Under the Mountain
GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 14 DC: 18 GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 14 DC: 22 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 13 DC: 18 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 13 DC: 22 GAME: Verna casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 19 DC: 22 GAME: Verna casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 19 DC: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (20)+23: 43 GAME: Verna rolls perception: (6)+29: 35 GAME: Dirk rolls perception: (20)+16: 36 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (4)+16: 20 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (1)+17: 18 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Jacob rolls Perception: (12)+5: 17
The weather in Alexandria no longer matters as you are transported across planes to the location that you last remember in the land of the fae. One of the few locations there that you know to be safe. There are a handful of fishing rods beside the lake, and no sign of the fish-devouring dragonet who had brought you here the last time.
You immediately set out, wasting no time in heading for the mountain. As it is clearly some days distance you have no time to waste. Particularly not here where days could be seconds or years. There's no sound of any animal on your trip. No buzzing bees. No birds chirping in the trees. The world is uncomfortably silent around you.
You are also, all but Cor'lana who is too entranced by this land of her ancestors to notice, distinctly aware that you are being watched.
At first by who is unclear, but then gradually you see it. A dark figure clothed in black cloth, hood drawn up so that their face is not visible. It stands at the edges of your vision. Never visible when you look directly. Never seen in the same place twice. They never approach, but they seem to want you to know that they are there. Their presence follows your every step doggedly.
Traveling in Quelynos is a bit trickier than heading to Ylvaliel, but Telamon manages. He even rode out the plane shift with minimal fuss, though he can't help but look around reflexively for Tanith.
His brow furrows as the party ventures into the woods, and he glances to Dirk. "Is it just me or is it... kind of quiet? I don't really hear anything." The whole idea seems to bother him, and his starry eyes glitter with caution as he walks hand in hand with Lana.
When he catches sight of the distant, robed figure the first time, he frowns... studying it. "Grandfather?" he murmurs in Sylvan, his expression puzzled. But when the figure does not approach, but merely watches, he flicks his eyes to Cor'lana with a worried look.
Multiple days of walking is something Dolan hasn't done in a while, and it's good to stretch the legs. He weathered the plane shift with only a blink and a shake of the head, but has seemed somewhat preoccupied. He has brought his full kit, clearly intending to be gone for some time, and his boots are freshly repaired. Occasionally, he will turn his head to the side as if spotting something out of the corner of his eye, but for the most part, he remains quiet, speaking only if spoken to.
Verna recalls the way, possesses the means, and has visited Quelynos on several occasions before. None of this makes her at all comfortable in the realm (no offense to Grandfather), and recent events have done nothing to make her any moreso. As they move move on, the quiet only adds to the ...disquiet. "I am no expert of the realm, but the lack of activity is not endearing," Her quiet words pause as eyes flit to something no longer(?) present, "Nor does our escort make me feel welcome..."
Dressed in her adventuring gear of sensible robes, boots, circlet, and cloak, Cor'lana still manages to look entirely at home here in the wilds of the ancestors, entirely too comfortable yet awed here--as though the mortal side of her is being treated to the most marvelous of delights just by standing here, waiting in this world of worlds where will is whim, and whim is power, and verse, and rhyme, while the blood that flows in her veins tells her that this is home, that it was always home, and could be home.
"Lovely blue," she murmurs as her violet eyes behold the scene, fixing on something in the distance, then follows a phrase in her ancestor's tongue, falling from her lips as easily as breath. "For one day, our last hours will be spent here--" <Sylvan>
And then comes the murmur of Telamon, and something more. Cor'lana seems shaken from the reverie. "Grandfather?" she echoes her husband, looking for her beloved ancestor.
They have returned to Quelynos.
At this point, Jacob has been plane shifted or found himself on a new plane altogether that it doesn't much bother him anymore. Though he keeps his attention ahead of him, as soon as he arrives, he takes a long look around himself to take a look at his environment.
And he wastes no time following his companions to the mountain.
"Far too quiet. I don't much like it."
Though he watches. And when Telamon and Cor'lana mention the word 'grandfather' as they see that strange figure in the distance, he turns his eyes to look upon them. "...Nothing appears as it seems. It could be someone else."
Dirk trundles alongside his companions, his thunderbelcher held at the ready--although the burly old ranger most notably did -not- bring cold iron shot with him on this outing. Lulu perches atop his shoulder, her head twisting this way and that as they make the transition to Faerieland. Despite the unnatural stillness, Dirk still can't help but be awed by the pristine beauty of these woods. He does answer Telamon, though. "It's nae just you, laddie," he says quietly. "An' we've got eyes on us. I can feel it."
Soon enough, the source of that watchful presence makes itself known. The old snowbeard tenses up, his grip tightening around the stock of his thunderbelcher, but he doesn't lift it into firing position. Though when Telamon addresses the figure, his eyes get wide. "You... ye -know- this one, Tel?" he asks, looking back up to the robed figure. He gulps hard, straining to contain his nervousness as he puffs up his burly chest. He'll let Telamaon and Cor'lana handle the talking here.
The figure - gone now - does not respond to the appellation of 'grandfather'. Instead you are forced to continue onward without any idea of who this person is, or what their intentions. Hours pass and the figure continues to appear and disappear from the woods around you as the landscape becomes more and more of a climb. The ground rockier. The sun never moves in the sky, but you grow hungry and stop to partake of your meals. Food brought with you to this strange place. Oddly you don't really get tired, so aside from counting meals its hard to keep track of how much time has passed. Three meals, four, and you find that the trees are beginning to thin out, that the ground is more stone than dirt. You've reached the mountain.
GAME: Jacob rolls Survival: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Survival: (2)+2: 4 GAME: Verna rolls survival: (16)+27: 43 GAME: Telamon rolls survival: (9)+1: 10 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Survival: (6)+2: 8 GAME: Dolan rolls survival: (15)+8: 23 GAME: Dirk rolls Survival+4: (8)+16+4: 28
For the first time in several hours, Dolan speaks. His eyes have remained on the trail, his thoughts his own, and he hasn't had much to say up to now. "There's a cave ahead. We should make camp. It'll get us out of the weather and make it easier to fend off anything that wants to pay a visit." He points up ahead at the rocks, but what he is looking at is not entirely clear.
It feels like it only took five minutes, or five years. Hard to tell in this place. Telamon glances at the others. "Maybe," he says. "But I can't believe Grandfather wouldn't take the opportunity to at least stop for a chat and make insinuations about children." He sighs in annoyance. "Well, they're not throwing lightning bolts at us, so maybe it's just a guardian of sorts. I can respect that."
At the foot of the mountain, he peers up, trying to follow Dolan's pointing finger, but shakes his head. "I'll have to follow your lead, Dolan. I'm afraid I don't see it. But you make a good point regardless."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (7)+17: 24
The lack of cues to help track the passage of time are frustrating; exponentially moreso when well aware that time here and time in the Material are wholly inconsistent. It appears the best markers they possess are the changing of environs and the reduction of finite resources. With the mountain nearing, and their shadow seeming lost for the moment, her focus is on the goal ahead.
She catches hint of .. something, that seems confirmed with Dolan's words and pointing. "I see it as well... unless there are two?" She peers harder and exhales. "I would doubt very little at this juncture... or perhaps most everything. It is a good place to make camp. As well, if we could locate some path -within- the mountain, it is our goal, is it not?" Verna alters her steps to approach the mouth of the cave with a mild comment, "Grandfather would be a welcome sight, any reproductive requests aside."
They've been traveling a long time and Jacob has a slight feeling that he's...not very tired. They do get hungry. He eats with everyone else and even tries making a few jokes to keep the spirits high. And finally, it appears as though Dolan is the one who suggests they make camp and try and regain their strength. "Agreed. It would be wise." Though as he looks ahead, he has a....glimpse of something? "Is that a...bobbing flame?" He narrows his eyes, as if trying to get a better look. It hovers in mid-air and bobs at him occasionally.
Dirk pauses to munch on jerked venison, handfuls of acorns, and dried apples. Proper trail rations, suitable for keeping up a dwarf's hefty metabolism. He shares out sips from his hip flask as well, a fine malted whiskey also suitable for maintaining dwarven metabolism. As the forest gives way to mountain, he looks up the slope, tipping back his tricorne. "Well, this is the place, innit?" he asks, looking up and around at his friends. "Still feels damned -odd- here, though. Luckily ye can set a clock by me appetite, so we're sweet there, I'll warrant! Hah!" He slaps his hefty middle with a chuckle, doing his best to keep things light. "Aye, let's find us a place tae set up camp." He glances over at Jacob, his shaggy white brows lofting curiously. He looks and squints. "I see nothin'," he says. "Could be a will-o-wisp. Or some sort o' faerie trick-fuckery. Either way, best ye dinnae go chasin' after it. No good ever comes o' -that-."
Cor'lana follows along, her arm around her husband's, but she keeps looking elsewhere, her gaze doubling over her shoulder every now and then to look at _something_ off in the distance.
Finally, she opens her mouth when Jacob mentions it. "You see it too?" she asks. "I... I don't know if we should follow it. It could be a faerie guide... The question is, where it would take us. There's plenty of tales of peril about distractions..."
She trails off in thought, looking back at Dolan and Verna. The feytouched sorceress looks visibly caught between her conflicting natures. But Dirk's comment makes her nod more firmly, her lips pressing together into a thin line before she says, "It wants us to go back into the trees, but we're here for the mountain... We should keep going for the mountain."
Barring better options you head into the cave which Dolan and Verna spotted. It's actually quite large once you manage to catch sight of it, and by the time you reach it, you're quite hungry again. Neither blue flame nor watcher follows you within. The cave itself is massive, and as suggested it leads deeper into the mountain. Within it in fact. The massive cavern is big enough for a castle to fit inside it with room to spare, and you eat your meal in echoing silence. Night does not fall while you are waiting. The weather outside; mild and meek does not change.
Dolan is not the expert here, and he knows it. He turns back towards Jacob, peering curiously, but shakes his head. "I don't even see anything," he agrees, but readily enough turns to lead the way to the cave.
He eats in relative silence, occasionally glancing at Lana and Telamon, and then looking back to his food. "It's too damned quiet, here," he mutters. "If Albus is right - this might be where the Nightmare's chained. We should be pretty careful." He has seated himself on his cloak to eat, and has taken the time to stretch after all that walking before pulling his own rations.
Despite the relatively rough environs, Telamon seems more cheerful as the group gathers to eat a quiet meal. Munching on a soft wrap of bread and salted meat, he takes a sip of water, before glancing at Dolan. "I'm not so sure," he admits. "I don't think they'd have just had faerie-flickers and an observer. More 'grumpy angels armed with flaming swords'." He taps his fingers. "In any case, we're not here to free him."
Then he pauses, and looks at Dolan, raising an eyebrow. "Albus who, Dolan?"
Verna is thoughtful as she eats; thoughtful and curious as her eyes wander over the vast expanse in which they dine. Weariness, or the lack thereof, is an odd state when hunger remains. "Perhaps the fae are guards, warding us away for the protection of what lies within," she begins to muse. "That could indicate that are search is-" Her words halt as Dolan's are uttered, her head turning to regard him. Her mouth remains open a moment longer, yet no sounds emerge before she closes it.
"I do..." Jacob remarks to Cor'Lana. "A wisp? I'm afraid I don't know what that is...but, I'll take your word for it." Jacob tells Dirk with a bit of a nod. "Faerie trick fuckery it is, maybe." He looks back to Ravenstongue. "Let us try and keep our wisdom...if no one else sees them, maybe we should stay away from such thoughts."
He frowns softly, before he turns his eyes to Dolan. "A /what/." Jacob remarks, somewhat firmly. "Joy...." He reaches to grip his weapon slightly, prepared for battle.
Cor'lana, oddly enough... Does not eat, declining the meal offered to her for someone else to save their rations or have her intended portion. As she sits next to Telamon, she looks troubled, but thoughtful, especially when Dolan explains the knowledge he knows. "If this Albus is correct..."
She closes her eyes and breathes out in a sigh. "They could be guards," she says. "Or... I hate to even posit the idea. Perhaps some of my Grandfather's kind--much as he's loathe to admit kinship with other fey--have decided to work with the Nightmare's agents to free him. They have something to gain."
Cor'lana's violet eyes look dark, her hand going to rest on the dark mark that decorates her chest. "I simply don't know," she admits. "It's conjecture. But there is a link between Quelynos and the Dream. I was right on that much."
Dirk takes the lead into the cave, letting his inborn dwarven knack for spelunking (rusty though it might be) help make certain that it's an appropriate place for them to bunker down. Once the area is secured, he plumps his hefty rump down on a boulder, setting his thunderbelcher aside. He looks over to Jacob as he gnaws at a strip of jerkey. "Will-o-wisps. Some say they're the souls o' the wicked. They haunt unwholesome places, an' try tae lure folk tae their doom. Leadin' 'em off o' cliffs, or gettin' 'em caught a great spider's web, or lettin' 'em blunder intae quicksand. Somewhere a poor soul will die slowly an' fearfully. They -feed- on that, the filthy creatures."
He looks back over to Dolan, Telamon, and Cor'lana, steadily munching at his ration. His brows furrow worriedly, and he looks over his shoulder towards the cave mouth. "The Nightmare... we're nae talkin' about Caracoroth, are we?" he asks around a mouthful of dried meat. "Is -this- where they locked 'im up?"
GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (12)+16: 28 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception+2: (7)+16+2: 25 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (7)+17: 24 GAME: Verna rolls perception: (18)+29: 47 GAME: Jacob rolls Perception: (20)+5: 25 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (3)+17: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (6)+23: 29
"What was that?"
Jacob turns towards deeper into the cave, drawing his lance. "....is anybody else hearing voices that keep saying 'I love you'?" Honestly, it's freaking Jacob out quite a bit, but his shield and lance are both up and towards the mouth of the cave. "I don't like this..."
"Yeah," Dolan agrees, chewing thoughtfully on his jerky. "Albus Kinkade was an arcane researcher who was found dead in the Arcanists' Guild a couple of months ago. Turns out his soul is locked in one of the books he wrote. He researched and wrote several books, one of which was disguised as research into fiends, but actually was an enchanted conduit to the Lower Planes. Magpie's got it, but she's also got the book he's locked in, and I was able to ask him a few questions."
That's the most the man has said all day, but he finishes his piece of jerky and licks his fingers, then continues. "He was familiar with some of the arcane research, and one of the totems we found was actually hidden in his book." He grins crookedly. "The demon that tried to kill Auranar the other night is one of V's generals, a creature by the name of Jal'goroth. Looks like Mortin is Jal'goroth. Anyway, he said that the werewolves want the totems, because if you take the totems to where the Nightmare rests, he'll grant you power. There's more, of course."
Telamon stares at Dolan, before glancing at Lana. "...Yeah, I've seen something kinda like that. So that's where that book, the Compilation of the Eternal, came from? Bizarre, but... then again, someone crafted that talking crystal skull too. Guess some people are easily bored." He absorbs Dolan's briefing, nodding slowly. "A lot of things starting to fall into place here. Not everything, but... somethings."
When Jacob gets up and draws his lance, Telamon rises as well. "Jacob, hold!" His voice is firm. "I don't hear it, but that doesn't mean you're imagining it. Wait, though. If we go, let's go together."
Cor'lana's violet eyes go into a glare, and she holds her hand up, as though commanding silence from the group. "Dolan," she says quietly, "you mean to tell me we're here... Where the Nightmare might rest and where his agents might visit him to bring him the totems so they can be bestowed power..."
And she looks at Jacob pointedly. "And I think I might know of _someone_ who might both fit that description and who might be trying to get our attention now, considering we got a bouquet on our doorstep earlier today of daffodils and white roses. Was the voice you heard masculine?" Suddenly her hand is flexing just a little, like a spellcaster might stretch in preparation. No reason, really. None at all, surely.
Aura-" Verna's word mostly leaks as her head turns and before she realizes either. Perhaps it was triggered from Dolan's mention. Perhaps not. She pauses to inhale and exhale slowly. "We are not alone... if we ever were. I heard it as well.." Her eyes search the darkness deeper within, though a fair portion of her focus remains upon Dolan. "Of course He would reward those who bring them to Him; He -needs- them." If this is indeed where He is trapped, did they inadvertently serve this same purpose?
With a light shudder, she turns fully to Dolan, rising to her feet yet remaining where she stands. "It may not be wise that we linger here..." She forces a shift in her trains of thought, "That particular fiend seems involved in a great many matters. Ties to the lycanthropes could explain its true interest in myself, perhaps. I refuse to believe an arranged marriage holds any weight to such a creature." Back to the other, and Cor'lana. "The voice speaks in plural." Which does not make it any -less- unnerving.
Dolan stops in his narrative, and immediately turns his face towards Jacob, and then towards Cor'lana, at the goings-on around him. "Yeah, nobody goes alone, not here. There is far too much that can go wrong. Zalgiman sent you _flowers_, Lana?" He chuckles, a deep sound. "Sounds like you've earned yourself a suitor." The chuckle vanishes. "Be careful, Tel. That man is a bastard."
He sighs, then, and turns his face towards Verna. "They want you because you're a woman between worlds. You wouldn't have been taken to Charn. You'd have been taken to their camp. V wants to summon the Red Maw so it can control him - a divine servitor of the Nightmare. That's what V wants - it wants the Red Maw, to control it. That giant black wolf in the camp. I've been digging around in Temple records to see if there's a way to banish it, if indeed that's it, but we might have to kill it."
"Yeah," Telamon replies to Dolan, his expression a bit sour. "I know, of all the things to get concerned about... but it's one more distraction. And the worst part is I'm not sure if it's intended to keep me off balance or if the idiot actually is sniffing after her." Clearly it's annoying him a bit.
He keeps his eyes moving, watching, as he listens to Dolan. "Well, at least that's a rational motive. And ironically, it makes more sense. Breaking the Nightmare loose would wreck the world, but tapping the Red Maw for power... hmmm..." Telamon's eyes become thoughtful. "We need to talk more about this at some point."
Dirk finishes off his supper, brushing crumbs off his hands. Lulu wings off his shoulder and down onto the ground to start peck-pecking at the leavings. He digs into his hip satchel for his pipe and tobacco pouch, listening to Dolan quietly as he fills the bowl. The notion that Zalgiman sent Cor'lana flowers has the old snowbeard going red in the face. His beard bristles and he harrumphs softly. "Oooh, he's just -beggin'- tae have his arse kicked up between 'is shoulders," he growls angrily as he fishes for a match.
He looks back over to Dolan as he strikes a flame and lights up his pipe, puffing a billow of sweet cherry smoke as he snaps out the match. "But -we've- got most o' the totems, don't we?" he says, leaning forward a bit. "I mean... they cannae let the Red Maw loose wi'out the full set." Mention of the giant wolf has the doughty old ranger turning pale. "Kill it? Ye mean... -fight- it? Us?" He shudders, fidgeting where he sits. "Dolan, laddie, that -thing-... och, I couldnae move when it took notice of me. It was just so... so bloody -awful-... if I hadnae had my totem wi' me, that would've been the end. How... how do we -fight- summat like that...?"
"The whispers are still reaching my ears...." Jacob frowns, though he turns his attention to the others. "Yeah, nobody goes alone. That's not my concern..." He narrows his eyes. "My concern is that this is going to eventually try and drive me mad." He maintains his vigil over the entrance that goes deeper into the cave. "I would rather not check to see if a powerful being who wants it's totems is in this cave, personally..."
"I am aware of their desire for me," Verna acknowledges Dolan, eyes shifting from him, to within the mountain once more, "though not precisely what part they would have me play. Yes, it would be more sensible to NOT free The Nightmare, I would believe, even to a fiend seeking chaos..." She reaches up to scratch behind her ear with one gloved hand. "Destroying such a servitor, much less facing it... We stood before it once... It was in the camp as well as The Vast. Presuming that is the same. Perhaps there are two."
Another pleasant thought to add to the plethora. Her appetite has since passed. "I concur with Jacob. If we would delved further within, or exit entirely, we should act."
"Yeah, he sent me flowers," Cor'lana replies unhappily... but it's Dolan's next words to Verna that have her interested, violet eyes flashing in curiosity. "What is a woman between worlds? Is it..."
She looks at Verna for a long moment. And then she has a look on her face that betrays complete and utter horror, her already fair skin going pale. The hand that rests on the mark that's on her chest balls up into a fist. "Is it being feytouched? They want a feytouched woman to help them control the Red Maw? We know there's a connection between Quelynos and the Dream, and--"
Cor'lana looks at Telamon. The look of fear settles on her face for a moment. "Is that why Zalgiman wants me?" she asks. "Not just because he thinks he's in love with me--but because..."
She shuts her eyes, tightly. It's a moment before she opens them again, this time her closed hand shaking--but in rage. Violent intent in her violet eyes. "He's _not_ getting me. I am not a pretty thing to be stolen or taken. And unless someone's got a good reason for going deeper into the cave, I think it's best that we leave."
"Yeah. That's what I think, Lana. I wanted to warn you sooner, but-" The mobile half of Dolan's expression twists, and he rubs at the unscarred half of his features. "Never mind. Let's get out of here." He stands up, picks up the twin cloaks he's been sitting on, and slings them around his shoulders, then picks up his pack.
"I don't want to have to either, Dirk. That thing's terrifying. I'll keep looking. I still need to talk to the Seers and search the library at Eluna's temple. That's where the information is more likely to be. If someone knows, it's probably there. That is, if it's been summoned yet. I think it has, but I am not entirely sure. If that's it, Dace Zinskas is probably controlling it."
Telamon's starry eyes glow softly, a dim light in the gloom. "I don't care -what- he wants you for, Lana. He's not getting you." He exhales. "I... wish there'd been more answers here, but if this is where the Nightmare's chained, you're right. We should go." He puts his arm around Cor'lana's shoulders.
"I still think they should've put cranky angels outside though," Telamon adds crisply. "Maybe some 'no trespassing' signs. I know being obtuse sometimes comes with the territory but this is getting silly. Clear communication should not be so uncommon."
Cor'lana's comment causes Verna to sharply look away from the dark and to her. A blink. "I did not consider..." There were so many other apt interpretations of the term. "He, nor they, will not take -anyone,-" she asserts as fact. "Let us depart." With that, she begins to move towards the mouth of the cave, attempting to not glance back into the cavernous dim... and partially succeeding.
Jacob stays silent. Though he shivers afor a moment. “Sooner we're out of this cave, the better." He states with no small amount of venom in his voice. He doesn't like these voices trying to attract him towards the cave. Seeming relieved that people are agreeing to depart, Jacob follows the rest of the pack.
Cor'lana nods lightly, her angered expression turning into a more sober one. "I hope I'm wrong," she says, "but... It would explain a lot of things. Dace Zinskas's remark, for one thing."
She exhales, finally, and she looks at Dolan. "It's okay. Really, truly. It's all right. Everything..."
There's a shudder in her voice and in her shoulders as she breathes again. "Everything will be all right," she says more firmly, and she walks out of the cave with the group, remaining by Telamon's side.
You walk toward the entrance as a group, sticking together as you are determined to do. Yet not a single step you take seems to get you closer to the sunlight. The stalagmites don't move. The stalactites remain immobile. The cavern is large enough that it could be an illusion only it had seemed as though it took you only a few moments to reach the camp you've made from the entrance and now... You grow hungry again, and seem no closer to the line of light than you had been before. You're clearly getting nowhere.
More interestingly, now you can all hear the sound of the voice in the distance intermittently. "We love you... We love you... We love you." Over and over. Not male, not female, but rather almost a chorus of voices repeating the same phrase off in the far distance. You could almost count time by it, but you keep losing track of how many times you've heard the voice. The numbers just... slip away.
Dirk tucks his pipe in the side of his mouth and hops to his feet. "C'mon, Lulu. We're leavin'," he grunts. Lulu looks up and hoots softly, winging her way back up onto the old dwarf's shoulder. He trundles along after his friends, thunderbelcher once more held at the ready. Perhaps a bit more tightly this time, as he looks around worriedly at their surroundings. As the cave mouth grows no closer, no matter how many steps they take, his brows furrow angrily. "What the bloody hell is -this-, then?" he growls around his pipe. "Is this the faeries havin' a laugh at our expense?"
"_Something_ is," Dolan scowls, pausing and leaning a shoulder against a nearby stalagmite. They've been walking for a while. "We ain't getting anywhere. Looks like it's time to try something else. Is this illusion?" He turns his face towards Telamon and Verna. "Maybe if we try going deeper inside - I know. But there's only one way to find out for sure, and that's what we came here to do, yeah?"
Verna's steps begin to slow as she (also slowly) realizes that they take her no closer to where she wishes to be. Coming to a stop, she considers Dirk's exclamation. One hand reaches to pinch at the bridge of her nose. After it lowers, she utters words she would not believe ever to be true until this moment. "I sincerely hope that this is some manner of fae chicanery..." As what appeared the path out is decidedly not, she turns back to face the cavern. "What do you want?!" she calls out, not unlike a not-distant-enough nightmare. Reluctantly, she nods to Dolan. "It is wholly ... counter-intuitive, yet there may be no other choice."
When it's clear the party's pace isn't letting them leave the cavern, Telamon sighs, loudly and impatiently. "Alright, hold up." He turns around to look back at the cavern, and clears his throat. Switching to Sylvan, he says in a mildly disapproving voice, "My friends and I would like to leave. If you have something to discuss, then come forth. But if you push us, we'll start stress-testing the mountain -- and I'm pretty sure Tanith wouldn't like that."
The half-elf rolls his head on his neck, cracking his knuckles. "If you want to talk, then talk. Give the cute little chanting a rest. I'm not fazed by it."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (15)+23: 38
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Reflex: (13)+8: 21 GAME: Dolan rolls reflex: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls reflex: (20)+7: 27 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Verna rolls reflex: (16)+13: 29 GAME: Jacob rolls Reflex: (5)+6: 11 GAME: Dirk rolls Reflex: (14)+11: 25 GAME: Jacob rolls Reflex: (2)+6: 8
As if in response to _something_ that Telamon says - as it happens partially through his statement, the entire cavern shudders and shakes as though an earthquake has hit this lonely location. Everyone struggles to remain on their feet, but Dolan is taken entirely by surprise and goes shoulder-first into Jacob, both men falling into a heap on the ground.
"Uhh..." They're moving but they're not /moving/! Jacob frowns, looking deeply upset. Though he stops in his movements when he realizes what's happening. "You can let us go, we mean you no harm!" Jacob remarks with a serious tone, but before he can do anything, the entire cavern shakes and shudders, and Jacob is bumped into by Dolan! Both men collapse on the floor and Jacob 'OOfs!' Dolan had straightened up when Telamon starting calling out, looking warily around him, and so is caught _entirely_ off guard when the earth begins to tremble. He staggers, and in trying to regain his feet, barrels shoulder-first straight into Jacob, crumpling on top of him and rolling a touch away to curl up in a ball, swearing and clenching his teeth.
GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (14)+16: 30
Cor'lana's perturbed at first by the fact they're going nowhere and that the world is leading around and around and... here they are. With the chanting voices that promise love.
"Tel, hold on," she says, her violet eyes formulating something. She seems to wait... And wait... Until the voices say, 'we love you' again, then she opens her mouth, and she says:
"We, travelers of a long-way land with foreign tongues: Love, the winding road binding all with a happy thrum: You, the collection and spirits unseen, The invisible and wondrous that moves and sings:
I, the one of fey-borne blood and blue-made heart, Ask, the one who bares the skin and spills the wine, You, who promises words and chants them as holy:
Come, and meet me in peace, Come, and speak with me kindly, Come, O kin, for I greet you and see you."
That is, of course, happening as the earth rocks forth. She is trying to soothe whatever's been done with a song of her own, of sorts.
As quickly as the quake comes it goes, as if soothed by Cor'lana's song.
Verna wobbles at the shaking but manages to remain upright. She is not khazad, but has the indirect benefit of similar height and is neither top-heavy nor burdened with armor. All make for a rather low center of gravity. Her greatest reflexive movement is the giant wince as Dolan and Jacob collide. "Dolan!" She moves to the men to aid them in rising as she might; likely more of their might than her own, but she could be of some use. More specifically Dolan, given she expects he will have the most difficulties.
She looks to her family, hoping the other Lupecyll-Atlons have some notion of what this might be. Fae-touched is a new and admittedly uncomfortable state for Verna. "What..." She pauses as it seems to settle. "... was that?"
Telamon sways on his feet. "Whoa! What the--" He mentally plays back through his remarks, eyes glinting, and he listens to Lana's from-the-hip poetry. "We really need to play to our strengths," he comments to Lana with a smile, squeezing her hand.
Then he focuses, and makes a simple gesture. And then there is -light-. A glow from Telamon's back, like markings shining through his tunic, which then seems to slip free and illuminate the party, and the cavern, in a warm golden glow. Pushing back shadows and worry, and leaving everyone comfortably standing in bright light, as Tel glances back at Verna. "I... wonder what we're dealing with here, to be honest."
Dirk's eyes get wide as he feels the earth begin to rumble. "Gwaagh!" He stomps his foot down and hunkers down, spreading out his hefty weight. Dwarves are notoriously hard to knock off their feet, and Dirk proves that truth once again. He remains upright, although Lulu flutters her wings and hoots in panic. "Shh, easy lassie, I wouldn't let ye fall," he says soothingly to his feathered friend. He looks over at Dolan and Jacob as they go tumbling down, and he lumbers over briskly to help them to their feet. "C'mon, lads, up ye get!" he grunts. He looks over to Lana as she recites that bit of poetry. It's a lovely little bit of prose, and he can't help but admire it. Hopefully it helps.
The light illuminates things for sure, but there's no sign of misaligned shadows, or wandering fae who might be playing around with you. You seem in fact quite alone. Which leaves you with but one path forward it seems: inside. This time, and almost immediately you can tell that you are making progress. It's comforting and discomforting at the same time.
Telamon's light lasts almost far longer than you really expect it to, but time becomes... more difficult a thing to track. You don't get hungry anymore. No need to stop and rest. Just trudging forward for what feels like days, but... how do you mark days without weariness or hunger? You mark it in the sound of a voice far away and insistent. Gradually the voice becomes closer and closer. Closer and closer. You travel by light of torches and lanterns now that never grow shorter or in need of oil. Further and further into the dark.
Walls fall away and you travel toward the voice. It your only guide. Eventually you find the source of it. It's a fountain, a statue of a man fishing into a pool of water, his line empty. A pool of water constantly recycling by obvious use of magic. It says the same thing over and over again. "We love you. We love you. We love you."
The dim light of torches and lantern reveals more. In the distance. Mounds of gold. Piles of obsidian. Glinting in reflection. Where are you? The darkness is oppressive and the size of this cavern daunting in its size. You can feel a breeze though, gently cycling through the space and bringing you slightly oddly-scented air.
The deeper they go, the easier it gets. Maybe. Telamon can sense something ahead, something -fascinating-. For him, curiosity is just as potent as any other lure, as the group travels. When his daylight spell fades, Tel spins up his dancing lights, and keeps going.
But when the group finds their way to the cavern, and the fountain, he pauses. Then he looks around, his face stunned. The piled gold, the obsidian... the breeze... the statue of the man, fishing. And he calls out -- this time in Draconic, "I know you are here. I seek not a single coin, but only knowledge and wisdom. Will you treat with us, wanderers from afar?"
Quietly, he says to the others, "Don't touch anything."
"Nothing will be touched."
Jacob echoes to Telamon, though as he winces and rises back up to his feet, he turns his eyes towards Dirk. "Thank you, my friend." He pats Dirk on the shoulder, smiling at the smaller's man's resiliency in the face of the hardened stone. Though he turns his head to Dolan. "What was that? I felt like I hit something...leathery." He remarks /specifically/ to Dolan.
Though even still, he looks upon the others for a moment, even as the voice becomes closer and closer.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Cor'lana doesn't say a word after her 'song' is concluded, traveling the whole time like a moth to Telamon's light as she's close to him. When they're in front of the fountain, however, the sorceress's violet eyes scan the statue of the man fishing, his line eternally with nothing on it.
And that sight alone... makes her frown. She turns her gaze up the line back up to the fishing man, but she speaks aloud in a way that makes it clear she is addressing more than just the statue.
"Are you lonely?" she asks. Gently, sympathetically, warmly--like someone who knows that tattered cloak called loneliness feels in the dead of winter, someone who has held that cloak close and shivered before.
This whole journey has been strange. Dolan had turned to Jacob and shown him the padded leather cuff that encased the shoulder he hit him with, still grimacing. "Sorry" he apologized, and after getting to his feet, had trudged with the others further into the dark, at first holding the shoulder he'd barreled into Jacob with. Over time, that hold drops, and he seems to forget it. Torches, lanterns - those, he has. Light spells, he's got a few of those as well. He contributes to the light supply accordingly as they walk, careful to conserve even if they do not seem to need to.
When they enter the cavern, he takes a few, slow steps into the _massive_ cavern, all other things forgotten.
Telamon's words, though, cause him to turn his head, as if he had understood. "You mean to tell me," he says very, very slowly, "that this might be a _dragon_?" He barely breathes the words, then reaches for the stylized dragon pendant that hangs at his neck. "Mighty Platinum Dragon, Holy Sunlord," he whispers, "are we blessed with the presence of one of Yours?"
His answer is immediate, and unexpected, his whole body suddenly bursting into bright daylight that floods every corner of the room and leaves him automatically throwing up an arm to shield his eyes. "Augh! What-"
Moving through the dim, towards the (eerily) bening-seeming call, in more and more unsettling to Verna. Until they arrive at the statue and fountain. This is ... not what Verna expected. Perhaps? Both certainly bring to mind Dolan's observations and the original cause to visit... yet chicanery, whether capricious or malicious, cannot be ruled out; if just by her own paranoia. In any case, "Telamon is correct: touch nothing."
She regards the others slowly in turn as she considers further before she asks Telamon, "Did you happen to bring any fi-?" Her words are cut short as Dolan suddenly explodes into light and she throws up her own hands over her eyes, turning away.
As light bursts out from Dolan like he is a small star the light illuminates the entire room and you realize how incredibly _small_ you are. You have grossly underestimated how long you walked. It must have taken _weeks_ to reach a cavern this size beneath the earth. Before you, beneath you, around you is a dragon. But to call it a dragon is to call the sun a mana-lamp. To compare ants to giants. This creature is staggering in its size. The creature that is Red Maw is dwarfed by this being. Golden from snout to tail-tip. Disappearing in places because to behold it all at the same time is impossible. It is... beyond words. The mere presence of this being is such that you are held speechless in awe. You are terrified in your very bones, and yet... You know that it holds no malice toward you. It does not speak, does not move. It is asleep. Blessedly, completely asleep.
It is, as you behold it, as your awe begins to slowly slide toward sanity as the moments slip away. As days, hours, weeks and unknown time passes as you stare at it, you realize that this dragon is... entirely familiar to you.
Telamon is at a loss for words. It's not that it's a dragon. It's that it's so big it almost defies belief. Hell, the dragon might well -be- the mountain, with its sheer size! A thin shell, over a titanic golden-scaled form. And yet -- for all the awe, Tel can feel the fear draining away, because he has -seen- this dragon before.
Albeit, much smaller.
"Of course," he says in a very small voice. "The signatures were one and the same. But... why are you here, my friend? I can understand how you could come to us -- projections are something we've seen before." Cautiously, he takes a couple steps towards the wall that is the dragon's flank. Reaching out to it with his hand.
Dirk's jaw drops open, his pipe tumbling from his mouth. He fumbles to catch it, barely managing to snag it before it hits the ground. But all the while, he can't take his eyes off the vision before them. "Beards o' me fathers," he breathes in the smallest of voices. Lulu stares as well. "Hoo," is about all she can manage. "Tan... -Tanith-? Is... is that..." He looks up and around. His eyes get even wider, if that were possible, and his face turns white as milk. "Center," he gasps softly. "We're... we're at the very center o' this whole entire realm." He looks back to the golden vision. "That... that dragon... -that's- the center, right there! Great Gilead's Ghost, how long have we -been- here?!"
Cor'lana follows suit with Telamon as soon as her feet move again, as soon as she can shake off the feeling of awe--which that word alone hardly gets at the heart of the feeling that the dragon's presence inspires in her, but it's the one that is most sufficient.
"Thank you for liking my poem, Tanith," she says gently, a fond smile finding her face. "We didn't know we'd find you here at the center of it all, or we would have brought you treats."
And there's a moment before she reaches up with Telamon and, she says, echoing the statue: "We love you." Because she means it.
Stunned, first by the light and then by the sight, Dolan simply - _stares_. Now he understands. He was wrong - this is far beyond what he'd guessed, and no small amount better. The words of others tumble around him, reach him. The knowledge that this is Tanith's true form reaches him, sinks into his mind. The idea that they might have been gone for months enters his mind, a troubling thought, and yet, still, the words do not come to his lips. He can only lower his head in awe and respect.
Verna stares. Then she stares more. With recognition, the fear drains, and, far more slowly, the awe, both are replaced by questions. So many questions! Many of which could be very vaguely answered with 'Mana,' of course, yet the curiosity is in the details... Then other questions find their way into her thoughts. Dolan's original. Telamon's now. Dirk's point.
"What if..." she suddenly postulates "her presence and Albus' claim are not mutually-exclusive? A prison should include a guard, a sentry. One for a being so powerful should include one nearly as potent?"
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (4)+14: 18
It's in this moment...more than any other moment in Jacob's brief existence...that he realizes how small he truly is. The light that comes from Dolan as he explodes into brilliant light and now....it's revealed. "What in the name of the Gods..."
And sure enough, it's revealed to be the great dragon Tanith.
"That's.....wow." Jacob suddenly feels as though he shouldn't speak as the Tanith's true form is revealed to so many. "Serriel preserve us."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (13)+14: 27
Something that someone says causes the something to happen, but it is not words from the massive dragon before you. If it spoke, the sound would be beyond your hearing. The wind from its voice would topple you over. Instead the little Tanith with whom you are so familiar appears before you. She looks at her larger self, and then at you almost sadly. "Peoples always treat me different after this." She sighs, and looks at the group of you. "This body slumbers, not to awaken until needed. That day is not today. You have come to learn, and I will grant you the wisdom of a single question each. Be wise, and then I must take you home before time catches you."
Cor'lana looks... a little bashful, like she's acknowledged something foolish that she did. But... she is here. Tanith's here. And the time is ticking.
"What is 'the woman between worlds'?" she asks. To know it firmly, to have that information, to have it concretely--so that she knows what to expect.
"The Woman Between Worlds is any woman who is a place between. A woman caught between two existences, between two paths. This woman, in the between-place, in the between-time with birth the Red Maw." Tanith says simply. "Once she has been pierced by the chains of the Nightmare, and freed of their darkness, the Red Beast is freed."
_One_ question? Dolan has many. It takes him only a minute to understand what Tanith says, and real, sad sympathy blooms across the mobile half of his features, even finding a way to touch the scars and surround that soulless gen in the place of his right eye. _I won't,_ he vows, right then and there, silently.
It takes him another minute, though, to find his voice. "If the Red Beast is summoned to the realm of Ea, how can we banish it again?"
Tanith looks at Dolan, her eyes golden and stirring like a great golden pot. "Red Maw is tied to the portal it creates. Destroy the thing that creates the portal and the Maw will languish without the Nightmare to feed it. Beware, this will not banish it _entirely_ but will weaken it and make it mortal enough to be destroyed." She seems almost sad.
Telamon rocks back on his heels, though he refuses to waver. And when Tanith appears, he fixes the tiny dragon with a calm gaze. "No," he states firmly. "You will /always/ be welcome in the house of Lupecyll-Atlon." Once that's settled, he turns his attention to business. "Tanith, the fiend calling itself 'V'. What does it fear more than anything else?"
"What all evil things fear." Tanith flashes her teeth in a half-smile, half dragony threat. "The good peoples. For that which is holy and good always destroys that which is evil."
Dirk smiles gently at Tanith, and he steps forward. "Tanith, lassie, I remember jumpin' in the ocean tae find ye fish tae eat," he says quietly. "I'll never forget that. An' I'll never forget yer many kindnesses towards me an' me friends. Yer always welcome in my cabin, an' if ye ever come tae visit, I'll make certain ye have all the fish ye could ever want." He puffs up his burly chest, resting his thunderbelcher over his shoulder. "The Felwood," he says. "What one thing might we do that would be the most effective at clearin' out the evil that rots there? How can we heal the wood?"
Tanith bobs at Dirk's question, seeming to think about it for a very long moment. "Time heals all wounds, but the source of the great danger that lies there is not what it is thought to be. Healing the wood will not be possible without magic and magic..." She sighs and looks toward her big body. It sleeps peacefully, slumbering endlessly. "It begins to fail."
Verna watches, listens. A question burning for some time and rekindled just minutes (weeks?) ago is fresh on her mind when Cor'lana asks of it. The answer is a veritable doubly-edged blade, and doubly-stunning. She fights off a growing frown by focusing upon the golden dragonette. "You are as inspiring in either form, Tanithariairisixchel," she assures, "if more easily fed in one."
This leaves her own inquiry. Freeing of the Red Maw, banishing the same, the Light against the Dark, the failing of magic(?!)... There are many opportunities. Many possibilities. There is one inquiry she is certain they cannot determine for themselves without trial, error, or change. "Where are the remaining chains of The Nightmare not already held by those present?"
"Two are in the camp now. Held by two different individuals. One is in the hells, held by the one known as Jal'goroth." Tanith looks vaguely apologetic. "They were made to remain outside the sight of all, so I can not say their exact location at this exact moment, and even if I could... It would do you no good by the time you got back to your home. They do not remain stagnant."
Everyond is asking grandstanding questions. About a lady between realms, what their greatest enemy fears. Yet, Jacob remains silent. He dares not interrupt a DRAGON among dragons, and he understands the importance of being before such a being. He patiently waits, and when it is time?
"Wise Tanith...I ask you this: Is there a way to restore those who have been turned into werewolves in the camp of our enemy, where the Red Maw lies? A way to undo the curse upon them?"
Because Jacob's heart is not in the defense of the realms, but the people caught in its crossfire.
"There is redemption possible for all those wayward peoples." Tanith seems pleased with Jacob's question. "Eluna knows the way, and I will help! When the time comes, they will find peace or healing if they look for it. Most of those in the camp are not bad-peoples, but merely seeking a path that they do not know how to find. There will come a time when they are given a choice."
With that Tanith harries them into a circle. All touching, and she looks at her peoples with a pleased expression, landing neatly on Telamon's shoulder. There's no warning, nothing before you are home, standing a few feet from the edge of the city of Alexandria. The bright-eyed dragon is... well she's quite asleep on Telamon's shoulder now. Answering no more questions. Resting off her long trip home.
It doesn't take long to learn how long you've been gone. It feels like years since you left, but in truth it's been just a week. Somehow though, knowing that you missed a week feels like too long.
-End