Renew the Pact: N'pacier Atol'ciel, p5
Log Info
- Title: Renew the Pact: N'pacier Atol'ciel, part 5
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Thurid, Zaxx, Braelnoir
- Place: The Desolation, N'pacier Atol'Ciel
- Time: Sunday, April 18, 2021, 1:34 PM
- Summary: On top of the Sky Island, the party is confronted by a lot of snakes, and one giant, feathered snake. Braelnoir advances, attempting to negotiate, as the others discretely ready weapons. It seems the snake is friendly, and the smaller snakes are 'friends', but not related. The Quetzalcoalt speaks directly in their minds, identifying itself as Catacaustic, the reflection of sunlight, and asking their purpose. The adventurers explain they are there to re-enact an early assembly of wizards, as part of 'Renewing the Pact' with the God Animus. They have the script for a play which they intend perform, after which they will depart. Catacaustic acquieses to the request, informing them it knows the ceremony as they look over their parts in the play. The memory is shared, as each party member embodies a wizard from ages past, and argue over the future.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. Zaxx 5'2" 152 Lb Shadow Elf Male Compactly built, bald man with dark skin and pointy ears. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NPCs of Note -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lars Human Male A very _charming_ bard, Mr Feels the Eels Firestarter Hobgoblin Female An orange Arvek Nar, hobgoblin Catacaustic Quetzalcoatl Unknown A giant rainbow coloured snake with reflective wings. Akalis A wizard, cloaked in a black robe with a half mask, by Thurid Hirrhurr Fizzlefuse the Jollyhaired Male A rainbow haired, gnome transmuter, by Zaxx Jaenvo of the Mercurial Form Veyshanti Female Extravagant trappings, Rings, and a golden scarab, by Braelnoir Firguzz the Giant Halfling Male A hedge wizard, organizer of the assembly of mages, by Lars Inkurgru Shadow Elf Female A necromancer, with a winged serpent familiar, by Firestarter -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
On top of the Sky Island
The top of N'pacier Atol'ciel is a flattened, sun-baked expanse. It had been cleared to the base rock of the giant boulder which is the floating island at some point, centuries past. Since then, a thin layer of earth has accumulated, from dust bourn on the wind or material left behind by creatures. Little grows, except short weedy grasses and lichen on the bare rock, which is still plentiful. Natural crenulations and an artificial wall once surrounded it, and has long fallen away. Only a few blocks on blocks here and there suggest it was ever present.
In the middle, is a three story, hexagonal keep. It shows signs of artillery damage, and one whole side, as well as parts of two others have been deliberately torn down. Rubble lies without, and within. Decay has taken all but the hardiest of furnishings. A few rust streaks on the walls show the remains of embedded metal. Any paint, plaster, murals have vanished with time. All that remains is sun and stone.
And snakes.
Several large and colourful snakes, disturbed by the unexpected shifting of their home. In the centre of the keep, one huge snake, reared up, cobra-like, with multicolored wings and eyes that glimmer with intense awareness. Eyes that are focused on the silver-haired Merc. It has slithered closer, unwavering in its attention.
In Braelnoir's mind, in draconic, a simple word. "Explain."
GAME: Thurid rolls spellcraft: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Braelnoir rolls spellcraft: (16)+3: 19 GAME: Zaxx rolls spellcraft: Trained Use Only: 0
Thurid distracted by pretty wings.
The really big snake slithers closer. A short distance, coils moving hypnotically, wings flared and flapping slowly. The sun reflecting off the rainbow hues in a startling, distracting display. It's making itself very obvious.
It stares, but there's something to its gaze. A strange nimbus, a glow perhaps? Difficult to tell with the way the light reflects off the scales. A momentary distraction, as if it's staring at something invisible and among the party of adventurers.
Braelnoir is rather curious about the ancient fortification, and the means used to lay it to ruin, but not so much as to ignore a major(massive?) threat. Outsourced words in her head make her blink and she holds up a hand, "Easy, now... might have us a confab, here." she suggests to her comrades. Even still, she edges slightly to the side to keep Lars behind her.
The Korite slowly returns the hand to her side and starts to hiss and growl a response to their.... hostess(?) "We come seeking an object of great value to our kind. This land flew in days past," she indicates the stone on which she stands with a slow wave of her hand, "but the stone of the rainbow gleam, lodged within," this span framed between her hands, "stopped the magics that made it do so. We moved the stone to enable our search to continue. We did not know your brood had nested here." <draconic>
GAME: Thurid casts Bless. Caster Level: 8 DC: 15
Thurid had given the little snakes and the building itself a wide berth on the way over, but she hadn't realized just how big the snake inside was- nor how numerous those outside are. She bristles slightly at the sight of so many serpents on the airborn vehicle, but then settles after a moment as Brae begins speaking to the large feathered serpent. She finds herself rather enchanted by its multi colored wings, though she does eventually tear her eyes away for long enough to grip her holy symbol and call upon protection should it be needed.
With that done, she unslings her hammer from her back- slowly, and as non threateningly as such an action can be done, and holds it- ready incase she needs it, but not poised to attack, while Braelnoir speaks the serpents tongue.
Everything is moving now that the largest serpent is. The other snakes are slithering around, sliding past rocks, in and out of sight. Overall they are approaching, but not in direct lines, and some are obscured by rocks and rubble which provides a little cover.
Zaxx readies his weapons and hides them at his back. His sour expression twitches, but the smile attempt fails. He grumbles in Draconic, "Greetings, Mighty Snake. Please talk to my friend."
"Oh snakes!" Lars swears, his lute coming up at the ready. He checks Firestarter's position, then stares at the mercenary's back, "You got this Brae? Yeh, yeh, you're handling it. Lemme know you need us to do something."
"Yesss. It did." A deep hissing echoes inside each person's skull, as if hearing words spoken without any actual sound. It's uncomfortable, disconcerting, and comprehensible if one knows the language. Otherwise, it sends unsettling tingles down the spine, a sensation not unlike being tickled. The rainbow snake slithers ominously closer.
"Not brood. Friends." More mental hissing is delivered, "They will not harm you."
The snake stares down at each person, focusing one at a time, the Jotun next to be examined. "You act in concert?" <draconic>
Braelnoir turns her head slightly to see what her teammates are doing, holding her ground now that she's got Lars behind her, "We are aligned. We have not worked as one, before." she answers. <Draconic>
She glances to thurid, "I think she's got a detection spell goin, luv. They're friends, here, she says they won't harm us, but she's wondering if we're all on th'same page. Let's try not ta provoke anythin'." She feels comfortable saying that, because it's not a fight, yet, and Lars could get hurt.
"Your scales are very beautiful." <draconic>
Thurid dips her head a bit at Brael's comment, and she relaxes her grip on her hammer a bit, letting the haf rest on the ground and the head rest against her shoulder. "Alright, I'll have to take yer word on that." she says, still keeping an eye on the snakes as they draw near, but for the time being content to trust Braelnoir knows what she's doing- and not start a fight she doesn't need to. "They gonna be alright, now this place is floating again? That'n looks like it can fly but I don't know about the others." she finally comments Brae's way.
Zaxx returns to his dour expression and carefully watches for the little snakes, the gound, and any suspicious clouds. He does not talk until after the giantkin does, "We are not born of the same clutch, but we found a nest we swore to protect."
"That's good Brae, flattery is an excellent idea! Keep at it! People like to know they're hot. Snakes too. Well, maybe it's cold for them. They like hot rocks though, yeh? Hot's good." Lars rambles. Firestarter punches him in the shoulder. Lightly.
"Lars, honey, let them talk."
"Gracious." More mental hissing, accompanied by a sense of pride and a satisfied sensation. Followed by a sense of identity, what the snake calls itself. Not so much a name as an impression of reflected light, distorted through water, forming ever changing curves and spirals, cissoids and cuspidial points. No word captures the experience of the name, seeing the snake's literal sense of self in a light display, the closest one that might be serve is, "Catacaustic."
The rainbow snake, Catacaustic, examines Lars next. He is held under observation a lot longer. The snake flicks out its tongue, flaps wings ever so slightly, before slithering over the rubble of the ruin and closer to Braelnoir. Still outside of what might be its striking distance, its thoughts project into her mind, everyone's mind once more. "They will adjust or die. They will be moved if they don't adjust." <draconic>
The hissing is replaced with a sibilant tradespeak, "Do you prefer thesse wordss?" Even mentally, there is a drawn out hissing of the 's' sounds. Perhaps it's a snake thing.
"I know these words." Thurid confirms aloud once the snake's mental speech enters her mind again. She watches him regarding Lars for a while, and she can't help but chuckle to herself that he's drawing such intense scrutiny. She does nothing to intervene, but simply watches as the serpent goes about its business. She does, eventually, speak up, "We only seek to spend a short time inside the ruins. We'll leave when our task is done." she asserts.
Braelnoir blinks, "That's... quite th'handle ya got there..." she muses with some bewilderment in the wake of the 'introduction'. She sets a hand against her breastplate, "I'm called Braelnoir. These words are known to us all. It makes it easier for us all to understand, thank you." Her eyes keep to the giant serpent, though she doesn't seem to be in a alert stance. As people start chiming in, she looks to Lars, "Whatcha think, luv?"
As it seems like introductions are being given, Thurid relaxes her stand a bit more, leaning on her earthbreaker's haft a bit. Though she might have touched herself up from her feats of strength, she's still winded and aching, and is glad to see it doesn't look like a fight is imminent. "Thurid Freeborn, Warrior of Angoron." she introduces herself.
"Oh... double rainbow..." Lars says, stricken by awe, overwhelmed by the mental light show, which overlaid on the visuals of the snake itself. The bard stands, mouth agape. It takes a second punch from Firestarter to get his mind back on the game. "Find out if it's a girl snake!"
Wrong game. Another punch.
"Yeah, yeah, I mean, yes. It's a short ceremony, it's a play really. She... he? Wow what a name, Catacaustic can be our audience. The play's the thing we're here for, it won't take long."
Zaxx says bluntly and thinks actively, "Thank you for accommodation of all our needs, Catacaustic." He shrugs only a little, "I am Zaxx, smith and traveller."
"I'm Firestarter and this is Lars," the orange hobgoblin says, nudging the bard again, "and thanks, yeah."
Braelnoir gives Lars an... odd look, then turns back to see how Catacaustic takes that. (S)he may be inclined to answer for the asking, after all. She isn't tight on the particulars, but she trusts things are going ok.
"Braelnoir." Catacaustic speaks in everyone's head, repeating their names back and adding... impressions. The silver-haired merc is more than her name, more than a word. As the snake identifies her, the associated sensations come as well. She is an egg, hatching. A serpent of some sort, with a broken tail and a dark shadow. A skin that is too tight.
"Thurid." A Mountain, covered in a cool and refreshing forest. With the idea of a Mountain comes one of resistance, the forces that form them, stone pressing against stone until some is upthrust. A healer that does not yield.
"Zaxx," Darkness. Darkness and more darkness, threefold. Barred and bound in invisible ways, striking out from the cage.
"Lars," A dischordant song. Perhaps a lullaby, or the song that underlies all things, with sagging notes. Each bar drags out at the end, dropping in tone and pitch. He has a serpent-like image too, one that slides up and down the neck of his lute.
"Firestarter." Hers is the most direct. She is a pyre. She is a burning bonfire ready to spread, a blaze barely contained. An almost efreet like mental image, the fire is in her eyes.
"You are welcome in my home. Come." Catacaustic twists and turns around, slithering back into the ruins. A few warning hisses are delivered to the nearby 'friends', which spread out. There is the wind, and the scrape of scales over rocks as it enters the keep. "Explain your play."
Thurid hefts her hammer up and rests it across her shoulder as the snake begins to lead the way, "To tell the truth, Lars there's yet to tell us much in the way of specifics, aside from what the play is for. Has to do with the sundered god, Animus." she tells the snake freely. "Though, I'm sure your kind have your own names for the divine, don't you?" she wonders.
Braelnoir has a somewhat odd look on her face at the impression she made on the rainbow serpent. She tries to ignore the sudden tingle at the base of her spine, the absence, but she ends up busying her hands scratching at her arms as she considers the others on their 'turns'. She wonders about the shadow, though she... thinks she gets the bit about the skin.
Zaxx squints heavily and frowns more. He does not talk too soon and bides a moment to watch what the others are doing. He finally shrugs and lowers his head. The snaps like a whirl of rocks in a storm, "Behave, maestro."
"Okay, so the Resurrectionist Society wants, oh right you wouldn't know who that is, or care." Lars reaches into his bag, he takes out a leather folder, inside are sheafs of paper, folded over on each other. Small booklets, a half dozen pages or so. Handwritten, but seem as if they were magically duplicated. Each word is exactly the same on the copies, the mistakes reproduced as well. That's what is gleaned at first glance.
"Sundered God, yes, Animus. So, he's... uh, he can be put together. Possibly."
The bard takes a deep breath, jogging around the ruined wall to enter the tower, keeping Catacaustic in sight. He holds out the pamphlets to be taken, towards whoever is nearest. Firestarter first. "Okay, what they want us to do is repeat a ceremony that happened a long time ago, here. Say the things that were said. It's a little play. Everyone is going to pick a wizard and read their lines."
Catacaustic coils up against one wall, folding in the wings, head resting on a coil, and staring. "Thiss iss known."
Braelnoir looks at the pamphlet she's been given, trying to see what all the hubub's about. She's not much of an actress, and she's never had much in the way of ambition in that regard, but..... Let' see, here.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "if you want to resist something, make a will save. DC15" GAME: Thurid rolls will: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Braelnoir rolls will: (12)+2: 14 GAME: Zaxx rolls will: (20)+5: 25 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
Firestarter opens her booklet up and flips through it.
Thurid takes her pamphlet when it is offered, and begins to leaf through it. After a moment she frowns, and shakes her head briefly, dispelling some intrusive thought or another as she leafs through, "Seems simple enough, though I'm not known for my acting ability." she says then. A pause, and she looks to the snake, "'This is known?' You know about this meeting?" she wonders of the winged serpent.
The booklets are as described, copies of a short script for a play. It has a list of 'Dramatis Personae' at the start, along with brief descriptions of the wizard, their motivations, and their race, if known.
The setting is described as the Main Hall of the Keep. It's a single scene with the various wizards discussing magic and their point of view.
A few pages in, there's the sensation of being watched. A presence of reflected light. Eyes. Awareness. Catacaustic is there, following along, capturing the surface impressions of the reader. Interpreting their interpretations.
Lars and Firestarter seem a little disturbed, looking at the snake.
Thoughts hiss in everyone's mind, "The memory wass sshared."
Zaxx takes a booklet, but the shaven warrior carefully regards the proceeds. He is suspicious and feels strange sensations at the back of his head, so the dark man wearily/warily observes as he plays along. The booklet is Lars', too, who is not completely terrible, after all...
"Thiss one can sshare." Catacaustic stares at the group, so reflective, so much light playing across the scales. The head moves, looking first at the Jotun, then the Mul'niessa, "Thurid, Zaxx, you musst permit."
The names again, are more than names, impressions overlaid on the words.
Braelnoir reads comparatively fast. She's had to read reports now and then, or parse them for her superiors back in the days of the Stride. The magical gobbledygook is peripehrally familiar, though some of the jargon gets a little outside her experience.
Thurid pauses a moment at the serpent's words, but eventually nods her head and lowers her mental barriers to permit the snake in. "Prefer to be asked, first. Go ahead." she offers.
Zaxx takes care not to enunciate as he skims the writing. The cursed syl looks up at the big snake, "I permit when I have to. What is the purpose here, please? I understand there is more to this than the play part itself. Hirrhurr Fizzlefuse the Jollyhaired is the role for me, I guess? Just my luck!" Grump snarl fume...
"Ssso you will ssee." Catacaustic explains, the hissing like pins and needles on the brain.
Zaxx sighs deeply, "Fiiiine." He lets the magic pass through his inner gate and plays along.
"It's part of renewing the pact with Animus," Lars answers Zaxx, "So the Death Orb will trust us enough to speak to us. The Resurrectionist Society wants all the actions of the Conclave re-done, they think that's the Renewal it's talking about."
He grins, "If we can see them as we do it, that'd be educational. Should really help." He flips through the booklet, takes out a pen to make corrections with. "I'll be Firguzz the Giant, looks like he was in charge."
Firestarter bites her lip as she reads through hers, "I'll be Inkurgru."
As the barriers are lowered, more and more of Catacaustic's thoughts come in. They are a mental pressure, almost like the snake is curling up inside the skull, and the sensation of spreading of wings. As they watch and read, the rainbow serpent spreads its wings for real, angles them so the blinding sun reflects all the colours on their eyes.
As the glare fades, the Keep is restored, the walls whole, the roof complete. Tapestries line the stone, which is painted with fanciful murals of heroism and artifice. Although the images of the magical machines are seared stains. It is the great hall, a head table with side tables and an open space between.
Thump, thump! A staff is rapped on the head table.
"We begin." A high-pitched voice calls out.
In a surge of light arrives Akalis, cloaked in a voluminous black robe and their upper face hidden behind a half-mask. Barely have the faint glimmering sparks of their teleportation faded before they begin to speak.
"It is as we feared. The last of the floating cities have fallen in the eastern wilds. Beasts of ill imagination prowl the lands, and the earth itself trembles. The listeners no longer hear the Hymn at Heavenstouch Point. We can wait no longer, we must act." the highborn says urgently- before even pausing to see if everyone is assembled and listening.
A flower yawns and from it steps a ruddy gnome with rainbow hair and antlers. He wears thick glasses. The antlers are of ashen marmor which speaks of a time where the gnomes' fae ties were even stronger, a loss or distraction from their ways ever more threatening. Glittering lights appear all around the gnome whose every motion is grandiose, "Alas, it is I!" Dramatic pause has to be! "Fizzlefuse the first! So fear not!"
Fashionably late or no, at the staffbearer's cue, there is a certain tension in the air, the sound of a moaning, asthmatic intake of breath that breaka off with a sharp crack as there is suddenly a new presence in the chamber, an outward breeze as the air is forcibly displaced.
The cause, sheathed in a shoulderless, trumpet sleeved gown of crushed velvet in crimson and smoke hue, is a tall daughter of Veyshan. This one, Jaenvo of the Mercurial Form, moves with an almost serpentine grace within the gait afforded by her extravagant trappings. Rings hewn of precious stones adorn every finger, while every metal seems to array in sequence about the borders of each ear, and her tumbling chocolate tresses are festooned by ribbons with feathers of exotic, even otherworldly fauna. A small, golden scarab, likely her spotter for the chance at her grand entrance, surrepitously skitters up along the back of her gown, arcing over and around her hip to ascend her centerline an cling, like a living pendant at the hollow of her throat.
"There are growing incidences of time passing differently within certain regions of the Plains of Arcania." She begins, voice coached for gravitas more than charm, for now, "Of travellers walking for what is to them a mere hour, only to arrive at their destination days later." She considers the Gnome with respect, and gives a polite bow of her head.
Already present, in front of one of the dark stains on the wall, seemingly grown out of it, is a tall Mul'niessa. Ominous in presence, she wears a black dress that glitters like the night sky, one side of her head is shaved, the other has a straight black tress, bound and braided, that hangs to her hip, as far down as the slit up her dress that reveals her thigh. She wears smoked goggles that hide her eyes, and while there is jewelry on her arms, her neck and in her ear, it is all uniformly dark and silver, suggestive of cold iron or mithril.
The only bit of colour about her is a small winged serpent, coiled around her neck and resting on one shoulder. It flicks out its tongue, watching.
She speaks with a smoke seared voice, husky and gravely, "The life prolonging rituals produce monstrosities now, even with additional resources and participants."
A statement that is itself suggestive.
"Thank you Inkurgru," The 'giant' at the head table says. Firguzz the Giant, so named because he's large for a Lucht Siull, nearly as wide as he is tall, and reaching 4' he also has a distinct presence. It may be the rough robe, the sword belted at his side, a beard braided like a dwarf. "Arcane power is fading everywhere. The most powerful spells are no longer possible. Outsiders are contacted only with difficulty, the pathways to the fae realms are become mundane, safe to travel by any."
"It is punishment for our Hubris." Akalis speaks again, "We have known the divine were displeased, and we did nothing. When the first rumbles were felt, we did nothing. When the arcane engines began to falter, we did nothing." she says then, and bangs a fist on the table. "And only now, when it is too late, do we even debate this. We must reconcile, or this will be the age of mortals." she asserts to the others in the room. Rather plainer than the rest, she lacks any accoutrements save for the mask, but even that is a simple wooden affair.
"We must, for once, come to an agreement. We must be decisive." she says, and then casts her gaze across the others gathered.
Fizzlefuse fingerwigglewaves and winks. He appears to burst into flames right after when a vine dabs the tiny man who postures habitually. The gnarly tones of the fighter underneath it all lend a wry twist when the raibow haired man bows himself, "Charming and wise! Reality, t'is but the tiniest figment but!" Guess what, pause again. "we have convened to save the day! Or have we not?" He twirls his sideburns, suddenly sobering, "You speak the very truth. Something as insignificant as a redcap can abduct entire families. It has to stop!" His vision finally traverses from thigh to elfin mien, "I heard, mistress of the arcane. It is most worrisome!" The gnome nods sagely, "Course of action, then?"
The vine and towel evaporate.
Jaenvo continues to approach the center, though veering into a more circuitous path, "So, we have exhausted all other possibilities, then?" she asks, arms loosely folding at her midriff. She turns her pale eyes to Akalis, "And so we begin the old debates, again, darling? To which end, pray tell? We must agree on custom, on theory, or to fall in line?"
The Veyshanti falls still then, save the eyes that flit Giant, to Mul, to Gnome to Mask, "Nothing is unchanging, the reality of a thing is only what a greater Power allows it to be." She gives that a moment then looks to Akalis again, "With such assertion, I assume you have a specific course in mind."
"A drained life-force vanishes now." Inkurgru says, stepping forward and resting her finger on a goblet. The wine it holds turns dark, a demonstration, a side effect of her presence. She runs her finger around the ring, causing the crystal to sing a strange tone. Once, twice, "It cannot be transferred. Magic can no longer be stored. Phylacteries are no longer reliable. The soul is trapped, the body can only be preserved in a state of death, possessed but not inhabited."
She waves dismissively, "Lesser practicioners are only able to raise animate husks, that are mindless or nearly so, if they don't extinguish themselves in the process. It has been educational."
She turns, goggles briefly reflecting a shimmer of light as she looks at Akalis, "Yes, as Jaenvo states, I would know too. What does your reconciliation involve? What do you insist I agree to?"
"Please, please," Firguzz appeals to the Mul'niessa, then the Veyshanti "No hostility. We must be open to all ideas. Saving the day, that is our very purpose. If we can't agree and act in concert, the armies of Men will finish what the Gods started and destroy all magic and knowledge. It will be an age of brutality, strength, and shadows."
"No offense Inky," One can almost hear the smug tones of the bard coming through the hedge-wizard halfling. A self-satisifed smirking that seems to earn him a glare across time.
Akalis quiets a moment as the others address her, and she stands back up straight, "To curtail this disaster we have wrought." she responds to Jaenvo then, though she allows the others to finish before pressing onwards. "We have grasped the fabric of this plane and bent it to our will, and it has become frayed." she says then, and shakes her head. "We must agree to... to censure, to rigidity. We must agree to laws that govern the art, lest the art undoes the tapestry of the world." she says then, laying her thoughts on the table.
The first Fizzlefuse spreads his hands and gestures slowly, imploringly, "Together. Please! As much as I love to see Verdama giggle at the expense of Thul, we have to mend! If not us and our ways, we can, and should, nurture and protect the mystical fabrics!" With some effort, the antlered man raises a platform boot over the lucht's bare toes. Is this before stamps? The tiny gnome glares, then sighs.
Jaenvo is less thrilled about looking weak than appearing wrong, but even so, there are certain realities nagging at her own self assurances. She considers the others, her scarab shifting slightly in reaction to whatever's going on in the Veyshanti's head. She scrutinizes Akalis for a time before Fizzlefuse speaks, and she considers him sidelong. The call to crystalize the freedoms, the avenues of whimsy, magic affords her strikes her to the core as much is clear in her eyes before she turns her back to the group, "I will not be diminished alone." though whether her statement is a calming mantra of solidarity or the woman is petulantly setting terms...
The 'giant' halfling gives the flamboyant gnome a strange look, and moves his foot, protecting his toes. "I like that idea. I agree. The magics in the land seem to remain the strongest, the elemental forces, the primal movers. You are suggesting a closer relationship to the Green?"
Firguzz grips his staff, leaning towards 'Inky', "Please, let's hear Akalis' insights."
"Insights to abandon unfettered exploration for limited rote." Imkurgru says, frowning, "Cast ourselves in the mental chains of limited minds. I suggest that what the Gods wanted destroyed, they have destroyed. There are no more signs, no more portents of doom. Only the scraps to be siezed and defended. Re-woven for our own purposes."
She glances at Firguzz, "You asked me here to listen, so I will listen. What censure, what rigidity, what laws. Can we all propose, or have you worked it out already Akalis?" Her head turns back.
The halfling sputters, "Yours too, all ideas are on the table. We want to hear your suggestions Inkurgru. We each hold remanents of what is fading, we are all diminished apart." Firguzz spreads his hands wide, as if offering or begging an embrace, "stronger together."
Akalis sighs, briefly. That wasn't as much pushback as she had been expecting, all things considered. "We will be trading chaos for a future." she assures Imkurgru. "The beasts roaming the lands grow stronger, the veil between this plane and the others grows weaker. If the gods do not destroy us, we will destroy ourselves." she says then.
To answer the other questions, she takes a moment. "I propose a division of magic. The Green, The Hymn, The Divine, The Arcane, The Wyrd." she says then, naming her categories. "To call upon another would diminish the first."
The Veyshanti brings the crook of her finger to her throat, and as it comes away, her golden friend scuttles around to the palm of her hand, "Unfettered explorations, like that upstart, Zharanvante?" she queries the Mul'niessa, "She'll end up turning the mountains inside out within a few years at the rate she's accumulating power. Probably chasing squirrels."
That said, she looks back to the collected arch powers in the room, "Chaos is part of the game, darling... without that, the only future is a crystalized, eternal stagnation." To prove she isn't simply being difficult for the sake of it, "To that end, let few of our works be permanent without the involvement of a dedicated invocation." That lets her have her fun... even if she has to recast some of her spells to maintain, "That pemanence could be wrought to sustain itself without setting the Sea of Mana against the natural existence of all things." Still, she sounds like she wants to wash her mouth out with soap, "It may... mitigate the fraying."
Fizzlefuse pshaws as he throws his head back, his goatee wiggling about as much as his tremendous nose is shiny. Underneath, the mul is incredulous. Here yet not, the spitting image of his mother belabors fundamentally powerful and primordially important topics fraught with meaning. With a big lucht who strongly reminds of a certain cherub of bewildering repute! The fae points out, "The usual or is any one of you up for a change? Elemental lines, ties of benefitial and less so spells, aligns of mist and solids? Para elements, anybody? We could reorganize the whole...?" The wildly gesturing platformer blinks as he talks himself into a rant, not quite sure of a word to end this on just right, because this is clearly before "kaboodle". Fizzlefuse blinks once again, "Excellent. No more division of illusion from other arcanity! That is marvelous!" He cannot help but rub his little hands in anticipation.
"So the pleadings of the God Botherers are to be elevated to our equal? What of the questioning, binding, and manipulation of outsiders? Does that fall under the Arcane, or 'the Divine?'" The Mul'niessa's sneer is evident, even moreso when she finishes her thought, "What are the gods but overpowered spirits? It was through observing their faithful we determined how to link and siphon life force. Pathways they carefully preserved when they struck down the Kulthians for coming too close."
Inkurgru waves her hand as if clearing a smell, then sets the fingertips of her left on the table, lightly supporting her weight. "And what if we know 'The Divine' or 'The Wyrd' rites. We should never heal, never manipulate minds and perception, just forget those observances and techniques?"
"A Permanence ritual." Inkurgru looks at Jaenvo, still frowning, her eyes still hidden behind smoked lenses. Her glittering snake watches the movements of the golden scarab, but does nothing that would add conflict. "Instead of a tap on a ley-line to continually power the spell. I would still want to be able to do that at times." She pets her serpent, "Let me think about it."
"Well I can think of additional classifications," Firguzz harrumps, stepping one foot up on the table so he can pose dramatically. He points his staff, symbols appearing in the air, representative of the categories he names, "Along with Illusion, perhaps Conjuration, Evocation, Transmutation, Enchantment." He's clearly taking inspiration from those present, "Necromancy, Un..."
"You would further sub-divide what I know!" The Mul'niessa interrupts, snarls at Firguzz, "then ban it too? Have the stones to say 'we wish you gone' instead of 'you may stay but practice none of what you know'."
to be continued...
OOC and Combatty
The Map of the Ruins
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mn1anysnkpd
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
>> 23 RB Snake 1 <<
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19 Braelnoir 1
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19 Thurid 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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18 Big Snakes
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11 Zaxx 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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| Name | Race | Class | CHP | HP | AC/FF/T |CMD |For |Ref |Wil |
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|Braelnoir |HUMAN |Brg/Ftr | 89 | 91 |22/19/15 | 27 | 12 | 5 | 2 |
|Thurid |GIANTBORN |Clr | 68 | 68 |22/20/14 | 24 | 9 | 4 | 10 |
|Zaxx |SHADOW_ELF|Ftr | 73 | 73 |23/18/17 | 28 | 9 | 9 | 5 |
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<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay, so this is the hard part, the 'stone soup'. I hope you got the email about making up a wizard and thinking about things a wizard might say. Whirl said there were a few pact attempts, this one might have succeeded or failed. Suggested it was set during the Sundering, which you can read a little bit about here, http://www.tenebraemush.net/index.php?title=Archived_History_World#The_Sundering . Relevant info, its after the end of the second age, 1000 years ago, Millenium Kingdom, Eldanar and Kulthos, the Gods judged them, snatched away -I think- all Kulthians, even though the link says 'high artificers'. Magic just about vanishes. So, it's somewhat like Ars Magica pre-covenants/magic-schools."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I'll do a 'flashback' sceneset, and then pose in your wiz guy/gal, arriving or already there, 'in-media-res' however you want to work it, and we'll do some magic talk until we've run out or come to agreement on renewing the pact. Whirl said all races were present, so even though I thought it would be more like the 1st ed 'classic' D&D races, you can pick anything magic-y."
<OOC> Thurid will ty hard not to rip off Emet-Selch but makes no promises.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I had hoped for 'secrets' we could feed in, but didn't get any. So the discussion woudl be more about 'how magic works' I guess, the circles/classifications, something about resistances. someone could state it always has to have V,S,M components, then someone contradict with 'oh no, sometimes, it's harder, but it's possible, the gods gift things, and so on.'"