My Cabin in the Woods

It's about a four hour ride north of Alexandria to the Stormgrip homestead, located just north and slightly west of Wilderness Pointe. It's surrounded by a dense stand of towering old-growth oaks that shroud the old forest track in cool emerald shade. The cabin itself occupies a fenced clearing, built from sturdy timber framing atop an equally sturdy stone foundation planted in the center of the square. In one corner of the clearing is a neatly arranged plot where tobacco plants can be seen growing, arrayed around a small shed for curing. Another corner, located far downwind to mitigate the smell, is a tanning shed. There's a small stable and paddock where Dirk's pony Thistle is housed.

The cabin itself is a broad, low-slung affair. A broad veranda rings the building, with a table and chairs set up to allow one to sit and enjoy the peaceful serenity the forest provides. Dirk can be found seated upon one such chair, and two others more suited for taller guests have been set up close at hand. He's dressed down for the day, wearing only a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a bright blue waistcoat left unbuttoned. His hands are busy with a sharp carving knife and a block of wood, carving away long, curling strips with expert strokes of the blade. His pipe is tucked in the side of his mouth, the sweet scent of cherry tobacco drifting on the breeze to greet Seldan and Zeke as they approach. There's a small pony keg resting on the table, along with sliced crusty bread, butter, honey, and slices of venison. Nearby, Lulu rests on a perch, her eyes closed as she dozes.

If Dirk is dressed down, Seldan has not done similarly, although the moonlit sheen of the armor that displayed the previous evening is nowhere in evidence. Indeed, although he bears full adventuring kit for a journey of several hours' duration through an increasingly dangerous Alexandrian wilderness, he seems to have adopted the look of any ordinary adventurer, if one well-kitted, in full plate armor with an open-front robe of blue and silver, with celestial designs stitched into it, much as he appeared at first yestereven by the gate.

He seems to have come on foot, rather than riding, and pauses at the edge of the property to survey what is clearly a loved and tended residence. "Hail, the house!" he calls, raising his voice as much as his eyebrows. "Be this the residence of Dirk Stormgrip?"

At Seldan's side, is a tall sith-makar dark blue of scale and wearing fine armor and a white set of vestments that mark him as a cleric of Daeus. The pure white of the clothes he's wearing are a stark contrast to his dark scales, but they are not the most remarkable thing about him. No, that honor goes to the crystalline arm and leg that he bears on his left side. They shimmer and shine, reflecting the world around him with a perfect quality rarely seen in crystal. The sith-makar himself doesn't seem aware of the oddity of his limbs, but stands straight and tall to better see the home that he approaches at Seldan's side. He waits to offer his own greeting.

Dirk looks up as he hears people approaching the front gates of his fence. His thunderbelcher is leaned up against the wall close at hand, but even despite his advanced years, his eyes are keen as a hawk's. He immediately picks out Seldan's features, and the man's hail puts any doubts to rest. He sets his woodcarving aside and rises to his feet, lumbering to the railing as he reaches up to take the pipe from his mouth. He waves over his head with the other. "Master Seldan!" he booms. "Please, enter an' be welcome, the pair of ye! I've refreshments ready, so please come an' make yeselves at home!"

"A kind invitation indeed," Seldan calls in response, relaxing at least somewhat and directing a significant look at the sith-makar at his side. It is quite clear that the two know one another well, the sort of friendship that has no secrets, that is at ease with themselves and with one another. "My thanks for that. This is my blood-brother and kin, Sunguard Zeke. I have made him aware of what passed yestereven." Quick, if clanking, strides carry him towards the veranda and its small flight of stairs up to it, and yet the armor, while not quiet, is not _quite_ as noisy as those that it resembles, and especially here beneath the trees, the heat of summer seems to trouble him not at all.

He says nothing further of that, though, instead pausing at the stairs to make sure that Zeke makes it up without difficulty.

Zeke shifts his tail back and forth, offering a low nod of greeting to Dirk at a distance, and as they approach and he has no need to yell he makes good his greeting. "Peassce on your nessst." He moves at an even pace, somewhat slower perhaps than Seldan, though he manages to keep up perhaps due to a longer stride. Nor does he have any difficulty with the steps though he does slow somewhat to make an allowance for them. His crystal limbs seem to work quite well for him, but old habits do die hard. "If you will allow, thisss one would like to cassst a ssspell. To be sssure you are free of... undue influensce."

Dirk reaches up to touch a two-fingered salute to his brow as Zeke is introduced. "Well come an' well met, Master Zeke. Peace be on yer nest," he says in return. The sith-makar's request dims his cheery expression somewhat. He fidgets on his feet, studying the burning tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. "Everyone keeps sayin' that he's a wicked vampire, an' that he's bewitched me," he says. "But even knowin' all that... I cannae shake the notion that he's me good friend. As if I'd known him since I was a beardling." He looks with quiet despair at the two. "If ye can help me, then please do so."

GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 16 DC: 18

"That is part of the reason that I asked my kin to come," Seldan answers, seriously and steadily. Before he takes one of the offered chairs, though, he pauses, and draws a simple sigil in the air before his eyes. It shimmers gold/silver, and at an arcane word, forms a haze before his pale blue eyes. He surveys Dirk and his environs carefully for the space of several breaths. "Even so, Zeke. It is enchantment. I can try to dispel or break it, although I have but the scrolls."

From Seldan's hip, where an ornate and out-of-style old Myrrish sword rests, a querulous old man's voice pipes up. "I thought you destroyed the henpecked vampire, Seldan."

"Were you even listening, Kanian? He's been conjured back out of nightmares in the Dream Realm." That voice is a younger, deeper female voice, followed closely but that of a light young man. "You mean we're going to have to do that _again_?"

"He better not use us this time." A middle-aged, gruff male with a distinct khazad accent.

"Well, it worked, I don't know what you're complaining about, Golain!"

GAME: Zeke casts Break Enchantment. Caster Level: 14 DC: 19
GAME: Zeke rolls 1d20+14: (9)+14: 23

Zeke nods seriously, his eyes darkening slightly when Seldan confirms that there is indeed a spell on Dirk. "Allow thisss one to try firsst. Thisss one will try to remove the will that over-ridesss your own. It will be painlessss." He reassures Dirk, then shifts his own claws in a complex prayer. "Dragonfather, we asssk that you return thisss man to hisss rightful ssself."

Briefly his eyes close, and then the spell settles on Dirk invisibly, trying to break the powerful evil will that has settled on the dwarf. It is clear to him in a moment that the spell has done its work, because a slight glaze in Dirk's eyes fades. Something that only a healer would notice, but Zeke nods in approval. "Do you sstill feel ass if he isss a friend?"

Dirk fidgets a bit on his feet. "Do whatever it is ye have to," he says. "I'll nae stand fer bein' a slave. Even tae someone who's me friend." He takes a deep breath as Zeke makes that invocation to Daeus. There's no outward change, but the moment the spell is wrought, Dirk's face flushes under the snowy white of his beard. "Great Gilead's Ghost, that foul, unclean beanpole of a troll-fucker!" he snarls. "How could I have fallen fer the likes o' -him-?! Eugh!" He gives a full body shudder, scrubbing at his chest with his free hand, as if to brush dirt from his clothing. "By every god an' goddess above, I need a bath. I feel -filthy-. Damn it all, I've already -had- a bath this week!"

Lulu cracks one eye open and hoo-hoo's sleepily. The sound breaks Dirk out of his disgusted ranting, and he lifts a hand to rub his face. "Aye, aye, yer right Lulu." He looks back up to Zeke and Seldan. "Ye've freed me head an' heart from that bastard's grip. Fer that, I shall be forever grateful. I'm only a simple woodsman, but my gun an' my skills are always at yer call, should ye find 'em needful." He sweeps a hand to the table. "Please, sit an' refresh yeselves. There's ice-cold apple mead in the keg, an' I baked the bread just this mornin'."

Seldan, too, watches as the spell builds, progresses, and dissipates, taking the enchantment with it. He does blink a few times, and squint a lot, as one staring into the sun, but at length, his eyes relax. "Well done, kin." A very small, amused smile for the language follow. "My thanks for the offer of hospitality. Think yourself not weak, Master Dirk, for I have seen those with far more experience than you fall under his spell. Not idly did I invoke Her circle, for it repels such nonsense as well as weakening him."

Knowing that hospitality refused can be construed as insult, and equally that both sounded pretty good after walking for much of the day, the paladin does as invited, gesturing that Zeke should choose his chair before he does so. While he waits, he takes the time to fill two mugs from the pony keg.

While this happens, the sword at Seldan's hip appears to have been carrying on a spirited discussion related to being thrown in a fountain, and only now does Seldan chime in. "Recall you that all of you refused to speak to me for days," he reminds.

"For good reason! Never do that again!" the querulous old man shoots back.

A nasally older female pipes up this time. "That was quite egregious, Seldan. I did not enjoy doing that."

Zeke nods once again to Dirk. "Thisss one isss alwayss glad to undo the work of evil. Think no-thing of it." He glances aside to the chairs offered up for sitting and shifts his tail back and forth. The bane of many sith - chairs. Seldan indicates that he should choose one and his eyes twinkle in amusement before he twists one of the chairs around and sits in it backwards. The better to not squish his tail. "Thisss one offersss thanksss for your hosssipitality Dirk, but thisss one mussst decline all but the ale. Thisss one... doesss not eat what thisss one hasss not hand-caught and made."

An oddity to be sure, but one that he doesn't explain. He glances toward Runion and his tail swish-flicks in amusement that is echoed in his eyes. "Your sssword sseemsss to enjoy recounting your victoriesss kin."

Dirk fills a mug for himself and settles himself down as well. There's a smalls stack of wooden plates, and he takes one for himself, along with slices of bread and venison. He sets his pipe aside for the time being, lifting his mug towards the two holy warriors. "Here's fer yer health," he says, before tipping back a swallow. Then he picks up his sandwich and chomps a big bite, chewing and swallowing. He can't help but cast a hairy eyeball to the sword belted at Seldan's side. Zeke's remark has the old snowbeard nodding. "I was startin' tae wonder if I was imaginin' things," he says. "I've heard tales o' magic swords what can talk. But they never said aught 'bout swords wi' -many- voices!"

GAME: Seldan rolls will: (13)+32: 45

When all are settled, Seldan takes his own seat and passes the second mug of ale to Zeke. He seems to be well aware of Zeke's restriction on food, and makes nothing of it. "It enjoys haranguing me," he clarifies. "Enough, or I put you in the knapsack." This is said with a firm look at the sword, which statement occasions a storm of indignant protest from what could be six or two dozen voices. Indeed, it looks like nothing so much as a battle of wills, but it isn't long before the sword subsides, and he looks up. "I would ask your forgiveness. It is a family heirloom, and it has much of wisdom to offer. It offers it freely." _Too freely_, he tone says, but when one of the voices starts up with, "Now see-" Another firm look, and the sword shuts up.

"To your health also," he raises the mug, and takes a sip that goes from curious to appreciative. "A fine drink. Think naught less of yourself, for I was too late to move upon him. I wished to be certain of his identity ere I challenged him, that I not unwittingly challenge an innocent."

Zeke accepts the mug of ale and looks much appreciative of it. He tries a small sip of the drink himself, and nods to Dirk. "Indeed, it isss very nice." He falls silent as Seldan brings the conversation around to Kol again, shaking his head once and then speaking up. "It isss wissse to be cautioussss. You have seen thissss vampire in many guiessess, and to attack him without being certain firssst would be unwissse. It isss however worrissome that he hass appeared again. It may mean that he meansss to make a problem of him-sself again, as he hasss done before in the passst."

The mead is, as promised, icy cold and most refreshing, with a tart-but-sweet flavor and just the slightest hint of bite. The bread is a crusty sourdough loaf, and the venison is well cured and cooked to perfection. Dirk listens with a dour frown, idly munching at his sandwich. "Well," he grunts at length. "I'm nae entirely certain how I came upon this road. But I'm gettin' -damned- sick an' tired o' findin' meself up against enemies o' Power Great an' Terrible. I'm just a woodsman. Two hundred years I've hunted these woods. I picked up adventurin' fer a bit of extra coin an' some excitement in me golden years. I never expected..." He gestures in broad circles with a hand. "... any o' -this-!" He harrumphs, chomping another big bite of bread and meat. "Well. I've been gettin' plenty o' practice huntin' the walkin' dead," he grumbles. "An' if this vampire decides tae play cute, I can hunt him too."

Seldan considers these words over the food provided, eaten slowly so as to both be polite and truly take the time to enjoy food that is different from what one finds in a city, and the more enjoyable for it. "It is not given to any of us to decide what our lot in life shall be," he begins, after a long, thoughtful pause, his gaze into the distance even and calm. "Our honor is decided rather in what we do with the lot that the gods have seen fit to give us. It would seem that more is being asked of you, and if that is so, then it suggests that the gods see more within you."

"Would you conquer enemies, be they great or small, your greatest weapon lies between your ears," he advises. "For it was no great force of arms that brought Kol low, when last he plagued this land. His own appetites, turned against him, that drew him into a trap that strength of comrades in arms saw to it that he could not escape. I am prepared to do it again. Would you hear the tale?"

Zeke for his part has lapsed into silence, listening to the two men talk in a companionable way. Dirk's grumbling makes him frown slightly, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he nods solemnly to Seldan, acknowledging the wisdom of his words and his offer to tell the story of how Kol was defeated the first time around. Though he himself knows the story well.

Dirk finishes off his sandwich, washing it down with a guzzle of mead. He listens to Seldan as he picks up his pipe, knocking the ashes from the bowl before digging into his pocket for his tobacco pouch. "I've nae want tae conquer anyone or anything," he says as he works on filling the bowl, tamping the fragrant tobacco down with a fingertip. "We Stormgrips live in harmony wi' the land, as we've done fer hundreds o' years. Me mum an' da raised me tae have a good heart an' a givin' soul. To never take what cannae be replaced, an' tae be free wi' charity fer those who're in need." He frowns, tucking the bit of his pipe in the side of his mouth as he fishes in his pockets for a match. "These deaders are an abomination. They poison the land an' threaten innocent people. If there's aught I can do tae help put a stop to 'em, then that's just what I'll do. But please, Master Seldan, let's have yer tale." He strikes his match off the edge of the table and fires up his pipe, settling back in his seat as he snaps out the flame. Puffing quietly at his pipe as he gives Seldan his undivided attention.

"That stands you in the greatest of stead." Seldan nods slowly at the explanation, taking another bite of bread and venison as he does so. "They are indeed an abomination, and Kol is worse still, for he is not mindless, and cruelty is to him among the greatest of pleasures. Pain is as pleasure to him, both in the giving and in the receiving." His brow knits in the explaining, and he shakes his head very slowly, but comments no more on it.

"He had been teleporting into the city for some time before that, and indeed is he among the greatest reasons why the wards upon the city exist," he begins, setting aside the remainder of his chunk of bread in favor of the mead. "Thrice before that day had I faced Kol, face to face, and raised sword to him. Once was I well defeated, and twice fortunate to hold him ere his mistress recalled him, that others might escape. Great is his power, and his speed. Even now would I be hard-put to conquer him, did I raise sword to him again. But, in those battles had I come to learn something of him - of his mind, as well as his prowess. He gave in readily to his appetites, for he is a creature whose passions run far deeper than his good judgment, and pain and bloodlust are among those appetites."

"When he again struck, breaking the fountain with a plague ooze, I saw our chance. By appealing to his bloodlust, by inviting him to drink from me, I was able to lure him into the fountain's free-flowing waters. For I had remembered the words of one of the city's mages, that luring him into pure running water was effective in destroying him, if one could hold him under long enough. I lured him into the temple fountain, and all present aided me in holding him under."

"Aye. It wassss wisssdom and teamwork that won that day and desstroyed the vampire." Zeke replies quietly, adding to the end of the story. "If not for the quick thinking of plunging him into the watersss, or the effortssss of all there great and ssmall to hold him there... He might have essscaped again ass he had sso many timesss before. Thisss one wasss there in the end, to help heal thossse who were harmed in the processs of his undoing. Thisss one will never forget the harrowing looksss on the facesssess of thossse presssent."

Dirk listens to the tale, silent except for his quiet puff-puffing sounds he makes. "That was a well-fought an' well-earned victory, I'll warrant," he finally says as Seldan concludes his story. He takes his pipe from his mouth, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon the table. "But Kol has returned. I thought I heard ye mention summat 'bout him bein' conjured up from a place o' dreams." He looks between the two, tilting his head curiously. "So who did the conjuring? That's the question, innit? Someone -wanted- 'im back in the world. Bad as Kol might be--an' there's nae denyin' he's the absolute worst--this sheep-shagger's even worse'n -that-."

"It is in my mind that the conjuring was unintentional, for Kol lives in the nightmares of many within the city walls." Seldan looks over at Zeke with a small smile, one that fades into a mien that is unusually open, and takes on a strange mix of hauntedness and puzzlement. So strong is whatever it is that pulls his mind away, it pauses his words and leaves him staring off into the distance, his answer forgotten.

Zeke nods in agreement with Seldan. "Thisss one agreesss that sssuch iss likely the casse. Scertainly, thossse pressent when he wasss ssseen there were lesss than pleasssed to sssee him." He turns his green eyes on Seldan, blinking at his expresssion. "Isss there sssome-thing on your mind Sseldan?"

Dirk hrrms. "Aye, that may be the case," he says. "But... what if it wasn't? What if this is part o' whatever it is that's bringin' the wights in from Dragonier? Maybe it's just me bein' paranoid, but... well. If there's anything I've learned bein' an adventurer, it's never a matter of whether or not yer paranoid. It's if yer paranoid -enough-."

"Mmmm? Forgive me." Zeke's gentle nudging is enough to bring Seldan out of his reverie, and he catches the end, at least, of Dirk's comments. "Paranoia is of little aid, if one's imaginings dream not of the true threat," he offers. "But, where was I? You are but the latest of many to fall prey to his wiles, and by such means have many fallen to his claws and his bloodlust. I was in truth expecting him to try something of the kind, but I was too slow to act, and for that would I ask your forgiveness."

"No, from what Mourner Verna said, she and her companions ran afoul of the Dream Realm, and their nightmares manifested, it sounds like with the aid of the statue she bore. Kol did not dissipate, as the others, and fought his way free, absconding with the priest of the Red Maw who sought to steal the statue."

"Which issss not to sssay that thesse thingsss can not be connected, but it ssseemsss unlikely at the moment that they are." Zeke spreads his hands somewhat, setting his cup aside. "Better to asssume no-thing, than to asssume wrongly."

Dirk hrrms. He picks up his mug to tip back a swallow, before settling back in his seat. "Well... you lads are far more learned 'bout such matters than I," he says. "Green Lady knows I'm nae match fer the likes o' Kol." When Seldan mentions a statue connected to the dream realm, however, his eyes get wide. "Beards o' me fathers," he gasps softly. He hops to his feet and trundles into his cabin. There's a sound of rummaging, and through the window he can be seen opening a trunk at the foot of his bed. He digs around inside and returns a moment later, holding a statuette. It's carved in the likeness of an athletic man. "Me an' some o' the other adventurers found this in one o' those eerie mounds what've been springin' up," he says, holding it up for the others to inspect. "I smeared me blood on it an' been keepin' it safe. But -gods- it gives me the oddest dreams!" He looks between the two. "Could -this- be part of everything happenin'?"

Seldan takes the statue, setting aside his half-empty mug, and examines it closely, his eyebrows raising at the mention of smearing blood on it. "It changes your dreams? Perhaps -" He pauses, repeating the same simple spell that he had done when first he arrived. Almost immediately on looking at the statue, he squeezes his eyes shut, and with an arcane gesture dismisses the spell. "There can be no doubt," he murmurs, still blinking. "Yes, this is one of them. I myself came across one such of these, and it is my belief that my blood got on it quite by accident. Mine has taken the form of a woman -"

He examines it further, then offers it back. "It is one of the anchors that keeps the Hound from returning to Ea, chaining him in the Abyss," he explains. "It is a thing of the Dream Realm, and as the Hound is said to be the keeper of nightmares, I do not doubt that it holds power within that realm. I had been sharing what I knew of them with the Speaker. I have not had the time to study them fully, and she may well know more. This much do I know, that the gods themselves created these, the gods of Light and Darkness, and each one created one. I hold the one created by the Draco Solis."

Zeke looks at the statue curiously, not having seen one of these totems that he's heard some of. He watches Seldan's close study, and recognizes that he is likely looking at it magically as well. Zeke's tail does a quick flick and he looks at the figurine with a brooding expression. "It isss a powerful item you hold in your possesssion Dirk." He says carefully, and his tail flick-flicks again. Nervousness? Something is certainly on Zeke's mind now.

Dirk nods his head, taking the statue back as he sits his hefty rump back down in his seat. "Aye, do ye know the adventurer Dolan? He told me that these statues are keepin' Carcaroth's flea-bitten arse locked up. He's got a statue, too." He picks up his pipe, the bowl glowing hotly as he pulls at it, peering through the gust of smoke at the statue. "I wanted tae do what I can tae help foil the lycans runnin' amuck," he says. "This seemed like summat I could do. I've been doin' what I can tae keep it safe. I just want tae help."

"Keeping these safe will indeed be of aid. That name is not known to me," Seldan answers steadily, with no hint of recognition. "I will aid as I may as well, although Eluna leads me to another path. It is in my mind that this task lies in good hands, and I must needs entrust this to you and to your companions. I shall similarly keep safe the one that I hold, and it lies well out of reach of the city."

He turns his head towards Zeke and picks up his ale again, the thoughtful expression turning to a frown. "What troubles you, kin?" Zeke shakes his head however, not immediately answering, and seeming as though he might not speak at all. Eventually however he motions to the statue in Dirk's hand. "Thisss one isss curiousss about thessse totemsss. If sssome-one elssse were to bleed on the figure, would it change? If one who wasss in ssservice to the god who created the item, were to possssesss it what then? There are many quessstionsss, and thisss one dissslikess not knowing the ansswersss. If the enemy knowsss more about them, they may be able to ussse them to greater purpossse than usss."

Dirk glances between the two, shaking his head as he lets loose a gust of pipe smoke with a hefty sigh. "I've nae head fer such things," he says. "What little magic I know comes from the land. Gods an' spells an' great magickal workings... these things're far beyond a simple woodsman like meself. But... it seems tae me that a creature like Caracoroth would be well pleased wi' the terrors a plague o' walkin' dead would wreak on the world. There's nae tellin' if the lycans an' the deaders are workin' together. But I shouldn't be at all surprised if they -were-."

Seldan remains silent for a long moment, mug in hand, staring thoughtfully into the woods that surround the veranda. He almost absently picks up the remainder of his bread and venison, and finishes it, chewing and swallowing before answering. "Zeke makes a valid point," he answers slowly. "That may be so. It is known to me that I hold the one crafted by the Draco Solis, but I am not His," he smiles very faintly at that. "If the Mourner cannot determine which statues that you hold belong to what deity, I may be able to do so. I know not if any among your companions serve the Draco Solis, but do you wish to learn the truth of this, Zeke, you may make the attempt with the one that I hold."

As for a connection between the two," he goes on, eyes still in the distance, "Certainly is the destruction visited upon the land a thing that would not displease the Hound, and yet does he wish to rule, to make his power manifest. The creations of Thul holding more dominion than he will not please him."

Zeke blinks in surprise at Seldan then shakes his head. "Thisss one iss hessitant to try sssuch a thing kin. Lesst thisss one remove your protectionsss from the item. It wasss jussst a thought." He waves a claw to dismiss the idea entirely and falls silent.

Dirk considers quietly, reaching over to refill his mug. "Well... I suppose it might be helpful tae know just how many o' these statutes there are," he says. "We know of three. Mine, Master Seldan's, an' Dolan's. Are there others?" He eyes his own statue. "When I blooded mine, it turned from some sort o' nasty-lookin' demon-thing tae... this. An' -this- is an image o' Gilead, I'd stake me beard on it. I follow the Green Word, an' Gilead -is- one o' the Gods o' Light, if only just." He looks back between his two guests. "I'm nae certain what help I can be in all this, lads. But whatever help I -can- offer is yers fer the askin'."

Seldan turns his gaze again on Zeke, this time levelly. "Very well," is all he says, after a moment's gaze, but then turns his attention to Dirk again. "It is in my mind that they number thirteen," he explains. "The Mourner Verna tells me that she has one as well. The one I hold appears as a woman, and it would fit, were it an image of the holy Dreamer. for that means that it takes the form of the deity to which its attuner looks." His smile here is reverent. "Each of the gods of Light, and of Darkness, created one, each in their own likeness. It would be well to determine which ones you hold, and which deity created them. I can tell you for certain that I hold the one created by the Draco Solis. Perhaps you could inquire among your companions, and learn which deity created the one they hold. Perhaps you could do that much."

If sith-makar could blush... Instead Zeke ducks his head in embarrassment, meeting Seldan's gaze but briefly. "Another time perhapssss." He defers, trying to not make the situation any more embarrassing for himself. Aside from that quiet comment he seems to have nothing more to say on the subject... at least for the moment.

Dirk nods his head. "Aye, I can surely do that," he says. "Though Dolan's the only other one I know of who has one. I do see Missus Verna a good bit 'round Alex, so next time I see 'er, I'll ask 'er 'bout her statue as well." He manages a wan little smile. "We'll get through this, won't we? World's been spinnin' a good long while, even despite the Gods o' the Dark doin' what they can tae shit all over everything. This is nae different, I'll warrant."

-End