Silencing the Unloved King

The mid evening, after moonrise, finds the Temple of the Dreaming Goddess quiet and chilly, the marble inside capturing the outside wind and cold in microcosm. Thanks to the magic that suffuses the place, it is not frozen, and it is less cold than the howling wind outside. Still the chill is real, and the Seers present wear cloaks and robes of white wool, and perhaps an extra layer or two as they sit in quiet contemplation, or talking quietly with others or the few Sunblades present.

One alone here seems largely unaffected by the cold, bright hair uncovered by hood or cap as he sits cross-legged by the pool in his usual attire of shirt and trousers, and mage's robe atop. Here, in deference to the sanctity of the temple area, Seldan is devoid of weapons, and no armor is visible, his pose quiet and at rest as he awaits those who he asked to join him this evening.

Next to Seldan kneels a familiar form as well. Untouched by the cold as well, Telamon kneels on one of the tasseled prayer rugs, his eyes closed, expression contemplative. His own garb is... not ostentatious but it does bespeak Telamon's tendency to finery; a snowy-white silk blouse, long sleeved and ruffled at cuffs and collar, tucked into his black leather riding trousers. His boots have been traded for simple slippers here in the temple, and his platinum blond hair is brushed back, as the half-sil sorcerer meditates.

Finally, though, his eyes open, his gaze moving to the side as he nods slightly to Seldan, lips quirking up in a faint smile as he awaits the others.

Verna's cloak rustles in the harsh wind though less so after entering the temple grounds proper. Fortunately, the pink dress beneath is layered and wind-resistant enough to deal with the current conditions. It takes a moment to note Seldan, perhaps due to lack of armor and lack of his associates ostentatiousness; both are comparatively uncommon, much less in tandem. She then moves to approach the pair. "Good eve to you both."

Dirk's heavy booted footfalls can be heard as he enters the temple--largely because he takes a moment to stomp the snow off his feet. Like his dear friends, he too is without weaponry or armor. He's decked out in his heavy cable-knit sweater, cloak and mantle tossed over his shoulders, and scarf wound around his neck. He doffs his tricorne, holding it under his arm as he makes his way into the temple proper. "Och, hello, everyone!" he says quietly, so as not to disturb the other Elunites. "It's lovely tae see yee all."

Indeed, the attire between the two mages is not dissimilar, but the bright-haired one is definitely the less attentive dresser of the two. He does not look up in response to Telamon's look, not until first Verna and then Dirk - familiar voices both, and ones not heard in too long - greet the pair. He looks up, over at Telamon, and finally returns the smile with a very small one of his own. Having a companion in meditation where for so long he had meditated alone had been startling at first, but he's gotten used to it and has come to welcome it.

As the other two approach, he rises smoothly, legs pushing him up smoothly and easily from the cross-legged position to standing. "Her light upon your path," he greets the pair in low tones, bowing politely. "Too long has it been since I have set eyes on either of you. Come, let us find a better place for conversation."

He steps off of the prayer mat and takes it to a pile near one of the pillars, leaving it there easily, and waits for the others to follow before leading them through the back door of the Temple into the Temple courtyard, and through the halls, past a set of double doors where a Sunblade and a Silver Guard both bow them through the doors, into a massive library. He seems uninterested in the stacks here, instead leading them towards the back, a quieter section where fewer go. A few alcoves allow people to talk in ones and twos, but here, he selects a quiet wooden table at the back of the stacks. It is warmer here, and must, the scent of paper and leather overlaying the scent of cloth and marble and wood. It is here that he gestures them to before selecting his own chair and seating himself. "It is well to see all of you."

Telamon's starry eyes dance as he regards Verna and Dirk. "It's been too long, Dirk," he says with a smile. "And of course, my sister-in-law. I hope Auranar is well?" The sorcerer falls into step with them, behind Seldan as the knight leads them into the library.

"Sadly, no refreshments in the library. I'll be happy to take everyone out for drinks later, if you like." Telamon slides into a chair easily, looking on with that faint smile. "Considering what Sir Seldan might have to say, you may want a drink."

"Indeed, too long," Verna concurs as they move to more comfortable and appropriate surroundings. Some may ignore the stacks and shelves in the library, yet Verna is not some. Her gaze cannot help but drift across the tomes and sheaves, even if it cannot discern titles given the distance and time involved.

There are other matters of priority, afterall. She turns to Seldan for this, though reverses and shifts to Telmaon at his inquiry. A slender smile tugs are her lips. "She is well; as radiant and energetic as ever." Verna then pans to Seldan (again). "So your words shall inspire libations? In a manner encouraging of a toast, I trust, as opposed to stupor."

Dirk reaches out to give big, hearty Dwarf Hugs where appropriate. "Aye, that it has, laddie," he says to Telamon. "I hope Lana thrives. Give 'er me best, won't ye?" Verna similarly gets be-hugged with a warm smile. "An' do the same fer Auranar, eh?"

He's content to let Seldan lead them through the temple and into the backrooms. Once they reach their destination, he hops himself up atop one of the chairs. He wiggles a bit to get comfortable, setting his tricorne aside. He turns his attention back to Seldan. "So what's the action? What've ye got fer us? Must be a pretty big do if Telamon's buyin' drinks after."

All vestige of Seldan's smile vanishes at Telamon's mention, and he rests both fists on the old, polished wood that could use a little TLC, leaning forward. "Would that a toast were appropriate, Mourner." He draws in a long, deep breath. "Not idly have I left Reunion from this matter, for though they know of it - well, perhaps it were well, did I begin at the beginning."

"You are aware of the individual whom I have undertaken to stop, and some of the foul works he has committed. I know that the Archmage and the Mourner know of whom I speak. What of you, Master Dirk? He who holds the God's Hand?" The paladin's gaze goes towards the khazad now, expectantly.

Telamon steeples his fingers, the congenial expression on his face now turning to cool focus. "We speak in circles, as we do -not- wish to attract the fellow's attention. I suspect we annoyed him as is prior to this." He furrows his brow. "In truth, I worry that probing too much might draw his eye, even in ways that are... more circumspect than others."

He offers Dirk an encouraging look. "There's no shame in quailing a bit at this. In truth I am more than a little unnerved as well."

Dirk boggles a little bit, looking between his three friends. "Och, I've been out o' touch fer some time," he says. "I'm afraid I'm nae certain whom yer talkin' about. But they cannae be any worse than the likes o' Zalgiman Joaki, or Demontry Kol, or Dace Zinskas, or Marsward Seraquoix hisself." Pause. Blink. Blink blink. "They're -not-, are they?" he asks.

He reaches up to hook a finger in his collar and give it a worried tug as he fidgets in his seat. "But please, Master Seldan, tell us everything. What sort o' fiend are we dealin' with now?" He gives Telamon a glance and a quiet 'ulp!', tugging at his collar again. "Beards o' me fathers. Someone can unnerve -you-? Och, that does seem frightful, dunnit?" He looks back to Seldan, giving the archmage his undivided attention.

"The threat is - different in nature," Seldan explains, his own easiness settling into that steady, thoughtful sobriety he so often adopts when there is evil at hand. "From all I have been able to learn, he seeks to destabilize, or even end, magic itself. He wields great power, for we have found in his possession divinely crafted artifacts said to be the province of the gods alone, and although I have no proof, I believe that Animus may have been slain by his hand. Still, the thing I wish to speak of is his work but indirectly. More directly, it is a work of the Demon Wars that came to his hand, that he used to coerce another into slaughtering the followers of the Tempter. It is this dagger that I would destroy."

"A dagger, crafted by the hand of a mighty kyton of iron forged of souls, and used to kill until it took upon itself an evil life of its own, driving any who held it to kill, and kill, and kill again. It delights in torture and pain. Such a thing is not readily destroyed, but Mistress Aryia and I have identified a means of doing so. It is a celestial hammer, a thing of thunder, that may possess the power necessary to destroy this thing."

"To reach it, we must venture into the Desolation. Amid the battlegrounds of the Demon Wars it lies, entombed with the thing that it was shattered in destroying." The paladin's tone is now thoughtful - perhaps a little distant. "This thing is a horror that must never be brought back into the world, at any cost, for were it even to he heard, to be learned, it could destroy all Ea."

"Our foe is definitely more..." Telamon pauses to find the proper word. "Esoteric, than the past threats we've faced. We're dealing with someone who is somehow, staying one step ahead of a divine sanction. Worse, his ambitions... he strikes at both the Tempter, and at Ni'essa."

"And so, we are faced with a task not unlike eating an elephant. Where does one -start-? Well... one bite at a time. We deny him this filthy tool, and destroy it so that it cannot wreak havoc again." Tel scowls a bit. "Seldan's description of this... curse, is such that we will have to enter this tomb voluntarily and totally deafened. We don't dare let it out."

Dirk's eyes get wide. And keep getting wider, the more Seldan speaks. He sucks in a soft gasp, his jaw dropping. "Wait. Wait wait wait a bloody tick. I thought it was Taara what done Animus in. Are..." Blink blink. Boggle. "Are we goin' after Taara?" He puts a hand to his heart, shaking his head with enough force to make his beard whip-whap side to side. "Blessed Lady, keep an' protect me," he mutters softly.

But as terrible as this foe might seem, the old snowbeard remains as doughty as ever. He gives himself a solid shake, sitting up taller in his seat. Telamon gets a hairy eyeball and a worried frown. "Deafened? Och, we'd be sittin' ducks if we cannae -hear- anything in there." He pulls a deep breath and lets it out. "Right. So... the Desolation. Nae exactly me favorite place tae be spendin' any time. But me thunderbelcher will still work there just fine."

He turns his attention back to Seldan. "Do we have this celestial hammer, then? Or do we know how tae get it?" He manages to keep his tone even, despite his growing apprehension. But dwarves are good with hammers. Hammers are safe.

Verna's smile from Telamon's earlier question faded to neutral and now further to a firm not-quite-scowl as Seldan expounds. "Yet another contest for the domain of mana," she notes quietly with inflection half inquiry, half statement. "And we must not hear it, either, in the course of our expedition."

She speaks up after noting Dirk's concern. "Fret not. We have faced lycanthropes, arch-fiends, manifestations of The Void itself, and other dire threats to city, nation, world, and even realm. A god-like being with the power to unravel all things would not be so difficult in comparison, would it?" Brows lift inquiringly at Dirk. "In fact, I am assured that none shall hear any screams of defeat."

"The celestial hammer is shattered and entombed, where this horror is held, for it was instrumental in this horror's destruction." Seldan's tone is very serious. "It is a song, a ballad, that infects the mind of any who hear it, causing them to dance to their death. None were immune, and thus must we wholly deafen ourselves, that we not fall victim to it, nor do we carry it or knowledge of it from that place."

Telamon reaches over to tap Dirk's wrist. "No. As Sir Seldan notes, it appears this fellow may have been the one who slew Animus -- not Taara." His lips quirk slightly. "While the Tempter has many sins, this is one we cannot lay at her feet. Ironically, our enemy has targeted -her- faithful as well."

"Even a broken hammer can be reforged and remade. Of course, getting it out of there will be difficult. Spellcasting will be tricky. Communication as well. But this song, well... I may like dancing, but I don't like dancing that much."

Dirk looks over to Verna with a sheepish hunch of his shoulders. "Aye, well... suppose it could always be worse." A pause. "Cannae rightly say how, but I'm sure it could be. But... aye. We have tae deal wi' this. However we can."

He looks back to Seldan, giving his beard a thoughtful tug. "Och, that does sound dreadful, dunnit?" he says with a nod. "Well. I can get by wi'out spells just fine. And I ken the Handspeech. If any of you do as well, we can keep in contact that way."

He sits up straight, then, and snaps his fingers, looking back at Telamon. "Och! Tel, ye remember when we went after Dace's totem? Remember that magick that let us all think tae one another? Couldn't we do that again when we're in there? Might could be we cannae hear anything else, but at least we could hear each other. Mightn't that be helpful?"

"Regrettably, in this instance," Verna laments, "the foe of a foe yet remains a foe. In addition to the difficulties with spell use," a nod to Telamon before she looks to Dirk. "You are quite astute, as ever. That is a one means of communication that was proposed. It would be most helpful, indeed."

"Indeed, and I would not deny the use of such a spell. The hand speech I am learning, for this -" Seldan leans back a little, nodding to Telamon. "I would have us use and know both, do we encounter fields of anti-magic or other effects that suppress the communication. I, too, can work without magic," here, he seems a touch disappointed, but continues nonetheless. "We are not wholly without magic, but would be wise not to reply wholly upon it."

"For it is as the Archmage says, and more, that magic itself is becoming twisted. Particularly within the Desolation, within such battlefields - who can say what we shall find?"

Telamon sighs. "Such are the fruits of our enemy's labor. But yes; multiple solutions to the problem. A telepathic bond, the knowledge of handspeech, even something as simple as a writing slate and chalk. And it might be nothing lives in this tomb -- or, well, unlives." He pauses, and his face becomes wry. "You get the idea. We might get lucky. But I doubt it. We will have to try to prepare for as many possibilities as we can."

"It may be your thunderbelcher that carries the day, Dirk, if we are unable to properly cast spells." Tel makes a face. "That whole mess at the castle was infuriating. I think I may stock up on alchemical tools just in case."

Dirk's cheeks turn red as beets under his snowy white beard as Telamon says that victory might just come down to -him-. "Oh. Great Gilead's Ghost." He clears his throat, puffing up his burly chest and doing his level best to be brave. "Well... ye all know that I'm ready tae help, whenever an' however I might." He turns his attention to Seldan. "So when do we leave?" he asks. "It's a long way tae the Desolation, innit? Unless we're goin' tae magick ourselves there?"

A very quiet, very small chuckle escapes Seldan. "I am not wholly without use, with a blade in my hand," he remarks amusedly, blue eyes bright. "You need not think yourself alone, Master Stormgrip. Still are alchemical tools an excellent notion, and I shall carry them as well."

He pauses at the question of when to leave. "We should leave soon, and I would not trust to magick to see us safely there. I have researchers working to locate the tomb in question, and we shall depart when that is found."

Telamon looks at Seldan. "I considered plumbing the realm of dreams for information on the tomb, but... I suspect there's a danger there. Many things are lost and buried in Ni'essa's realm; and not all of them are good. It would be -extremely- inconvenient to accidentally unearth even a memory of the song in question." He exhales. "I intend to turn my gaze to other matters before we go. Once the tomb is located, I can bring us there unerringly."

Dirk listens to both his friends, nodding his head. "Well, I can keep us fed an' sheltered along the way, at the verra least," he says. "Once we -get- there... well. That's the trick, innit? If what ye say is true, an' magick becomes untrustworthy there, then we'll need some way o' stoppin' up our ears." He gives his beard a thoughtful tug. "Hrm... maybe summat like earmuffs, made from padded leather. That might muffle sound enough so that the curse dinnae get us." He glances between the two. "I expect there'll be some nasty beasties there too? There's always nasty beasties."

"I think that likely indeed," Seldan agrees, inclining his head to Telamon. "The cathedral of the Draco Solis in Bryn Myridorn should hold the knowledge we seek, if any do. That shall I pursue, and make ready to depart when we know."

"I know not if magic be untrustworthy there or nay, for I know not its exact location. Magic in much of the Desolation is - a strange thing, and we should be prepared for oddities. Magic is a great and powerful thing, but mundane means may at times foil the greatest of spells."

Telamon shakes his head at Dirk. "I was going to suggest we all be magically deafened. Not my preference, but I'd hate to lose any of our party if those earmuffs got knocked off." His lips quirk at Seldan. "That's the truth. Magic does have certain vulnerabilities, and some countermeasures are as simple as inconveniencing the caster." Tel idly traces a circle on the wooden table surface. "In any case, we cannot depend on magic. We'll have to make do with guile, stealth, strength of arms, and a dollop of luck." Grinning at Dirk. "Oh, for sure. These places always have beasties. I think it's actually a rule of nature, as sure as Daeus rising in the east."

Dirk can't help but rumble a low chuckle at Telamon, nodding his head in agreement. "True talk, laddie, true talk. Birds sing, rains fall, an' there's nasty beasties in the molderin' old ruins ye've been paid tae delve." He nods his head firmly, regaining a good bit of his steel. Verna was right--this isn't the old ranger's first rodeo. "Well, I doubt there's much I can do tae help wi' yer research. Unless there might be a tome or treatise here in Alex I could read?" He looks to Seldan for confirmation on that.

"Perhaps we should employ both methods," Seldan suggests, with a tilt of the head. "For do we not speak of mundane means foiling spells? Great works of magic may penetrate even an anti-magic field, and in truth are beasts the least of my worries, in this endeavor." A very small smile accompanies that observation. "Nay, I would have us employ both methods, in tandem. Stuff the ears with cloth, cover with the earmuffs, and magically deafen all. Such was the power of this song, that naught was written of it, and my ancestors had to be coaxed to speak of it. That they did so entrusts me with the protection of the secret, and it is upon my honor to see that the song escapes not."

He shakes his head slowly at Dirk, a negation. "Nay, not within these walls. In truth do I think that best, that such knowledge remain within - more responsible hands."

Telamon's eyebrows come together. "Typically, magically-induced deafness or blindness isn't subject to an anti-magic field. Then again, I've never heard of a song that would make you dance till you died, either. So doubling-up might not be a terrible idea."

He offers Dirk a smile. "Some things you don't -want- to know, Dirk. It's not out of distrust, but it is a necessity with something like this. We -definitely- don't want this getting out a year or a century down the road."

Dirk nods his head with a thoughtful frown. "It's a song, ye says," he muses, giving his beard a tug. "So then the question becomes... who's singin' it? Might we be able tae silence that song, so it cannae get out an' hurt anyone?" He hrrms, tug-tugging for a moment, then shakes his head again. "Well... I'll keep close tae Alex, so we can get on the move quickly." He hops to his feet, picking up his tricorne and setting it atop his head. "I'll go see 'bout findin' some lodgings. In the meanwhile, if there's aught I might do tae help us prepare fer the trip, give us a shout." He goes to clasp hands with Telamon and Seldan both, before he turns to head for the door. The night's growing dark, and there's miles yet to go for Ea's heroes.