Resurrectionist Meeting the Fourth

Log Info

• Title: Resurrectionist Meeting the Fourth
• Emitter: Whirlpool
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Stjepan, Ravenstongue, Fallon, Seldan, Aya, Molly, Serene, Merek, Skribbles, Imane
• Place: A14: Society for Progressive Arcanists
• Time: Saturday, March 20, 2021, 8:20 PM
• Summary: The Resurrectionists are holding a meeting outside of the Society for Progressive Arcanaists, where anybody can walk up and several do. There is free food, the underpinning of any social gathering. Griva arrives late, encourages people to eat and mingles greeting various members. Recent Shard-News is relayed, in particular the Death Orb discovered by Fallon and Nica's team. Characteristics of others are shared, and speculated upon. The Dragonier and Phalanx Falcis ones are not mentionned, but Merkhabah's is. Aya suggests Ea would be better off with fewer gods, not more. Serene seems to agree that attempting to restore Animus would be hubris and folly. Cryosanthia is frustrated that it seems inescapable, rather like her Queen of Endless Winter was, and others are uncertain, intimidated by the high magics or interested in the power.

-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A14: Society for Progressive Arcanists *>=--=--=--=--=--=-

The central courtyard of the Arcane Society is a large and sprawling affair within the heart of the city. Soaring marble pillars reach upward to the sky, four sets of three, evenly spaced apart as the massive columns form a rough circle, each trio of pillars warding a particular direction. Carved into the smooth stone floor within the center of the atrium is a massive circle within the ceiling itself, which opens always to the stars, in honor of Eluna, the Goddess of Light Magic. Taara, the Goddess of the Dark, is given no such honors.

The central courtyard radiates outwards into paths, leading through the exotic gardens of the Society. One extends to the Library, another to the College of Magic. Another path leads off to a small, rather plain looking building between the two colleges, most likely the dormitory for the students, and yet another for the famous Cafeteria. Numerous magi can be seen walking back and forth most hours of the day and night here, with familiars or other odder creatures roaming about, most of them in the latest styles, as dictated by Madame Gelfure, the a more social head than the Society has had in most of its history. Myriad scents and aromas can also be sensed, some delightful, others repugnant, others quite colorful as apprentices and magi alike go about their experiments. Arguments are not unheard of, and even the most "dignified" of magi might be seen from time to time, in a pique of anger, waving an agitated hand to teleport the disagreeable person to the top of the nearest tower.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Stjepan      8'0"     534 Lb     Giantborn         Male      Big, blonde jotun.
Ravenstongue 5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    A short, slender half-sil woman with violet eyes
Fallon       5'6"     145 Lb     Half-Elf          Male      A short hooded man
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol.
Aya          4'7"     105 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing.
Molly        5'1"     122 Lb     Half-Elf          Female    An ash skinned half-elf with red glasses
Serene       6'2"     175 Lb     Eldanar/Charn     Female    Glacier meets granite meets strawberries.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Skribbles    3'0"     80 Lb      Goblin            Female    A Goblin Cleric, green skin and orange hair.
Imane        5'6"     105 Lb     Dawn Elf          Female    A blonde elf in a white tunic and black boots.       
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
     
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=  NPCS of Note   =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Griva Brassbringer               Khazdi            Female    Head of the Alexandrian Chapter of the Resurrection Society
Farland                          Gnome             Male      Companion and asssitant to Griva
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
     
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=  As the GM   =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Whirlpool    5'0"                Otyugh                      I am stinky!
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The Alexandrian Chapter of the Society for the Resurrection of Animus is now in full swing.

Griva Brassbringer, the chapter leader, had arranged to have some time in the courtyard of the Alexandrian Society of Progressive Arcanism, and there is indeed quite a few people here. The idly curious, for example, who come and go as their interest and whims take them. The city watch, who've staked out a claim on keeping an eye on events that are no doubt fairly bizarre to hear talked about so openly. Magisters and the former clergy of the fallen God, Animus, or those who once followed him. The members wear on their collars the former symbol of the fallen God, the supposed All Seeing Eye of the God himself.

While beyond the Coutyard, the air feels damp and the evening air cool, it is warm here. No doubt that too is seen too by the presence of a handful of magisters and the locale in question. A buffet table has been erected, full of a variety of snacks, plates of cheeses and grapes and fresh fruit. Nothing too substantial, but tasty enough. For those that know her, the local leadership of the chapter in the form of the dwarf, Griva Brassbringer, is not present just yet, but those who've met Farland, her gnomish companion, can see him mingling amongst the crowd.

Amongst those gathered is a bluescaled Sith'Makar female, dressed for warmth in winter clothes that hide just about all of her. Even her toes are covered, and her tail has a sleeve with an armoured end that something of a cross between a boot, a glove, and a sled. With the hood back and the gloves removed, some of her midnight blue scales are visible, as well as the much lighter blues on her palms and throat.

The only other noteable thing is she has a backpack, which seems to contain backpacks that she has been randomly handing out. Well made and non-descript, she explains the packs as leftovers from 'Traveler's Day'. Anyhow, it's free gear.

As the meeting starts, she drifts over to one side where it's easier to watch the crowd, and outside the courtyard.

Stjepan is propping up a wall near the buffet table. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it. His arms are folded across his chest, and he leans on one leg, the other foot tucked behind his knee. His eyes slide across attendee's faces, marking the familiar and less familiar both, with a default expression best described as unimpressed.

The half-sil girl Stjepan met the other evening pokes her way into the crowd of onlookers, her violet eyes bright with curiosity. The white raven on her shoulder seems to be behaving himself. Upon seeing the mark of Animus, the girl looks a tiny bit shocked and even more curious than before. "Oh, what did we wander into, Pothy," she murmurs to her raven.

Fallon is present, very much looking like the broody hunter he was, therefore sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the well-dressed and more arcane-inclined attendees. He seems more keen on inspecting the goods of the buffet table than mingling with the gathering crowd; "city food" wasn't something he indulged in very often these days. He always liked cheese...

Save for the out-of-style sword at his hip, Seldan is scarcely distinguishable from any of the other mages at Progressive Arcanists. An open-front blue and silver robe is clasped at the chest over a swordsman's shirt, leather trousers, and workaday adventurer's boots, and only a thin silver band keeps his hair off of his face. He watches those present quietly, but does not speak until spoken to.

What better vantage point than the columns that dominate the courtyard. It is upon one such column that Aya is perched. Has appeared? The offerings of food, topic of discussion, and those gathered are of interest, but likewise are others who might also be interested in such a public gathering with public purpose.

Never one to miss out on a good buffet of snacks, Molly Nephenee has come as well. She's left her armor and weapons behind today, being as how she isn't expecting any trouble, and is wearing a simple, white dress instead, with the holy symbol of Navos on a leather cord around her neck. The dress is sleeveless, and reveals the full sleeve tattoos she has on both arms, featuring black tentacles and things that might be more Taara's thing than Navos'.

But, hey, who's going to question spooky tattoos on a Half Mul?

Either way, the priestess seems perfectly happy to munch away on candied fruits and spiced cheese. "Mmm," she comments. "This is really good."

Serene is present as well, partially removed from the majority of the mingling attendees. Arms folded across her breastplate, her expression hard to read... it could be stern disapproval of the gathering, or a stern gaze warning people to be on their best behaviour, or perhaps even simply a stern reminder that evil may be afoot.

GAME: Merek rolls disguise: (12)+8: 20
GAME: Aya rolls perception: (18)+30: 48 to Whirlpool
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perception: (2)+8: 10 to Whirlpool

Merek looks to be about, although he's wearing a lot of things to make sure that no one notices that it would be him. The man takes a place to settle in and relax listening.

The bluescale drifts over by Stjepan and the buffet. Her hood is flipped up briefly, while her hands vanish in her sleeves as she does something with her face, and then something is pocketed. A careful observer would notice her scales are white now, with just the hint of pale blues on some of them, if they were quick. It was a careful switch in a manner to be overlooked, a disguise added or removed.

Fortunately, the two that should meet are close by. The whitescale noses a little down the spread of food, in Fallon's direction, and speaks an aside to the Jotun, "That's Fallon, he can tell you about the Orb, his direct experience."

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm late to my own event! How about that?"

Griva Brassbringer is a stern looking, Khazadi woman of somewhat indeterminate age. Her hair is greying, but her face still bears a relatively youthful countenance, even if some lines have begun to show. Where she came from is anyone's guess. She wasn't there a moment ago, but then, wizards like her are more than capable of appearing exactly where they want, when they want. Typically.

"It's been a busy week! I hope everyone is enjoying the snacks? We have new guests amongst us, I see. Welcome to the Society for the Resurrection of Animus. As you know, our goal is the restoration of what was lost at the hands of the Gloomweaver. Of course, such an impossible goal is not undertaken lightly!"

Fallon blinks when he's recognized by the sith-makar also dining at the buffet table. He eavesdrops on the conversation between her and the Jotun as he finishes the piece of cheese he was snacking on, then raises his hand in their direction in an idle wave. "It was very bright, and demanding," he says to them. "I don't think it'd make for a fun conversation partner."

His gaze alights on Griva speaks to the congregation. He hums thoughtfully, but doesn't seem to have anything more to add at the moment.

Ravenstongue isn't enjoying the snacks so much as her raven is, as she's occupied the pale bird by feeding him so he doesn't terrorize the buffet table. She does look at Molly and gives a bit of a genuinely surprised smile to see a fellow Navosian half-sil, but her attention returns to Griva and the matter of handling her raven--although that's a bit hard when the words "Resurrection of Animus" are said aloud, and Pothy has to make an exasperated noise to get Ravenstongue to feed him again when her violet eyes are now about as wide as the buffet plates.

Stjepan nods to the blue-white sith, and his head swings towards Fallon. He marks him with his gaze, and nods. "Bright. Interesting." He turns back, notes Pothy, and waves a pig-in-a-blanket at the white raven, and before he can do more than that, he turns back towards Griva. He gives a grunt, and gives Serene a look. A disapproving look.

As Aya surveys those gathered, her attention first shifts to the khazadi Resurrectioinist, as the hostess of this and prior events. This would be the opportune moment for those wishing to interrupt said hostess and/or even to ready and/or strike, so her eyes return to scanning the crowd. They soon train upon ... not the sight expected, but the unexpected is likewise conspicuous; namely the individual is somewhat attempting to appear as someone other than Merek. Whether she finds the action wise or not, it seems that Griva is not the only one bringing brass.

Merek seems to be watching and listening. He does notice a few people, though offers no indication he knows them, while he finds a drink to sip from the shemagh which he wears.

Message delivered, the whitescale gazes around carefully scanning the crowd. Her eyes alight on Seldan, then Serene, but does not linger. There are snacks to be had, cheese and fruit, and the rare plate of crackers that requires a boarding-house reach to get at. She holds a small plate, watches, and listens, turning to focus on Griva primarily.

Molly grins at Ravenstongue, likewise spotting a fellow worshipper of Navos, but doesn't get a chance to say anything before Brassbringer arrives and makes a charming cover up for being late to her own event, by deliberately observing the fact. Well done! Smooth, even, in a good way.

But, for the moment, the Half-mul doesn't pass any particular comment on the planned resurection of Animus. She's content for the moment just to listen. And besides, these cheeses are just way too good -- they didn't have anything like this in the subterranean city she grew up in. The things you learn when you leave home.

Serene is immune to disapproval.

Uncertain whether other eyes may be as keen as hers, Aya chooses to act pre-emptively. She vanishes from her perch in dissipating wisps of shadow and appears, in much the same manner, immediately to the settled, sipping, and shemaghed (not)Merek's left-rear. Without awaiting a reaction from him or his near neighbors, she notes to him, softly, "I don't consider your presence here especially wise. Other opinions may vary."

Pothy's eyes seem to flash with recognition. The big man has food! Target acquired, the white raven flies over to Stjepan to acquire the bundled-in-gluten pig. Ravenstongue looks like she's about to die of embarrassment before she sees that Pothy is with Stjepan, and she clicks her tongue. The white raven flies over back to her shoulder, and Ravenstongue mouths the words "thank you" to Stjepan, perhaps grateful in more ways than just feeding her bird. The half-sil seems a tad bit overwhelmed with the situation, but a familiar face and an act of kindness go a long way, and she smiles a little.

"So good to see you again, Seldan," says Griva, warmly, stopping by him to clasp his arm briefly. "I trust all is going well for you. You've been very busy as of late." Then she stops by Serene, giving a little curtsy to her. "Such an esteemed servant of Eluna amongst us. It is a pleasure, Lady Tigriil." IT would appear that she is going to be tstoppoing to tqalk to everyone, eventually, as she's mingling in the crowd and, by name, talking to people she recognizes qand introducing herself to the ones she doesn't. She's clearly able to mix it up, and she's accompanied by an older gnomish gentleman, now, who's staying in her shadow.

"Cryosanthia," says Griva, greeting the Makari warmly bvefore stopping by Fallon.

"Ah! It's you. I'm glad you came," she offers. "YOur findings near the mine were brought to my attention. We'll be talking about that tonight, assuredly. I promise not to point a light magic spell your way, though." She winks at him, friendly.

The mage with the sword slips further back into the crowd, avoiding attentin.

Cryo's hand bumps against Molly's as they both graze the savannah of fruits and cheese with their attention elsewhere. Primarily Griva-wards, especially in the whitescale's case, although she was distracted by the white raven flying around. A very rare and unusual colour.

The contact makes her focus on the other woman. The Sith'Makar has had enough bad experiences with Mul'niessa to be easily prejudiced, though she does her best to remember they're not all bad. A couple have been friends. Maybe. Kinda. So half bad. She's had a lot of positive experiences with half-mul's. Strike was really friendly! Maybe a quarter-bad then, or an eigth. Sixteenth...

While she's pondering percentages her instincts kick in. She's already spoken to the society's worst enemy ever this week, might as well say hi! "Peace on your Nest."

Then, "AH! Hello Griva." Yes... it might have gotten back to her...

Oh no. The important person was approaching. He tries his best not to look like a deer caught in the headlights now that Griva was actually talking to him -- which he is fairly successful at with his hood still on. Fallon clears his throat and offers the woman a respectful nod. "Thank you for the warm welcome, and the reassurance that you will try not to zap me with any spells," the hooded man replies. "I was unaware that would be a hazard."

Serene tilts her head to Griva as the ressurectionist passes, though she doesn't offer words in return... Griva has rounds to make, after all, and it wouldn't do to slow the woman down. So Serene remains silent, eyes following Griva as she mingles.

"Oh!! Hello," Molly replies, after Cryo bumps hands with her. She withdraws, to let the Sith have the morsel they were both making a grab for; she's got enough on her plate, at the moment, as it is. Instead, she smiles, and bobs her head. "Peace upon your nest also," she replies; somewhat awkwardly, possibly something she hasn't said before, but hey she's being polite at least. "The cheeses *are* really good, aren't they?" She smiles pleasantly, blissfully unaware of Cryo's opinion of people like her. Well, half like her.

"Hello!" she greets again, as Brassbringer arrives as well, greeting Cryo at least. "Great cheeses. Never had anything like this back home. I love it."

"Thank you, yes, this cheese is lovely. This one had only read about it growing up, and once I got a taste could not get enough." Cryo says happily. "We don't have it back home either, obviously. No mammals to speak of, at least not the right kinds that have a lot of milk..."

The whitescale glances at the bandoleer that rests diagonally overtop the hal-mul's slightly dented breastplate, with its collection of wooden stakes displayed openly in front of her bosom.

Her words trail off. She looks quickly at a lamppost. She knows it starts with milk, something magic happens, and then there is cheese. It might just be one of those things, like making sausages, that the less one knows the better and the method of manufacture is to be avoided at all costs in social situations. Probably best, she bobs her head enthusiastically, "Yes. It's great cheese."

There must be some safe small-talk. "So, you want to bring back Animus?"

Aya catches bits of conversation from the buffet table and diverts her attention there. Perhaps molded, curdled milk is more palatable that her current conversation. Thus she relocates once more, appearing beside Cryosanthia (and surely not contributing to her opinions on mul'niessa!). "Are you enjoying the food?"

Important? Perhaps! She's definitely in charge hre, that's for sure!

Griva then smiles at Fallon in a way that suggests she recognizes that look on his face. After all, she's no doubt met many of people who've worn similar expressions over the years. "I might ask you to talk a bit more about what you saw, but that's only because it's so exciting! Our first lead on a new Shard, and one of a different character."

Then she glances towards Molly and then Cryo, a cheerful look oin her face. "I'm glad you like the cheese," she adds, warmly.

Others are still mingling in the crowd, talking, and the guards are looking on with a variety of bemused expressions that just scream 'wizards'.

"But, yes! We WANT to. I've spoken at length over the care with which mortals must truck in matters divine. It's all beyond us, but restoring what was lost, if we can, or at least playing a role in the attempt.."

"I can't promise I have anything exciting to add, but I'll relay any details that may need repeating," Fallon answers Griva. "Truth be told, if it were not for one of my companions, I wouldn't have had a clue to what it even -was-. I'll be the one being enlightened, if anything."

Cryosanthia startles, just a little. This is marked by her straightening and stiffening, and a sudden drop in temperature around her, even with winter clothes that should help keep it in. She wills herself to relax, her tail goes limp and hangs. Her reply is chipper, "Yes! The cheese is excellent."

She indicates Molly with an open hand, "She also likes cheese. We didn't exchange names."

Cryo pops a cheese and cracker in her mouth, crunch, crunch, and plows on through with more gestures, "Thif iv Aya, fees a friend, and thif von iv Cryofancia, Cryo vor shorhf." She's made better introductions.

Swallowing, Cryo adds a little more clearly, to Griva, "This one will pass along what she can to Mikilos and Iuitl. Well, you still brought back word, Fallon, which helps, and we should be going back soon."

Merek walks along to find a little bit of cheese to take a bite of, while he nods a little to the people at the table, "My neck is sore."

Ravenstongue finally seems to muster up some of her courage and gets closer to the conversations, a hand outstretched to Pothy on her shoulder now full of various fruits. "A shard of Animus?" she murmured, her violet eyes behind her glasses gleaming even more than before with curiosity.

Stjepan spent some time exploring the food table with Pothy. Eventually, though, there are limited to what can be found and he comes back, and offers from above in a low rumble." Not just one shard. Seemingly many now. Or at least a non-trivial amount." He pauses. "Some of them have been pretty feistly lately, too."

Aya dips her chin to Molly following Cryosanthia's interestingly-annunciated introduction. "Good eve." She then glances sidelong to the sith, then down and in the immediate vicinity. One snowy brow lifts. "Only foraging for one, tonight, or is the pink one dining under the table?"

"That's all right," says Griva to Fallon, seeming sympathetic to his discomfort. In fact, she's content to let him for for a moment, but Raventongue captures her attention. "Ah! Why hello. Yes. A shard of Animus. We believe, and not without evidence, that some part of Animus' divinity fell to Gaea when he was slain. It's ... not something we clearly explicitly understand, but objects of power with ties to him hve become increasingly common over the years since his death, along with other phenomena. We Resurrectionists seek to find them so that we might seek a way to restore the God of Magic back to his living form ... if we can. I mean, let's be honest: what we're publically talking about *sounds* like sheer lunacy, but.." She spreads her hands wide. "We have to try. The world is, if you haven't noticed, sort of in jeapordy."

Ravenstongue is a little surprised at being addressed by the Resurrectionist, but she nods after a moment, adjusting her glasses. "If it's something that we don't understand, then we should try to learn more about it and use the knowledge we gain for the betterment of the world, just as Navos would tell us. I'm willing to help!" Pothy the white raven seems to 'nod' in response to the half-sil's statement, but it's then quickly followed by another bite of berries from Ravenstongue's outstretched hand. The corvid was eating good tonight.

"I found an Egg-Watcher for her. This is all a bit too adult and talky for her, and past her bedtime." Cryosanthia says, smiling down at Aya. She's not trying to loom, really. "She misses her mortal enemy, Tia Aya, asked if she accidentally killed you with the traps and I hid the body. I assured her you'll pop up any time, and she should stay vigilant."

The whitescale bobs her head, "Pease, do come by soon."

She steps back, giving Griva some space and keeping her conversation with Aya quiet to minimize distractoin. She watches, carefully. "She will be upset she missed the food, I'll have to sneak some back. She loves cheese too."

Fallon nods to Cryosanthia. "Yes, though it was more out of concern for would-be travelers than out of an interest of reviving a dead god. I suppose the small amount of assistance on my part may 'kill two birds with one stone', or so we hope." The hooded man frowns faintly. He likes birds, but he couldn't think of a more apt metaphor.

Imane makes her way into the courtyard, her heels clicking on the stone walkway. She stops to survey the crowd assembled and see what exactly is going on.

Pothy gives a small, offended croak at the mention of killing two birds with one stone. Ravenstongue shoots her familiar a look.

Skribbles whistles as she walks by the large gathering, taking another drink from her mug before burping and turning. She heads over and starts jumping up and down to see over the shoulders of the crowd before she harumphs and pushes her way through.

One corner of Aya's mouth lifts at Cryosanthia's comment. "You can assure her that, as clever as her traps are, I have survived far worse. I will be certain to visit her, and when she least expects it."

Her attention shifts briefly to the divine conversation very near by. "The world is always in jeopardy. If we were to learn how a god was felled, and apply it to several more, perhaps all... we would make great strides towards minimizing that jeopardy."

Fallon seems to take some umbrage at Pothy's response. "I don't mean -literally," he reassures, defensively.

"'Taara did it" is unfortunately the most anyone has been able to divine oin the nature of the death of a divine. The ancient legends of the Celestial War imply there might have been other deities, long ago, that were slain or fell, but ..." Griva spreads her hadns again, shrugging, "If the Gods can die, they don't seem inclined to share the nature or manner of their murder with the rest of us. Probably because some jerk would try to kill them." The older Khazadi, Grivba Brassbringer, glances towards Aya and Cryo. She seems to find thier banter amusing. Other membes of the society are mingling amongst themselves, talking.

A nod towards Fallon by Griva, though, and she says, "The Alexandiran army has secured the locale. They're not lettiong anyone near it, and a few of the wizards are keeping an eye out. So far, stable. They're planning on bringing a team out tomrrow to try to let us secure it. That's the good news!"

Ravenstongue pats Pothy on his feathered head. "Don't mind him, he's just a -little- sensitive... And too smart for his own good," Ravenstongue says to Fallon, an apologetic smile on her face. Pothy seems to calm down, although his startling blue eyes still stare at Fallon for a little longer... until food is presented to him again, that is.

Skribbles mutters, "F'ng Taara...doing it...what the hell." She then leans to the person next to her and says, "What is this all about?"

"When she least expects it is her favourite time, I'll let her know." Cryo grins at Aya. She follows the conversation, having some thoughts, bobbing her head a little, then expressing some surprise. "Oh! They secured it? Good. Well I updated a few, trying to get them to come out. Tomorrow is it?"

"Hrm." Her tail sways slowly behind her, then curls around an ankle.

Stjepan rumbles. "So, Griva, we keep finding shards. Have you figured out what you want to do after that? Or just gather up a bunch and see if they combine into a new, or old, form?" He pauses. "Or just ask them?" He snakes out a hand for some food for himself. since he fed most of the early take to the raven.

Imane makes herway further into the courtyard and starts mingling with the guests present.

"Well, being too smart is better than being too dumb. As long as he knows I don't run around lobbing stones at passing birds..." Fallon mutters to the half-sil and her raven. He turns his attention back to Griva and nods. "That's reassuring." The others chime in with questions of their own, and Fallon falls back into his passive silence, content to simply listen again.

Aya nods to Griva. "All the more evidence that they can die... and of course Taara slew Him... or so She claims." Her attention easily returns to Cryosanthia, the sith's comment on timing drawing both corners of her mouth upwards in a smile. "I aim to please."

Cryosanthia grins carefully at Aya, wobbling her head, and then her Speaker instincts creep up on her. There is some things that are going unsaid, and she is just the Sith to sort it out. This almost never goes awry.

"Griva, a moment. This one thinks some of your members aren't all caught up, or even are members. The purpose of the food and this meeting is to spread the word about the Resurrectionist's Society, who are dedicated to bringing Animus back, by seeking out fragments of him that seem to have survived his death."

"Any maybe experiment on them. Uh..."

"Um, it really would have been better if some of the know-it-alls showed up, like Mikilos, Malik or Merek. Or Cesran, or Morgan. Really good scholars who can speculate on their natures. Like, I know a bit, mostly what I've heard. Each one was kind of different. There was a quarterstaff that seemed to be an Animus Shard. Stjepan found that, he could explain what it was like."

"What am I?" asks Griva of Cryosanthia whgen she declares 'know it alls' aren't present. "Chopped wizardly liver? I haven't gone into the weeds since some are only barely familair with the idea at all that, 'bits of a felln god' are lingering here and there in our world."

Griva puts a hand to the back of her head, seeming marginally offended. "Not everyokne here has to be a member, or even exceptionally well read in. It's a social gathering, not a scholarly conference. But by all means: Speculate. That's what we all do anyway." She turns towards Stjepan to answer him: "THAT is something I'm not going to discuss so openly, I'm afraid, but let's just say we're working closely with the Temple of Eluna."

Merek looks then to Griva and anyone else when Cryosanthia mentions that about the Animus Shards, while he thinks to himself. Then he takes a drink from the flask with him. The man takes a bite from the cheese.

Merek says, "cheese"

Ravenstongue says, "Cheese... *_*"

Skribbles listens to what is happening and then burps again, muttering, "I need a drink." She then looks at down and spies a mug in her hand and goes, "Oh, hey! Look at that. Magic." She takes a long slug from her drink.

Ravenstongue pipes up after a moment of being afraid to speak up due to, well, having wandered in because there was free food for Pothy--in other words, guilty as charged according to Cryosanthia's statements. "Ummm, so... I guess it's still speculation, but do we know of any other shards? Maybe places where we think there might be shards? If they're shards of Animus, they probably make things really weird. He's the god of magic, after all."

Stjepan nods once, curtly. "Makes sense," he affirms. It seems to satisfy him somehow that /something/ is being contemplated. He glances at Cryo, "I've seen a few -- they've all been different." A look down and over at Ravenstongue. "There have been more than a few now. All of them are unique, all of them make things weird. They're also damned dangerous to get /too/ close to."

Oh. Social Occasion. Not scholarly conference. Holding it outside and letting just anyone walk up might have been a clue. Cryo finds a big peach and bites into it so she has something messy to occupy herself with. Bite, swallow, dribble juice down around her long lower jaw. Look for a napkin, which are on the other side of Aya. She's short enough to lean over. Hopefully she won't mind some whitescaled lizard in her airspace.

Cryo straightens up, "This one apologizes Griva. This one misunderstood." Take another bite of a peach.

"No, no, don't take it as a chance to NOT talk about it. By all means, indulge your explanation! We're here to talk about them, after all, but it's ... a bit more casuasl than that."

Griva wiggles her fingers in Cryo's direction.

Aya is rather certain that the whitescale is not about to accost her... at least in comparison to most everyone else. She does lean somewhat to not obstruct Cryosanthia's quest for cleaning cloths, but doesn't, say, attempt to aid her bodily onto the table. Stjepan's comment draws her attention, and a brow. "Dangerous, themselves, or dangerous to reach to retrieve?" She may be one of the few who has not happened upon a random sliver of alleged deity corpse.

"This one can't talk about a few things," Cryo says, somewhat quietly. She thinks, opens her mouth, hesitates. No, that's connected to that. The half-eaten peach is leaking juice around her hands. Aya's question could be answered though.

"It's both. This one knows one was taken from Merkabah, it had strong defenses, seemed to have animated some of the artifacts in there to protect it. Cesran had gotten imprisonned. The retrieving party had to sneak about, turn into rats, were attacked by mini-golems. Mechanical rot-grubs, I think? This one hasn't heard the whole story, but it took all the adventurer's combined magic to make it safe enough to touch."

She raises her head, but looks in the general direction of no-where, "This one isn't sure what happened after, if it did anything after or what was learned."

Stjepan grunts.

"I can only attest to the one I encountered, but yes, in that case the answer is 'all of the above'," Fallon adds. "-Do- we have a plan on how to engage it? Or are we just going to prod at it an hope for the best?"

Stjepan grunts. "Cesran was trapped in a magicite crystal. I was strapped to a table, about to be turned into some kind of Kulthian monstrosity." He turns, and gestures. "Serene was there." He pauses. "It was unpleasant, in ways that were somewhat unique to Merkabah -- it was a bad combination -- but I think the shards themselves seem to be getting stronger. Merkabah was worse than Dragonier, and that was bad compared to some of the others, though I don't think any of them are... normal in any sense of the word."

Serene's small scowl shows what she thought of that particular situation, the one Stjepan references. "Merkabah," she says, her tone the kind that might be followed by spitting. Which she does not.

"Well the educated guesses of the educated are a little better than the guesses of the rest of us." Cryo says, looking over at Griva, then rolling her shoulders and looking back at Fallon. "I mean, that was my plan, kinda. Show up, have a look, hope something occurs to me."

She sets her peach down on her napkin, wiping her hands as she listens to Stjepan. "They do show up in the weird things."

Turning to Fallon once more, the whitescale continues, "like, yours. There was something about a pact? And looking at it was bad? Maybe we deal with it like a Medusa and a Siren, strap someone to a cart and let it roll closer while everyone faces away holding ropes ready to pull it back. Your friend who was going to it, do you have any idea if the miners agreed to the pact then were killed because they weren't worthy, or refused the pact and were killed?"

Fallon nods to Cryo. "That's what it demanded, when it was shouting in my head," the hooded man confirms. "That doesn't seem like the wisest of plans, but I can't think of anything better. Perhaps find someone who can possibly communicate back? I'm not well-versed in telepathy at all." But it might be different with wizards! "I have been unable to touch base with Nica since we parted last, so I'm not sure what she might have learned or saw. She did not get to touch it, so she may have been denied the opportunity to find out personally." Not that he was particularly apologetic for depriving her of that opportunity.

"Every encounter with these shards is a deadly trial. That you have been this successful to date I attribute more to luck than anything else, particularly judging from my own participation," Serene says, finally ending her self-imposed isolation to join the small group in discussion. "I accept that there is little choice now but to pursue these shards, to keep them from worse hands. But I do not see this ending well."

Griva is listening, of coiurse, and she's nodding.

"There are ... options to neutralize it, but it has to be neutralized. Right now, the area is secure but we're hoping to get enough experienced individuals out there to keep people safe." She gives Fallon a curious look. "Mmmn..."

Then Skribbles is noted. Skribbles and her drink. She peers at her.

Cryosanthia nods, "Hopefully it didn't mark her in some way, give her bad dreams so she sleep-walked out to it. I'd suggest a message cantrip but the last time I tried that I got an Ice Demon. Maybe someone will be along who can do telepathy."

She tilts her head just a little, "What... was the exact wording, in your head?"

The whitescale nods along with the Arch-Paladin's observations, "It's not the first thing I want to be doing. No."

Fallon hums thoughtfully again, at Griva's answer, but nods. "Without a doubt. We just need to find out -how- to neutralize it." He peers back at Cryo and grunts. "I'm not sure if I can recall the -exact- wording, but it wasn't verbose. I think it was just 'renew the pact'. It was a demand, not a request. While we escaped, there were others in our party who said it was attempting to beckon them, but I did not come under such mental assault. It may have yelled at them some more."

Cryo runs her hands on her horns, out past the back of her head to their very tips. It stretches her neck and points her nose skywards. She exhales, releases, looks down, looks over at Griva. "Do you have any idea what this Pact is? Any Pacts associated with Animus? Is it about the Seal that keeps the gods from acting directly? Was... Animus trying to do something when he died?"

Another strong exhale, "These are all... things I have absolutely no idea about." Take the peach. Finish the peach. Bite that peach really hard.

Ravenstongue is very intimidated by the high level magic being talked about. She has nothing to say.

Stjepan glances at Serene. "Maybe not, but that rock has been pushed over the cliff." There's a pause, and he turns to Ravenstongue. "Did you hear much about this in Rune while you were there?"

Aya considers the rapid collection of shards and mention of luck. "I am curious: if so many of these are already collected and stored, what is to keep those worse hands from coming here to retrieve them? From what was said, those collecting them may have done much of the work for others to reap the rewards."

Ravenstongue has kept quiet the whole time, unsure of what to say in a sea of people who seem to know far more about things, and the world at large, than she does. She looks up at Stjepan. "No, can't say I really did... Then again, umm... I don't remember a lot of things," she says, averting her gaze a bit, her voice rather quiet. Pothy preens at her black hair, which makes her smile a little bit.

Serene gives a short nod at Aya's point, then looks at Stjepan. "Indeed it has. What I fear is now that it is rolling, we will be powerless to prevent it from flattening the house." Her eyes shift to Cryosanthia and Griva. There is speak of neutralizing these shards... if they truly are remnants of a dead god, do you believe this will even be possible? And if it turns out to be possible... do you not think there will be certain higher powers who will most certainly take umbrage with mere mortals neutralizing the power of a god?" Long distance to Aya: Cryosanthia is mildly frustrated at Imane. There's the log. There was the opening. When she walked in, confused, I gave a little summary. Is she not reading anything at all?

A sympathetic look towards Aya is given by Griva. A nod.

"We have deeep concerns about that as well. Their security is paramount, and while there is nowhere that is not vulnerable, we've been working to limit their exposure. Let us say that they are under the most ... careful of guard and security measures. I can not say *much* more than that."

She turns towards Serene aftter that, then says, "Of course there might be. We might get stopped cold by them. AS we've said: all of this may wind up impossible! Yet, the shards call to us to try."

Stjepan glances at Raven for a moment, and gives a brief nod and an almost apologetic smile, then folds his arms and looks at Serene. "It's gods. If you're right, it's too late to worry, then."

Cryo blinks at Serene, "If... we're able to do that, neutralize their power, wouldn't it be because they broke some of their own rules and put it where we could get at it? Wouldn't it mean, maybe they don't deserve it?"

She waves her hand in a small circle, "My Goddess is Ceinara. If her power was doubled, what would happen, we get a few more theaters? A lot more art? It might be safer to pick a God we like and chuck an Animus Shard at them, hope they get more powerful, instead of try to restore Animus, but wouldn't that also be the folly you're suggesting we're doing? As mortals? Acting as kingmakers? Can anyone really advise us, even Serriel? She was mortal and now part of the pantheon, what would she say?"

"There's no choice but to deal with them, and then I'm not sure the shards will even allow us a choice." The whitescale stares.

Aya acknowledges all with a dip of her chin. "Nowhere is truly safe. What these shards may or may not be capable of is unknown. What might be done with them is unknown. So, then, the only goal is to find them first to best prevent others from doing so. I don't suppose that there is any way to harness the shards' own power in their defense, or to locate the others? There are already rumors of some who may be using that power for their own ends." A gesture to the whitescale. "Assuming the shards allow us."

"I just want it gone," Fallon says. "Or at the very least, I want this pact nonsense resolved so it stops killing passerby. I have no intention on meddling with it myself, if I can help it."

"...doubling her power? Do you think the Gods have limits as it is beyond that which they agree to?" Griva muses of Cryo, "'Doubling' seems an incorrect notion to me." Griva shrugs her shoulders.

"Perhaps they are only concrete in that sense in their death? Who can say? It's not as if a god has ever died in our history, and Serriel is the firt one to've risen up we're aware of in countless aeons. Of course, that assumes Serriel wasn't there all along -- we are but one corner of the world and Animus is everywhere. Who's to say that across the seas they have not gathered Shards there and are attempting to restore him? We only presume our centrality." The Khzad's hand goes bto the back of herh ead in thought.

Stjepan gives a grunt, and folds his arms. "Or, it's figured wrong and a shard of Animus would pervert Ceinara into something new. It's also a possibility that Taara's quest to take on this power is also misguided and would lead to something else as well. It may very well be unknowable, though. The shards contain a lot of unpredictability, though."

Aya vanishes while everyone is distracted.

Serene's eyes widen, then her brow creases. "I am not one of.... these," she states, gesturing towards a group of the Animus hold outs. She does not look at Griva. "Attempting to ressurect Animus would be at best the same risk as attempting to cancel the shards' power altogether. Deserve has nothing to do with how the gods perceive us. Mortal kind would very likely be punished for its hubris in even making the attempt. The most palatable idea I have heard to date would be attempting to diffuse their power into the sea of mana." Then she does look at Griva. "If there are others attempting to bring Animus back... this is madness."

"I'm not surprised by your conservatism," says Griva to Serene, sympathetically. "But we don't go into this carelessly or recklessly. We have no intention of just 'trying to bring Animus back'. It's a goal, a journey, and a destination, but it isn't one we'll necessarily reach. Restoring the God of Magic as a means to restore balance and tranquility to the Sea of Mana. Simply 'dissolving' them into the Source may not even be advisble, for how does one dissolve a shard of the infinite into a sea of eternity? Even doing so might have catastrophic repercussions for the local ley lines. You could well overwhelm them. The Gods, it must be remembered, are not of one mind ... not even themselves. They are *all* that they are, at all times, depending on which 'part' of a God you're talking to -- and here we have a God *in pieces* itself." She looks thoughtful. "Mmn..."

Cryosanthia, who believes her goddess epitomizes the eternal audience, that watches and enjoys but leaves no comment card, is unshakeable in her faith that Ceinara will do nothing. She observes, with popcorn, so there is always an audience of at least one, like a peaceful version of Kor there to witness. Or perhaps her Korrite friends have rubbed off on the Sith'makar. In any case, the fickle green dragon is a neutral goddess that seems very happy with her limitations, chosen or not. Cryo hopes she's entertained and tries not to expect anything.

Best way to avoid being disappointed, really.

Still, she is having too many collisions, between the things she knows, the things she guesses, and the things she can't say. The pressure gets a bit too much and she snaps, "That's why you invite the Know-it-Alls and not me so you can argue this out. I stab things, sing and dance, and deliver messages. I would love to put the brakes on this but everything I suggest is wrong. Everyone chasing them made sure everyone else is chasing them and now we can't stop chasing them because they're chasing them around the world."

Clearing her throat delicately, Griva says to Cryosanthia. "The certainties that know-it-all indulge are of ... great danger to us. It is in uncertainty and the unknown that one finds wisdom. WE simply must embrace that as opposed to the poison that is doubtlessness." She looks sympathetically towards her. "Are you quite all right?"

Cryosanthia clearly has to think some of that through a few times, and stares blankly while she does so. Then an answer is needed.

"No, this one is not." Simple enough. That came easy. They whys behind it, not, although a large part of it is rooted in the secrets she's keeping. She likes to talk and keeps running into walls, explaining why would give away too much. "I thought adventuring would be swashbuckling, banter, and pirates. Instead it's things that don't talk and don't listen. It's too much like dealing with Her. I want to find my daughter's parents, not deal with arguing whether we're worthy to patch up a god."

"This one apologizes. This one should go." The whitescale collects things off various plates, "This one needs to bring my daughter some treats so she's ok that I left her tonight."

The whitescale collects some snack and leaves.

The socialization goes on without her.

=Dramatis Personae

Molly
A dark half-sil is Molly; a young example of her species, bearing herself with a quiet strength and reservation. She's just under average height for her race, with skin of an ashen grey complexion and white hair. She bears herself with a queit, determined cheerfulness.

Her face is soft featured and youthfully rounded. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of round-rimmed spectacles with wide, crimson lenses. Her lips are dark grey; and on the the right side of her face are several Mul'niessa runes, arranged in a vertical line above and below her eye. She has long, white hair bound up in a bun, held in place by a single silver rod. Her ears are pierced, with delicate, weighted silver chains dangling from studs. Around her neck, a heavy leeather cord holds a holy symbol of equally heavy steel; the planet of Navos.

Hanging about her shoulders is a leatehr overcoat, long enough to reach her ankles; black in color and of a worn, old quality, with loops for epaulets like it once belonged to someone of a military profession. Underneath the overcoat a shiny, slightly dented breastplate protects her body; a bandoleer rests diagonally overtop, from shoulder to hip, with a collection of wooden stakes displayed openly in front of her bosom. Around her waist she wears a loose belt, adorned with several leather pouches, a book bound in chains, and a closed wooden reliquary; her legs are clad in a dark brown leggings. The leggings are tucked into thigh-height boots of black leather matching her overcoat, both with a mis-match of armored plates adorning the front. Strapped to her back is a polearm, with a long oaken haft and an almost equally long blade, notched from use but sharpened to a shine.

Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith'makar
Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.

Her clothing is various ensembles. At times she wears a layered robe, a mithril swashbuckling outfit, kilted leather, a loincloth, or nothing. The colours inevitably mirror her own. Brilliant white with shimmering blue highlights, piping and whorls. Snowflakes and dragon-eyes are a common motif.

Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She grew into herself under the Queen of Endless Winter, and struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.

Fallon
Fallon's initial appearance may lend too much to the imagination, and his general aura can be likened to a mildly irritated cat who prefers to be left alone. His features are often obscured by the shadow of the heavy hood attached to the cloak slung over his shoulders, but his garments and leather armor clearly mark him as a traveller, and a well-equipped one at that. The faint scent of cedar and tea lingers over him, making his presence not -altogether- unpleasant. When he speaks, his voice is lighter and more crisp than one may expect.

Ravenstongue
The half-sil Ravenstongue stands at 5 feet even, with a slender frame and pale skin. Her ebon hair has been smoothly braided into one large braid that goes down to her waist. Her striking violet eyes peer at her surroundings behind charming glasses, although whether she actually needs them is a question for the ages. Her clothes are neat and tidy, always appropriate for the weather, although she typically prefers to wear clothes in the preferred copper and blue of Navos the Raven. She smiles sweetly at most who pass by her, and even moreso for the white raven familiar she usually has on her shoulder.

The white raven on her shoulder has startling blue eyes, and likes to preen the half-sil lady's hair at random, much to her amusement.