Lament of Vilarus (Part 8)

For a few moments, there's nothing. Just the illusion, trailing into the unknown depths of the reservoir.

Then the water ripples, in a way different from the continuous current. Starting to bubble and roil, as -something- is coming up from the depths. Could there truly be an elemental lurking down there? No. This is no elemental. It breaches the surface, and rears up -- taller than Corey, a small mountain of black ooze shot with cerulean veins. Water runs off it in torrents as it looms over the party, thirty feet tall. A dozen eyes opening in its surface to stare down at them, eyes that are huge but strangely, heartbreakingly human in some indefinable way. A dozen mouths open, and a soft moan echoes from the vast -thing- that has risen from the reservoir.

And then it speaks in sildanyari, thick and lisping, hard to understand, but the words are clear enough. "Where is Master?"

GAME: Karasu rolls Sense Motive: (6)+20: 26

GAME: Corey rolls Sense Motive: (3)+20: 23

Karasu glances up at the creature and from the glimpse into its mind he has a certain amount of insight into how it thinks. For all that it's a big creature, it is fairly simple minded. He motions with his hands to the others, hoping that the creature can not understand such a language. Warning them not to tell it anything that might upset it. "We have no wish to upset this being." He murmurs then, to those that don't understand his hands.

"Careful," Carver hisses. "Shoggoth. Its mouths can wail out noises that will sunder your mind." She holds her bow loosely, Deathless giving a nervous tilt of her ears in sympathetic agreement wit the ranger.

The Goblin peers upwards as the -thing- rears out of the water, a little hand hovering near the hand of her blade. She blinks as it speaks in a language unspoken by her, and she looks to the others. "Anyone speak... whatever that is?"

Her gaze goes to Karasu then, watching his fingers, and she lets out a huff of breath. She looks back to the creature above her.

"You wouldn't happen to speak common, would you?", she wonders of the beast.

"A showhat?" Cor'ethil manages as soon as he stops being so slackjawed that his mouth can't move. He's trying to understand what this creature _is_ and what it _does_ beyond... guarding, but it's ooze and mouths and--

"Oh, that's nice," Cor'ethil says softly, regarding the subject of mouth-noises that sunder the mind. He's met would-be bards that fit that description pretty well, and Karasu's kitsune ancestor, Kiku-no-Musoku, occasionally resembles the remark. He hates to know what this particular creature might do if they give it reason to make noise.

Corey looks at Murder, peering at the goblin from the corner of his silver eyes. "It's Sildanyari. Wants to know where the master is."

GAME: Magpie rolls diplomacy: (19)+12: 31

The creature is... huge, and *terrifying,* but the moment it asks that single, mournful question, Magpie's heart breaks, just a little. Opening her mouth to answer, she pauses upon catching sight of Karasu's flickering hands, and Carver's dire warnings.

"Can confirm," she murmurs to Murder at Corey's explanation. Then, she looks up at the creature's uppermost eyes, and draws in a slow, deep breath. "Does Master have another name?" she asks, in relatively precise Sildanyari. "We don't want to answer the wrong question... Could you tell us about him?"

The eyes orient from one person to the next, the mountainous ooze shifting and slithering, extruding pseudopods and reabsorbing them. It doesn't react to Murder's question -- presumably, the answer is 'no'.

But at Magpie's words, the eyes focus on the diminutive gnome, and it speaks in several heavy, lisping voices at once. "Master is Master," it says. "Master lives in the large house. Master created me. Obey Master and child. Make water clean, make plants grow. Guard Master's treasure." The eyes actually well up with tears that trickle down its bulk.

"This is *unsettling*." Carver decides, as a dozen lips quiver on the gargantuan creature. "For so many reasons." She shifts her weight from foot to foot, clearly hoping to get away from the giant slimedog that's just really lonely.

Karasu has an idea then. "Master is at the large house." He offers, which is true. The body at least is in the house. He looks at the creature. "We were sent to make sure everyone here is well. Are you lonely? Perhaps we could play a game." He smiles a small smile then, cautious and wise.

Carver turns her head very slowly to Karasu.

Murder looks a little miffed at being ignored, but simply lets out a huff of breath. She eyes Corey and then Magpie as they offer explanations.

"I think we should explain to it that its master is dead. And then offer it a new home. Perhaps Telamon would give it a home? And a purpose?"

"Oh, I'd _love_ to play a game." Corey smiles brightly, picking up on what Karasu's putting down. He has to hand it to his husband--kitsune-tricksiness occasionally lands in his husband's shrewd brain and sings like a bird.

"We could play chess. Do you know how to play chess? I can teach you." Corey is already reaching into a pouch on his belt to produce a small travel-size version of the game. It's a familiar refrain Karasu's heard a million times.

Magpie rests a hand on Murder's arm. "We should," she agrees, "but we also want to be sure telling it the truth isn't going to, y'know, end in exploding brains... namely ours-- awwww," she says, as the poor thing begins to *cry,* and addresses it in Sildanyari. "Have you been lonely? These two are great guys, they play *fun* games."

She pauses, considering something, then speaks up again;

"Do *you* have a name?"

"I am Guardian." The great ooze seems to, improbably, straighten up a bit from its slump. "Master trusts me. I will not fail Master." The tears are reabsorbed into the ooze -- followed by the eyes and the mouths.

And with that the shoggoth slides back into the water with disturbing speed, vanishing back into the reservoir. A brief trail of bubbles left behind.

"This is not a house pet, to be so trivial with. It is a creature of dark beyond stars." Carver says. "It lacks emotional intelligence and clearly is unstable.... I trust you, but be very careful. You cannot read its body language or know its intentions truly, however much it seems childlike. Even if it is exactly that, grant a child immense power and watch the world burn."

She takes a breath, and reiterates. "Very-- uh, well."

Karasu shrugs as the creature leaves. "That, is best left alone." He remarks. "Whatever treasure it guards would not be worth our lives to gain." Until he learns otherwise that is. The one-time assassin takes a breath and backs away from the lake. "We should return to our possessions, and then begin expeditions out to see if we can not locate other buildings of interest."

The Goblin looks to Magpie, her hand patting at the Gnome's. "I understand, however.. if we obscure the truth or lie, and it figures it out, heads will explode anyways. Or worse... it cries more."

At the gurgling noise of the creature's retreat back into the water, Murder's head turns to watch it go. She nods at what Carver says, and looks to Corey.

"Chess is probably more complex than it can understand... I mean, it has its orders and is probably not likely to play games. It wants to do what it was made to do, but.. it missees its master."

She raises a hand and shrugs. "We need to tell Guardian that, and find it a new master." A nod to Karasu then, "Since it seems as though it will leave us alone, we should do as thorough a look as possible, and ready things for our return. I am sure Telamon would have an idea for what to do with the Guardian."

"Poor thing," Corey says softly, touched by emotion as he watches the shoggoth slide away. "I agree with you, my nightingale."

He looks at Karasu and smiles. "We should maybe stop to look through the archmage's notes and journals along the way. Just to see if they contain something of note. It might take a bit, but with all of our eyes, I think we can manage it!"

Cor'ethil looks at Murder on the subject and blinks. "What do you mean? I learned how to play chess when I was three years old. If it can speak in complete sentences, it can probably manage chess. Right? I mean, I was speaking in complete sentences by two years old, according to Mother..." He doesn't remember being two years old. Three, yes. Two, no. Odd, the threshold of memory.

"I have no idea how a wizard made contract with such a thing," Carver says with a shake of her head, her long red hairband snapping. At talks of chess, she does say, "It would most likely get frustrated then eat the board. Then you. It's for the best."

"And thus," Magpie murmurs, as the Shoggoth dips back down below the surface of the lake, "did we uphold the sacred Arcanist tradition of 'kicking the jar down the road.'"

Loosing a long, slow sigh, Magpie turns to Carver. "It's not being 'trivial.' It's being *kind.* Yeah it could splatter our heads across the planes, but it was *sad and lonely.* And reaching a hand out, sometimes, is all y'need to do to solve a problem."

Raking a hand through her hair, the gnome nods in agreement with what to do next. "Hey Corey... D'you ever think that maybe you were *uncommon smart* for a kiddo? When I was ten, kds were more likely to shove the pieces up their nose than play with'm."

"Very good, you will be adored as the kindest corpse." Carver snarks.

The return to the base camp goes without incident, thankfully. Once the party has ascertained nothing has been disturbed (Karasu comes in handy here), they settle down to sort through Vilarus's journals and records.

They paint a grim picture. The earliest journals discuss Vilarus's low opinion of 'the Kulthian ideology' and his worries about them pursuing some goal that may backfire. Hence his construction of the demiplane -- a bolthole for wizardry in the event of some accident. Unfortunately, it seems the Sundering caught him at the wrong time, trapping both Vilarus and his apprentice, Anya, on the demiplane.

One of the speakstones shows Vilarus, his face creased with worry but focused, refusing to give in. "We have two problems," he says. "Neither Anya nor I can use magic -- our spells aren't working. Something's deranged the connection to the Sea of Mana. We can still use magical items, interestingly, but there's a new problem there. I can't get the planar gate to open to... well, anywhere. All the planar coordinates are out of whack as well." He runs his hand down his face. "Air's not a problem. Water's not a problem. But we only have enough food for about two months, three if we ration it. It's stored in those preservation boxes..." He pauses, trailing off, before saying, "End recording." as he jumps up.

Another gemstone shows Vilarus, his face composed. "Anyways. Continuing my thought... when I was building the boxes, I started a bit bigger, and a bit more... extravagant. The original design used temporal stasis, not gentle repose. I still have the original casket, and it's big enough for one person."

Murder eyes Corey, and slowly crosses her arms. "I was disassembling and reassembling dragonspitters and thunderbelchers at that age, could speak Goblin-talk and common at age one. But Goblins are well known to burn the candle at both ends, as they say, we're fully adults at 8 years old, and might live to the age of sixty if we're lucky. But it is quite different for other races."

She tilts her chin at the Gnome. "As she suggests, you are also probably much smarter than the average person. Definitely smarter than that uhm thing. But it could probably rip all of us to pieces. So uh..."

Another shrug.

The Goblin's quiet as they rifle though various journals, and watches with fascination as Vilarus speaks from beyond the grave.

She blinks at the last sentence and stands up. "THE GIRL'S IN THE BOX!"

Carver is keeping watch, not joining the others around the tomes and notes. She brings little value there so might as well make herself useful, keep an eye on the sky. She gives a curious look back at the sudden spike of Murder-Volume at mention of a Sleeping Beauty.

After some rummaging, another speakstone yields up Vilarus's image. His expression is graven with deep lines. "It's done. Anya argued with me, but... this way I can stretch the rations farther, and... she'll be safe."

He reaches up to wipe his face, staring at his hand before continuing, "I'm going to take precautions. The casket is sealed, but I'm giving it to the Guardian to protect. It... he... won't fail her, not like I did." He heaves a great sigh. "If ... this doesn't work, and you are hearing this, I beg you in the name of Animus and Daeus Invincible to retrieve Anya. There's a crystal flute in her quarters -- if you play one note on it, it'll call the Guardian forth. You'll have to command him in the sildanyari speech -- that's all I could teach him." His lips quirk up. "He's not the brightest candle in the sconce, I'm afraid. Ask him to bring forth my greatest treasure."

His voice breaks at that, and he takes a deep breath. "Please, bring her home. Let her live her days out, instead of being trapped here."

"Oh no," Magpie says, wiping a hand down her face. "...I really, really hope he stumbled on the right answer the first time..."

This entire journey has proven to have been archaeologically fascinating, arcanistically *critical* to filling in a blank spot on the history of magic... and emotionally devastating. Delving into the history between the cracks of the record of note isn't supposed to be this *sad,* damn it all.

She opens her mouth, but Murder beats her to it, and Magpie nods glumly as Karasu's hunt for another stone comes up with yet more information.

"...Yeah," she says, when poor Vilarus finishes beseeching the gods and the ghosts of the unknown future. "Where's that flute. I don't mind if I'm the only one risking my brain but we need to break the truth to Guardian and get that girl back into time."

Karasu looks at the others and picks up the crystal that contains Vilarus' last message. "We can take this message with us." He looks at Corey, knowing that the other man will want to awaken this woman as much as the others will. He? Well, he would rather leave sleeping dogs lie, but he is not immune to his husband's desires.

The speakstones speak what is to be said, and Cor'ethil's eyes are flooding over with tears. "Oh," he says softly, curling his hand up and putting it over his chest, where his heart beats underneath it. Would that he could live in a world where he had met the Archmage Vilarus, and Anya, and they'd all have a nice smile and a nice chat and a cup of tea, and maybe Cor'ethil would get to shock Vilarus and Anya about the advancement of tropes in Llyranesi dramas since their day...

And then he blinks, sending tears to glide down his cheeks. "I have it," he says. "I'll warn you. I'm poor at flute playing. My oldest sister was always the best at musical instruments... and fattening up any animal she could get her hands on." He has had to personally put ravens in the family rookery before on diets because of Lala.

He nods to Karasu then. "Let's take it with us. Anya deserves to hear his voice when she wakes up." Karasu thought correctly.

Carver slides her thumb ring on, which is as much a statement as anything she could say. Go in peace but carry two full quivers and a really big bow in case you can't.

"I agree, let her see that one first. Then she can view the others, and decide what she wants to do. We can tell her what our plans are, and she can know she's no longer trapped here if she does not wish to be."

Murder grins brightly. "She's got a whole new world to see, basically."

The trip back to the lake feels... oddly anxious. The knowledge that something, someone, has survived quickening steps and perhaps lightening hearts. The reservoir looks as peaceful as it did before, the breeze causing ripples to pass across its surface. Almost comforting, really.

GAME: Corey rolls 1d20+4: (16)+4: 20

Murder hops and bounces along the way back to the lake, using some pent up energy to jump higher and higher.

"So uh, I hope that the clerics back home can speak to Vilarus and let him know everything turned out okay in the end. I can't imagine his spirit is not at rest at this point, but I am sure it would bring him some happiness to know. I'm willing to put up some coin for it."

The reservoir would make a lovely backdrop to any flute performance. One might argue that such a scene is a necessary element of the spine of sildanyari music. Should it not be played among the trees, with the waters gently waving as the listeners (solid and ethereal and tree...ly) are mesmerized by the rhapsodic sounds of a llyranesi man who has had decades, if not centuries, to perfect his craft?

Except Cor'ethil stands there in full plate armor, flute in hand, and he recalls the one time he'd borrowed his older sister's flute. "How the heck do I play this thing again?" he mutters to himself, putting the mouthpiece up to his mouth.

He swears he can hear Lala excitedly chattering at him. ("You make a kissy-face, but with just enough space between the kissy-lips that you can blow into a glass bottle! And then you blow across the hole!" she'd said.) And at the time, he was a child. The closest thing Cor'ethil can say that he wanted to kiss was his chess board. But now...

Cor'ethil relaxes. He thinks of Karasu. And he recalls a simple melody he's heard before that Kiku-no-Musoku played on some banjo he'd picked up from the nearby village, horrifying Karasu with the fusion of local instruments and traditional songs...

And he plays. Passably so. It's a short, mysterious-sounding song. He knows he was only supposed to play the one note, but why have a flute if you can't try a song?

Karasu waits patiently then for the Guardian to arrive. Or more accurately, he waits impatiently and with more than a touch of nervousness. "Let me speak to the Guardian." He murmurs to the others. "I do not wish to upset it, and the mage said that we only need command it. To do more is to invite a necessity to kill the Guardian which I doubt we want." All in the common tongue of course, his fingers pressed against one another.

Carver nods approvingly at Corey's unexpected natural gift of performance, astride Deathless. She, of course, cannot speak the elvish language so can hardly argue against Karasu's suggestion. It makes sense.

In contrast to Murder, Magpie is... not excited at all. Yes, they're going to be rescuing an apprentice exiled from time for her own safety... but first they'll need to survive the grief of a loyal monster from beyond the planes. And the worst part is, *Magpie would not blame it* if its grief turned murderous. She, herself, has spent years compressed into instants, surviving alone among the ravages of extraplanar reality. One cannot *imagine* what that would be like over more than a millennium of Material time.

But some of the tension leaves her shoulders, as Corey lifts the flute to his mouth and plays. Maybe this moment can be made to be more sweet than bitter... if they dance *very, very carefully* across the chasm of the shoggoth's alien emotions.

The notes of the crystal flute come out pure and sweet, no matter what Corey's actual skill is. There's something of spring there, of flowers and bright mornings. And with those notes... the water ripples again, roiling. This time there's no hesitancy, no reluctance.

The Guardian rears up before Corey, a dozen eyes regarding the elf with curiosity and intent. Water sluicing off the massive ooze, as the mouths open. "The flute calls. The Guardian responds. What would you ask of me?" The slurring sildanyari unlovely in the shoggoth's mouths, but intelligible to those who speak the tongue.

Karasu stands firmly before the Guardian. "You are ordered to bring forth your Master's treasure." This is offered in the sil tongue His eyes flicker toward Cor'ethil. Then in common he offers. "You may have to repeat me. It seems to be looking to you for the command." He hopes that Cor'ethil will not feel the need to break the news to the creature. Surely that can be done by the wizard's apprentice.

Murder amuses herself by dunking her head underwater, and then sitting back, shaking her full head of hair back and forth. Running a hand through the untamed mess, she watches as the Guardian returns, and looks to Karasu as he issues the command in Sildanyari.

She holds up both of her hands, index and middle fingers crossed.

The flute summons Guardian. Excellent. Karasu orders the return of the treasure. Okay good. Now, all Magpie has to do is hope, and possibly pray, that offense isn't taken before the memory stone can be brought out for proof.

...Hopefully in the rush someone grabbed the stone...

Cor'ethil nods to Karasu's request. "Bring your Master's treasure," he reinforces by saying it again. He suspects Karasu is right and that it is listening for his words rather than anyone else's, although he feels a bit embarrassed, having played that flute for the first time in...

He blanches. "Has it really been a century?" he murmurs to himself in Tradespeak. It has been. He was very little when Lala tried to teach him how to play. He'd gotten so upset because his little fingers couldn't reach all the holes.

Carver grips her saddlehorn with one hand, Deathless digs a hoof into the earth in response. Tension reads like a Murder-Scream as they wait for the response.

A vast, burbling sigh comes from the shoggoth, and suddenly it dives again, down into the reservoir depths. For a few minutes... nothing.

Then the water roils again, and the ooze surfaces, but this time... it bears a great casket in a half-dozen tentacles, like an elaborate coffin. With care, it sets the casket on the shoreline. Runes glow softly along the sides, and the lid is transparent -- not glass, but something else. Inside can be seen...

A slender, familiar form. A half-elven girl, her blonde hair cut in a kind of bob, wearing simple robes. Her hands folded over her chest, frozen in time.

GAME: Magpie rolls spellcraft: (20)+20: 40

As the box is set down upon the shore, Magpie purses her lips and gives a low whistle. "'Simplifying,' no kidding... Buddy if this was your first attempt, *gotta* wonder if you ever tried freezing a Fireball in time to *bake cookies,*" she says quietly, in Common. Tottering toward the 'casket,' she makes a few slow circuits around the object, tracing the runes and their underpinning infrastructure, making occasional mouth noises that one must *assume* have meaning on some level of existence...

Then, she nods to herself, and turns to Guardian. "Guardian," she says in Sildanyari, "you have done *such a good job.* But now it's time for Master's treasure to wake up."

And with that, she pushes up on the box's lid.

Carver slowly places her gloved fingertips against scarlet fletching, watching 'Guardian' intently.

Cor'ethil holds his breath as he watches Magpie come over to the casket. He trusts her enough to know whether the runes are safe to touch. He almost makes a comment on the spells at play, but Magpie lifts up the lid.

"Good morning," he greets patiently in Sildanyari. That much hasn't changed over the centuries.

Karasu doesn't intervene in the awakening, not wanting to botch the job by doing something wrong with the box. He hears Cor'ethil say a greeting and he tenses just a little, uncertain what the woman in the box will make of their gathering.

While the Guardian is off retrieving the treasure, the Goblin returns to using up some energy by jumping as high as she can. And when the casket is brought to the surface and deposited, Murder eyes Magpie. "Pff, wizards. There's a reason why you can't do fun things in the city any more." She snorts and giggles. The Goblin simply observes as the Gnome does her thing, and resists the temptation to crowd forward when Magpie lifts the lid.

When one sleeps, there is a period of wakening, of slow returning to awareness. A thousand years of temporal stasis... there hasn't been enough time in the box to fall asleep. Or anything else. And so when the lid is lifted, Anya's eyes open suddenly, her expression full of confusion. She flinches a little, speaking in sildanyari. "Who are you? Where is--" Then she catches sight of the Guardian's bulk, and calls out to it. "Guardian, who are these people?"

The Guardian turns its eyes to Anya solicitously. "They played the flute, Child. Master left you with me. Master has not returned."

Anya pulls herself upright, staring around nervously, even as the Guardian lays a pseudopod on her shoulder. She lifts her chin, though there's a quiver in her voice, and she asks the ugly question. "Where is Master Vilarus?"

Cor'ethil's silver eyes turn into sad and compassionate things. In truth, he is not so far removed from his father, who his mother once called a well of endless compassion. He'd taught her that there was a world and life worth living beyond the fae courts, and that there were people who could treat her with kindness and gentleness that she'd never known. So he thinks of Father as he steps forward, gently bowing his head.

"I am called Cor'ethil Cari'thana. Warden of Gilead." He touches the symbol of Gilead briefly around his neck to show Anya that he is being truthful. "You were placed here for your protection, at your Master's orders. We have come a very long way to help you."

He leans a little to meet Anya's height, hunching down a bit if he has to. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, Anya. Your Master has long since gone to the Gray Harpist's embrace. It has been a very long time since his passing. But he made sure that you could live. We have a message of his to play, if you want to see it."

GAME: Carver rolls perception: (17)+21: 38

At Cor'ethil's words, Karasu reveals the message crystal that he has kept and offers it to the woman. "Or you can play it for yourself at your leisure." His own Sildanyari is not as perfect as Cor'ethil's is, but it is good enough for this. He however remains wary of the creature that is comforting the 'child'. Lest it fall to pieces now that it knows that its master is dead. Assuming it understands Cor'ethil's conveyance.

"He did his best to make certain you had a future, with every tool available to him. He went with honor, and most importantly, with final words of love." Carver says as Karasu lays down the message crystal for Anya to test the veracity of her words even as she is careful to not use triggering phrases like died. "When the end came, he thought of you... and we stumbled in as executors of that same love."

"The good news is...", the Goblin pipes up, "You are no longer trapped here. Vilarus left many journals and spellbooks, as well as other crystals." She gestures to herself. "I am called Murder. Uhm. The event that trapped you here has passed, it changed magic in a few ways."

"I'm so sorry," Magpie says at the end of it all. "He really did love you, but the Sundering -- that's what we call what happened with Kulthus -- changed *everything* too much for him to figure out how to get you both home. Just... whatever you want to do from here, you'll have help."