A Little Bit of Time

Log Info

• Title: A Little Bit of Time

• Characters: Aryia, Aya, Seldan, Schara. DM: Whirlpool

• Place: Tashraan

• Summary: Seldan, Aryia, Aya, and Schara follow up on a clue from the missing Taaran Hgih Priestess by visiting an old Navosian Temperance in the sandy city of Tashraan.

GAME: Seldan rolls 1d100: (88): 88
GAME: Seldan casts Teleport. Caster Level: 16 DC: 23

The warm air of Alexandria is replaced by the still warmer air of the coast of the Dune Seas. You've arrived, but not quite where Seldan intended, and he's absolutely sure he did everything correct. There's no reason that you should be outside the city, almost in the ocean. No reasoin at all ...

... but you're here, now, and looking upon the sprawling vastness that is the ancient city of Tashraan. You just gotta get in the gates and get over to the Temple of Navos, where Aryia's 'friend' awaits...

Aryia remembers this place, both the venture through it and the pit stop onto more dangerous locales. So she dresses for the occasion. Lots of white, swooping clothing, dabbles of green mixed in. Hair braided up and out of the way, held up by pins and sticks.

But they land, outside the city gates to view the vastness of the ancient place. A sigh escapes her, and she rubs her face before gesturing. "Right, I think I know where that place is. Had to run my ass so many fucking times there I don't think I could forget that big fuck off hourglass on the building." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Seldan frowns at the clearly missed teleport, his usually sober and steady mien settling into uncertain lines at first. "We are off," he murmurs, the loose robe and headdress he has donned in the manner of the Dune Seas shielding his spring-fair skin at least mostly from harsh sunlight. Without it, beneath this sun he would likely be a lobster in short order. "For that would I ask your forgiveness." He speaks no more, but is clearly calculating in his mind.

"Something is amiss. I find nothing wrong in my accounting," he murmurs. "The Sea of Mana itself did not account as it should have. Something - went astray. I mislike what this might mean."

Aya is not entirely certain what to expect, though the vast majority of those in whom she holds trust are familiar with the destination and/or taking them there. Her attire is as it often is in the warmer months, decent enough for the even more warm of sand seas. She looks to Aryia, then Seldan. "They could have protections against simply arriving inside the city?" Alexandria wasn't exactly quick to enact those measures, and can't be the only city in Ea plagued with issues. She would hope. "So we walk, then." Eyes flit back to her sister, "Or run?"

Schara waited patiently with the others, glancing between everyone who seemed much, much more prepared for anything a place like Charn could throw at people. The bronze clad artificer was still triple checking her pouches and things when they were suddenly out in another place entirely. "Oh, this Tashran, yes? Or the land mass around Tashran, I'm not sure on the specifics of the geography." The artificer wonders allowed. "At least we have people who recognize some of the landmarks, so hopefully it won't be too hard to find a specific temple. I don't mind running, but I don't have the stamina of all of you, and as much as I'd like to get this finished quickly, I think it would be best that I'm not exhausted in case anything goes badly."

"Nay," Seldan answers Aya, with a shake of the head. "Teleportation is not banned in Tashraan. This is where Mal and I make our home, and oft do I teleport here. My accounting must account for this as well in the future." But - how does one account for something one does not understand?

"Let us be gone, do we walk or run," he murmurs, adjusting the headcovering he wears. "The sun is unforgiving."

Aryia waves Seldan's apology off in a combined 'it's fine' and 'don't sweat it' manner. "Not in the ocean, and didn't have to sail it. Call that a win in my book. Thanks for the shortcut," she says to him through her hands.

Aya's thought process gets her thinking, along with Seldan's observation. "... good point. Perhaps we can feel the difference inside the walls if they have done anything. And... no running. I don't want to get split up."

To Schara, she notes, "This is Tashraan. If you like fashion, good fucking place to get cloth. Too bad this is business and not pleasure." With all that squared away, she looks to everyone. "Oh. And if you, for some reason, see anything deja vu, please speak up. I /really/ don't want to do another time loop bullshit."

That warning given out, she gestures with Seldan out towards the city gates while scowling at the sun. "Doesn't matter to me, lets just get out of the damn sun and into the city where there's shade." She sets off, taking lead. <Handspeech/Tongues>

It's true, the sun IS awfully unforgiving here. It's all ... bright. And hurts the eyes. And that's before we get to the way the course, rough, sand beyond the city gates gets everywhere.

At any rate, passing through the city is not difficult, and the populace is deeply varied. Your presence here goes unremarked on.

The markets are packed with people going about their lives, as they ever do, indulging in wares from the fashionable to the forbidden in all but Tashraan. The Temple of Navos is deeper into the city, however, and so your walk there takes some time. Inevitably, you begin to draw closer to it, a metal hourglass on a raised platform sitting outside its front gates. It looks darkened, almost abandoned, this one does. The hourglass spins automatically when the last of its, as you arrive, pass through. It grinds loudly.

Into the city is the goal. Out of the sun is excellent. "Maybe there will be time for cloth, after, sister," Aya offers with and off-hand as they move. Last comes the temple, itself. That it seems darker could be a trick of the bright sun, it could just be pleasant shade, or it could be ominous. Whatever it may be, it would still be shade? "What do we look for, exactly?" she asks aloud, if quietly, to the others.

By the time they reach the temple, Seldan's nose and cheekbones are touched with the beginnings of a good sunburn despite the headcoverings, and he lets out a small breath as they step through the doors, sweat beading his brow. "Your contact is here?" he murmurs in response.

"Lets walk, please." The artificer answers, and at the very least, she isn't slowing things down more as she begins journeying to the city. "I don't know much about fashion, but cloth is useful." the Artificer answers. "Wearing a full body armor doesn't leave much for appearances, but that isn't important now, business is what we are here for and, you were in a time loop? How did that happen, and how do we avoid it?"

It takes a lot of will power to not look at all the wares they pass by, but the artificer is able to at least focus enough until they reach the temple. "I'm assuming that this place wasn't in use for some time. Or it's an abandoned building being used for illicit activity, which is another possibility?"

Ugh. The sand. The /sun/. Bloody sun. Even the magic shades had their limits, the Holy Knight shining brilliantly and annoyingly. Aryia huffs as she makes her way into the gates and into the city proper. Even though she longed to look at the fashion going on here, her footfalls carry her ever onward.

A glance to Aya as she gestures. A snort escapes the mute. "I hope so. Can't get a more pure white fabric here than anyplace else."

They get to the temple, the pugilist looking annoyed up at the seemingly abandoned temple as it dare makes noise, eyes squinting at the hourglass. That thing was so annoying last time. "Looking for an old elf guy named S-H-A-E-V-I-N. I killed him in a different timeline. Hopefully he remembers," she mentions, looking to Seldan. The corners of her lips quirk up in amusement at spying the first vestiges of a sunburn. She herself wasn't immune to it, the dim grey skin taking on a pink hue.

She shrugs at Schara, but she answers the lingering question with, "If in a time loop: let the big fucking bird sort it out by pointing out a duplicate. Last time it was a copy of me. Anywho, let's pay this old man a visit."

She glances about, rolls her shoulders, and attempts to enter the building. A wayward glare cast at the hourglass. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya nods at the mention of the name, but has little else to say. She follows Aryia's lead, both figuratively and literally with steps to enter the temple.

GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (12)+31: 43
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (10)+25: 35
GAME: Aya rolls perception: (11)+30: 41

"You hope he remembers you killed him in another timeline? Normally I would expect that you would hope for the opposite." The Artificer wonders aloud as she looks at the temple. "I think I get what you mean but I hope it doesn't become required due to the difficulty of actually making use of such information."

"So, do you think the temple is still open? Can we just go in?"

GAME: Schara rolls perception: (6)+10: 16

A brief check of the door allows one to open it. It sticks a little, not having been userd particularly much as of late. This is not the only temple in a city htis size, so it's unuse isn't necessarily a red flag, but it's concerning given the reason you're here.

This first area of the temple is immeidately open, dominted by a Navosian altar and clockwork mechanisms along the wall. A fine layer of dust is coating things. A singular, hooded figure sits slumped before the altar, emeshed in prayer. You can hear him murmuring, clearly, old Navosian prayers. Slowly, he turns his head, raising his gaze to look towards you. Thin. Not quite skeletal, but getting there.

"/You/," h says of Aryia.

Seldan is left blinking as pale eyes in brightest sun are abruptly traded for the darkness and cool of an indoor stone temple. The voice is at first only a voice, while he shakes sand from robes and boots and waits for his eyes to resume their proper function. " The sense of being out of step with time, here, leaves him blinking for another second, but when _you_ is said, he speaks at once. "Peace, Temperance," he offers soberly, gently. "I am Seldan, once of house Padaryn, in service to Eluna Seeress. I shall see to it that no harm comes to you while I am present."

Aryia glances over her shoulder at Schara as they voice their concerns. "He better remember, because last time he was-"

She enters the room properly, pulling her shades down briefly to flick her gaze about before it lands on the Navosian.

She smiles, truly, giving a light wave despite the accusatory tone. Her fingers flex, ears giving a little flick as she seems to be counting mental seconds before finally responding with a gestured, "Glad you remember me."

The Elunite's quick step in gets the mute to reconsider her off the cuff words, taking the moment to reform them with a- "At least, no harm as long as you don't do that Void shit again like that one time. No, the other time. The other other time. How have you been?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya welcomes the cool of the interior. Less welcome is its state of disuse and the unnerving... oddity of not-quite-conscious sensation of something amiss. The sight and sound of the Navosian doesn't improve anything. She looks to Aryia briefly, then back to the emaciated one when he seems to confirm, or is confirmed, as the one known to her sister.

She is wary, but presents herself peaceably enough... though gestures of 'Void shit' promptly bring painful thoughts to mind and scowl to her lips. "I won't ask how many times you met..."

Schara joins the other in the welcome shade of the seemingly unwelcome temple. The artificer stays close to the others and shifts a bit awkwardly at the state of them and the accusatory tone. "I'm not sure who you are, but I can promise you we didn't come here with an intent to cause trouble." They add. "Is everything alright?"

"No harm," he replies with a low, raspy laugh. "You can feel it, can't you? The way time passes within these walls has been irrevocably stretched, and it is my doing, only I never took the steps to do so. I was stopped, well before my errors could begin. And yet -- and yet -- and yet, I am punished for that which I would have done, had I not been stopped, for my history would have propelled me down those very same steps regardless. I placed th4e value of life above the value of time -- an error in judgment, by Navos' sense of equilbrium. So I remained where I have been instructed to remain, atoning for my sins." He looks towards the clockwork mechanisms. One of them ticks. But it's tick is ... not ... right. It seems like it should happen on each second, like you instinctually know it should, and yet it's out of step, like time itself here, and it quickly grows maddening the more you tune into it. Grinding at your ears, your sense of *when*.

Shaevin, that's who it is, strains to rise to his feet.

"Second after *second*, I have sought atonement. I seek it still. Why have you come to me? You've already stopped me from harming time, in my hubris, and now I am here. What more could you possibly need from me?"

Seldan continues to blink as his eyes adjust, but turns his head toward Aya as his vision begins to clear. "The matter of time may be connected to a greater matter still. It is our hope that you may be able to offer us aid in the matter of locating an individual who seems to have had some understanding of the greater peril. Lady Akorinil Belvade."

Aryia takes this moment, the long moments felt here, to simply observe Shaevin. To be honest, she felt as if an older her would rub this in. Of course you should atone for all that bullshit, she felt like saying. But instead, she sighs lightly. "I'm full well glad you learned from that mistake, Shaevin," she gestures, bowing lightly with a hand over her heart.

A look to Seldan, her motioning towards the Silverguard, as if echoing his sentiments. "If you know anything that would help us..." she rolls a hand along. Beyond thankful that Seldan was here to do the talking. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya's attention shifts from Shaevin to the clockworks after he mentions them. The questions were asked of him and she has no further ones to ask at the moment. So the oddity of the time draws her attention for some (skewed) seconds.

Schara looked to the others, and back to the cleric, and sighs. "It sounds like there was a lot going on here, and I don't know enough about everything that happened first hand, but it sounds like a lot."

"We came here looking for help, so if you have any information that can be helpful to us, it would be appreciated, mister Shaevin."

The artificer looks at some of the clocks, and tilts their head. "How does something like this even happen? It seems a bit, improbable to be a punishment."

"/Belvade/," he sputters.

There's sputtering, and then by-now-familiar cursing. This is a trend amongst the people who know her, after all, yourselves included.

"Yes, she came to me. She laughed at my sorry state. Laughed and laughed," he muses, "and said it was a better ending than I deserved for what I did, what I didn't do, what I will now never do and yet remain punished for because all of time is as one moment. Belvade gave me a thing to give to whoever came asking for her. She asked that I hold it. I know not where she is, no doubt scheming from the shadows to write a better ending than *she* deserves."

He turns and steps away, moving to open a footlocker that sits near the dais. He rummages around it.

And then you all feel it, a sudden, cold gust of air as time seems to stretch *even slower*.

"...ah. It is that time," he remarks. He extends his hand towards Seldan, taking him at his word, and holds a large key out towards him. The key is ... peculiar, made black metal... no, not black. *adamant*.

"Do not intervene," he warns the paladin, "lest it notice you."

There's a sound, like the flapping of great, feathered wings.

Curiously, Seldan takes the large key, turning it over in his hand, studying it. "An adamant key," he murmurs. "Doubtless made for a mighty lock indeed." He turns the key in his hand to show the others, allow them to inspect. His attention now is on the changes around them, and his eyes go up and around. His hands lift, as if to begin a spell, but - _Something is very wrong here. The Void has altered time itself, from the sound of it, in this place. Could this be - a representative of the Void?_

He is left to puzzle through the implications and complexities of the words Shaevin speaks, his inital intent abandoned.

Only after a moment does he remember his manners, and incline his head. "You have our thanks for this, Temperance."

Aryia can't help but let out an empathetic snort at the shared frustration of the Taaran priestess. "What a bitch," she comments idly, glancing to Schara. "It was a really fucked up time. So fucked up it fucked up time," she offers in explanation. "I hope these long seconds in contemplation as punishment eventually end up appeasing Navos at some point or another for you, Shaevin.

Time seems to stretch on as the key is gathered and proffered. She blinks to herself, checking her hands. Herself offering a "Thank you greatly," as she's watching the motions. Pretty sure she was sober- wing beats. Aryia stands up rigid, her dim grey skin paling to a grey snow hue. Tinged with sunburnt pink.

Her hands move briskly, but somehow, slowly, in this dilation. "Fuck me sideways, the Inevitable is here again." The what. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"That certainly sounds like her..." Aya comments truthfull and not especially pleasantly on Shaevin's statement of Lady Akorinil. Her words trails off at the offering of the key to Seldan; a key to what she has no idea, but it is another crumb along the trail. One that doesn't require any lewd reading nor gestures to use, also.

She is perhaps about to say more when there are wingbeats. Then a warning. Then Aryia's (ever) colorful statement. Aya now chooses to neither speak nor move, save for her eyes scanning about. Void creatures are among her least favorite company considering her prior encounters with them.

"Well, it seems a bit unfair to be punished for something you never did, but maybe it's different with a cleric of Navos." Schara sighs. As everything is being explained however, Schara freezes up, and looks around, trying to pinpoint the source. "What should we do about it, then?" They ask worriedly.

There's a flash of light. A flap of wings -- and Shaevin explodes, his body rupturing into a fine red mist that splatters everywhere. He doesn't even have a chacne to scream.

...and then he walks out of the back room, into the altar, moments later. This is his loop. His punishment. Each second drawn out, waiting for the wings that fortell his death, over and over.

"In time, perhaps," he answers. "Until then."

GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 16 DC: 18
GAME: Seldan rolls spellcraft: (13)+18: 31

Seldan's eyes close, his head bowing as he realizes what is happening here. A truly terrible punlishment - a loop that needs breaking - but what has imposed such a thing? As if remembering himself, he raises his free hand, the one not holding the massive key, and traces a quick sigil in the air. He looks around him, studying the room, paying the others in the room no mind.

Aryia is busy zipping her eyeballs about every which way in preparation of that terrifying beast that she doesn't even see it. Perhaps, she wasn't meant to see it. But she /certainly/ sees Shaevin violently rupture into a mist. One that coats the side facing him a thin, even layer of crimson. She winces. Blinks the blood out of her eyes. Then blinks again as... Shaevin walks through the back door to them. She inhales deeply. Raises her hands. "Fuck man. Hopefully 'in time' comes sooner than later," she motions, glancing to Seldan as he gestures his quick and unorthodox magics. "If I remember correctly, the bird only shows itself to those that are in the wrong. It's job is to deal with time fuck ups. So... sadly this guy put himself in this situation. Hate to say it, but this is the best outcome."

She looks to Shaevin, a frown on her lips. "Navos have mercy on you." <Handspeech/Tongues>

-End Scene-