Griever: The Ravenlords, part 7
Log Info
- Title: Griever: The Ravenlords, part 7
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Un'eth, Tenoc, Braelnoir, Merek, Halani, Thyrson
- Place: Ravenlord's Fortress: Dining Hall
- Time: Sunday, November 21, 2021, 8:48 PM
- Summary: The Diplomats continue to press their case regarding the Gauntlet. The Egalrin require proof. Cryo attempts to explain some convoluted logic demonstrating the proof is self-evident, while Thyrson suggests they're fools asking for proof during a war. The Egalrin then demand the Diplomats demonstrate their power from the claimed contact with an Animus shard. This leaves Cryo a little confused, before she decides that Halani or Merek might be able. She asks the man to do it.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Un'eth 6'2" 275 Lb Sith-Makar Female An ebon-scaled female Sith-makar. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Halani 5'4" 120 Lb Human/Xian Female Shortish, dusky skinned woman with almond shaped eyes. Thyrson 7'6" 436 Lb Giantborn Male Northern giantborn. Chiseled features, blonde stereotype. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh A pile -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
Diplomatic envoys from Alexandria, representing the city and the Silver Empress and led by Cryosanthia have made it into the Ravenlords' Lands and are working their way up to meeting the Lords themselves. They have passed a sentry, a statue, and now face dinner and an elder. The entrees are served, simple fare of goat and vegetables. The Egalrin meal is started with an oath, which the diplomats recuse themselves from, and followed by silent eating. They observe, and move on to dessert, which is eyeballs which observe them. Candied Goat Eyeballs. Fresh. Poppin' fresh. These might be unsettling for some, but the Diplomats are hardened envoys and adventurers, and almost all dragon-blooded. So, they'll eat just about anything. The only shock, really, is that it served at a haute couture event. Well, some things are higher than others, especially when you're a bird. Finally, they ask what the group has brought, and Cryosanthia spills the relevant big bean. The Griever's guantlet lets him see through tricks, all their deceptive military plans are useless.
If you thought the eyeballs went down badly...
Then the elder scoffs. "Ridiculous."
The whitescale tilts her head, focusing on the Elder, "haven't you reports from within Charn, of the reorganization of their families and noble houses? The ascendance and descendance of certain Temples? Would... you feel it more believable if I told you it was an irresistible charm, he could point at someone and they would spill all their secrets and mysteries are unravelled that way?"
"The end result is, he sees through."
An ear with a jagged triangle ripped into it's bottom edge perks some as Cryo starts to give the Elgarins the skinny, and Braelnoir chimes in on their skepticism with, "He's been consolodatin' power in Charn awful fast. Runnin' ops out ta places th'ain't givin' a widely known benefit."
She glances to her sister, then back to the Ravens, "When's th'last time ya had a plan go off like it's suppose to against this guy?"
Merek looks up from his meal, his attention moving about the place. He waits, through the dinner course, through desert. Above all else, he really tries to observe their manners, to be bird-like. He uses this to his advantage, like them, he says nothing. He doesn't input into the situation. For the time being content to watch and listen. He gives a meaningful nod to Cryo, just a bit. She'll understand.
She doesn't.
Now
Thyrson is also largely silent, eating politely, watching the ravens like a-- well, not a hawk, that wouldn't go down very well here. Like a keen-eyed person who is not at all a raptor.
"Has there been an engagement like Braelnoir describes?" Cryo asks.
"No," replies the elder Egalrin tightly.
Perhaps if there had been, they would not admit to it. Pride has been a significant part of tonight's display. Pride in their skill and indefatigueability.
"There has been no such engagement, though your concerns are ... noted and will be pointed in the appropriate direction. You have no proof of this, however, and could easily be part of a deception yourselves, designed to stall our advance upon the Usurpers."
There's murmuring at the table.
Braelnoir's brow arches, a quizzical look tossed to her sister as it seems the locals aren't exactly viewing the same vistas the Alexandrian delegation is.
The Korite slowly stacks her hands upon the table and lets a slow breath out through her nose before sidelonging a glance to the boys then back to the front, as it were.
It's like moss growing in Kor's shadow.
Her outside voice, however, manages to frame the query, "Ever take any prisoners'n yer previous engagements?"
"Well... this is true." Cryosanthia admits, tugging at the robe, which sits unflatteringly on her. No adjustment will improve it much, but she still hopes for some way it will lay on her that doesn't seem ungainly. "No direct proof."
"That is somewhat dangerous to obtain, as you'd be right in front of him." She gestures in the air, waving a small circle, "it's more circumstantial proof."
She holds both hands out now, "The logic is, proposition: The Ursurper has something that lets him see through deceptions. If true, he would be achieving success after success inside Charn. Which he is. If false..."
Be clever Cryo.
"Well, he's still somehow achieving success by eliminating deception, putting money in some houses and mercenary groups, and not others, so..."
"He's convinced enough people that directness will be rewarded, or he's got good torturers, great hunches, and great scryers. Some other method that's as good as the hypothetical. Right?" She clasps both hands together, "so, our proof is, it's happening, and does this match anything prisoners have said?"
Merek does seem to think about it, "What can we do to provide to you proof?" the man asks, "That our words are honest." There's a nod along to everyone while he takes the time to wait.
Thyrson asks. "You're at war. Why do you expect concrete proof?" He shakes his head a little, in wonder.
There's a muttering, clucking at the table. They're birds, what did you expect.
There's a significant consideration from them.
They appear to be considering it, how one can prove a claim like this. "Prisoners?" asks one.
"We have none. The war season has not started yet -- but when the war season starts, there will be many! And those that survive will be made of use."
There's a fair bit of mutttering amongst them again in their peculiar rendition of Egalnrin.
Then in accented trade once more.
"Your warnings and tribute are of interest. You claim this dead-god's power has touched this one. Show us the power of the deadgod and we will listen."
Show them the power of the deadgod.
Um. That halts Cryo's thoughts in their tracks. She struggles to remember the claim. Outwardly, her expression remains fixed and her posture immobile. She's a beast, one might mistake her for one, were she not amongst the feathered equivalent.
There's certainly a power or two she could show them. Her head turns towards Merek. The man from Merkhabah, who turned into a blood fountain near the death orb, stuck his head in the timestream, merged with the sea of mana. Merek... might have something...
"Merek... can you show these people how the deadgod touched you?"
Merek looks between the party and nods a bit, while he offers to speak with his words, "Alright. If you have any that are powerful in the gods ways, you can use me to see the power of their gods. I will channel the memory of what this power can do. I have seen it, like a radiating sun and like an ancient winter." He does look to Cryosanthia, there's a lift of his brow at the wording although he smiles, "Anyway. That should be easy enough. You may use the Zone of Truth if you need to, for honesty that we provide."
"Your faith is unlikely to be our faith. None of *our* gods are dead."
The elder huffs.
"But we shall do this, if we can. I shall call upon one of our elder priests."
Cryosanthia relaxes, nods. Good, this should do. She glances at the others around the table, holding a long look with her scale-sister, then an interrogative one for Thryson. It would have been nice to coordinate objectives, but that bath house was so distracting.
Back to watching Merek, "I appreciate you making the demonstration."
