Watcher's Vigil

The Southern Banks of the Tornmawr

Evening?

Telamon finds himself walking along the bank of the river, the starry sky spread overhead like diamonds on black velvet. Eluna is an elegant sickle, a narrow crescent in the evening, as he pauses, looking around. "Wait... why am I here?" he says aloud, looking around. No one is with him – not Cor'lana, not even Pothy. And he's not dressed in his dapper tunic and hose, or his adventuring garb, but in the formal dark robes of a magician.

(( You are here for a purpose, friend Telamon.))

No vast, titanic shadow this time – the strange, jellyfish-like form of the Watcher in the Stars drifts across the river flowing. Its tone is calm, without reproach or anger, as it floats to the shore.

(( Be at peace. But we must speak. ))

Telamon stares, seeing the Watcher float towards him. "But..." He looks around. "I, um... we always met in the field, before. That was... that was one of my best memories. When I accepted I was a sorcerer and I knew I could do more." He looks at the strange creature that has acted as his mentor. "Why are we here instead?"

(( Because this memory has supplanted the older one. It is sharper, more distinct, more meaningful. You know where you are. )) The Watcher's tendrils weave and twist, writhing slowly under the flattened body as it points. (( This was where you bound yourself to Cor'lana Lupecyll. Your joy shines through, even in dreams. ))

He has the good grace to blush. "I... hope this isn't some warning, because not only would it be pointless, it'd be a little late to put it mildly. Although," Telamon looks abashed. "I know I haven't tried to speak with you of late. There's been so much... the werewolves, the demon..."

(( As I said, be at peace. All things happen in time. You have striven to carry the light into dark places, to guard those travelers at night. All you have done is righteous in my eyes. ))

The Watcher's stalked eyes regard Telamon. (( But your powers grow. And we must speak on this. You are reaching, have reached, a cusp. Your power is changing you. For the better. Just as your lover's pact has changed her, so too does your star-born power grant you new abilities and insights. ))

Telamon nods slowly. "I... felt something, when we returned from Quelynos. But with everything..." He sighs, walking along the dream-scape of sand, before sitting down on one of the park benches. Solid as it is in reality. "Is it always like this? Always feeling like you're catching up?"

(( Nothing worthwhile is easy, friend Telamon. And you face trials, great ones. But know that you were placed on Ea for this purpose. )) The Watcher's tendrils shift again, before pointing to Telamon. (( The next lesson: the darkness between the stars holds no terrors for such as you. You no longer need to respire, to breathe, and those hazards that rely upon you drawing breath will find no purchase upon you.))

Telamon blinks. "So... I don't need to breathe? At all?" He tilts his head. "That... seems quite useful. If bizarre. I guess this would keep me from being throttled again, or drowning if I fell into the Tornmawr." He brushes his robes off. "I presume, though, I will still need to speak to cast spells."

(( Correct on all questions. You have also gained access to... )) The Watcher pauses, choosing its words, (( A spell that will allow you to draw on that same darkness and mold it into various effects. Like so. )) Its tendrils weave in a complex pattern, drawing skeins of tangible darkness into a kind of cat's-cradle of shimmering night. (( The spell is flexible, but it is not 'real' in the sense you might think of it. Understand that a foe might perceive this unreality, and be able to shrug off the worst of it. ))

Telamon nods firmly. "I think I see. Yes. There's definitely a … variability there. But it's... ephemeral? It's somewhere in that middle ground between 'real' and 'not real'." He looks wry. "I seem to recall having a discussion about that at one point."

(( Precisely. Just because something is not 'real' does not make it any less dangerous. ))

The Watcher begins to gesture again with its tentacles. (( You also now have access to the great lights of the North, and can shape them into a chilling wall that will mesmerize and confound those who stray too close. Use this power wisely; you cannot draw on it long. ))

Out on the dream-Tornmawr, a ghostly barrier, twenty feet high, of cascading colors springs into existence. Only the faint crackle of ice suggests it might be more than just a pretty light show.

Telamon's eyes widen. "I... can do that? I've never even seen the lights of the North." He looks like he wants to leap up, wake up, and start waving his hands around, but he manages to control himself with an effort. Instead, he folds his hands firmly in his lap. "This is amazing, Watcher."

The Watcher turns to look back at Telamon, impossible to read. (( You will need these tools. The darkness spreads across the world, and it needs light to drive it back. )) The flumph pauses, thinking. (( There is one last spell, at this cusp. Call upon it, and you will draw down a fiery meteor to strike a foe. The spell is of limited duration, but is most effective outside, at night, where you can draw upon the firmament. ))

Telamon looks at the Watcher. "Like... the simple meteor-shower trick I used to use. But bigger." He whistles softly. "This... will take some getting used to. I hope I'm up for the challenge." He stares worriedly at the Watcher. "At least I'll have all this when we go to the Desolation."

(( Take care in that place, friend Telamon. It will be dangerous. Prepare yourself accordingly and do not hesitate to strike down the forces of darkness. Eluna must be made whole. )) The Watcher curls its tentacles as if in worry. (( I only wish I could aid you more. I will be watching. ))

Telamon stands up from the bench, looking around. "I... thank you, Watcher. You know I won't turn down guidance, and you've given me plenty to work with." He looks up at the star-spangled skies. "I hope it works out. I... don't want to fail my friends."

(( Have faith. Fight hard, fight wisely, and cast out your fears. )) The Watcher drifts over to Telamon, placing a tendril on the half-elf's shoulder. (( For now, rest, my friend. Trials await, but you are ready for them. Remember that. ))

And so Telamon slides into deeper slumber, the dream remaining, though he'll remember it in the morning.

The Watcher floats there in the dream-scape setting, tendrils shifting and moving almost anxiously. Then a voice calls out:

"Do you think he's up for the challenge, Watcher?"

The Watcher turns to regard the robed figure standing by the table. Unlike Telamon, this one's hood is pulled up over its head, and the robes hang strangely on it.

(( The signs are good. But … I fear at some point he will need more than just a dream-mentor. And so...))

"... You're calling in the marker. Fair enough. I... do owe you, old friend. Even now, here at the far end of strangeness. When shall we begin?"

(( Soon. ))