The Pieces fit Together

The hazy, oppressive heat of the day is cut somewhat within the walls of the temple of Daeus. Today the temple is quite quiet, the people moving to and fro calmly, though some with speed if it is required of them. Zeke is sitting at a bench, a meal laid out beside him and a cup of steaming tea held carefully in his claws. This is not an unfamiliar sight, as the blue-scaled sith is prone to taking his meals in the temple where he can find them. He seems at peace, but his green eyes are ever-watchful for something that might disturb the peace of the temple.

The purposeful stride of someone in plate armor stands in stark contrast to the peace and ease of the Temple grounds. It is not as loud as plate armor often is, but its source is someone most definitely out of place here, and yet not entirely so. Seldan strides up to the area a little ways from the altar that is set aside for prayer, and pays brief respects with gestures and words long-known, then rises and turns away, as if to seek something else.

Far from his usual wont to tone down his appearance, he wears the full moonlit armor openly, a moon surrounded by sunlight, the blue and silver robe thrown over all and a plain silver headband mostly holding unruly hair out of his eyes. He's made some attempt to tie it back, meeting so far with mixed success, and ginger-blonde tendrils surround his face and fall into his eyes. It is perhaps, though, the expression that is most remarkable. Set, focused, not impassive so much as icy control underlaid with stone-cold fury.

Seeing someone else taking their meal was enough of an excuse for another sith-makar to join them on the bench. She had passed by one time, disappeared out of sight for a few minutes before she returned, with a small plate of bread, meat and cheese. She used a claw to tear open the loaf once she sat down, making a rudimentary sort of sandwich.

"Peace on your nest, Zeke, Seldan." She greets finally. "Are you alright? You look troubled, has someone told you what transpired?"

Always something to deliver, and it was always something far away to end her day. This time it was a crate of cleaning supplies for armor. A scarred mul'neissa woman in simple clothing walks through the door with a too-large for her box. She can't see over it, the elf having to lean to the side to watch her step. An acolyte comes to receive it, and she tries to pass it off to them. They stumble under the weight, a couple others coming out to help carry the crate off.

Aryia dusts her hands off, scanning around before catching the trio. With a sigh, she wordlessly strolls up, one hand in her pocket as she fidgets behind her back under her shirt.

Zeke is on his feet in a moment, his tea in his hands still, but his eyes deeply concerned by the ire that he can see in Seldan's gaze even at a distance. Seyardu returns in this moment, reminding him of politeness so he offers his own greeting. "Peasssce on your nessst Seyardu, kin.... What hassss happened to make you ssso?" His gaze flickers to Seyardu, and her words cause him to suspect that she knows as well. "What hasss transsspired?"

"Kin, Eclavdran sends his greetings." Seldan's first answer is without preamble or greeting. "I have - summoned the Vardamen for assistance." His tones are tight, clipped, precise, but controlled. Always controlled. He does not elaborate, instead turning to the others and bowing in a gesture of apology. "But I am rude. Peace upon your nest, and Her light upon your path. Yes, Sera Paenitia has spoken to me of that which you found in the warehouse, and of the man with black hair and eyes. He is indeed known to me, do I guess aright, but this bears explanation."

"Yes, the warehouse. The statues are being moved somewhere safer, hopefully, until a proper fix can be determined." Seyardu sighs. "There are other concerns. Undead on the roads outside Alexandria. But the larger concern this moment is someone turning numerous people into statues."

The scarred elf blinks. Then understanding floods her visage. She groans silently and drags a hand down her face. Looks like Aryia knows what Seldan was talking about as well.

It is perhaps a bit too much information all at once. Zeke looks from Seldan, to Seyardu, clearly confused and deeply concerned. "Thisss one knew that the Duke wassss returning... but what isss thisss that he hasss ssent you greetings that require the sservantsss of the Death-singing Dragon? Iss thisss one needed?" He hesitates. "Warehoussse?"

Suddenly he shakes his head and sets his tea on the bench that had once held him and looks at his kin. Zeke then takes a breath. "Sshould thisss one aquire a room for usss? A plasce where we can ssspeak in privascy?"

Out in the fields beyond the walls of the city, white butterflies flit about, approaching flowers in a random path. This is similar, though she is much more random in how she goes about it, to the way a Makar named after a white flower approaches the Temple of Daeus.

It is not a place of fond memories, for Cryosanthia. The Temple is not the worst location for her in Alexandria, two other locals have that distinction, but she has avoided it. Now, she has reason to visit, ironically the exact one that was keeping her away.

Finally, she ventures past the pillars, across the compound towards the bench where a blue-scaled male sips his tea, and others known to her congregate. "Oh! Hello everyone, Peace on your Nests, Zeke, Seyardu." She moves close to him, catching the tail of the conversation, "... am I interrupting?" And his scent. Her tail seems less lively now. Something is wrong, something serious.

"The fix for the statues is known to me, Hearthguard, and likely to Zeke as well." Seldan nods shortly to the Sunguard. "Yes, we should speak privately. Cryosanthia and Acedia must also be told of -"

And this is where Cryosanthia walks up, and he musters a polite half-smile and a bow. "Peace upon your nest, Cryosanthia. You are not." The paladin wears a look of fury locked in a cage of icy control, and he has not bothered to tone down his appearance as he normally does - a sure sign of an agitated Silver Guard.

"Perhaps a change of scenery would be best. though this group grows large." Seyardu nods, glancing to those present. "Peace on your nest as well, Cryosanthia and Aryia. This one would wish this meeting was under more pleasant circumstances."

"P-c- - - n-st," Aryia quietly hisses to the two Sith-makar, crossing her arms as she glances to everyone now included in the conversation. She nods at the idea of speaking in someplace more private.

With this decided, and Cryosanthia present fortuitously, Zeke waves the others to follow him. He gathers up his tea and meal before leading them through the halls of the temple to a large and currently empty healing room. This one could hold many patients, which makes it ideal for their purposes, since it is currently empty of cots and holds instead only a few chairs stacked against a back wall, a bench, and some healing supplies. Obviously storage. He does not sit however, but rather waits for everyone to enter the room before closing the door and turning his attention on the pair made up of Seldan and Seyardu. "Thisss one thinksss that perhapsss you ssshould tell thisss one every-thing."

Something could, indeed, be wrong, as a modest miasma of shadow forms in the air at ground level between two pillars. A form emerges, coalescing from black to the not-quite as dark flesh and lighter clothing of Aya... and one carnation 'cap' perched about her head and shoulders. As the miasma fades whence it came, there is a squeal from the kobold. Not an unpleasant one.

"We've arrived," Aya notes.

"Again!" is the response.

"But... we've arrived..." Aya repeats, eyes rolling upwards.

It's only as he glance returns ahead that she notes the specific individuals present. "Good day," she offers. Perhaps Ssassa's presence will make Lily less-inclined for an immediate repeat journey. Perhaps.

Cryo follows along as the group is taken a to a room, a cool shadow to Zeke. She watches him with concern, touches his shoulder, after first hesitating, in a manner she hopes he'll take comfort from. Once in the room she glances at the stacked chairs, the bench, and decides to remain standing. She whispers to the blue-scale, "This one is..."

An interruption of Shadow. She continues, "... expecting Aya to appear."

Aryia follows after, her hands in her pockets. She plops down into one of the cots and crosses her legs. She starts to take her hands out to say something-

The sudden appearance of Aya makes her flinch, which makes her hands catch on her pockets, which makes her steady herself on crossed legs.

Which makes Aryia spill out onto the floor. She grumbles, picking herself back up with a dust of red on her face before sitting back down on the cot.

At the announcement that Aya is here, Zeke whirls around, his eyes shrinking in further displeasure to note that the youngling is with her. It takes a moment for the sith to calm himself his green eyes looking at Cryosanthia with a mute request for her to help him, and then strides toward Aya seriously. "Thisss one will take Lily. Give her to sssomeone in the temple who can care for her. Sssshe ssshould not hear what we are going to dissscuss." He holds his claws out for the youngling and takes her quickly. There's no really arguing this fact with him as he is clearly determined. Once he has the youngling in-claw he disappears down a hall.

Zeke is gone several long moments, likely engaging someone to care for the youngling before returning with some haste looking a little beleaguered and nods to everyone upon his return. "Thisss one appologizesss. It would not be good for the youngling to hear about Eclavdran or hisss plansss. It isss much too early for her to be concerned with sssuch thingsss, and thisss one doess not wissh him to turn hisss attention upon her."

Seyardu follows the group to the suggested area. She pulls out a chair, turns it around, and sits down, eating her sandwich over the back of it while Zeke goes to drop Lily off elsewhere. Likely for the best, she did not have the best record of speaking of difficult subjects with the young kobold around.

"So, the warehouse. It is linked in some way to the house we investigated, after finding a petrified statue at a farm recently. To put it simply, a sect of Taara called the order of the cockatrice. They were dealing with such creatures, and likely have had a hand in gathering the statues which were stored in the warehouse. And after investigating a home past the farm, Aimarra was taken. And we found her held by who I am assuming is Eclavdran, the man who was on the other side of some portal."

She begins to explain after swallowing some of the sandwich, doing best to remain neutral despite a lingering and rising anger.

Seldan, too, follows after, looking around the larger healing room before striding to the wall and assuming a parade-rest stance, clearly waiting for the others to settle. He starts when Aya and Lily arrive, as tensely wound as a coiled spring, but when Zeke removes the child from the room, he immediately nods his approval. "The Sunguard is quite correct," he tells the others seriously, but Seyardu speaks first, and anything else he was about to say falls into silence as he listens intently to the explanation. "Sera Paenitia spoke of a particularly ugly figure of fertility, a stone statuette used to call and control minds. Was it headless?"

Aya offered no resistance to Zeke's demand; quite the opposite. She arrived to deliver Lily, afterall, and his presence here was hardly unexpected. It's not until he returns and shares the reasons for his concerns (beyond the fact that Aya and Lily were co-located) that her expression promptly shifts to a harsh neutral, at best. "Indeed. I was unaware that he was.. a concern." One that should would have preferred to remain a far-distant memory, judging by her countenance. She joins the discussion-train, stepping after.

Cryosanthia startles a little as Zeke takes charge and Lily out of the room. Her trust in him is complete, so her worry increases. What should she not hear?

Then the blue-scale returns and says a name. Her tail sinks to the ground. Her posture becomes more straight, it's a little cooler in her presence. Her neck straightens, she stands even taller, rigid.

"That is a name I hoped never to hear again." The whitescale says in a voice empty of emotion, then, "This one thought the Order of the Cockatrice as a Knightly Order?"

She blinks at Seldan, "That statue?" Her exhale that follows is a long one.

Zeke is silent in the wake of his own words, allowing others to question. He knows that his silence will have the same effect as those questions though, that by standing there patiently he will draw out the answers that grow more dire with each passing moment. His tail flick-flicks behind him, and his stoic expression is betrayed by a scent of worry that only deepens every time his eyes flicker toward Seldan. He knows instinctively that there is worse yet unsaid.

After fixing herself from the spill, Aryia waits for the room to situate itself. There was a lot she was missing, but here she could help. She gives a small whistle and nods, the pugilist pulling out her journal. There's some scribbling before she turns the page around to show a rough sketch of the offending statue. It's REALLY rough, mostly an outline. But enough to get the gist of whatever it is.

The image is that of an ancient fertility statue. Lacking much in the way of limbs and the head only a token thing. It seems that the ample mother-figure is most important to the statue. Ample bosom, buttox and a swollen stomach are the hearlds of the statue that Seldan is familiar with.

"I am sorry, but I did not see the statue, only the most likely effects of it." Seyardu sighs at the question. "I do not know if it is something associated with the knightly order and doubt so, but it seems to be associated with Taara."

"But I saw the effects. Culix, one of those present at the warehouse, was acting not like themself, aggressive, and forcing the statue upon the captive that had been taken, who opened the portal again. Afterwards, it could not be found."

As Aryia begins to draw, Seldan walks over and studies the rough sketch, his expression darkening with recognition. He merely nods, though, and straightens. "You have my thanks for that, mistress Aryia. It is as I suspected. The statue is not associated to Taara." He paces back over towards his former standing spot and resumes his parade-rest stance, a straight and tall bearing that looks like nothing so much as a soldier waiting for judgment.

"Ere I begin my tale, I must warn all present, that do you pursue this, you risk the wrath of an archdemon. Many present speak with me enough that they may become targets in his attempts to reach me, or force my hand, for it is me, more than any present, that he targets, and for good reason. Will you hear the tale, of who this man is, the nature of the statue, and what it is that we face?"

That controlled anger continues to make his words clipped, precise, and short.

There is no hesitation in Zeke, he nods immediately to Seldan's words though... he knows already whom they face and the nature of the statue. It is perhaps too late for him. "Thisss one will stay." He looks at Cryosanthia however, his scent turning slightly sad. "Perhapssss... it would be wissse if you did not though, Cryosssanthia. You will not be sssafe sshould you join usss in this endevor."

Cryosanthia stares at the statue's sketch. It is very familiar to the whitescale. She brushes her hands down the front of her corset several times before she manages to keep them still on her belly. She glances at Zeke.

First Seldan, at Zeke again. She nods slowly, "I... I don't know that I can stay. I don't know that I can escape. I need to know the threats you face, I might face, but I'm too vulnerable."

She glances at the door, at the sketch, rubs her front again, "... with Lily, with... whatever Salina left in my mind. I'm too easily turned against you. If I have to choose... they would not need a spell, and it would break me."

"I find it difficult to fathom, Silverguard," Aya opines, "that you have drawn the ire of only -one- archfiend." One corner of her mouth twists upwards. That bit of bemusement fades promptly as she follows words and glances to Cryosanthia, then notes the response of the same. She is unsure what advice to offer the whitescale at the moment, and so leaves that those nearest her.

Aryia sits up straighter as she's addressed that way. Her head tilts to the side, then her gaze slides to her lap. "I... don't know. I already have to deal with ash wings trying to kill me. But I really hate slavers. So... I'll listen. Not like I'm already fucked," she gestures slowly, uncertain of herself. <Handspeech>

"I feel I am at risk regardless at this point, due to my desire to counteract the plans in place." She says firmly, with that lingering anger. "I will not sit by and let kin and others be condemned to a fate such as this. There were young in those crates, people missing. And they are missing this time now still. I understand if you wish to leave, Cryosanthia, but I understand the importance of knowing. But do not give up either, either. We will do everything possible to ensure that you will be safe in this matter."

Zeke does not exactly move toward Cryosanthia, but there is a wish to go to her in his posture. Yet he remains firmly where he is. "Go Cryosssanthia. There isss no ssshame in the truth. You have the youngling and a nessst to defend. Thesse thingsss mussst come firssst. Let othersss do the protecting, and fasce the danger... thisss time." His voice is gentle.

Is that approval in Seldan's nod at Seyardu and Aryia? It could certainly be, and some of the caged fury fades away. He even smiles, although it is a fleeting thing. "See to the child, first, Cryosanthia," he adds. "We shall find a way, although ... I would speak with Sera Faranmidahn, if she is willing to hear me." His eyes go to the floor, although why is unclear.

He leaves that aside, though, and looks up again, eyes moving from face to face with a steady gaze. "As for who this one is, Eclavdran is a Duke of the Hells, an archdemon in his own right, a foe beyond any present, myself included. Swords and magic will avail us naught against him. We must outwit him, thwart his plans, and ultimately cast him utterly from his footholds on Ea, to banish him to the Hells where he belongs. He takes great interest in the lands of men, often neglecting his own holdings in the Hells to do so, and the statue is of his consort, Mariela, a common symbol of his worship. It is he and his servants that you contend with. Mind control is a favored tactic."

"Protect your world, Cryosanthia," Aya now offers, in kind. "It may be smaller than others, but it is no less important." She then quiets for Seldan's tale. She is aware of a portion, but likely far from the entirety.

The whitescale nods slowly. Her scents are oddly absent, as she faces and listens to the others. She moves with an elegant grace, and unexpectedly crouches beside Aryia, resting a hand gently on her shoulder, "This one told you I was hunted, and watched, and had to learn to live with it. Heed them."

Zeke does not come to her, but Cryo goes to him, leans, and rubs, nuzzling his cheek. The silent affection shared, she stands. Seyardu gets a long look, she did not miss that children were involved, even younglings of the people. If she betrays herself with scents now, the are ones of sadness.

Facing Seldan, Cryo nods, "I'll let Faranmidahn know, and I must concentrate on what I can save and protect." There's a sudden strong desperation in her voice, "TELL me, if there are any threats, to me or Lily, or..." Her head turns towards Zeke, a shift, before she locks back on Seldan, "... my family. I will stay back from this, I have to, but don't let me be ambushed. Warn me if there's something I must know."

She steps towards the door, lingering in case their are further warnings, ready to leave.

Aryia sits there for a long moment, taking in the warnings and information. It wasn't the first time she'd had her mind muddled. And she did not like that premise one bit. She was lost in her head, though she breaks out of her thoughts with a flinch from Cryosanthia. She tilts her head up towards the whitescale, fatigue present on her visage. From the ash wings hunting her. From the Charnese fighting rings hunting her. And then now whatever the hell this is, again, soon to be hunting her to add to a trifecta.

She slowly exhales and nods. Aryia tries to heed, but its easier to say than do. They deflate, placing her face into her hands, hunched over and propped up by her elbows on her legs.

Zeke rumbles low in his throat to Cryosanthia, a comforting sound among the sith. His scent steadies in the wake of her motion to the door. She waits there, but he does not try to call her back into the room. Into danger. It was his words that suggested first that she should go, and however much they need the hands to defeat this foe, it is his feverent wish to leave at least her out of it. "Thisss one would hear what you have to sssay Sseldan. There isss more?" He has the feeling in his gut that there is. "About thesse sstatuesss perhapsss? What are they of? You sssay that I know the ssspell to fix them, and repairing sssuch thingsss isss ssimple enough, but why would there be need?" It feels to him that something has been left out of this story.

"Sera Paenitia tells me that they are turned to stone, possibly by a basilisk. Certainly by a creature of some sort. It is in my mind that I may be able to break such an enchantment, but if there are many -" Seldan pauses. "It is no light task, and I fear also for the living that Eclavdran may yet hold, for she tells me that one of your companions was among those held." Here, he swallows hard. "If he holds any yet living, move swiftly. Sera Paenitia warned me that I would receive - a gift. I did."

The paladin is visibly troubled. "A totem pole of sorts, a crafted sculpture made of body parts. I have - summoned the Vardamen to see that they find peace." He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath, but when he looks again at the others, his gaze is steady and controlled. "He wishes to remind me of his presence, and of his power, but did he mean to frighten me, he shall find only my wrath."

Seyardu glances to Cryosanthia at the door, and nods. "We will do our best to resolve the statues, so worry your mind not with them. I will not have any more families broken up by force. My worry is if spells to break the cause do not work, a spell to return stone to flesh may be too much for those younger, or of poor health." She says, with an odd mixture of sadness, confusion and anger. Though as she listens to Seldan, it is the anger that grows more.

"These fiends, they have no good in their hearts, it seems. It is not the first I have heard of their cruelty, and I fear it will not be the last, though I will do what I can to stop it where possible. The statues are of people, children included, and most seem caught in some form of terror. But Aimarra was not a statue, when she was returned."

Cryosanthia's pupils widen, she inhales, pulling herself straight as a tower once again. She stares, at Seldan, at Zeka, at Aya. They know her best, the erstwhile battle companion she has more often fought against than fought with, her mate, her unexpected friend. In her gaze, her motions, her statements in the past, it is obvious how much she wants to aid them, protect them. She wants to, for everyone in this room.

She also knows, she cannot. Seldan's last piece of information does not bring her fear, or despair, but does cement and reinforce her awareness of her limits. This is beyond her, she can't save the whole world, and she has to pick and choose whom she can in her much smaller one. "You will be in my prayers. I must go. Good luck."

Cryosanthia departs.

Aya considers Seldan's reveal a moment. "He is supremely confident, then, of whatever he plans. Not unusual for a fiend, much less one of his standing, but if he wishes to gloat, for you to know it is he and what he does, that can be an advantage to us. It isn't as useful as incompetence, but pride is a weakness, still."

Her eyes shift to the vanishing Cryosanthia before they pan to Seyardu. "The collection of victims could be uncaring coincidence, or it could be intentional. Terror and doubt can make for powerful allies, and possibly twisted delight for creatures such as he."

Zeke looks almost stricken by this news. Or twice-stricken as may be more accurate. That such horrors could be visited upon the innocent is a horrible blow to the sith-makar who has spent his life in service to those same people. He finally steels himself and emits a low growl, glad that Cryosanthia is gone even if she had heard this latest atrocity by evil hands. "Dragonfather preserve usss." It is a low prayer, a hand rubs over the top of his quarterstaff which bears the insignia of the god he serves. "Thisss one will aid in bringing those turned to sstone back to flesssh. The sspell will be casst at the Sssoldiersss Defenssse, where we can be sssure of ssswift medical aid. Thisss one will sssee to it." There is a storm brewing in his green eyes.

Malik moves up behind Seldan, the bright colors that he's been wearing lately now once again eschewed for the earthy greens and browns that help him blend into the crowds, though his hood is down. The man is easy enough to recognize -- though just like his clothes, the expression he wears is a comfortable one for those that know him, yet not one he's worn lately -- worry. Something tight, and a bit drawn there, mouth pressed just a little too close, eyes a bit too lidded to be completely relaxed. "The Vardamens continue their work," he reports, moving up to lace his fingers with Seldan's very briefly before taking a more formal stance beside him.

Aryia finally pulls her face out of her hands as others move and talk around the room, her face paling at the thought of the totem. She weakly nods at Seyardu's point. Aimarra was hale and whole upon return.

Her attention flicks over to the newcomer. This was someone she wasn't acquainted with. The heavily scarred mul dips her chin slightly in greeting. Just listening for now.

"Yes. They shall be seen to." Seldan suddenly pauses as the stranger appears behind him and them beside him. A genuine smile, an easy and warm one, briefly lights the thundercloud behind his careful control, and he turns towards the newcomer, allowing the lacing of fingers readily and giving a squeeze before the peek of sun fades "Good. It may take them a while." He turns now to Aya, his gaze again steady. "Yes, he is quite confident, and not without grounds. Yet may he be outwitted. As for my angering of many archdemons and minor deities - that is so, but I would prefer to take them one at a time."

He seems completely at ease with the man next to him, glancing over. "It is time and long past that you came, Mal. Malik is my _cihuaa_," he adds, looking over at Seyardu.

GAME: Malik rolls Knowledge/Local: (10)+8: 18

"I will be there, and help as much as I am able." Seyardu nods to Zeke. "I understand your worries about what has transpired, but what we do now is what we can. It is not your fault, but it is our choice to help those the fiends seem to care about so little."

She looks to the newcomer, and to Seldan, as she continues. "Peace on your nest, Malik. I understand it is a difficult situation, but it is like with Cryosanthia, that a certain amount of knowledge of events are important, especially for those close to Seldan."

Malik doesn't actually *look* over at the other man, his attention focused on the rest of the attendees. But at least a fraction of a smile manages to creep onto his face. "A wizard is never late," he counters. "Nor is he early. He arrives exactly when he means to."

Still, that smile only lasts a second as Seyardu mentions 'those close to Seldan'. "You may wish to reconsider that," he notes, looking over at the Paladin, finally. "The people that we interact with tend to end up in towers made of flesh unkindly separated." A small shake of his head, there. "The fringes, for now. Beggars, thieves. None that would be easily missed. But all that we've been in contact with. Which just suggests he'll make his way slowly to the center, like a shark circling prey."

Zeke nods low to Malik as the man enters the room quietly, noting his change of garb but thinking very little of it. Softskins after all can be very odd about their attire. He seems thoughtful however, eyes distant. "Thisss one hass been curioussss of late. About what hisss intentionsss are. What hiss purpossse isss. Isss he usssing himsself ass a disstraction for hisss larger plan?" He looks at Seldan. "He isss too wisse to make ssusch a brasssh action without sssome reassson behind it. Wasss the... were the bodies magic'd? Or isss the sstatement merely ass Malik ssuggesstsss... that he willl kill all you assossiate with?"

"I am curious," Aya looks to Seldan, one brow arching, "of what transpired to grant you such focused attention. The cause for his interest could also be leveraged, possibly." She acknowledges Zeke's comment on wisdom with a nod to the sith. "He has a purpose, a plan."

Still sitting on the cot was Aryia, at this point she was sitting on her hands, knee bouncing with her heel tapping a rapid beat. Listening. Anxious.

Malik turns to Aya, shaking his head. "We earned his personal enmity by being an incredible pain in his ass. And he, in turn, showed us how much of a hell he could make our lives for doing so." A hand unconsciously goes to his neck, a small mark there all but faded now, but still visible to sharp eyes. The slight grimace of remembered pain.

Though he continues his report to Seldan. "From what I could tell, the bodies had some manner of spell placed on them. Necromancy," he reports. "I could not tell you what the magic was intended for." And more quietly, almost a mutter, "Nor do I wish to imagine..." But he finishes up with, "The Vardamans would not speak of it. So one can only surmise that he is getting -- artistic, once more."

"Not idly does he target us," Seldan agrees, eyes also going to the scar on Malik's neck. He seems about to say more, but cuts himself off short at the mention of necromancy. "It had necromancy upon it?" A flash of that fury rekindles in his expression. "Mal, we must return to it, _now_. Parts of innocent bodies, enchanted with necromancy, may well walk as undead, within the city streets!" He drops Malik's hand and strides forward to the center of the room. "I must return, now. Do you return with me, you may find danger, but I would welcome the aid of any. I am a fool, that I did not suspect Eclavdran of worse than being macabre."

At that mention, Aryia gestures sharply. "Someone tell him that you must keep the any idols away form the bodies. If a follower dies, or some shit like that, it turns into a zombie." <Handspeech>

"Thisss one will rousse thisss houssse." Zeke says seriously, knowing that if there were so many undead that even Seldan - with allies - might need a few more. "Thisss one will roussse the the housse of the Death-sssinging dragon alssso. For only a few of their number will not be enough if you are right." He shakes his head and heads for the door.

"One of the cultists, they were slain, but they rose again, and did not stop until being freed of the statue. If there are cultists, do not kill them until the statue is taken. Or if they rise again, they must be removed." Seyardu notes. But she bolts upright, and the sandwich is quickly finished as she looks between those present. "There was another gift mentioned, not just what appears to be this sculpture. Perhaps, this is the second part of the gift, or something else remains to be found still. I will go with you, if there are undead, I may be of assistance."

Malik watches as Aryia makes her motions, translating -- "She says that the... idols must be kept away from the bodies. If a follower dies, they can become an undead." A beat. "More or less." Though now he, too, has questions. "A follower of what? What idol?" Though Seldan seems to be in enough of a hurry that he simply nods his acceptance, as if it weren't already assured, though Seyardu's words offer a whole *new* round of puzzled looks.

Aryia stands as well. Looking a touch afraid at the prospect, but ready to throw down if needed.

Aya accepts the general explanation of demon ire via being a pain for the moment. A comment starts on her lips, though derails as eyes widen with Seldan's sudden concern. "Would the Vardamen not sense and counter such a thing?" She is neither clergy or magi, but presumes that that particular temple would know a thing or three of death magic. What she is not does not deter her from following after Seldan, however. Contagious undead sounds potentially worse than The Plague.... or nearly the same, and it was concerning enough.

A door opens for those going with Seldan to face whatever the demon known as Eclavdran has left as a 'gift' for Seldan. Already the sound of screams and chanting can be heard, and those staying steel themselves to the knowledge that the best they can do is bring an /army/ as quickly as is possible. The rest step through the doorway, knowing that a fight awaits them on the other side. It can not prepare them for the reality that awaits.

-TBC