot, then cold, then hold again. Like right now..." With determination in his eyes, the Ranger reaches out to his pack, removing a large bowl from it. He reaches up, scooping out a large amount of water, which seems to get Spud's attention. Unexpected, it seems, to the dire wolf, Lanier simply turns the bowl over and douses himself, letting his arm and the bowl fall by his side as he takes stock of the situation. After a moment, he narrows his eyes, commenting, "Now I'm cold again."
GAME: Seldan rolls heal: (20)+12: 32
At once, Seldan shakes his head. "This is more than a long day, Loremaster. It is the plague. I can aid him, I think, but doing so is no easy task, and may be risky. Can you stand?" he directs that last to Lanier, and offers the man a strong hand to stand. "Leave your companion," he eyes the dire wolf carefully, "out of this. Animals afflicted with the plague are twisted in dangerous ways, and I wish that on none."
Morgan nods as she says "I can help you but I have had no luck with the dispelling of the slimes."
Lanier grunts, then nods his head, "Yeah, I can move. I just prefer not to." He then narrows his eyes, "Leave Spud out of this?" He ponders this, and then shakes his head, seems to give up trying to work it out, and then looks at Spud, "Go get a treat from Hunter Gadfrey." Whether the smallest dog, or the largest wolf, the t-word is magical. It certainly makes Spud disappear, tearing off towards the Temple. Looking towards Seldan again, he asks, "Do I have to move?"
Seldan frowns at this, as if thinking, then shakes his head, raising his voice. "If you wish to help this man, draw near to me, else you should stand well clear." The reason for this instruction is unclear at first, but he looks around, and most people seem to do so - if they hadn't done already, which most of them have. Morgan may have an idea of what Seldan has in mind, having seen him do this once before.
Morgan stays near him as she readys her masterwork staff. "you do the spell and I will be ready to smash it with my staff, or will try to." Wizards dont fight with there weapons normaly.
Lanier leans heavier against the wall of the fountain, a miserable frown settling over his face. Looking towards Morgan, then to the quarterstaff, Lanier reaches down and unhooks a mace from his belt, gripping it by the haft with his right hand. He then looks from Morgan back to Seldan again, "If I end up turned into an ooze or something, you finish it, alright? That quarterstaff won't do it."
GAME: Seldan casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 15 DC: 20 GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+15: (14)+15: 29
"The ooze is a living creature, born of a wizard's draw from the Source itself," Seldan explains to Morgan, reaching to his belt and pulling what looks to be an ordinary mace. "It responds to the presence of magic, and seeks to feed from it. It seems to gather power, though for what purpose, we know not. What is known is that it was corrupted, within the Hells. As with anything of magic, it can be dispelled, but Zeheir was a mighty wizard indeed, and getting all of it in one attempt is no easy task, yet must it be done, else it regrow swiftly. Do I fail, I will but make it angry."
With that explanation, Seldan looks to be sure that everyone has cleared out - and there are a good many lookie-loo's watching from a distance, then draws several deep breaths, centering and settling himself. Raising his free hand, he draws three sigils in the air, then speaks an arcane phrase, and they burst into violet fire before him. He nods satisfaction, then shouts a final word that Morgan will recognize as a negation or reversal, and slashes through all three sigils with a swift gesture. The sigils turn night-black, and reverse, seeking to pull the magic from Lanier.
Morgan sees a little come out and she smashes it with the blunt end of the staff "If you dont mind may I give it a try?" asked in a soft caring tone.
GAME: Lanier rolls Spellcraft: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Morgan rolls spellcraft: (1)+30: 31 (EPIC FAIL)
Lanier blinks as the sigils begin being drawn in the air, his eyes narrowing, "What are you casting?" He's cut off as the word of power is spoken, and the Ranger looks away, as if taking stock of his internals without the distraction of having to watch people. He tilts his head to the side, then it's suddenly as if he seizes up, heaving forward. Of course, the way it's sitting with his knees in front of him causes a natural block, which in turn causes the ranger to roll over onto his side and immediately expel a black slime. There is a moment be Lanier opens his eyes to look at the ooze, his right arm struggling to lift the mace, but the quarterstaff quickly dispatches the slime.
He rolls back up to a seated position with a groan, looking up towards Seldan, "Again, if you can." He's not done for yet, apparently.
GAME: Morgan rolls 1d20+12: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seldan casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 15 DC: 20 GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+15: (7)+15: 22 GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 15 DC: 17 GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+15: (20)+15: 35
The mace in Seldan's hand is quick behind Morgan's staff as the ooze is expelled, but there's no need, and his lips set in a thin line. The second time, though, as Morgan offers to help, something goes awry - there is simply something between her energies and his that does not mesh, the interference visible in the sigils that turn not to violet at the first phrase, but to black, and simply dissipate, leaving Lanier to choke out another ooez, this one a little bigger.
Casting an odd look at Morgan, Seldan moves to dispatch the second ooze, but when that is done, he turns back and closes his eyes. Breathes deeply, as one meditating. Focuses. This time, the sigils are right on target, and the wave of magic ripples through Lanier, leaving him feeling - nothing. At all. Except for, better.
GAME: Morgan rolls spellcraft: (5)+30: 35
Morgan smashes at some of the smaller slimes and as the larger one comes out she is about to slam it before it can react but thankfully its taken care off before she can "Blessid be to the ones above." in the corner of her eye though she was taking mental notes.
Lanier's breath exits in a shudder as the second spell hits, sending him into convulsions yet again as another ooze bubbles up to be forcibly expelled by the ranger. He groans his way back up to a seated position, "I think I felt better with it living inside me." He takes a moment to catch his breath, and then nods to Seldan a third time. "Again, if you can."
The challenge is met this time. As the spell goes into effect, Lanier tenses up, and then... nothing. He opens his eyes, his lips thinning as looks left and right, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He then nods his head, looking to Seldan and Morgan, "It's done, I think."
He reaches over, picking up the bowl he uses to give water to Spud, reaching up and filling it with water again. He takes another deep breath and begins drinking deeply from the bowl. After a good number of gulps, Lanier places it off to his side, "Much better. I'm not feeling hot and cold anymore."
Seldan's shoulders relax as the spell takes hold this time, and he murmurs a brief paean of thanksgiving to Eluna, then looks up and nods to the other two. "My thanks for the assistance, Loremaster," he says carefully, "although I am uncertain what happened. You should rest," he adds to Lanier. "If you have the use of spells, I would have you attempt a simple one, to be certain, else will I cast one upon you."
GAME: Lanier casts Summon Nature's Ally II. Caster Level: 7 DC: 14
Morgan smiles as she is happy that this worked "I am glad I was happy to help for as little as that was." she then goes to her haversack and gets a bottle of honey mead and offers it to Lanier "I am also glad you are better."
Lanier reaches up, pulling himself up to a knee with a groan. He takes a moment to pause there, still getting his strength back apparently. He reaches out, holding his hand out over the water. His eyes grow distant, and his voice drops low, "Fisher King, send a messenger of my healing." He dips his hand into the water, drawing a fast circle that travels faster and faster until it reaches a certain point. The ranger removes his hand from the water but the swirling edie that was created continuies to grow in strength until it begins to grow in height, the vortex rising up until it's about two feet above the water. The top of the spinning mass of water begins to coelesence into a vaguely humanoid shape.
The ranger narrows his eyes, keeping close watch on the creature of water that is emerging from the fountain. Without orders that it can follow, the summoned elemental stands there, looking expectantly towards the Ranger until the Ranger slashes with a hand. As quickly as it forms, the elemental is gone, the constituent waters that it formed from falling back into the fountain.
Lanier turns to look towards Seldan, giving both the paladin and then the loremaster a grateful nod, "Thank you both. The magic didn't make me sick."
Seldan, too, watches the elemental - and Lanier - intently, nodding his satisfaction when there are no ill effects from the casting. "You are welcome. It is well to be rid of those, wherever they may be found. You should rest, when you may. The plague is a nasty business." He looks around at those staring at him, and slides the mace back into the holder on his weapon belt.
Morgan says "Seldan do you know of the ring of substance. It lets you only need 2 hours of sleep a day to get spells back, I think I will be over using it to help me cure my friends."
Lanier nods his head, "I'm going to." He turns to the side, picking up a bowl and dropping in into his pack. He then stands up, throwing his pack over his shoulder with a grimace, "I have a friend who may need the assistance of either of you. I'll tell her that you were able to cure me." He then turns, beginning the trudge back towards the Temple of Gilead with an unsteady step.
"Very well, although I venture from the city for a time, soon. Telmentar's Temple may be able to aid her, if I cannot be found. Her Light upon you, for now." Seldan watches as Lanier prepares to depart, eyeing the bottle of honey mead in her hand. "A ring of sustenance? I have learned of such, although crafting is not my gift. Mal might be able to make one, or..." He stops, shaking his head, and his eyes lower. "Master Mithralla may also be able to do such work.'
Morgan holds up her hand to show the ring "I am willing to give you mine if you can heal more people, and then give it back to me when this is done."
Morgan she looks to Lanier next and says "If its Brae then I know about that and want to help her."
Lanier turns, looking towards Morgan to give her a nod, "I'll let her know if I see her first." He turns back towards the temple, completing his journey back inside.
"Very well." Seldan looks after both as they depart, then turns away, carefully casting a cantrip to clean himself before turning back to the bench on which he sat.
Seldan is likely not even settled before the patter of small feet can be heard, heralding the arrival of a Gobbo in blue and white robes. "Seldan!", she says, running up to the same bench and hopping up onto it. Acedia leans against the man, wrapping her arms as far as she can, hugging. "Hello! How are you today?"
Duncan strides through the square and up the steps to the temple of Daeus. He holds a small chest under one arm. Within a matter of monents he emerges again, this time sans chest. He walks down the steps and then makes his way towards the fountain, nodding. "Greetings."
From the way Seldan's features light up at the gobber's hug, the little robed figured is both well-known, and a welcome sight. "Acedia, Her light shine on you." The acrid stink of plague ooze lingers around him, but no more than a distant memory. "I have come to realize something, of which I should speak." Duncan's greeting stops him from continuing, and he looks up, nodding politely. "And to you as well, sir."
"Her light upon yours.", she replies to the man. Acedia goes quiet a moment, seeming to shrink a little behind Seldan as the Khazad approaches the fountain and greets them, though she offers a little wave in response. She looks to Seldan and sniffs at the air. "Have you been curing folk of the plague?" She grins toothily at him, and moves to settle cross-legged beside him. "And what is it you wish to share?"
Duncan looks at Seldan, then at Acedia. He turns his gaze in Seldan again, judging if this is likely to be a sensitive matter. But after a moment he gives up. And instead he just asks, "Is this a private matter? I can leave..."
Seldan grins down at Acedia. "How did you know?" He then shakes his head at Duncan. "Weighty, perhaps, but far too well-known to be truly private. There are many who prefer not to speak of demons and their doings." Understanding colors the words. "Forgive me, I do not believe we have met? Seldan Padaryn, of Eluna's Silver Guard." He is simply dressed today on a beautiful afternoon, sleeveless shirt and open-front robe over trousers, no armor.
The Gobbo snorts at Seldan and swats at his shoulder. "The stink of ooze is in the air, well I know it. I lost track at one hundred, though I am glad your method works faster than the Sith's. I am glad, however, to have been the test subject that others may not have to experience such." She grins toothily at the man, and looks to Duncan again. Her eyes look to Seldan then, and nods slowly at his answer to Duncan.
"So perhaps, then, it is of Eclavdran you wish to speak on, Seldan?"
Duncan nods in understanding at the introduction, but then squints a bit at the talk of ooze. "I'm Duncan," he says, apparently choosing to reply to the former. "Of the Stonesmashers." He adds as a formality. "Demons," he shakes his head. "Makes my blood boil the more I hear of them, like most anyone I'm sure. But that's no reason to pretend they don't exist, if that's what you're talking about."
"There are those who are troubled merely by the name, and bid me not speak it lest I draw his attention." Seldan's remark is mild and polite, but with an undercurrent of exasperation that he tries hard to conceal. "Even so, Acedia. I have come to realize that he may well be the true villain, although Salina is not to be ignored. This one is quite troublesome, and has stalked the city of late. He is a Duke of the Hells, of sufficient power that he may not be readily removed."
"I am Acedia.", the Gobbo says. "Nice to meet you, Duncan." She offers a curtsey, before leaning against Seldan's side.
"It is unlikely he would appear at the mention of his name. Perhaps if you spent some time offering him personal insult, he might show. But I think, as you probably fear, that he is busy keeping whatever plan he has in motion." She rubs at her cheek.
"I think it might be that the two act together to enact some plan, but also have their own intrigues against one another. Perhaps he is not bound to her, nor she to him... but bound together until some condition is met, and that this is what they are working towards."
Duncan grunts softly. "I've heard of them both," he remarks. Then he admits, "And maybe been exposed to some of their plans and works - or those of Salina's anyway. I only learned the name well after." He squints at Seldan again. "And it's actually the demon who's behind it all..." he glances at Acedia and then amends, "Maybe." Finally he sighs. "So basically, there may still be a few twists left to untangle."
"I think him bound to her death, but her death will set him free upon Ea," Seldan answers, looking from khazad to gobber, nodding to Duncan as he makes his familiarity clear. "Will you hear me? If you will hear me to the end, I will explain why I think this so."
Acedia nods to Seldan, stretches at length, and then resettles herself upon the bench, pulling her feet in to sit cross-legged once more. "I would hear you.", she says softly. She pats the bench beside her, "If you want to seat yourself to be more comfortable, Duncan?"
Duncan's expression has been stony and borderline dour up to now, but is suddenly split by a smirk. "Sounds to me like something I'd rather hear sitting in a tavern, over a strong drink of three." He sits at the offered spot anyway, with a small nod at Acedia. "But whatever the venue it's something I do want to hear."
Seldan nods to both of them, and shifts his sheathed sword in his lap to keep it out of both his and Acedia's way. "The tale begins hundreds, if not thousands, of years past, in a small village in the fae realms named Siavonere. The village is Salina's home, and where she was raised. Demons struck that town, disguised as ogres, and perhaps humans as well. The villagers sought to protect her, biding her to hide and not involve herself, and were slain to a man. Some of us were shown this, on a Guild job, by one who claimed to be an old elf, but whom I now guess to be Eclavdran himself."
He looks between them, and goes on, calm, even, sober. "I came to learn on a different journey that Silvermoon first summoned Eclavdran to this realm, and bound him to return in time to that place, to slay her ere she unleashed the plague upon Alexandros, among many evils that she has committed. A foolish and desperate move, but Silvermoon is a city of the dying now, and to be there now, after nightfall, is near-certain death, does one not know how to cure the plague." His eyes lower, and Acedia should know exactly what he means.
"The circle within the tower was once a summoning circle, and was so when we encountered it. It may have well been meant explicitly for Eclavdran. Salina may well have bound Eclavdran using that circle, to stop him from attacking her directly. This leaves him in a difficult situation, bound both to her service and to her destruction. The demon now demands her slain, that he may be freed from his bonds. To do so, though, would be to free him of all fetters, and he would be free to do as he will upon Ea - a thing not to be thought of."
The Gobbo is silent the entire time Seldan speaks, and more poignant, completely still. Only the cant of her ears, and the expression in her eyes, give away any hint as to what she is feeling, and indeed as to whether she be statue or living creature. Even after he finishes, her eyes watch his.
"So we must slay them both, at the same time even? Perhaps separated, some how?" She rubs at her cheeks and lets out a snarling sound. "How many of those whom we have sought out for help have lied to us, Seldan? Or omitted the full truth? There are many who ought to receive a slap to the face, at minimum. As much good as it wouldn't do..."
Acedia huffs at length. "I have heard, either rumour or perhaps that it has happened before... that her Tower will return, either rebuilt anew or simply another projection from the past, or future... or present. Whichever. Is there truth to this, Seldan? If so. Could we raid it again, and this time ascertain as to whether we could figure out how to use it's time movement functions? It seems to me that if we could... we could prevent Silvermoon from summoning Eclavdran and binding him to their will, thus ensuring that he would not become bound to Salina. Or, we could travel further back, and prevent Siavonere from being overrun." The Gobbo crosses her arms.
"However, it is likely that we would change the course of history by doing so. So many things have come to pass since the rape of Siavonere that it would be madness and folly to not take this into consideration. So that brings us back to the present and the difficulty of removing both threats at the same time. Again." She stands suddenly, and hops to the ground, striking a defiant pose. "I would face him again. This time where magic can be done. With allies who would fight, with courage and comradeship at our backs."
"I've been to Silvermoon," Duncan nods. "They weren't exactly forthcoming with what was going on there, but they were also resigned. They'd brought their troubles upon themselves, I recall them saying." He grunts. "If they had a part in all this, I can see why." He shakes his head. "So defeating this Salina may free Eclavdran to cause mischief wherever he chooses...but until then he'll cause no end of mischief here, in the city." He blows out a breath. "I don't see any choice, to be honest. People are suffering and dying, either way. Have to defeat the monster you can...."
"That is the primary issue with those particular two," Aya notes from behind Seldan's bench and to his right, where she was not a moment past. "Neither seems inclined to be defeated. Unless the status quo has changed?" A brow arches as she glances to those present with some curiosity.
Seldan allows himself a smile, one that is meant to be reassuring. "We are not without options. The angel said that vengeance is not the duty of a knight, and there is mercy in the Light. I ... would take those words to heart, and I believe that I can reach Salina. We need not venture to the tower, but to Siavonere, for she has never left that place. The Salina in the tower was a simulacrum, a body double. As she binds Eclavdran, and he is therefore one of her minions, I think it permitted me to turn Mortal Dread upon him."
The smile fades, and he lowers his eyes. "She told me that she, too, prayed once, and from what I saw of the village, I believe that to be true. None answered her prayers, and therefore does she believe that the gods are not here. Still is it even as you said ... prayers are always answered, but sometimes, the answer is no."
"And that is the truth we must impart to her, Seldan.", the Gobbo says softly. "I think what the angel said... there is mercy in the light. That is what we must show her."
"I think she must also be made to know that she isn't alone. Her people fought and died so that she might live, and she has spat in their faces. I can say that I understand her anger, her upset. But of course that is no cause to inflict suffering on others."
Duncan twists at the waist so he can twist his head around even further to look at Aya. After a moment to overcome his surprise he snorts. "True. They don't make it easy." Then his eyes shift slowly. He looks over Acedia's head to peer at Seldan. "Just how many times have you spoken to her...?" he muses. "Maybe Acedia is right, and a diplomatic solution is not out of the question. But that can only work if she will talk. Under a flag of truce, or something close enough. And we have to listen, and to learn." His mouth is a flat line.
Seldan whirls as he suddenly realizes Aya is there, suddenly standing with scabbard in hand. "I will thank you in future not to sneak up behind me. It is not a display of prowess, it is a display of dishonor." All trace of smile is gone as he stares at Aya, and with an effort, relaxes his shoulders. "To your point, perhaps. I have learned much in the last fortnight or two, of Salina, and of her whereabouts." Quickly, he recaps for Aya the things he had only just said to Acedia and Duncan. "She has now seen prayers answered, and it is my mind that she might be brought to repent. Eclavdran will not repent of aught, for it is in his nature to do evil."
Aya rolls a shoulder at Duncan. "It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if they simply surrendered, and this city seems to have a universal mandate to never remain dull." The other brow arches at Seldan and his comment. "Your opinion is noted, though it wasn't a consideration in my arrival." A nod is given at the repetition.
"If the one can be reached by words, all the better. The demon can be relied upon to do whatever serves his own interests. If defeating her frees him, he might well aid as much as he's able. He has seemed to do so more than once before."
Acedia offers Aya a toothy grin and a wave, if she was startled or surprised by the woman's arrival, she shows it not. "He has helped us numerous times... though at times, calling it help might be stretching the definition of the term." She norts, and looks to Duncan, nodding to the man. "A diplomatic solution will help for at least half of the problem."
The Gobbo looks to Seldan and lets out a breath. "Though, as Seldan well knows, this won't be ended without a fight. The talking will come after."
Duncan's stony Khazad demeanor returns as he looks between the others and listens to their words. After a few moments he nods. "Demons are by nature untrustworthy," Duncan recites. The his tone softens. He's thinking aloud. "But Fae are...complicated." A pause as he has to search for the right word. "Their words and promises can be relied upon. And they have been known to compromise."
"Remove the demon, and Salina may be made to repent," Seldan repeats, calmly and firmly. "It is worth the attempt. The child is still within. If she will not repent, then ..." He spreads a hand, looking between all present, leaving the unspoken to hang in the air. "He must be removed first, else disaster will befall."
Aya looks to Seldan once more. "When last we spoke, you were rather adamant that I, and everyone else, not so much as glance at the demon."
"That's because people were pissing the Demon off, and he was threatening to take it out on the city and innocents. And we weren't in a position to slay him. Not to mention, we needed his help, such as it was.", the Gobbo says sternly. "But things have changed between then and now." She huffs at Aya and crosses her arms. "So with that, we will remove him first."
"Even so," Seldan nods at Acedia. "Angering the demon was creating only more casualties, of which there have been far too many already. You will observe that he has been absent, of late, to the benefit of the city, and we have been able to use the time to learn the truth. I have since learned enough to believe him to be the true villain, and it may be that he does not realize that I have so determined."
Duncan shakes his head. "Not repent," he says, just as firmly. "I can't see how she'll repent. That's asking someone to see what they've done has caused harm, to /believe/ it and to /want/ to make some sort of reparations." He barks a mirthless laugh. "Hard enough to convince someone from our world that they're a villain, and to repent. With someone from the Fae realms..." He sighs. "If everyone is so confident that his demon is a threat to Salina, and that he can now suddenly be slain, maybe that's the way to get her to talk."
Aya looks to Aceda. "Well, yes, that isn't surprising; he is a demon, afterall. As for his help, we acquired that months ago. I'd heard nothing of him since." Brows arch at Seldan, "Then the situation -has- changed. What truth was learned of him that changed your mind so drastically?"
"We went to Silvermoon.", the Gobbo replies to Aya. "We learned of the circumstances of his involvement in all of this." She looks to Duncan then, and nods her head firmly. "She will repent. For she shall see the light. There will be mercy, one way or another." Acedia looks to Seldan. "It may be that you might have to refrain from speaking overly much on it, so that he cannot learn it easily."
"I know not if she will or no, but I mean to make the attempt, but I cannot do so until he is no more." Seldan repeats firmly, nodding to Acedia. "As for what was learned ... it is that she is not wholly without emotion, and may be reached - and that the demon is unlikely to leave in peace."
Aya nods to the gobber. "I see. That you went there does explain a great deal," and another to Seldan. "Should another venture be forthcoming, specifically to annoy the demon, now that it is permitted, I would welcome the opportunity to assist. Or perhaps a souvenir, if not."
Duncan stands from the bench and casts a glance towards the Temple of Daeus. He begins to pace back and forth, but after the first time he turns he seems to realize what he's doing and stops. "Sorry. I'm no demon hunter, but I'll fight one if it appears in front of me - here, or anywhere else they don't belong." He takes a seat once more. "I'm more interested in talking with this Salina for myself," he admits.
"You have me, Seldan. I will stand by you, and bring to bear the light of Eluna, my blade, my magics and my music. The demon will know my sting." Acedia strikes another pose. She nods to Duncan. "I would rather not face him, but I shall. I am gladdened to hear that you would face him. We may need people of your resolve. He may appear here, to terrorize the city. Show him the Allfather's light, should he appear." She glances to Aya and grins. "It would be good to have your blade in the fight."
Seldan nods, and turns a grateful smile on Acedia. "It would be good to have all of you, but prepare yourselves, for we travel soon." He stands and looks to the doors of the Temple of Eluna. "I am summoned, and must go. If you will forgive me ...." He stands, taking the sheathed blade in one hand. "Her light upon your path." He looks from face to face as he says that.
A whitescale sith-makar intercepts the paladin as he's departing, she glances around at the others, there is clearly something on her mind, and if she wanted privacy this would not be the time to ask. Urgency versus discretion battles, finally she says, "Sir Seldan, Peace on your Nest. I hope you are well and I wish you would let Zeke know I worry and think about him." She hesitates, her tail curling in, "... This one wondered if perhaps you could discuss with him, what purpose his and my relationship might have served the Mistake. It... worries me. This one apologizes, you are in a rush, but I have been occupied today and could not find you earlier."
Acedia offers Cryosanthia a wave and a grin, thought she remains silent while the icy-scale Sith speaks. "It is time for prayers.", the Gobbo says to the others. "Be well!" She hops from foot to foot, to move ahead of Seldan, hoping up the steps towards the Temple of Eluna.
Puzzled, Seldan turns to listen to the sith-makar, but nods. "I shall discuss the matter with him, and shall speak, but it is as Acedia says, evensong nears. I shall see you on the morrow, I think."
With that, he turns to follow Acedia up the Temple steps.
Duncan watches the two followers of Eluna go. The he turns back towards Cryosanthia. Earlier he had trouble guessing if a topic was sensitive. This time is no different, but since Seldan has left Duncan supposes it's not going to be an issue. "Greetings," he offers.
Cryo returns the wave to Acedia with an exagerated grin, all her teeth on display, then nods solemnly to Seldan's answer. "This one apprecites it." She watches his back as he and the small paladin in training mount the temple steps, then looks back at the other two.
"Peace on your nests, shadowwalker, and... one this one does not know. I am Cryosanthia, a Speaker of the Sith-Makar." The white sith makes a small curtsey to the group, smiling in a way that isn't quite as fearsome as the one for the goblin. "Was he discussing the prophesy? This one's mark is removed, it is safe to talk around me now."
Aya watches as the two Silver Guards depart. "A wish for my blade in a fight against the both of them at once will remain unfulfilled..." She then turns her attention to the sith-makar and rolls one shoulder. "From what I could translate, he was discussing a reverse of his prior position. The demon is, allegedly, the root of all things, and the fae something of a pawn."
Duncan glances towards the Temple. After a moment he nods. "Huh. I don't recall a prophecy exactly. But then again," he shifts his gaze to glance at Aya, "I didn't get that exactly either, about Salina being a pawn. More like he had to be dealt with first. The demon, I mean." Duncan shakes his head. "You ask me, it sounded a little like he's trying to piece together a book when he's still missing a few of the chapters. But thats the way it goes."
Duncan adds with a grunt of perhaps embarrasment, "Wait, you mean me? I'm the one you don't know?" He smirks. "I'm Duncan Stonesmasher."
"Uhhhhh..." That is news. The whitescale sith blinks a few times, straightening her neck. "You could take a poke at me a few times if you like."
She looks over at Duncan, back to Aya, nodding slowly. Cryo grabs her horns, then runs her hands along them, from brow to tip, "May your veins run deep, Duncan Stonesmasher. You may call me Cryo in emergencies. This one is familiar with that feeling, of missing pages. I think our timeline has been changed and we are on a second or third, possibly further iteration. Auranar was right then, the demon should be handled first. Oh, if you know his name, don't say it, it calls attention and he can read your mind. There are several things that don't make sense. Well... assuming a grand plan. It's all quite sensible if random opportunistic cruelty is the main motivation. I sometimes think that is my folly, believing there is a logic."
"Confusion seems to be in no short supply as of late," Aya agrees. "I'd much prefer it be amongst foes than allies, however. In any case, maybe now that action against him is more sanctioned, there will be an opportunity. One that is not charging headlong at them both on the ground of their choosing."
Duncan brow wrinkles at the talk of timelines and iterations. Then more at the idea of sanctioning action. "Hrnh." Duncan combines scornful chuckle with disapproving snort in that way that Khazad manage so well. "That's the way it goes," he finally says again.
"Yes," Cryo says, resting her hands on her hips and arching her shoulders back, her tail lashes behind her, "This one has proved ineffective against him, and submits at a word to her. Hopefully without the mark it will be different, but I doubt my martial skills against an immortal and if my words would work, I think they would have decades ago."
She glances in the direction of the Temple of Eluna, then back, "This one has prayed for understanding and to not be a handicap should I go along. I have been a far more effective stumbling block than a ladder for my allies."
Aya arches a brow at the sith and her recounting of her efforts to date. "So far as I'm aware, the only efforts with the demon that had any success were bargains with him... not that I consider that much of a victory. If the fae controlled you, before, and now does not, then you are at least empowered that your actions are you own. Still, if you feel you will fail, it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy."
From the direction of the Temple of Gilead, Lanier Vaylan, Green Warden, and Spud, Big Damned Wolf, are caught walking through the square towards the fountain. He walks as if there's a heavy weight on his shoulders, each step slow and plodding, which is very unlike him. Spud seems fine though, so they have that going for them. He walks right up to the fountain, looking around and nodding to Cryosanthia as he sits down on the edge of the fountain, placing his pack in front of him, "Good hunting, Cryosanthia?"
Morgan comes flying in from above but lands in a empty space "bloody little dragons leave me alone." is all she says as she looks around and finds a space under a tree to sit down at.
"She's right," Duncan gestures at Aya. "And what's worse, you could bring down others with you." He glances at Cryo briefly and then adds, "You 'mistress' was Salina?"
"Not as such Lanier, this one went to the Temple of Serriel and could think of nothing to say. She does not exist in Am'shere, and I found was not even a goddess until a dozen years ago or so. This one struggles with the theological implications of a diety younger than my parents." Cryo says, straightening up and relaxing a little more.
She nods, to Aya and Duncan, "Well, you're right, yes. She was."
It's followed by a glance in Morgan's direction, a small wave, and a wish that a lot of little dragons bothering her was her problem as it would be significantly more enjoyable than the ones she has.
Lanier nods his head weakly, leaning forward to open his pack and pull out a bowl. He dips the bowl into the fountain, having to reach over and lift with two hands. He brings the bowl up to his lips, tilting it back and taking a gulp before he leans forward and sets it down on the ground. Spud is on it in an instant, lapping up the contents.
Lanier sighs, then looks up towards Cryosanthia, "Serriel is the Golden Solder. I often give thanks for when I need her guidence, and give thanks for when I don't." He then adds with a quick smile, "If you ever want to talk about it, you know where I am."
He looks up and away as Morgan comes in for her landing. His eyes narrowing as he asks, "Tough flight?"
Morgan mentaly awws as she looks to the large wolf that she wishes she could pet and fuss on "No some one thought it would be funny to tell all the little dragons at my guiled that the nice libaran has candy crickets and will only give them to only one of them. Its been hours of mental speach asking to be that one."
"You could always turn that to your advantage," Aya suggests to Morgan. "Ask them to perform tasks or tricks to earn your favor?" To Cryosanthia, she clarifies, "On your concerns, I believe that you could be of great help to your allies. The only belief that matters, in that, however, is your own. Everyone encounters difficulties, especially in this city. You either step over them, or let them bury you. The choice is yours."
Duncan watches the wolf with a sort of guarded interest and then flicks his gaze to Morgan with much the same expression before looking at Aya again. "'Shadowalker'," he echoes Cryo's form of address from earlier. "Is that some sort of title?" After a moment he adds more slowly, "...or a profession?"
"You had candied crickets?" Cryo's attention is instantly drawn, leaning in Morgan's direction with obvious interest, momentarily taking her from other conversations, "Do you still have some?"
But only for a moment, "This one does not plan to be buried, but this one struggles to come up with something she hasn't tried. I guess I'll have to improvise. It's what she does, Duncan, she disappears and appears from shadows and walks around in the shadow lands."
"And I appreciate your offer, Lanier, but this one is Speaker-Caste, not Warrior-Caste, I expect I'd have little to ask a Golden Warrior. I might regarding the last Temple, of the one that laughs at others."
Morgan mentaly laughs at the fact she excaped some dragons to find another that likes the same thing. "No luv but I know where to get some. In the market he is the third stall near the one guy that sells exotic pets." she then answers Aya "If you do not pay them for there work they will become a real pain in the ass."
Lanier peers towards Morgan, his face inscrutible as he considers it. Finally, he shakes his head, "That's evil."
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, he's looking towards Cryosanthia. He then nods his head, "The one that laughs at others?" He then seems to understand almost immediately, "Tarien. I see."
He finally looks towards Duncan, his head tilting towards the dire wolf, "This is Spud. You can take a closer look if you want, but please don't touch him. That takes some time."
Aya rolls a shoulder at Morgan. "So you repay them in candied crickets. A small price to pay for an army of dragons. That could make you the most powerful person in the land, perhaps all lands." A nod follows to the khazad with Cryosanthia's explanation. "It is a talent, rather than title or profession, though I suppose that any or all of those are still applicable."
"I suppose that explains how you snuck up on us earlier." Duncan asides at Aya. And then he chuckles. "And maybe why 'Sir Seldan' wasn't too impressed." Duncan seems obscurely pleased at the memory. But he grows a bit more serious as he focuses on something else he remembers hearing. "Tarien," Duncan nods at Lanier, "May be the one that laughs at others...but we always say he laughs at himself just as much. Maybe more." He thinks it over and then addresses Cryo, "Maybe just the one that laughs, would be a better way to speak of him. Or the one who laughs /with/ others."
Morgan nods "And if I forget from being to busy, or my conection does not have them then they will form a union and picket my desk... I so wish I never taught them that."
"Yes. In Am'shere he is a silver-scale, on the small side, sometimes even seen as a kobold, or a dragon with similar features. A friendly travelling companion, knight, humorous ally of The Mountain. I thought Ezil to be a follower at first, he acts and dresses so like I'd expect. One that keeps your spirits up, in a jolly way." Cryosanthia says, waving her hand around a bit at Lanier.
She continues, "But here in Alexandria, all his followers I've known seem to focus on pranks, humiliation, and revel in others looking like fools. I can't remember seeing one of them laugh at themselves. Except Sabina, she is more like what I expected. Aside from her, they seem to make people jokes so he can laugh. I've wondered how he can be a good god in Alexandria."
The white sith blinks at Morgan, "You taught dragons to unionize and picket? This one apologizes if you follow Tarien, I would have spoken my thoughts more diplomatically."
Lanier tilts his head, "There are those that are... noisier than others... but the ones who go about it the right way do exist." He looks down to the bowl, tilting his head to check the contents, "You're thirsty today." He reaches out with a touch less enthusiasm than he otherwise would, putting his hand between Spuds ears and rubbing back and forth quickly. He leans down, picking up the bowl with his other hand. Once again he scoops, takes a gulp of the contents for himself, and then places the bowl down on the ground for Spud. He sits back up and then continues, "There's wrong and right in everything. Even amongst my own faith, there are those so enamored by the hunt that they forget about the reverence of nature that goes along with it."
Morgan looks over to the sky and squints a little "Well they found me and I taught them about that because I found it funny at the time." after she says that she casts a spell and disapears as a small pack of Psuidodragons and two farydragons fly by. But to any one that knows enough about them knows they are having fun as if this is a game.
"It is a useful talent," Aya admits that much to Duncan, with the roll of one shoulder. She looks to the others on the discussion of deities and the descriptions or beliefs of such. "People will do what they will. I don't feel the gods are any different... though I doubt my opinions on deities is common, nor popular."
Duncan unclenches his jaw. He probably hadn't even realized. "Well if there's any place where folks would discuss gods and their opinions on religion..." his eyes skim quickly over the surrounding temples. "Myself, I try not to make a habit of it." He smiles slightly. "I'm heading for the Guild, and to find something to eat. Maybe both. Good evening to all of you."
"Was he not properly split from his shadow here? In Am'shere he has no shadow, because its avarice offended him so he chewed it off and spat it out. It went on to do mischief. If he is both here, it makes much more sense." Cryosanthia asks, watching Lanier. At which point she makes an awkward grin, "Apologies, this one did not mean to distract with theological questions. Good evening Duncan, peace on your nest."
Then, the sith is lost, staring at tiny dragons. She makes a strange noise. Lizards do not squee, but the white sith makes a climbing high-note noise that sounds an awful lot like a chirp as she watches them fly over.
After which, she touches her hand to her nose, looking embarassed. This is followed by a glance towards Aya, "Ahh, ah. I forgot what I was thinking. Are you wishing to share an unpopular opinion?"
One corner of Aya's mouth lifts at Cryosanthia. "I hold one. Sharing it is another matter," her eyes sweep their surroundings, "and this is hardly the place to do so, regardless."
Lanier shakes his head, "I'm not sure if we have that particular legend here in Alexandria." He reaches out, resting an arm on Spud and then uncharacteristicly resting his head on his arm, "That would make a great question for his follows at the Temple, like Sabina. She might know." After a moment of quiet contemplation, Lanier adds, "You may also wish to share that bit about the shadow of Tarien with the Luckbringers. I'm sure they would be very interested in researching that story."
"As much as we wish it weren't so, you're right." Lanier adds to Aya with a shrug. He then seems to complete the thought, "We're all still only mortal."
"Of course." Cryo nods at Aya, exhaling and brushing at her sides. She follows with a nod to Lanier, "Yes, this one will ask them..."
"I have found some dark things very funny, in bad times, it has helped..." She says randomly, staring off across the district. Looking back again at the mul'niessa, "Aya, this one would hear what Sir Seldan had to say to you. If you wish a beer or a meal to tell, I will treat. We can go to the Fernwood and you can complain about the service."
The sith looks to Lanier, Morgan, "I have no idea your plans, but would sit somewhere inside, you are welcome to come but this one is going to go. Peace on your nests."
Aya's lips turn upward in a full smile at Cryosanthia's invitiation; specifically the final note. "I could share words over a drink, and it's been some time since I last evaluated their service. Perhaps it has finally improved... or worsened further. "
The mere briefest of moments of deliberation occur before Lanier stands up, stretching his arms wide with a groan, "I'm convelescing at the Temple of Gilead. They won't miss me." He looks towards Spud, "Come on, Spuddy, we're going to get a beer." He reaches down, pours the water down to the ground and the dries the bowl off. He drops it into his pack, then shoulders it, "Lead the way."
"Convalescing? No, tell this one at the pub." Cryosanthia asks, then un-asks, then flutters her hand upwards in a pointing sort of gesture. "Lead the way? Then it is a parade! Step high. Stay on the beats!"
She starts marching, and dancing, and tailslapping, then casting. Her arms light up, left, then right, and surrounding her are the sounds of a ghostly band. Drumbeats, horns, a ratatata-tatata-tatata, and bells. Her clothing shifts, she is wearing bells, holding castanets, and with snappy sounds it is clear she is both going somewhere, and leading something... even if no one follows her.
Destination: Fernwood pub.
Dramatis Personae
Duncan
At five feet tall Duncan towers in height for a Khazad. He's thickly muscled like so many of his kind, yet stretched over his height it gives him a build that's not quite as stocky. His beard is only medium length, thick and largely unstyled to rest in an inverted triangle shape beneath his chin. The hair on his head is shorter, save for at the top where it is gathered into a modest topknot. Lightly bronzed skin suggests that he's most accustomed to life above gound and outdoors.
His armor is on the sparse side but what there is consists of grey animal hide. Far too thick to mold, suitably shaped pieces have been selected to serve as knees pads, shin guards and hip and thigh protectors. Overlapping plates cover his right shoulder, but are missing from the left. A short ragged pelt is worn like a quarter-sized cape. The remainder of his torso is bare, and a tantalizing target for enemies and monsters judging by the many scars visible both new and old.
Duncan's most prominent weapon is a long-handled battle hammer that is more akin to an axe than a warhammer - perhaps balanced for throwing. A cunning horseshoe-shaped clip on the back of his spaulder is at the perfect height and angle to hold the hammer with handle angled crosswise across his back. The Khazad wears very little ornamentation mostly in the form of thick steel headband and an an intricate clasp on his belt, made from a bluish metal and fashioned to resemble a rose.
Aya
This Mul'niessa stands proudly upright, regardless of how tall her four and one-half foot stature fares compared to those around her. Her flesh is a median medium grey, with a hint of blue, though may appear darker in contrast to alabaster hair. Though lengthy, her mane is firmly kept against her scalp, between her dagger-like ears, and down her back in rows of small braids that themselves weave into a large tail hanging down her spine.
She is dressed simply in a triangular, tapered wrap of white cloth that forms an angled hemline between left knee and right thigh, crosses at the small of her back, again across her chest, and completes around her neck with an off-center knot. Additional wraps of fur cover arms and legs when the climate demands it, and a subdued gray cloak keeps wind and rain away as needed. Around her neck is a small mithrail chain that weaves together in a pattern to form a pendant at her throat out of its own length. Pinned to the fabric at her left shoulder is a platinum floral broach.
Cryosanthia
For those who have known her, Cryo is older, much older. Gone is the light on her feet, heavy in the fray, whimsical lizard girl. There is no trace of the fading youngling features which betrayed her youth, her lithe build, her playful exagerated expressions. She looks like her mother might, bigger overall with larger horns, more scale plates, a stronger keratin crest and fearsome talons. Even her gory tattoos have vanished. The Cryo you knew is gone. In a seeming instant.
For those who meet her afresh, Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She wears a white layered robe, cut for her species, with shimmering blue piping, highlights and whorls. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.
For those who know the story, Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She is a lifetime older, but a human lifetime. Still young for a sith-makar, she has centuries to go. Cryosanthia grew into herself under the fae Queen and is the only one to return with memories. These are, sadly, disrupted and Cryo struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.
Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar.