Investigation of Ivyhold

Temple of Eluna, midday

When Telamon returned from his egg expedition the previous evening, it was to find a handwritten message from Seldan. As is Seldan's way, it is brief and topical, and somewhat cryptic when speaking of sensitive matters. It reads -

_I have learned who it was you saw in the vision. I may be found at the Dreamer's Temple, and would speak of it._

Today isn't as humid as it has been recently, and it's a nice day for a change. The cool of the interior of the austere Temple remains welcoming, as it always does at this season. As he so often is, Seldan is seated by the pool, on one of the rugs intended for meditation, and is engrossed in exactly that activity, wearing again a sleeveless, light shirt with the open front robe over top of it, and loose trousers, his feet encased only in hose, his low black shoes set aside neatly next to the meditation rug.

Sometimes you get the package deal -- two half-elves, not one. Telamon has been here to the temple a few times since his (thankfully, very brief) demise and subsequent revival. Thanking the Dreaming Goddess, and her servant Tanith, because if nothing else it's -polite-.

But today is a time not for giving thanks as much as it is preparing to deal with the next challenge. And so Telamon walks on quiet feet into the temple sanctuary, accompanied by his wife. He's dressed in deference to the summer heat, light cotton tunic over trousers, in a soft gray color with darker accents at the cuffs. He pauses, and touches his wife's hand... tilting his head in Seldan's direction.

Cor'lana is similarly dressed for the summer, although she's traded out her typical habit of purples for a light blue dress that befits Eluna's temple. It's a light thing made from finely-spun cotton that fits her slender form well without being flashy; simply comfortable in the summer heat. Pothy is absent from her shoulder this time, the raven apparently left at home to be babysat by someone else.

Seeing Seldan is deep in meditation, Cor'lana looks reluctant to approach the man while he's engaged in something that she herself finds important as a matter of faith. She offers Telamon a look that suggests that she's willing to wait until the Silverguard is done.

It takes a few minutes, but at length, one of the white-robed Seers spots the pair waiting, their intent clear, and taps the edge of Seldan's rug. "You have a visitor, Silver Guard," she - a raven-complected elven woman, slight as a twig - murmurs in the sibilant sildanyari tongue." The paladin looks up after a moment, and affects a polite smile, rising and slipping back into his shoes. The Seer takes the rug and disappears back into the direction of the altar, leaving him to turn towards - ah. They both came.

"Lord and Lady Lupecyll-Atlon," he greets, bowing politely to both of them, his mien at once relaxed and sober. "Her light upon your path. I trust you have received my message."

Telamon offers a bow, first to the altar, then to Seldan, before responding. "I came as swiftly as I could. There was a matter of importance I had to tend to and your message only found me last evening."

He approaches the Silverguard with a small smile. "I hope you had more luck than I. I did a little digging in more mundane places, but... it was less fruitful than I'd hoped." He shrugs lightly. "Still, even a scrap of information is better than none at all."

"And I came to provide whatever aid I could, in addition to seeing a well-loved friend again," Cor'lana replies with a small smile. "Her Light upon your path, Seldan. Vaire's verse in your heart as well." For these are the two goddesses who she reveres the most.

She curtsies as Telamon bows, the two well-synchronized in that regard. "It is often a little information that leads to greater information. Sometimes... and, ah, pardon my metaphor, but it is often the small keys that unlock the important doors." She smiles somewhat bashfully.

The reference to keys does not fail to draw a low, quiet chuckle from Seldan, and he gestures that the pair should follow him. "You are most kind, and most welcome. I would not converse here, for sound travels in Her hall as clearly as on the quietest of moonlit nights." If they follow, he'll take them through the halls of the Temple proper and past a pair of double doors, into a massive library, its pillars inscribed with the words of ancient prophecy. In a back corner of these byzantine stacks, he comes to a pair of alcoves, in which each has benches ringing a table. It is to one of these that he gestures the pair, sliding into one side of it himself and resting hands on the table.

Tel is quite content to follow Seldan into the deeper part of the temple, his fingers reaching out to brush one of those pillars in the library in a soft, almost affectionate gesture. Soon enough, though, they are at the alcove, and Telamon sits down across from Seldan.

Opening his haversack, Telamon pulls out an oilcloth envelope, the kind used to transport documents, and sets it on the table. "So, Sir Seldan, who gets to go first?" His eyes twinkle a bit, a touch of wry amusement there.

Cor'lana follows, of course, given that she's joined with Telamon by the hand anyway. She takes a seat next to her husband and nods as he takes out the oilcloth envelope. She's quiet for the moment, choosing to let the two men who have discovered things talk for now.

Once both are settled, Seldan's eyes go to the oilcloth envelope with no little interest. "I shall begin, for perhaps what I have learned shall provide you with clarity to that which you have found, but I would hear your words as well." He settles back, and begins.

"'Mariana' is my grandmother's grandmother," he begins. "I was able to locate the name in the family records, and was able to write to Grandmother to learn more." This is where the small smile fades. "She was able to grant me audience, with my father away on business, and from her I was able to learn that she was taken in by an uncle, a Sunblade, as a youth. Her father, one Rhain Padaryn, was a wizard and an instructor at the magician's guild, and entertained her with small tricks as a small girl, but once she moved in with the uncle, she never saw him again. The magician's guild holds records of the name, and marks him as an instructor not yet deceased. He was known for not disparaging any branch of magic, including necromancy." The last words fall like lead droplets, one by one, to the table. "It is in my mind that it is Rhain Padaryn whom you saw."

Telamon steeples his fingers, and listens to Seldan's tale. "Hmmm. An ominous start, Sir Seldan. One could fill a book -- several books -- with wizardly errors in judgement." He stares over his hands, his starry eyes thoughtful. "I've lectured before that ultimately, every spell you cast is on your conscience. While not every necromancy spell is an offense against gods, man, and nature, one should always mark carefully when you tread those waters."

He unfastens the oilcloth envelope. "I went searching in civil records for information about the Ivyhold House. It's been there for centuries, it seems, the holding granted by a King at the time to a Count Padaryn." He flicks his eyes up with a grin to Seldan. "So -technically- you could claim to be 'His Grace, Count Seldan Padaryn', your father's opinions be damned."

He sifts through the copied pages in the packet. "Two centuries ago, the records abruptly cease -- no taxes, no contact, nothing. The title to the house appears to have passed through various hands but no one resided there -- until it was returned to the Padaryn family."

Cor'lana squints a little at the pages that Telamon has. "Mmm. I don't think Seldan's family has that title--'Count'--anymore, though," she says. "Otherwise Seldan would know if it already, and it'd appear in the family records to the modern day. It's possible the title was revoked by the King to give to another, or even that the title left the family entirely through marriage, but Ivyhold remained in the family's possession until... Whatever Rhain Padaryn did. 'Count' is almost as minor for a title as they come."

She looks thoughtful. "But it could be a perceived fall from grace to lose a title, even as minor as it is. I wonder..."

Seldan's eyes lower, and close. "I make no claim to title nor land, save only as a servant of the Dreamer," he murmurs. "In truth are there many ahead of me in line, for my father is the younger of two brothers, and I the younger of his two sons. Still will that information interest Grandmother, I think, and I would share it with her, when next I see her."

"As to wizardly errors in judgment - too many have I seen, and one at least have I been victim of. Far too well do I know the truth of your words. Still is it in my mind that it is necromancy that we face. Who knows what it is that my great-great-great grandfather has wrought. I but know that I mean to find out, and lay it to rest, whatever it may be."

"There is one other thing of import, and for this was I hoping for your assistance with research. Rhain Padaryn is listed as having on loan from the guild an item known only as The Eye. None seemed to know precisely what such a thing was, but such knowledge would well fore-arm us."

Telamon nods, "It might be connected, the sudden stop of two centuries ago and the loss of the title. Magical misconduct is a serious offense, after all. It bothers me that there were no records as to -why- the title might have been stripped, or any notation of events at the house. As if someone simply wanted to bury everything involved."

Tel scowls at the mention of a magical item called 'the Eye'. "That... is somewhat vague, Sir Seldan. Do they have no information on its powers, its appearance? One would think a magician's guild would at least keep records on items they hold in trust for its members."

"Two centuries is a long time in the human conception, Tel," Cor'lana reminds Telamon, her hand going to her husband's arm. "That's well over the span of full human lifetimes, unless you're one of the very lucky few to break the span of a century. _We_ don't even live two full centuries most of the time."

She frowns. "It's a magicians' guild, yes, but records are lost or... even destroyed, all the time. I wonder if someone _did_ go out of their way to bury anything to do with Rhain Padaryn. Either out of shame for what he did, or a desire to sanitize the Padaryn name, or... Well, why not both?"

"The vision of which you spoke suggests that it was he who buried it. _None must ever know._" Seldan points out soberly, resting his hands on the table. "He went so far as to unleash the dog guardian on any Padaryn who touched the key. It is in my mind that your lady has the right of it, and that it is both. _None must ever know,_" he repeats quietly. "That span of times is indeed near three full lifetimes of men. Great pains were taken to conceal it, but -" He turns his right hand over, staring at the palm. "Nay. I must learn the truth, come what may. It may be that I shall indeed bring shame to the family in so doing, and yet - mayhaps shall I redeem it." The words are nothing more than a murmur. "Who can say? I can but say that I am called to learn the truth, and lay whatever lies in that house to rest, come what may."

The musing is, after a moment, abruptly ended when he looks up. "As to the matter of the Eye, it seems that they did not. Magician's guilds dislike admitting that they are in possession of such things," he notes with the very smallest of rueful smiles. "Did the Dreamer's Temple know of such a thing, and its details, well might they have sought to wrest it from the possession of the Guild for safekeeping. It behooves the Guild that would keep hold of its more dangerous treasures to be - vague."

Telamon sighs. "Truth, Sir Seldan. He was obsessed with burying -- whatever error he had committed." His expression is sad. "Men pass from the circles of the world; but their deeds, for good or ill, live on long after them."

He flattens his hands against the table, focusing his thoughts, before he continues. "Sir Seldan, I don't give a damn what people say. From all the time I have known you, you have been an honorable, good man. Whatever happens in this endeavor, I will stand with you to see it set right."

Tel hmphs at the question of the Eye, though it's clear he agrees with the analysis. "So we have an ancestor, whose ultimate fate is uncertain, in possession -- perhaps -- of an artifact or magical item whose nature and powers we know nothing of. I feel like there's a joke somewhere in there about how adventurers get into predicaments." His lips curl up in a smile. "Story of our lives, really. So I suppose the only lead left is Ivyhold itself."

"Telamon's right," Cor'lana says, "What Rhain Padaryn did--that was, or _is_, his burden, but you? You _are_ the man most equipped to handle it. You are the one who can right this--and maybe, in an odd sense, it is your birthright to do so."

Then she looks thoughtful again. "It might be wise to check with other magicians' guilds in the other Myrrish kingdoms first," Cor'lana points out. "Just to see if maybe they have records on 'the Eye'. I could see a rival guild keeping tabs on what another guild has."

"It is in my mind that Rhain Padaryn remains in the mansion, in - whatever form he has assumed. I can but conclude, from your descriptions, that he had worked the blackest of magics, and forced the family away, that none know the truth of what he had done. He sent his daughter away, and ensured that none remained. I shall see if there is aught more to be learned in the guild's records, or the Temple's, for is there a Temple to the Dreamer in Bryn Myridorn. It is possible that they will even remember me." He does not sound as if he is holding out much hope for that.

Blue eyes regard starry ones for a long, long moment. "Thank you, Lord Lupecyll-Atlon. Those words mean a great deal to me." The words are simple, serious, and heartfelt. "They are the words of one good man recognizing another. You and your lady both."

He turns his smile on Cor'lana. "A good notion. It was also in my mind to seek Temple records, for they would almost _certainly_ know of something so dangerous. Perhaps Rune will also hold records."

"Something to remember, Sir Seldan," Telamon advises, his voice and mien serious now. "The vision I had was not of a man relishing his achievements, but one tormented by guilt. If he does remain, in some sad form, it will fall to you to set him free. Not out of wrath, but compassion."

He leans back a little, and offers Seldan a smile. "We light the way, just as She does. And you have been a good friend in turn. I am pleased to offer you whatever help I can." At the mention of records, a thought springs to mind. "There are many esoteric books in the library of the Shining Chalice. It will take time, but there might be some mention, some reference. A puzzle like this, it might just be a question of finding the right loose thread to tug on."

"Grandfather once said something about knitting--if the yarn isn't secured properly when you go to tie a knot, and someone pulls on it right later, the whole thing can begin to unravel," Cor'lana adds, returning Seldan's smile. "I can see if there's something in the Society records here, as well. I don't know if there will be anything quite this far from the Kingdom of the Lion, but it's worth trying, and it is what I can do to help a beloved friend and a good person."

She frowns just a little then. "Telamon is right, though," she says. "If he's... in there, alive by magic, I don't think he would be alive _happily_. I..."

Her violet eyes turn downcast. "It may be most compassionate to give him death, but... there may also be a way to save him? A way that may not be obvious at first, but..." She sighs softly. "I'm sorry. My sorrows may not be applicable to your own."

Seldan merely inclines his head, some fond memory or fleeting thought shadowing the even features for a moment. "Of course he is trapped, for what else does such magic do? Set him free I shall, for vengeance is not the duty of a knight, and there is mercy in the Light. Mercy am I bidden to seek, and it is in my mind that you are quite correct, that mercy is what I shall be called on to offer."

He sighs gently, and settles back. "That will be for him to decide, for life now is most different from his time, and it may be that saving him, to but set him adrift from all he has ever known, is no kindness. That remains to be seen. Both ideas are well-considered. Too did I think to ask Mourner Verna if she might search the records of the Temple of Vardama, for they might keep knowledge of things of a necromantic nature, and it is in my mind that this Eye is most likely of such nature. I shall seek among the Myrrish guilds and temples, and speak to the Mourner?"

"It bothers me that a man who was a teacher, who clearly cared for a small girl to entertain her, felt his only recourse was to seal himself away. To cut himself off from everything." Telamon's brow is furrowed. "Whatever has happened to him, an ending might be a mercy. But -- we will cross that ford when we reach it. I would definitely like to seek out more information about this 'Eye'."

"In truth, there are many strange and unusual magical objects that pass through Ea -- ranging from the benign to the unspeakably foul. I hope this is not the latter, that what has transpired was sad accident, and not the work of some tainted device."

"Those sound like good ideas to me, Seldan," Cor'lana says softly, her eyes still a little downcast. She takes a small breath, closing her eyes, a small tempest inside of her that she seeks to chase away, at least for the moment. "The Temple of Vardama is naturally opposed to necromancy, so they would be a good resource as well."

"There is but one way to learn the truth." Seldan seems utterly unaware of Cor'lana's internal tempest, with barely a glance at her, seemingly still lost in his own thoughts. "When are you free to seek Ivyhold?"

Telamon's hand slides onto Cor'lana's, fingers lacing with hers. Sensing her thoughts, and silently supporting her. At Seldan's inquiry, Tel looks up to meet the other man's gaze. "I have some minor tasks to attend to, but I am at your convenience, Sir Seldan. I assume we will seek others out for this expedition? I do appreciate your company, obviously, but it might not hurt to bring a couple more trusted friends."

When Telamon's fingers lace with hers, Cor'lana smiles, just a little, a warmth in that little smile despite the internal tempest. It's a small thing that eventually banishes the look of sorrow in her eyes.

"Let's see," she says. "I think you may be settled, Seldan, if you bring yourself, Zeke, Telamon, and Verna. You don't want too many people along, and I think these individuals may be the most suited for the job."

"Indeed were those I had spoken to. Those do I trust without question." _Not many others,_ is left unsaid. Seldan looks between the pair soberly. "The Mourner would I have, that the soul be seen where it must go. Zeke do I not leave behind, and you have kindly agreed to assist. I think that that is enough."

Telamon mulls it over as well. "Agreed. I don't think we should bring an army. As effective as that might be... I think having a small group of experts might be best for this kind of job. If there's something more... serious at work here than just a magical experiment gone horribly wrong, we want to limit exposure."

There's something in Tel's eyes that suggests he caught the unspoken remark, but he doesn't comment further. Then his eyes twinkle. "Still, I do wonder why you're bringing -me- along if you're looking for experts -- I jest, I jest." His lips curve up in a smile. "It's an honor to aid you, Sir Seldan."