View source for RENEW THE PACT

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*Title: RENEW THE PACT
*Emitter: Whirlpool
*Characters: Aya, Fallon, Sophia, Merek, Braelnoir, Cryosanthia, Stjepan, Silmeria, Seldan, Cesran, Skribbles, Ravenstongue, Serene
*Place: W02: The Wilderness
*Time: Sunday, March 21, 2021, 8:15 PM
*Summary: A grand expedition heads out into the mountains, with adventurers of all stripes, a group of scholars from the Resurrectionist's society, Alexandrian guards, even a blimp! Fallon leads them to the last known location of the 'Death Orb'. Cesran arrives on a magic carpet, uses a spell of plentiful eyes to scout the area. Despite this, everyone gets close enough to see the orb in the distance. Immediately they hear 'Renew the Pact!' in their minds. All react differently, Cryosanthia starting to panic, as Salina left her mental landscape a terrible mess. Merek agrees to the pact, while others discuss what to do. Cryo decides to try her Message Cantrip, Griva warning her against doing so, but nothing unexpected happens. Merek attempts a divination. Turns out contacting another god while near a dead god's fragment is a bad idea. He fountains blood. Griva realizes exactly what ceremony and pact is require. Braelnoir rushes to aid Merek, giving away his disguise, which prompts the Alexandrian guard to arrest him. Griva takes charge, puts Serene and Seldan in charge, and things seem managed for the moment, if very chaotic.</div>

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* W02: The Wilderness *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The path from the village eventually narrows somewhat, with the trees on either side becoming more populous. Moss hangs from large stones that sit surrounded by beds of leaves that has accumulated over the years.

A few trails wander in varied directions though eventually even these woods will thicken. One particular trail carries with it the scent of natural brimstone...this trail wanders north and westward, where the trees grow thick once more. To the east, it's rumored that the druids have built a sacred site.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

<pre>-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aya          4'7"     105 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing.
Fallon       5'6"     145 Lb     Half-Elf          Male      A short hooded man
Sophia       5'7"     145 Lb     Human             Female    Althean Cleric and Slayer of Boshter's Father
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver.
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Stjepan      8'0"     534 Lb     Giantborn         Male      Big, blonde jotun.
Silmeria     5'8"     126 Lb     Human             Female    A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and breastplate.
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol.
Cesran       6'1"     185 Lb     Human             Male      A tall dark-skinned man 
Skribbles    3'0"     80 Lb      Goblin            Female    A Goblin Cleric, green skin and orange hair. 
Ravenstongue 5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    A short, slender half-sil woman with violet eyes                           
Serene       6'2"     175 Lb     Eldanar/Charn     Female    Glacier meets granite meets strawberries.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Sirs only watching  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Delilah      5'4"     106 Lb     Human             Female    A golden haired human girl in white robes. 
Sabina       5'4"     130 Lb     Human             Female    Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
                                  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  As the GM  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Whirlpool    5'0"                Otyugh                      I am stinky!                                                                  
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=</pre>

So. 
 
'Floating Death Orb' in the mountains. The locale has been secured by the Alexandrian Military. A singular airship is patrolling the area high in the sky above. Just a bit west of the mountains, actually, where plenty more airships dwell. It's thought, speculated really, that the 'floating death orb' is a Shard. A Shard of Animus. A lump of a God's dying, divine energies, or so they say. 
 
That's why you're all out here, especially Fallon, who was part of a group to discover it in the first place when a group of miner's went missing. While the *immediate area* has been secured, in so much as it can, directions to the orb directly are still needed. 
 
... and so you're part of an expedition, a caravan really, of a couple dozen scholars and more attempting to pin down its exact, specific location.

Aya would fall into the 'and more' category, as she is not known to be especially scholarly. Perhaps she simply wishes to confirm one of the these alleged shards of a fallen god with her own eyes? Perhaps she does not trust others to secue such a thing? Perhaps she simply wishes a souvenir for herself?

While he was only passingly familiar with the terrain he previously treaded through and they're now trudging into, Fallon has some experience as a guide under his belt, so he is confident in his sense of his direction and carries himself with long, unfettered stides. The ranger scouts some distance ahead of the caravan proper, in case there are any unexpected surprises awaiting them.

Sophia isn't exactly a scholar, though she's no slouch when it comes to religious lore. Here, she's a priestess and vanguard of Althea, and she's dressed or it, with a black metal mace at her belt, along with a sheathed longsword. Though she's not wearing any obvious armor beyond her shield, looks can be quite deceiving. She stays close to the main caravan, since that's where she can do the most good.

Merek of course would be about to assist in an expedition to look into that Shard. With that in mind, he takes the time to place on that dark attire which he wears, scarf up while he begins to adjust that cavalier hat which he wears. The man seems to relax while walking and nods to people.

Braelnoir is a scholar.

Of sorts.

A student of history, one might say.

A history replete with strife and bloodshed, but history.

While jovial enough, even boisterous along the route prior, as the caravan neared the working zones, she becames more focused on what lay beyond the group. The Korite, scythe resting over her shoulder for the march, is giving the environs a lookover, particularly the shadowed places, or overlooks whence an untimely sniper may get paydirt.

Cryosanthia styles herself as a book-wrym, though she really only achieves it when she's wearing a facemask that is a book. It makes it a little hard to see, and can be quite distracting, as her Mask of One Thousand Tomes was made with a bit of the collected premium souvenir edition of the Crimson Pen. So, she not only has all of that very purple prose to distract her, the ink is in a rainbow of colours.

The whitescale is, for the moment, not lost in another world with her nose in that book or any other. She's looking around. A certain someone had a certain slip of the tongue, which told another someone who would be /very interested/ about the Death Orb.

Ok, she blabbed about it to Akoniril. Who has friends with the guards and could have found out anyhow. Hence, her somewhat random warning. "So, be on the lookout for someone trying to take it from us, if we sort things out."

Otherwise, she's going through her mental checklist. Egg-watcher for Lily and the egg, check. Scale-Sister to watch her back, check. Big guy to take all the punishment... check! Shadowy friend, frenemy, to also watch her back, double-cross. I mean, double-check.

Stjepan is usually present as security-for-bookworms, instead of being one himself, he's present and accounted for. Jsut a big shadow holding up the sky, and frowning disapprovingly at anything not-them, at the moment.

The more that rumors of pieces of a dead/dying/both god have spread, the more concerned the Temple of Vardama has become. Especially when the best ecclesiastical scholars within the granite mausoleum can get into debates that end in fistfights over whether a god can truly die, and if stealing lumps of their essence to grant wishes could even be considered graverobbing?
 
'''Someone''' really ought to just look into it.
 
And thus did Silmeria sign on for this caravan. Learned enough to hold her own amongst the scholars, keen-eyed enough to spot heretical cowflops when present, and nice enough that whatever she can't learn by seeing it, she can learn by being a nearby friend when others do.
 
It's *like* spying, except without all the lying and double-dealing that really end up just too much effort to be worth the bother.
 
Presently, she's perched atop one of the wagons, her beloved pistol disassembled into a dozen shapeless lumps of magitech on a cloth in front of her. One takes good care of their tools, especially when one's tools can tattle on one to a goddess.

Aya looks to the airship overhead and then to the path ahead(?) before shifting her eyes to her compatriots. "Does anyone know where this alleged divine detrituts is, or how it looks?" She imagines that one might know it upon sight, but that is no guarantee.

Cryo gestures towards the short, hooded man, "Fallon does. He's our guide."

Fallon pauses and turns to wave back at the caravan. "Yes. It's very shiny!" he calls out towards them.

Braelnoir continues the march, pulling her waterskin from it's place on her bandolier and thumbing the cork loose. A little sweep of the surroundings, and she tips back for a healthy swig before she recaps it to return it to it's place, "B'ready ta sort them out, too."

Seldan had taken an earlier guard turn this afternoon, then vanished into one of the wagons about an hour ago, saying something about evening meditations. He emerges now, appearing out of the back of one and putting a foot on its back edge to steady himself as he peers around at heir surroundings.

The dark clouds, of course, eventually open up to fresh rains. It's the start of spring and Alexandria's temperate climate leads to it. 
 
Thus, you are now not only in the middle of the woods towards the mountains on a hillside climbing up towards a death orb, you're getting soaked doing it. 
 
It's sort of inevitable. Still, at least from what instructions are being given, you're getting close. In fact, you KNOW you're close, each of you. 
 
... the hairs on the back of your neck are starting to stand up. A palpable sense of 'energy' in the area.

<pre>GAME: Merek rolls disguise: (4)+8: 12
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "WELP"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "You might get arrested. :)"</pre>

Sophia absently pulls up the hood of her treated cloak, keeping the worst of the rain off of her as she mutters, "Once, it would be nice to have something happen when it was nice and sunny." She then looks over at Aya and shakes her head slightly, "Not really... but I have a suspicion it's going to be impossible to miss."

The moment the rains begin, Silmeria bends over her work, reassembling her pistol with the speed and fluidity of years of long practice. Once the gun is complete and not a single extra pin remains, the Speaker holsters it -- very carefully *not* securing it into place -- and digs a simple black wax-paper umbrella from her pack, flipping it open above her head to keep the rain off.
 
From her post, she begins scanning the area around them, covering both ahead *and* behind their position. One never knows, after all, from where an ambush may come.

Braelnoir focuses her will on her sleeves as the sky starts leaking, and, she is suddenly clad in a hooded mantlet and overtunic to ward off the weather. Looks like downtime's gonna involve oiling her kit, tonight. That done, she renews her survey of potential trouble spots.

Merek tips down the hat which he wears while he pulls the scarf along his features. The man begins to settle in on one of the wagons while he takes the time to watch the sky. He doesn't seem to be likely to talk to anyone, probably because he's wanted.

Cesran comes speeding in on his flying carpet as he got caught up in research and realized that he was late. He slows the carpet as he spots the group and he heads on down. He comes in low and nods to the others. "Sorry about being late, how close are we? I have prepared some spells that could help us scout out the situation."

Fallon seems unsurprised and unbothered by the rain, though his clothes weren't exactly weatherproof. He takes shelter under the trees and shubbery wherever he can. He stops when he feels the familiar tingle on the nape of his neck and squints off into the distance. There was no -light- yet, but he knew how close they were. "Be cautious. It's nearby, but..." He studies the rest of the party, to make sure no one was scampering off unnoticed -- like last time. It may be obvious he doesn't actually -want- to see it himself.

Cryosanthia is building up a slight layer of frost. The raindrops spatter on her and run down her swashbuckling gear, icing up on the less flexible portions of it and her. She doesn't have hair to stand up on the back of her neck, she has scales, and some of those scales are a slightly different shade of blue-white and start to flicker on and off like some kind of glow-worm effect. Glow-wrym.

Her buckler is on, her backpack chinched tight and seeming heavier than usual, and she has a grey-ish icicle in hand which she keeps transferring to her belt, then pulling out again. She waves at the descending flying carpet, "Hello Cesran. Hereabouts, somewhere. Did you see anyone sneaking up while you flew over?"

Oh, wonderful. It's raining. It takes only a few raindrops to realize that, and Seldan quickly pulls up the hood on his own oiled traveler's cloak, pulling the garment over armored shoulders. It's the energy, though, that gets most of his attention, and he cranes his neck to peer towards the direction the caravan is going. "We will need to take care," he observes quietly to no one in particular.

Skribbles grumbles as she wraps her cloak around her a little closer, narrowing her eyes a little bit as she internally resolves to kick Mother Nature in the cooch when she dies and meets her at some point. She's not drunk enough, she's not warm enough, she's walking up a mountain to her death, and on top of all of that...ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT...her left big toe hurts. Don't know why.

"Do you suppose a table of fruits and cheese awaits us?" Aya inquires of Cryosanthia, possibly weighing the benefits of their past endeavor and the current one. She then looks to Fallon the One Who Has Witnessed, as he notes their proximity. More somberly, she inquires, "Is there any desire to approach with caution, or should we simply drive the caravan overtop it and collect it as we go?"

Cesran shakes his head, "I was not looking I'm afraid, I was more concerned with speed, than stealth or worrying about others following up. I have two spells that I can use. One is called prying eyes, I can make magical sensors to go out and scout the area for us. They have limitations. They will only follow directions up to 25 words, so we must choose how to command them carefully, also they may not go more than one mile. If we believe we are without a mile of our target then I will need just a minute to cast the spell and send them out. They can last up to 20 hours, but I can recall them at any time and it will take a couple of minutes for me to process the information that they see. I also have project image ready. It has a short range, about 300 feet, but I will be able to fully control a shadow duplicate of myself, including casting spells and making on the spot observations. The draw back is that I will become blind and deaf, so I will need protection. I think that perhaps we start with prying eyes and if needed use project image."

Ravenstongue arrives, somehow, with the group, white raven on her shoulder. Both half-sil and corvid maintain a careful watch of the environment around them.

Stjepan pulls his cloak up and keeps marching onwards, scowling out at the woods around them. He's currently using a black-metal axe as a walking stick, keeping his bow inside of its case for as long as possible, given the rain.

Sophia glances over at Cesran as he explains, and nods, "If you want, I can keep guard over you." She grins slightly, "Protecting people is one of my strengths, so... that might be the best spot for me."

Ravenstongue spots Stjepan. She and Pothy huddle behind him, and although the half-sil keeps very, very quiet, the raven gives a soft croak to let the giantborn know that they are there.

Stjepan makes an excellent weather-break, and he croaks back to Pothy to acknowledge their presence. He keeps hiking, taking more care not to spring any branches behind him. Nobody likes that.

Skribbles continues to grumble, knowing that she is going to murderfy everyone on top of this mountain simply for making her climb this mountain to murder them. Her sharp teeth nash together as she shakes water out of her hair like a puppy. An adorable murder puppy.

It's not far, now, thanks to the guides in Fallon and this is confirmed with the prying eyes and the efforts of the other scholars. Quickly, the area is being marked off, cordoned off. The military, the Alexandrian military members, are setting off in opposite directions to keep a safe distance from the orb, seeking to mark off the area in twos and threes to ensure that no one interrupts the work of the scholars, who are keeping council amongst each other, eager for the chance to study a 'Shard of Animus' in the wild, if its in fact such a thing. 
 
Now, the rest of you can see a soft, pulsing glow in the distance of white light. Close enough now that you can not only feel the power radiating through the area, but see its energy as well. 
 
And then there is a voice. 
 
It echoes in each of you. 
 
'''RENEW THE PACT.'''

<pre>GAME: Cesran casts Prying Eyes. Caster Level: 20 DC: 27
GAME: Cesran rolls 1d4+20: (3)+20: 23</pre>

Fallon isn't close enough to hear Cesran's explanation about what his magic mumbo jumbo is capable of -- he hears only bits and pieces -- but he's on high alert now that he's aware the death orb was very close. The familiar pulsing light all but confirms it's exact location, and he stops in his tracks entirely. The voice echoing in his head causes him to cringe, and he looks back to the wagons. "Halt. Those who go forward should be on foot." He wrinkles his nose. "I'm assuming someone has a plan..." he mutters, because he certainly doesn't.

"I don't think there will be cheese," Cryo answers Aya, as Cesran descends and explains his spell. Well, she'll keep an eye out even as the mage puts out several more. It seems like it is being handled by magic, and people are grouping up. The whitescale drifts closer to her scale-sister and beckons at Aya. "I'm most likely to run off towards it, so do what you can to stop me, and I'll try to do the same for you."

It's too bad Mikilos, someone, didn't come through with the mind-shielding magic.

Then there's a voice in her head. NO! She reacts instantly, mentally trying to block it out. She doesn't need another self-image and Cryosally is very territorial. "NO!" She shouts, to be redundant, followed by, "We're too close!" Then, "I need more details!"

She could have thought the last bit, really.

Aya is not especialy fond of magic. Most specifically magi, but magic, in general, is also quite disconcerting. Moreso when it involves voices in her head. Doubly so when pacts are involved. None are ever to be taken lightly, and tend to end poorly for the maker.

She scowls. "I presume that I am not the only one who ... heard... that? What pact?" The final question is asked to ... whatever that is as much as those around her. The one asking would know the answer more than others, anyhow.

Aya is not assured by Cryosanthia's statement, either, but nods to the whitescale in understanding and agreement.

"N-No, I heard that too... I, umm..." Ravenstongue pauses for a moment. "Was that... the voice of Animus?"

Braelnoir's skin starts crawling as the energies in the air intensify for their proxmity to the source. The look in her eye is intent and discontent as she upnods toward the distant glow, "Suppose that's it, there?" she asks wryly. There's a slight straightening in her frame at the voice in her head and she reflexively shrugs the haft of her scythe from her shoulder, "Anyone got ways ta ward off mind whammies, better warm'm up!" she calls.

With the sudden voice echoing through her mind, Silmeria's first instinct is to draw her pistol. "Mori," she whispers across the mithril tracery, "awaken. Protocol: overwatch." The embellishment begins to glow a faint silver-gray, and a musical, flat-affected voice responds; a voice, speaking in harmonics like multiple chords played at once. ::UNDERSTOOD. OVERWATCH ESTABLISHED.::
 
Perking back up, she watches as the rest of the expedition tend to their own preparations, making the base camp resemble a kicked beehive, and makes her way to the least confident and assured among them. "It might very well be," she says, giving Ravenstongue a gentle smile. 
"It certainly will be interesting to find out, don't you think?'

Merek thinks about it a moment, then he nods, "Ah, well... What pact," the man notes to himself while watching the party. He then stands up to take a survery of the place they are, and begins settling away from the wagon.

Again: '''RENEW THE PACT.'''

Skribbles reaches onto her side and puts her hand around the grip of her pistol, looking left and right. Maybe Mother Nature heard that cooch comment...maybe not.

The voice echoing through Seldan's mind prompts him to draw a weapon as well. Reunion rasps leather-on-metal from its sheath without hesitation, ice-blue eyes suddenly deadlocked on the white sith-makar, seeking Cryosanthia out through a maze of people. "Cryosanthia, this is not Salina," he calls seriously, eyes moving to the orb. "The feel is different, but ware you nevertheless." 

He stares, then, at the thing, racking his brain. _Renew the pact._ What pact could it possibly mean ... what is this thing?

Merek seems to think about it, then he stands up while he speaks, "We will renew the pact, we need to learn a little more about what it is," the man offers to that voice, while he nods a little in thought.

Cryosanthia is flickering with light, the scales around her head flashing and trickling down her neck in a light show, similar to when she's casting magic. She meets the paladin's eyes through the group, tunnel vision blocking out everyone to her sides. Her pupils are wide, black, "I'm fine."

She doesn't look fine. She has her hands up by her horns, her bucker and cold-iron knife jostling against them. "Will Protection from Evil work? From... Neutral? Will magic make it worse?"

She growls, "Aaahh! So plan take a look and hope a good idea happens failed! What's next? The cart or the telepathy?"

Cesran is still flying on his carpet having gotten a good view of the orb with his prying eyes spell. He's ready for a fight if it should come to it, but hopes that it doesn't come to that. As he hears the voice speak into his mind he takes a deep breath as he tries to put all the pieces together from what he knows. He's hoping he can figure out what this Pact is and implications of it being renewed.

Braelnoir's eyelid twitches at the renewed insistance from the disembodied voice, the amber of her eyes threading slightly with gold. The scythe is reindexed as the other hand takes the haft into a proper killing grip and she hollars back, "Being a nag, ain't sellin it, sweetheart! What pact, an' with who?" She looks back toward Merek's words, a brow arching.

Aya's frown deepens at Cryosanthia. "You may not be..." Not in Aya's estimation, even if she is not an expert in reptilian body language. That concern is overridden by Merek's comment, and her head snaps around to narrow eyes at him. "-You- may be a fool, but do not dare claim us all to be."

So it seems that this insistance is having a more profound affect on some than others, perhaps? Not taking chances, she calls to herself what protection from magic she can muster before looking back to the glowing thing. She has no idea whether distance is relevant, or precisely how it appears, but there are means to find out. Aya winks out in a puff of shadow and reappears, or attempts to, adjacent to the glow.

Seldan's eyes are drawn again from the orb, back to Cryosanthia, and they lock eyes for a brief minute. "I am not sensing evil, and my protections do not shield from the work of those not evil," he answers evenly. "But it is not so, and thus do I think it more likely that this is indeed a Shard, of Animus who once stood among the Gods of Twilight. The Pact ... may well be the Conclave of Wizards, formed at his direction in ages past!" His voice goes up, in the way of one suddenly hit with understanding. 

He snaps around, then, and calls to the scholars. "Are any among you of the Conclave? Where is Griva Brassbringer? This may need her wisdom!"

Merek speaks, "Well I will renew the pact then, we need to learn a little more about what it is."

Aya finds the thought of relying on a group of wizards to safely resolve or handle these things perhaps more terrifying than them being claimed by random travellers.

"I don't think we're close enough to be in danger of the luring... yet. If anyone goes further, well," Fallon asides. "As for discerning the nature of the pact, I'm afraid the time for research is long past. But perhaps it'll remain in place and we can return later." His gaze sweeps over the rest of them. "I -was- hoping Griva would be with us. Can no one present communicate with it? Can't promise it'll particularly forthcoming because it's said only two words." He arches a brow at Merek's answer. "We -do- remember what happened to the miners, yes?"

Cesran looks over to Seldan and he sighs softly, "Unfortunately there is no more Conclave. It died when Animus died. I was a student at the Academy of Sages in the Jade Island at the time. It was a very turbulent time. I'm afraid that I don't have any knowledge of the Pact that the Conclave might have formed with Animus, it was probably known only to the most senior members." He rubs his chin, "Well we have three options. We either do nothing and leave it alone, it will probably keep mind shouting to renew the pact. Someone else will probably come along eventually and try to renew the pact. Option 2, we try to renew the pact ourselves, whatever that might entail. It could be as simple as saying we renew the pact or it could be we need to do some ritual. Option 3 is that try to destroy it, which probably won't work out well for anyone."

"I'm right here," says Griva, emerging from the Scholars group. 
 
"I think you're right," says the Khazadi Wizard. "I think you and the other wizard are right. Hello, Cesran. I think that could very much be referring to the pact between Animus and the Conclave, or at least what once composed the central ethos of the Conclave of Magic. It was said to be a compact between those who oversaw magic and the God of the Sea of Mana itself. It was ceremonially reiterated every decade or so, so it makes sense that ..." 
 
And then there goes Aya, reappearing neqar the Orb. For a moment, it looks like the Shadow Elf might touch it, but then she's reappearing back where she was after a moment of deep hesitation on her part. It is important to note that she is looking ... singed. Very singed. The heat of being near it was definitely enough to harm her, though not significantly thanks to her clear resistance to magic. 
 
"... that didn't look good, no," offers Griva. 
 
"Please do not directly approqach the Orb," she offers, tentatively, "That seems very dangerous, and we have knowledge of people approaching it and... dying. Horribly." 
 
'''RENEW THE PACT.'''
 
Griva places a hand to her head. "It could be a piece of Animus tied to the ceremonial renewal of the Conclave, or the initial creation of the first one millenia ago, or the second oine, or none of those things at all. The 'Pact' could be any deal... if this is a shard at all and not something else, or some trick." She kneels down, looking into the glowing light of the distance.

"I most definitely feel a power," Seldan tells Griva, turning his face towards her. "I do not sense evil. I doubt this is a foul trick. Whether it is the shard of a god ... has any ever attempted to bring one shard close to another?"

Aya reappears with the customary wisps of shadow fading. There are additonal tendrils of acrid smoke wafting from her that do not immediately dissipate, however. Were her skin not already charcoal nor her hair white, she might have returned appearing significantly different.

She is also rather wide-eyed and silent for several heartbeats before noting, with a cough of exhaled smoke, "Yes... this is more than near enough..." This leaves the matter of what to do and how to do so without approaching it, but she may need a few moments to find suggestions. And cease smoking.

<pre>GAME: Merek casts Divination. Caster Level: 14 DC: 18
GAME: Merek rolls 1d100: (9): 9</pre>

"Wait, that's right, I'm a Seer. You all give me a moment while I look into it," Merek notes, then he begins to take off his cavalier hat, pulling up the hood of his dark attire while he finds a few things within the supplies which he keeps with him. Ancient blood, a few candles, then he begins to settle in, meditating before it. The incense, he doesn't need it, although he begins adding that to the spell.

A hand begins to draw patterns along the smoke from it, while he tries to bring up the image to him.

Fallon seems mildly relieved when Griva does appear. This was going way over his head, otherwise. It still kind of was, but what she relays -kind of- makes sense to him. He simply listens and watches, his part in this endeavor mostly done now.

Skribbles looks around a bit, huddled under her cloak and re-grasping her pistol. How is anything going to burn up here with all this rain. Still, something interesting is going on over there.

Stjepan scowls, arms folding across his chest. He wait patiently for the various spell-workers to do their spell-working things. There's a pause, then he takes a swig of water from his skin and digs around in a pouch for a handful of trail mix. He chews thoughtfully as he waits for some kind of prognosis to be pronounced.

Cesran nods politely to Griva, "Good Day Griva, I'm glad to see that you are here." He listens carefully, "Given that the White Magician is now the God of the Sea of Mana, no offense to the considerable efforts that you and your group have made. I say this with the utmost respect as I know you seek to bring Animus back. A suggestion would be that, perhaps a way could be found to renew this pact with the White Magician, then that will satisfy the shard. I am willing to support any effort that you have into dealing with this if you have another idea on how to best deal with this."

<pre>GAME: Cryosanthia casts Message. Caster Level: 10 DC: 14</pre>

Cryosanthia remains focused on Seldan, unmoving. She seems to be listening. Perhaps she heard Aya as well. Light continues to flicker across her scales. Finally she nods, then shakes her head. "We talked about it."

The rest of her animates as she looks around, specifically at Fallon and his question. The whitescale glances about after, is no one else going to try? It seems not. She suggested it a bunch. She growls under her breath, "Maugrim mating Taara in the carcass of Caracoroth while the Silver Empress celebrates. Ok, I guess I'm casting the Message cantrip. Be ready Braelnoir."

She shakes her buckler then flips her left hand through a graceful arcane motion. The light-show she's displaying concentrates and drains down her arm into her hand. She finishes with circle made by forefinger and thumb, then touches her lips and 'fires' it at the Orb in the distance.

She whispers, since that is how the spell works, somewhat loudly. "This one is Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith'Makar. This one is using a harmless message cantrip she will cease if you request. This one refuses all pacts to remain neutral. This one delivers the words of others, they want to know if you mean the Pact between Animus and the Conclave of Wizards. They need instructions. This one will convey words if you cannot respond in another method and must use this one."

Wait! Where did Aya go? There's a flicker of shadow beside the orb, "AYA!" The flicker is beside the whitescale again. Cryo inhales the signed Mul'niessa scent, "Ahhhya. You're back. That's great!"

Braelnoir gives Merek a considered look as he begins to toil with his means to enlightenment about the situation, hoping things aren't going to go pear shaped on them again. The Korite snerks, and her feral grin returns as Cryosanthia begins to invoke imagery and she tightens her grip on the scythe as she moves closer to potentially protect her sister, "Got't, luv."

She seems a little more dubious about the details of her message, and she hisses, "B'careful whacher offerin!"

And, suddenly, Aya is gone and back again, taking Brae aback for a moment, "Kor's ire, girl, y'alright?"

There's no response to Cryo's mesage except a '''RENEW THE PACT!'''.

Skribbles continues to look around for things that might burn or explode, but in reality she's watching the area for anything else that might be wanting to come in and start something. A regrip of her pistol, and a drink from her snifter, and she's ready for anything.

Pothy flies onto Stjepan's shoulder and makes some small pleading noises for his trail mix.

Stjepan absently feeds Pothy nuts as they wait. He looks down and around, checking on Ravenstongue. He shifts his cloak, pulling his hood up a little more. Drip. Drip.

Cryo looks at Braelnoir, her brow ridges tightening up, "Uh? It can use the mes... OH! Like it might take over me. That wasn't what I mean but I see how it could go that way."

The Sith'makar suddenly cringes, voices in her head and her ears. She's squeezing her eyes shut and flailing her hand about, "Scales! Cancel spell, cancel spell! c'mon. Ah!"

She's still shaking her head as she speaks in the general direction of the others, "Just 'Renew the Pact', nothing else. I... have a book I can read, Griva, Seldan, Cesran, everyone, that might help out. About the pact. But it's kind of a long shot and stuff you should know, and it's going to take me ten minutes so I'm going to do it over there where it's further away." Another headshake, followed by a temple massage with the pommel of her cold iron icicle.

"I shall assist her. Griva, you are well come in this hour." So saying, Seldan takes up a guard position, allowing the others to do what they will as Cryosanthia reads.

The whitescale and the silverguard head a distance away.

Merek lets out a scream, while he holds up his hands to his face. There's blood. In fact, it's pouring down his face from his eyes, and from his ears while he hacks up a little bit of blood. The man stands up and tries to look through his fingers, there's blood pooling along beneath him while he draws back the hood. Well, it's clearly Merek to people that know him. "THE RITE MUST BE PERFORMED!" Well, he is a powerful magi, and now he is standing in a pool of his own blood.

Well clearly this means great things. The man tries to walk only to take a hand to one of the wagons. 
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Fuck."

Stjepan pulls aside his cloak with a quick motion, reaching for the hilt of his sword with his free hand. It's not in response to anything -- just a long-drilled instinct. He takes a moment, and instead pushes his axe back into the loop of his swordbelt. "Okay. So how the f-- how do we perform the rite?"

Ravenstongue cringes from the scream, and Pothy flies back to her shoulder. "O-Oh no, I..." She looks at Pothy for a moment, whispering to him. "I... I wish I could help." Little tears bloom in her violet eyes.

Braelnoir yelps a quick, "Cryo!" as she suddenly gets a response she wasn't expecting, she gently takes her shoulder, "Whoa, easy, Cryo, ya ok?" As her scale sister starts to settle down and lay out what she's gotten, she relaxes and nods, watching with concern as Seldan offers to take up on her. There's a light touch of her knuckles to his arm, a soft, "Thanks, luv.." and all at once, Merek is in agony.

She cries out, "MEREK!" and starts to run headlong in her brother's direction, shoving past who/whatever isn't hasty enough in getting out of her way.

NonononononoNoNONONO!

Drawing close to the gushing Seer, she reaches out to him, letting her beloved scythe clatter to the ground beside her, "Mer...!"

Fallon seems indifferent towards the idea of an impromptu study group, but shrugs his shoulders. "A good idea as an--" Then he startles at Merek's abrupt scream, suddenly wishing he had smaller ears. He turns to regard the mage and steps back when he notices the amount of blood pouring out of man. "That's... -new-," he says, blinking, and unsure of how to help. No amount of band-aids was going to stop that. He looks worriedly at the others. Is there a cleric on hand?

As annouced, Cryosanthia went a little ways away from the caravan. Enough that she can get out of line of sight, and perhaps line of thought. Her scholarly perusal of the book is not as dignified as it might sound, and would perhaps cause a little embarassment for the Silverguard standing guard over her.

Cryo took her Mask of a Thousand Tomes out, and stuck it on her face where it covered completely. Including her eyes. Now blind, she flops back, splays her arms and lies there reading. Text flickers across the front of the mask, pages and pages from uncounted books. A calmness descends on her as she looks through it, and while her scales still flicker a little, it's a sedate light show.

There are some distant screams, which she does her best to ignore. "Hmmm. That sounds bad." She keeps reading.

Skribbles draws her gun at the sound of the scream, shouting, "Kill 'em all!" and then looks around for a moment before realizing that she's taken a step to far. She holsters her weapon and coughs a bit, "Who said that?"

Cesran is being careful not to look directly at the glowing orb given the number of spells he has made permanent on himself. He is aghast as Merek gets hit with a backlash from the spell he did. "Medic!" He calls out Merek starts to stagger off. He lets the healers do their thing as he heads over to help the others. "You have whatever assistance I can provide Cryosanthia."

Merek really can't hear a lot of people, it's all ringing while the blood comes from his ears, which he cleans up easily enough. Though his eyes, while he takes the time to try and look through the blood haze, don't see a lot. He does notice that Brae's about, he knows the woman's voice with her being right by him. A hand upon the wagon.

The blood begins to pool even more at his feet, while he tries to find a way to walk about. "Brae, I can't see, it's like..."

"I'm fine," Aya answers Braelnoir's original query. It works no better for her than it did for the whitescale... who shocks Aya from her own momentary shock as she runs off after adding to the volume of the voice in her head. Shortly thereafter, Merek is screaming and possibly exsanguinating from every mucous membrane. Should all of this make her feel somewhat less embarassed by her own simple attempt and failure?

Possibly, but it doesn't.

She steps further away from the thing and towards the ...studying(?) Cryosanthia. "Be cautious..." That's all she can advise at this point. To those not currently smoking, bleeding, insane, suffering from induced migraines, ingrown toenails, or summary instant death, she inquires, "Does anyone have any suggestions that do not involved approaching, communicating with, studying, or most anything else with ... that?"

Stjepan puts a hand on Ravenstongue's shoulder. "Steady. We will find out whether we can in due time." He keeps his sword at the ready, but doesn't draw. He does, however, step forwards.

Griva holds a hand up, shaking her head at Cryosanthia, "No, no. Wait. Let's not do anything. There are tools, implements. If this is what you think it is, what I think it is, what..." 
 
And then, well... 
 
... there's Merek. Mereking. That's the best way these things can be described. The name of a wanted man being shouted towards the figure that's bleeding from the eyes and being grabbed leads to a few people heading that way, mostly to have a look. Griva clears her throat. 
 
"...well this is inconvenient. I know that name, and I know why you're wanting to take him into custody. I am sure he'll cooperate fully just as soon as he's tended to. We don't want a problem here, now do we?" 
 
Griva's voice is suddenly full of deep command. She Is In Charge Here and she will have no fighting, or ridiculous attempts at escape, at this moment. She has moved towards Merek herself, now, calmly, to take his arm in her's. She is going to handle that part personally, it seems. "That was a foolish risk you took," she tells him, "but if you divined it, then it tells us something important: first of all, don't try to divine to another god in he presence of a dead one. Second of all, what rite must be performed..." 
 
A beat. 
 
"... probably." She lets out a breath. 
 
"All right, everyone. We have *much* to prepare for to ... resolve this."

Braelnoir tries to get a look at the damage, shouting, "Someone get some healin' over here!" like she would back in her Sergeant days in the Stride, then, more gently, "Shhhhh! Easy, Mer... it's disorientin' at first, lean on me, luv. I gotcha... easy...!" Then, because her brother's blinded and potentially bleeding out, she determines no one's moving fast enough and roars, "NOW!"

It's the rest of the sphiel that comes into things and the Korite glances about to see what all's coming to the afflicted Seer's side.

Who's coming to help.

Who's coming to die...

Fallon isn't keen on approaching Merek at all. He just continues to stare dubiously, until Griva speaks and offers them some direction. "We go back, then, and hope we have more answers the next time we visit," he says with a nod in agreement. "I'm glad I could assist where I could. I suspect there won't be any trouble relocating it, now." He was -not- messing with any pacts himself, though he was curious about how this will eventually resolve.

<pre>GAME: Merek rolls diplomacy: (9)+29: 38</pre>

Merek does seem to regain some of his senses, then he takes a look to where Brae is at, feeling while Griva takes to him. The guards coming that way. He can't see that well, though in blood haze he does take a moment to lift up a hand, "We are dealing with matters that involve the whole world. Do you really want to take in a man that is serving the interest of the people?" He coughs up a little bit of that blood.

With that he begins shifting his feet, "I won't be brought in at the word of someone like Norrington. You all saw the papers, I want you to think about what you're about to do." He then takes a look at Griva, leaning to her with the blood in his eyes, "People's protection depends upon me being free."

"Oh hi Cesran," Cryosanthia says, remaining where she lies. She can hear Griva's tones, taking charge, and Braelnoir ordering assistance, then Merek talking about something. Sounds like it's sorted out. She returns to concentrating on the words flickering past her eyes.

"I'm trying to find anything about Pacts, and Councils of Wizards. I found something about the Council of Twelve, but it seems to be resolving the spell circles, and how to quantify them, if cantrips even count." The whitescale taps at the mask, almost as if she's turning a page.

"I got another thing on banning necromancy. There's a lot of arguments for it, surprisingly. Plus a bunch of legends about the great seal. Nothing... that really applies to what's going on." She frowns a little, "this is a great research tool but it takes... a while..."

"We have the answers," explains Griva to Fallon, "We need to perform the Rite of the Binding of the Conclave. It's the way the Conclave was blessed by Animus. That's the pact. The pact between Animus and the Conclave. This piece of Animus, if its fully him, needs that assurance. Once we perform it, we will be able to calm it. I think. There are no promises, and there's no telling what happens if we perform the rite, and even less if we perform it wrong. There are implements and deeds that need to be performed. It's all old Rune stuff." 
 
She tunrs towards Merek. 
 
"Save it," she tells him. "You tried to do the right thing but sometimes the right thing carries unfair consequences. I will not tolerate danger near a Shard, nor will I tolerate someone placing this operation in jeapordy. You will surrender, or I will truss you up myself, and you should have *zero* doubt that I can do it." Her gripe on his arm is firm. 
 
She clears her throat, "Now, let me have a look at you. I've got questions about what you just went through. For now, we're going to set a cordoin, lock down the area. No one goes in and out that isn't pre-cleared by me." Wait, why is Griva giving the Alexandrian military orders? They seem to be agreeing to it. What kind of deal has she cut? 
 
It's a good question.

If there are tools, methods, possibilities, that is something, at least. Aya looks between Cryosanthia and Braelnoir at the change due to Merekation. The former is in the Silverguard's hands, and the latter is supporting a bleeding, wanted man.. and possibly has a smidge of a stubborn and/or brash and/or violent streak... as Aya recalls.

She moves to approach Braelnoir, specifically, rather than Merek. Approach, rather than appear, even. "He will be tended to," she advises the Korite quietly.

A rush of wind, a small blast of air blanketting the ground as massive wings stretch out to halt his descent, and a large grey-white gryphon sets down upon the ground nearby. Before Silver has even settled in, Serene is unhooking and slipping from the saddle upon his back to the subdued jingle of buckles on metal, and then she is approaching the gathered wizards and their escorts just in time to hear Griva's instructions regarding Merek and the cleared area, and her frown indeed indicates her wondering at the dwarf woman's authority. A question for another time, perhaps.

Skribbles has her hands in her pocket, the other is waving a peace sign. Not really, but she just watches everyone do things and she simply kicks a piece of dirt and continues to watch.

Braelnoir's fingers close around the hilt a new seeming sword of ancient design, eyes shining gold glaring about, "No one's takin' him." she gnashes between her teeth, "Without facin' me, first."

She looks to Griva, trying to read her eyes, a warning in her own.

Merek seems to think about Griva's words. Sometimes doing things that are right can have consequences. An interesting thing to really note, given what he's been through. Then he takes a look to Brae, "Don't worry about me," the man offers, while he waves a hand, his bloodstained eyes taking a look about the place, then he draws a piece of cloth to tie that about his face.

The man walks along with Griva, "Alright, I'll come with you. We'll have a nice long discussion, it might take a while." He seems to understand in rare moments a few things that he might not otherwise. So he puts fully his trust into Griva, even regardless of what their relationship was like in the past. He places a nice hand upon Brae's shoulder, leaning in, "Trust me."

Cesran listens to the explanation and he nods, "Sounds good to me." He says as he goes to start to help with the preparations and let Griva handle the matters of Merek.

"Thank you," says Griva. "Serene, I have need of you," she tells her. "Do you think you can get a detatchment of Elunans, you and Seldan both, to ward off the area, and the Silver Guard to help establish the perimeter? I have concerns.." 
 
She turns back towards Merek. "You can trust me, but understand that you will be surrendering to authority. Not whoever this 'Norrington' is, but to authority of the government genreally. You will need to answer for your actions, as we all must. Defend them, assuredly, but answer. Now, there we go. That bleeding has cleared up. You're fine." She is applying a salve to him, now, that certainly seems to help ease his discomfort. 
 
"We're done here for the moment."

Serene studies Merek for a moment, then nods.. a sign of approval, perhaps, before looking to Griva again. "I have no authority within the hierarchy, but I believe the temple will readily offer up what they can to assist here. I will deliver the request personally."

"No authority, says the big damn hero," says Griva of Serene, sarcastically.

Cryo remains lost in a book, oblivious to what's going on. It's not a callousness, it's a defensive reaction. The voice in her head touched and tugged on things she didn't want disturbed. Memories she's carefully packed away and chained down. Her spell was a risk, which she did because she was curious, which is almost always what gets her into trouble.

Aya smelled good enough to eat too, and she's always disturbed by the taste of her friends. That's another thing she's trying hard not to think about.

And Merek's blood smells wrong...

The whitescale is trying very hard to escape right now, while pretending to be useful, because she's run out ideas and ways to be actually useful. Her self doubts have awoken, energized, and the only way she'll put them to bed is to read a book. Really, really hard.

Braelnoir looks to Merek as he tries to get her to stand down. She clenches her eyes for a few moments and wills her fingers to unlock from Eskeellios's hilt. She shakes her head slowly, "I don'like it.... but I trust you, Mer... I'm sorry."

Stjepan pulls his cloak shut around him, and look from face to face to bloody face. "Fuck." He scowls, "Let me know what I can do, when I can do it. This is not my field of expertise."

Merek seems to think about it, then he nods a bit to the sky, while he takes a look to Brae with the cloth about his eyes once that salve looks placed upon it. With that hand upon Brae's shoulder he nods to Cryosanthia, "Make sure she's alright, see if she found anything." He does not know if he's managing to read anything right. He just knows that the sith'makar looks to be reading a lot.

Alright, it looks like he will need to take a moment, speak with Griva, then come with the guards. The man takes a stick from the pack with him, and lights that up while he takes a puff from the cigarette.

Serene can only offer Griva a slight shrug in response and half turns. She waits until the dispersal seems largely underway and that Merek's situation is being handled properly, then she turns back towards Silver to prepare for her reparture.

And Cryosanthia continues reading, her tailtip twitching back and forth as she does. Eventually she falls asleep.

{{LineSkulls|300px}}

==OOC Convos==

<OOC> Merek casually tells strange voice 'yes, sure'.
<br><OOC> Braelnoir says, "for everyone"
<br><OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I already said No twice"

<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Ahem."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "So"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "It was just announced that Merek is Merek in front of the guards. This will have consequences :)"
<br>[WhirlChan] Merek says, "Merek, bleeding from everywhere, sanity breaking, in pain."
<br>[WhirlChan] Merek says, "'Let's arrest him.'"
<br>[WhirlChan] Cryosanthia says, "Best time to really"
<br>[WhirlChan] Merek says, "Super powerful wizard 'You should let them arrest you'."
<br>[WhirlChan] Merek says, "ngl it's a power move"
<br>[WhirlChan] Merek says, "Arrest the mage while he can't incenerate you."
<br>[WhirlChan] Boshter says, "Well, I mean, they're gonna tend to you first and make sure you're okay, but you're also absolutely under arrest :)"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "oh shit"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "Brae no don't kill the guards!"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "Also clearly chaotic man surrendering to authority can only lead to Good Things tm"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "I mean, you're going to be put in binding bands and de-magiced pretty effectively, but that won't stop you from giving them endless amounts of grief, I'm ure :)"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "I'm sure Griva will make sure that he goes to someone who will understand his plight."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "i.e. out of Norrington's 'sphere' of influence."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "So he can probably talk his way out of that."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Ahahaha."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool is passing your final disposition on to Solar Flare. :)
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "It's her plot that you're in trouble in."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "I mean."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "I do have teleport."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yeaaah, about that."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "Does it not work locally?"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "1) Griva is an abjurer."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "2) You will eventually be *politely* manacled and taken into custody. The manacles will contain nethercite, which is an anti-magic material."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "Can I make a sword out of nethercite."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "You can try!"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "It's hard to find."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "(Also, dangerous.)"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "(Raw, anyway.)"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Also"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Your arm stops functining. xD"
<br><OOC> Merek :D
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Because, welll. It's magic."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "whoa oh oh it's magic"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "never believe it's not so"
<br><OOC> Cryosanthia says, "There's the nethercite cells underneath the Arcanists place too"
<br><OOC> Cryosanthia says, "where hiding out from Salina was a thing"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "I'm going to be honest."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "Merek MIGHT punch a guard."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "If they try to manacle him."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "He is gonna get manacled. xD"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "He can definitely punch a guard."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "I mean, I'm just gonna assume it happens!"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "PONCH!"
<br><OOC> Merek says, "No he just has a thing about being bound and chained."
<br><OOC> Merek says, "after the Hells thing"


<OOC> Whirlpool STEALS SERENE BACK NYAHAH

''"Thank you," says Griva. "Serene, I have need of you," she tells her. "Do you think you can get a detatchment of Elunans, you and Seldan both, to ward off the area, and the Silver Guard to help establish the perimeter? I have concerns.."'' 
 
''She turns back towards Merek. "You can trust me, but understand that you will be surrendering to authority. Not whoever this 'Norrington' is, but to authority of the government genreally. You will need to answer for your actions, as we all must. Defend them, assuredly, but answer. Now, there we go. That bleeding has cleared up. You're fine." She is applying a salve to him, now, that certainly seems to help ease his discomfort.'' 
 
''"We're done here for the moment."''

''Serene studies Merek for a moment, then nods.. a sign of approval, perhaps, before looking to Griva again. "I have no authority within the hierarchy, but I believe the temple will readily offer up what they can to assist here. I will deliver the request personally."''

''"No authority, says the big damn hero," says Griva of Serene, sarcastically.''

<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Seldan and Serene can IC work on that together. :)"

<OOC> Whirlpool says, "OOC heads uP: there are going to be several plots to go on for all level ranges relating to this."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Things that will be needed to be done. :)"
<br><OOC> Cesran says, "Needs a young priest and an old priest."
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yes. That's it exactly."

<OOC> Whirlpool says, "o.O"
<br><OOC> Whirlpool says, "Cryo did plenty well!"