A Bottle of Dust

Zeke's home is a warm, comfortable little place this time of year, owing somewhat to it's sith-makar occupants. Cuemoni has stepped out for some errands much to Zeke's chagrin, but the blue-scale is not allowing this to dishearten him to greatly; he is occupying himself with her tiny hunter-cat. Tlotli has only recently graduated from 'might be a snack' to 'might be a useful member of the household' in both the minds of the makari. Which is not something that the feline is likely aware of, or it might have killed a mouse a little sooner.

At the moment Zeke is dragging a piece of string along the ground, encouraging the little feline to chase after the bit of useless material with increasing amusement as the feline dances along. He is astonished to the contortions that it will put itself through for the string. When a knock comes to his door however he abandons the playful kitten and answers it straight away, wiggling his tail at the sight of Telamon and welcoming the Archmage into his warm abode, and ignoring the almost-not-kitten that pounces on his tail-tip (it bothers him none). "Sssaaa. How are you Telamon. Come to sssshare wordsss?"

To Telamon, distance is just a word. A short flight to clear the city limits and the ward, followed by teleportation, and he appears a short distance from the new homestead now inhabited by Zeke and Cuemoni.

Dressed down a bit (which means for Tel, his heavy frostrider coat over a woolen tunic and trousers), the half-elf's knock is chipper as his breath steams in the air. "Going to be a cold one this year," he muses, before the door opens. "Zeke! Yes, I've come to share words, bring tidings, and ask for a little advice." He glances past the towering (to him) makari to see the kitten pouncing on Zeke's tail, and carefully conceals a grin. "May I come in?"

Zeke opens the door wider to admit the archmage and nods. "Of courssse. Come in, come in." The house smells of incense and apple pie. Both quite notably. Zeke moves enough out of the way to allow Telamon in, but is quick to close the door behind the mage so as to not allow the warmth inside to escape. The Makari motions for Telamon to make himself comfortable on any of the seating - which is Sith-makar in styling meaning all cushions and comfortable reclining which doesn't get in the way of tails.

"Make your-ssself comfortable Telamon. Thisss onesss home isss a plasssce of comfort to you alwayssss. Would you like sssome tea? Thisss one hasss sssome pie that thisss one made that you may have if you would like to try it." Zeke has not yet decided how the pie has turned out yet.

Telamon hangs up his coat by the door, stamping his boots to knock the dirt off before sliding them off so he doesn't track anything into the house proper. "It's definitely a home now," he says approvingly. "Cuemoni out? It's all right if she's here, this isn't something you need to keep under your hat -- so to speak." In honesty he's not sure if makari even wear hats.

So he sits down on a cushion, crosslegged. "Tea is fine, and if you want me to try the pie I'll be happy to do so." Tel gives Zeke a grin. "Do you need any help?"

"Cuemoni issss running a few errandsss. Ssshe will be out for a little while yet." Zeke offers, his tail swishing once and the cat does an interesting move to evade it. She doesn't seem to mind though, considering this part of the game that she's now playing with the sith-makar who may or may not realize that he's entertaining a feline. It's hard to tell.

Zeke putters around the kitchen pleasantly, pleased to play host. "Thisss one isss glad to have a guessst. You relax. Enjoy your-ssself." He already has hot water heated so he simply gets some tea steeping and pours it out for Telamon to go with some of the pie which may not be warm but it is still pie. He puts it on a little plate for the mage and putters it all over to Telamon offering the mug of tea and the plate of pie.

Telamon may find that the pie is quite a bit more savory and a touch zestier than apple pies that he's had in the past, but not at all unpleasant for it. Certainly not a bad try for a first effort. Zeke settles into place across from him and the feline seems disheartened that playtime is over so wanders off.

Telamon happily accepts both, sampling the pie first. "Hmm. OK, that's interesting. Did you use more cinnamon and nutmeg? It tastes different -- less sweet, more zesty. It'd go over very well as a morning dish." Clearly, Tel approves, taking another bite. "You might experiment with different kinds of apples, too. See what happens." A sip of the tea to wash it down.

"So, to bring you up to speed, Zeke. You may remember our discussion about Verna being prematurely aged by the fiend we were hunting. Well, I can happily inform you that the fiend is no longer with us. He is -permanently- gone at my hand." Telamon's eyes glint. "And good riddance to rubbish."

"Sssa. Thisss one usssed ssssome applesss that were sssuggesssted." Zeke seems pleased with Telamon's suggestions and with the notations. "Thisss one also added lemon. Thisss one hass gotten more applesss to try other piesss. Thisss one enjoysss the piesss. They are very good, but tricky to bake."

As Telamon brings things around to the more business side of things, Zeke becomes a bit more serious, his expression darkening at the thought of fiends, but nodding in approval that Telamon had managed to destroy one. "Dessstroying a fiend isss a difficult tasssk; permanently even more ssso. Thisss one isss impressssed that you have done ssso. How can thisss one be of aid now?"

"Baking is always tricky. It's why I hold Aura's work in high regard." Telamon gives Zeke a grin. "Lemons! That's what I was tasting. Clever, very clever. I do like it though."

"Honestly, it was... well, serendipity is the best word for it. The fiend wound up in Leca'fi Amdamu, which is as close to a 'seat of power' as I'll ever have. The whole situation was somewhat surreal -- there's also a question of a wizard who was dead but turned out he wasn't. I suspect there's a number of layers to this I need to look at."

Tel takes another pull from his mug. "But the good part is that I used magic to rend the stolen years from the fiend, and with the help of the Historian, it worked. The result destroyed the fiend, but now I have one new, if less critical, problem." His expression becomes wry. "How would I dispose of 'powdered fiend'? I made sure I collected all the dust, but I don't think dumping it in a privy would be a great idea."

Zeke is good at taking in information and collecting it and storing it. Assessing it and it makes him good at offering advice at a moderate pace. He's not the sort to offer quick advice however. So what Telamon gets is not an instant answer. Instead Zeke blinks at the idea of 'powdered fiend'. "Sssa." Zeke remarks quietly. "Do you know what manner of fiend thissss Koz'gon wasss before he became... powdered?"

This is an important question. After all, the kind of fiend could well determine what kind of body the fiend had and how the disposition of its body is taken care of. Zeke is clearly taking this seriously. Good.

Telamon nods. "He was some manner of daemon. A powerful one, by all reckoning. Hence why I credit Navos as much as myself for his demise, and the good luck I had to face him in Leca'fi Amdamu." He exhales. "I put his remains in an empty winebottle, sealed it with lead, and painted it with wards against evil. I didn't want his remains in my castle, and I certainly didn't want to just toss it out somewhere randomly. Even if he can't come back, there's enough lore about fiendish essence and taint that I don't want to chance it."

GAME: Zeke rolls Knowledge/Religion: (13)+27: 40

GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/religion: (7)+13: 20

Zeke thinks about it for a long moment and then nods. "Olethrodaemon perhapssss? They are among the mossst powerful of their kind, but alsssso the mossst rare. They crave the sssoulsss of mortalsss and have long-lived plansss to consssume them. Sssome-thing you sssaid about how you took the yearsss from it? Thiss iss one of the identifying markersss of Olehrodaemonssss." The blue-scale thinks for a moment longer, quietly reminiscing on his knowledge of the things. "Do you have the remainsss on you?"

"I do." Telamon's voice is firm. "I didn't want to leave this sort of thing lying around, so..." He reaches into his haversack, and withdraws a wine bottle. The appearance is distinct from other bottles Tel has had in his possession from time to time. The mouth is capped and sealed in lead, and delicate invocations written in sildanyari ring the bottle, wards against evil painted in a pale blue hue. Inside is a quantity of fine powder, gray and dead. "It stole years from Verna, and Simony, and gods only know how many others. Seemed appropriate I steal them back."

The blue-scale nods. "You have two choicesss. The body issss likely inert, but it isss not necesssarily ssssafe. I ssssuggessst you take the bottle to Talkuatika Tepetl. Ssspread the asssh in the fertile sssoil in the fieldsss of planting and let it take root. Let it grow in the crops and give new life ass it wasss meant to. There is life yet in it. Or take it to the volcano. Tosssss it in issside and let it sspread through the firesss until it becomesss new life in thisss way. Either way it mussst rejoin the scycle of life from whence it wasss taken." Zeke nods firmly.

Telamon mulls over his options. "With respect, I do not like the idea of mixing it in fertile soil. That... strikes me as dangerous, even as powerful as the great titan that slumbers there. No, I think casting it into the volcano might be better. Purge any evil that might remain in the fiery blood of our world, and in time it might be transmuted to something more constructive."

The sorcerer looks at the bottle with a mixture of revulsion and satisfaction, before tucking it away again. "I thought about keeping it, you know. But... what would I -do- with it? I've no hand for forging weapons or tools against fiends. I'd rather drink snake venom than use this in a potion. No, better to be done with it."

Zeke nods his head sagely. "Then be done with it." He says. "And quickly, you dessserve ressst Telamon, with your cihuaa. You ssshould be making your own piessss yesss?" He shifts his tail in the sith-makar version of a smile. "You mussst come by with her and let her meet Cuemoni and thisss one will make pie for usss all and we will enjoy a quiet evening the four of ussss. It will be enjoyable. Thisss one has heard that there are board gamess for sssuch occasssionsss. Thisss one hass never played one."

Telamon sighs. "There's an old saying, Zeke. The reward for a job well done is a bigger job. But... you're not wrong. Hopefully this will be a winter of rest for us. Both Lana and I are tired of dealing with the latest idiot or fiend crawling out of the walls. And annoyed sorcerers usually ends in a mess -- for the bad guy, anyways."

His expression lightens. "That would be a wonderful idea. There's a few games I used to play when I was younger -- I've always been good with cards, but there's one that I was fond of, where you were racing chariots around a course. And all sorts of things could go wrong."

Zeke lets the tip of his tail thump in approval. "It is decided then. Thisss one will let Cuemoni know and we will determine the detailsssss after you return from Am'ssshere." Zeke's green eyes fall on the wine bottle for a moment but then he dismisses the item from his mind.

Soon enough, it will no longer be a problem.