Faces on a Fresco

Lupecyll-Atlon home, midday

The summer has not quite let up yet, and more than one person in Alexandria has complained about feeling like they're baking in a pie. It's definitely not one of the cooler days, that's for sure!

The two-story house in the University district is much like its neighbors in some respects -- the windows are open to let in any breezes, and the garden is blooming ferociously as if to make up for lost time. A small gnomish built box fan sits in one window, turning steadily to keep a stream of cool wind blowing through the house.

In the kitchen, Telamon is whistling as he deftly assembles a green salad seasoned with hard-boiled eggs, along with strips of grilled chicken laid into sandywiches. Peering outside, he shakes his head. "I know I'm going to regret this, but I almost wish it was autumn just so the heat would calm down."

He turns back to look into the living area. "Simony, lunch is almost ready -- are you at a good stopping point?"

Practically invisible from below, but for the pale arms rhythmically scraping, wetting, scraping and wetting, Simony lays flat upon her back atop a scaffold erected in Telamon's living room. The fresco above is nearly complete, the scene above starting with a broad summer day above a forested landscape on one end, and stretching into the deep expanse of night, familiar constellations dotting a midnight blue sky.

"Oh lunch!", is her cheerful reply, "I'm in as good as spot as possible, only a few more minor features to go."

The sound of her scampering from the scaffold, and quickly descending the ladder, shows a certain eagerness to escape the heat above. "Yes, I am happy Autumn will be here soon, and the relief from the heat." Her summer dress, protected from paint by her painter's smock, is a pumpkin orange in colour, serendipitously appropriate for the wishes of early Autumn.

Simony rushes into the kitchen then, glancing about hungrily.

A sharp tapping on the front door of the home may or may not be audible from where Telamon and Simony stand. It is neither a booming thing, nor a weak thing, but a polite call.

Telamon sets down the platters of food, as an unseen servant helps put down a jug of chilled tea. His grin at Simony's eagerness is unfeigned. "I -really- should introduce you to Liandra Branfeux," he quips. "She's a great chef -- very insistent and demanding in her work, but that's true of anyone who strives for mastery. She's Lana's aunt, and runs the Rosalian Rose."

At the knock, Tel's eyebrows come together. "This better not be that last guy again, insisting that the Kingdom of Daeus is at hand..." He shakes his head, gesturing for Simony to take a seat as he walks to the door and opens it to see who's outside.

The Goblin happily pours herself, and then Telamon, some chilled tea while he speaks of a great chef. Grinning, Simony nods. "I find your food to be delicious, Telamon, no doubt due to the effort you put into it. I take it the Rosalian Rose is a popular restaurant?"

She snorts... "Or asking about your extended warranty on your carriage?"

As it happens, it is no one from the Kingdom of Daeus at all, nor is this one likely to be mistaken for one such. Seldan stands at the door, clad in hunting gear, sleeves bound with celestial-decorated bracers. Reunion is at his hip, but a elkhorn, steel, and wooden bow is also over his back with a half-empty quiver of arrows, and his usual knapsack over his back. An unusual look for him.

As is courteous, he stands a few feet back from the door when it opens, and bows politely. "Lord Lupecyll-Atlon, Her light on your path. I would ask your forgiveness for the unannounced call, but I have laid in some supplies for our upcoming trip, and it was my hope to be able to leave them with you."

Telamon smiles in welcome at Seldan. "Sir Seldan! No forgiveness is necessary, my friend. And if you need to store some things here, please do so. Lana won't mind and neither will I." He beckons. "Please, come inside. Temperance Simony and I were about to break for lunch -- the heat out there is appalling."

Backing up and stepping aside, so that Seldan came come in, he continues, "I wish the Chalice's library had been more fruitful, but looking back it was probably a longshot for an artifact with as vague a descriptor as 'The Eye'." Tel snorts. Once the Silverguard is inside, he shuts the door again.

The Goblin peeks around a corner to peer at Seldan and Telamon, her ears perked to pick up the conversation.

"Would you like some chilled tea, Sir Seldan?", she calls out, "It is a good way to cool down!"

Simony waits briefly for a reply before disappearing, her footfalls retreating to the kitchen.

Seldan steps inside readily enough, setting weapons and boots at the door, and carrying the knapsack inside. "Chilled tea would be most welcome, Temperance, and you have my thanks for that. The mountains are less uncomfortable, but the venture into the city demands such." Blue eyes rest briefly on Simony until she runs off, and he then turns to Telamon. "I was able to learn more in Selentia, and thus do I lay in supplies for the journey. The artifact was dropped off at their doorstep by a mysterious benefactor, and is but an ivory sphere with an iris carved into the center. It is believed to draw energy from another plane, as the iris turns back when activated. The involvement of an artifact tied to another plane led me to desire that we carry our own supplies."

Telamon scowls. "Another plane. Of course. Still..." His expression clears again, as he leads Seldan over to the kitchen table once the man's divested himself of his weapons and boots. "I can think of a number of things you could -do- with such an artifact, but I can also think of a number of reasons why one -shouldn't- toy with such a thing."

A third plate and talltankard have made their way to the table, as Tel gestures for everyone to sit down. Chilled tea is poured for Seldan, and food is being served (for Simony's sake if nothing else). "With respect, the idea of a 'mysterious benefactor' leaving an artifact like that on their doorstep makes me deeply uneasy."

A pulled chair would be waiting for Seldan, while the Goblin herself having helped herself to a mug of tea, and poured a second already.

"It sounds like a dangerous journey, Sir Seldan. I take it the artifact is very powerful? What does it do, if I may be so nosy as to ask? An idle curiosity." Simony looks to Telamon, "Oh, you are familiar with it? Not something you'd expect to find just... sitting around on someone's doorstep. Is it being destroyed or hidden away?"

"Well it should, Lord Lupecyll-Atlon," Seldan counters, having followed Telamon in and settled down at the kitchen table, his knapsack by his feet, where the rest is left at the door. "For that struck me ill as well. Such items of power are not carelessly laid. Were this intentionally left on the doorstep of a magician's guild, it is not in my mind that the intent in doing so was benign. Nay, were it benign, it would have been handed over in person."

He picks up the talltankard, wrapping both hands around it. "There is much we do not yet know of it, Temperance, but he is quite right to be wary, and for the reasons of which he spoke. Sadly do too many arcanists fall prey to obsession, be it knowledge, power, coin, or glory. The artifact in question seems to have fallen into the hands of one of my ancestors, and it has fallen to me to determine what became of him, and of the manor he sealed off that he may make a fuller study of it." A long, slow pull of the chilled tea follows the statement.

The half-elven sorcerer rubs his chin. "My thought precisely. I've had discussions with friends and acquaintances, about power. People do not normally set it aside without good reason -- and a device like this... no. If I determined it was too dangerous to use I would dispose of it, but not like a sack of kittens on a doorstep."

Tel smiles at Simony. "It's a mystery. I will be happy to try and document as much as I can for you though. But the pieces we have assembled paint a very worrisome picture indeed." He picks up his tankard, sipping from it, before taking a bite of his sandywich.

Simony sips daintily at her tea, nodding her head as Seldan speaks on the artifact in question. "That is very curious, an interesting mystery. I would guess that your ancestor is well known enough to be recorded in historical texts, perhaps? They may be recorded somewhere in the Navosian monastery's library, which I am certain you'd be welcome to visit and peruse, being a fellow of the cloth, as it were. I would also be happy to assist, and go looking for you, if you desired the help."

Her grin to Telamon is broad, "I would love that! Knowledge is a great gift, in my eyes. May I know what pieces you have so far? I don't mean to pry, I am very interested in this mystery you have on your hands."

Seldan sets down his tankard and picks up his sandwich, giving himself a moment while he chews to mull over his answer to Simony. "I fear that he is not, Temperance, for he shut himself away in the family manor and sent his daughter away to live with an uncle, then bound a guardian to the key to the manor that none might learn his fate. My lord was able to learn more."

He draws in a deep breath. "You may speak freely on this subject, but I ask that the discussion not leave these walls, for it is in my mind that great danger lies in that manor. I would not have the curious, or the greedy, attempt the place."

Telamon nods in agreement with Seldan. "Sir Seldan speaks truly. It is my hope that whatever transpired with his ancestor, and the artifact, has burned itself out, like a fire left untended and unfueled for too long." He makes a face. "But I don't think we'll be that lucky."

Tel leans back a little in his chair. "I did a study of said key using legend lore, and whatever happened to Sir Seldan's ancestor... he was horrified by what had transpired. To meddle with powerful magic is a dangerous thing, and I believe it was his thought to protect his family from what had happened in the family mansion." His expression grows quizzical. "Of course, we've no idea what we may find. So we are not going there alone or without supplies."

The Goblin has remembered, to her delight, that the sandwiches are a thing. Though she starts off with the salad, and judging from the way they're quickly inhaled, Simony really, really likes eggs. Some of the assorted green roughage is also eaten, but the pretense at eating the whole salad is abandoned, the sandwich quickly attacked. It is quickly inhaled, like the eggs.

"My lips are sealed outside of this room. I know well the dangers of a person's lust for power, it was one of my first Guild jobs where we set out to stop someone from obtaining a book full of madness. His stupidity saw us teleported to another planetary body. Were it not for the benevolence of the creature there, and that creature's interest in not having such strange power be studied, I'd be stuck there still with the formerly mad man."

She idly nibbles on one of the leftover pieces of salad for a moment. "It's a shame that he was able to hide himself away from history, that makes it harder to find him. His intent, obviously, and successful if you yourself are alive to speak on it, Sir Seldan. I wish you both good luck in this journey ahead of you. If you have any need of research skills, or the transcribing of books, I offer my skills freely, you need only ask. Telamon is familiar with me, he can point you in my direction. I am also hoping to learn what you have learned, once the dust is settled, and the artifact dealt with properly."

Seldan is not lazy with the sandywich either, consuming it readily enough, but he, at least, consumes the greens as well, interspersing with sips of chilled tea. "I shall bear that in mind, Temperance," he offers politely between bites. "It is as he says," he inclines his head to Telamon. "I think it unlikely that the answer to the riddle lies in a book. But one option remains to us. We must venture to the manor, and be prepared for anything. I would also prepare a means of returning to Ea, my lord, for I cannot say what powers this ancestor may possess, what the artifact may do, or what else he has wrought. I think it more likely still that the unquiet dead are at work, and the more I learn, the more I believe this to be so."

Telamon's eyes twinkle at Simony, and he nods. "Once we have proper results, I will be happy to pass along our report. I know you have discretion, Simony, so as Sir Seldan says, we'll keep this quiet till our work is done."

At Seldan's concerns, Tel's eyebrows rise. "Well, Sir Seldan, you may be in luck. I do possess two scrolls of plane shift, and I am capable of cutting my own path through the realms to the other planes. I believe Mourner Verna is capable of such feats as well, so we should be able to return if we find ourselves on the quasi-elemental plane of aged cheese." His voice is light, but his expression grows more serious. "If your ancestor was serious enough about sealing himself in, we could find ourselves encountering a 'guardian dead' entity -- an undead formed from a desire to protect or guard some location or object. Even if he means us no ill, he would still oppose any action we take to recover this artifact and unravel the riddle."

"The unquiet dead?", Simony wonders, her voice low and a shiver shaking her small frame. "I hope they do not prove too troublesome, and that you're able to lay them back to rest. Such a shame they are undead."

The Goblin nods. "I won't speak a word of it to others. It's not the sort of thing that would come up in a random conversation, either. Erm, I hope you have a spot outside the walls waiting to be used for the return trip, Telamon. Some place safe, should you be injured."

She blinks, her expression quizzical. "Erm... is there really a quasi-elemental plane of cheese?" The Gobbo's stomach gurgles: enquiring hunger wants to know.

"Indeed. It is well to be prepared for anything." Seldan's quiet reserve solidifies still further at the talk of reports, but he says nothing, merely taking a bite of his egg. When the topic turns to the question of a plane of cheese, he hesitates. "That have I not encountered, in my studies or in my travels. Why do you ask?"

Telamon just rolls his eyes. "It was a joke, Simony. Transplanar travel can involve going places that might not be hostile, but they can be inimical, to natives of Ea. Or at least, terribly inconvenient." He shakes his head. "Eat. There'll be time enough to face our past and future."

He cranes his head to peer out into the living room, admiring the nearly-completed fresco. "You've done an amazing job out there, Simony. I'll be sure to pass your name along if anyone inquires." He rubs a fingertip along the new dining table, admiring the woodgrain. "Sir Seldan, you said you were laying in supplies. What other items would you need to collect or purchase?"

Her voice is low as she replies to Seldan, "It just.. sounds like a delicious place to visit."

Nodding to Telamon, Simony manages a small smile. "You had my hopes up. A plane of cheese might be quiet and boring, but you'd not starve there." Her cheeks redden at the compliment, the red contrasting sharply with her pale complexion. "Thank you, Telamon. I've enjoyed the process of painting it, and I hope it is a conversation piece for ages to come. I appreciate you allowing me to grace your home with it."

"The supplies of a mundane nature are nearly complete. It remains to me to procure those of a magical nature," Seldan answers. "For that, I would leave to each of us, to bring such as we might feel appropriate. Naught have I heard from the Mourner, since first I spoke to her." He draws in, and releases, a slow breath. "I wonder if I have done wrong, in seeking her aid. I know that she wished to remain with her wife, and yet did she accept willingly."

Telamon laughs softly at Simony. "But just cheese? Where's the fun in that? Now, if it was the plane of huge elven style feasts, that I could understand." He reaches over and gives Simony's hand a squeeze, before releasing it. "I look forward to telling friends and guests about the fresco."

He hmms at Seldan. "That's a little nonspecific. I have some odds and ends -- practical things -- but if you have something in mind, please don't hesitate to ask." At Seldan's worry about approaching Verna, Tel shakes his head. "Verna... would feel intensely obligated to help deal with an issue of the restless dead, being a devotee of the Harpist. Indeed, I suspect Auranar would encourage her to go forth on this endeavour. And it's not like Aura will be alone -- Lana will be here as well. We are family by bond, not blood, but family nonetheless. And families help each other through the hard times."

The Goblin's ears droop slightly, listening to Seldan's mention of preparations. "Better to have offered a chance to join, than to have just left without such an invitation, I think, Sir Seldan."

She grins at Telamon, and snorts. "I would take a plane of huge elven style feasts over a plane of aged cheese, but both sound much more inviting than, say, the elemental plane of fire. Also... we're still agreed upon having a small fey man for a certain pixie to lust over?"

"I see. I knew that she would wish to do so, and yet-" Still, Seldan hesitates, and sets down fork and knife, reaching for his talltankard. "If you think that all will be well, then shall I place my trust in that. Perhaps I ought seek another, and yet know I not whom that might be."

He turns, then, to Simony, with a small smile. "As this is a personal affair, I am obligated to offer to none, but the Mourner is long a friend, and thus do I value her counsel."

"Take counsel from your friends, and your own experiences, Sir Seldan," Telamon replies with a calm smile. "But as you say, this -is- a personal matter. And I know you have friends, good and honest ones. What of the Sunguard called Zeke? I know you and he are bound together -- might as well be brothers."

His eyes move to Simony, and he chuckles. "-Tasteful-, Simony. I do not wish to scandalize guests. Ultimately, I suspect Lily and Mirabilis will be happy with anything well done they can moon over." A pause. "Though I really should make some inquiries. Find those two some nice domovoi to get them settled down or something..."

Simony nods. "It is good and right that you trust her and seek her counsel. Trust is so easy to lose and hard to earn, and yet we must lean on others to get along in this life. I hope that the journey is the least dangerous it can be, and that you all return safely and successfully."

The Goblin grins toothily at Telamon. "Ahem. It will merely hint at the suggestion of a partially revealed chest for the two to moon over. I caution that any similarity between your likeness and the depiction of the fey man will merely be a coincidence."

Seldan inclines his head politely at the advice, but replies, "Zeke travels with us, fear not. For naught would I leave him behind. I thought to have but the four of us." He takes a pull of his talltankard, then, but turns his gaze to Simony, blue eyes measuring her. What it is he's thinking, he does not say, but he does not offer an answer, merely leaning back as the talk turns to pixies and racy pictures in the fresco.

"Were you to desire to distract such beings," he offers slowly, "perhaps you would do well to offer then more than one item of interest."

Telamon gives Seldan a long look, before draining his tankard and refilling it. He ponders, then his eyes glint with mischievious intent. "You're quite right of course, Sir Seldan. Variety is the spice of life. So Simony, let's add at least... hmm. Four total, so three more. I'm sure you can find two other faces in your sketches, but I doubt Sir Seldan would object in the slightest to having his countenance become part of the fresco. Would you, Sir Seldan?"

The half-sil laughs softly, and considers the numbers. "Yes... you, myself, Zeke, and Verna. A small group -- we don't need an army, nor do we want one. Between the four of us we should have sufficient skill and ability to handle this."

Simony returns Seldan's gaze, hers quizzical and full of curiosity. At Seldan's suggestion, her grin returns. With Telamon's reply, she begins to giggle. "I would be pleased to add Sir Seldan's likeness, should he not object. I assume his blue eyes will charm Lily thoroughly. As to the two others you suggest... I would say Cor'lana, to give Lily pause, to rein her in. Pothy, of course, is already part of the fresco. I hope he will be pleased."

"Do you have suggestions for the fourth?"

The flush that overtakes Seldan's spring-fair features at the very idea is answer enough, at first, and his gaze immediately goes down to his plate. "Me?" he blurts out before he can stop himself. "I-" He stops, staring at his plate uncertainly. "I - if it be to give pause to any who may threaten this place, I shall permit it," he manages haltingly, still thoroughly flushed.

Telamon steeples his fingers, looking thoughtful. The mention of 'giving pause' makes him nod. "A second female face. Hmmm. You might approach Auranar, if you have the chance. Or one of my many cousins in Ylvaliel. I doubt they'd object." He chuckles wickedly. "Let's not put an image of Grandfather up there though. That might kick off some obscure fey problem and I really do not need any more of that at the moment."

He manages to keep a straight face at Seldan's flustered expression, and deftly moves on. "Sir Seldan, I assume you have it in mind when we will travel to the old manor?"

"Thank you, Sir Seldan. It is good to see you blush, also. It means you are humble, and not prideful." Simony smiles brightly. "It will be an honour painting your likeness." Her glance goes to Telamon. "Auranar? She is definitely pretty. I know not of your cousins, and Auranar is much closer and approachable. Do you think she will be pleased to be part of the fresco?"

"Perhaps a week hence," Seldan answers automatically, still out of sorts, and merely shaking his head at Simony's praise. He focuses, instead, on his comments to Telamon. "I await confirmation of the use of the teleportation circle in the Magician's Guild in Bryn Myridorn, and we shall depart when that is procured. There is paperwork involved."

Telamon shrugs lightly at Simony. "I do not know. You'd have to ask her -- but I will supply an introduction. If she says no, we are no worse off than when we started." He smiles. "But she does bake excellent sweetrolls. You may find the best way is to compliment her on them if you get the chance to try them."

At Seldan's response, Tel makes a face. "Gods, I hate paperwork. And I suppose they might get grumpy if we did this under our own power, too." He pauses, then tilts his head. "Sir Seldan, how much do you trust this guild? How much do they know? I'd hate to have a situation where we set things right only for them to try to mug us as we walk out of the manor."

The Goblin giggles lightly at Seldan's headshake, quieting herself by taking a lengthy sip of her chilled tea. She nods to Telamon then. "Her baked goods are delicious, I was lucky enough to be offered some a while back, after a brief misunderstanding. And if she says no, then I can try one of your cousins. Erm. You mentioned a uh Grandfather? What would be the problem putting him in the painting?"

Seldan's eyes remain down and on the table in front of him, studying every whorl of the polished wood. "Only that I was inquiring about ancestors. I spoke of paying a family visit, in the request that I sent." The smallest of smiles creeps across his features, and at length, he finally looks up. "I have no better waypoints I fear."

Telamon nods firmly. "Best to leave some things unspoken for the moment. You and I both know there's always someone who's got more ambition than brains." He grins. "If we run into bureaucratic inquiries while we're there, I'll see what I can do to smooth the way." He rests his arms on the table. "We work with what we have."

At Simony's question, his expression actually twitches a bit, and then smooths out. "That's right. You've not met Lana's Grandfather. Well..." His eyes glint again. "I'll talk to Lana, see if we can arrange an introduction, and broach the subject with him."

"And by keeping it to yourselves, no one can beg, beat or steal the knowledge from me.", Simony offers up. "Not that it would happen that way, but I am sure stranger things have happened."

"I have only heard the name spoken in reverence. Uhm. Does he live far away? Some ancient forest, a capital of the Elves? That might be an interesting voyage."

"Even so," Seldan agrees equably, his composure beginning to return. "It is in my mind that there shall not be need, do we not find ourselves free of tongue while there." He picks up the talltankard, then, draining it, and setting it back into the table. "The fresco is then nearly complete?"

Telamon gestures to the living room. "Just about. Simony is quite the worker. And of course I'm happy to keep her in tea and meals while she's plugging away at it. Obviously, there will be some other benefits -- I've offered to sponsor her as an associate with the Chalice, so she can access the library there -- but honestly I'm very pleased with her work."

Simony's inquiry makes Telamon grin. "Yes, he does live far away. However, you know distance means very little to me. We'll work something out. But mind your manners if you meet him."

She perks up at Seldan's question regarding the fresco, and the Goblin nods her head enthusiastically. "Yes, just a few more star constellations to put in, you'll be able to know where you are if you can recognize the constellations. As well, a few figures for the fey forest. The majority of the work is done."

Simony's cheeks flush lightly. "I am enthusiastic about my work, and Lord Telamon's chilled tea is pretty divine." She pauses to take a lengthy sip of hers before continuing. "And the chance to access their library... I almost jokingly asked if he had bodies he needed moving or hiding." The Gobbo snorts and chuckles. Nodding. "I will be polite and say as little as possible."

The remark about bodies needing moved or hidden earns Simony a long, stern look from the Silver Guard whose meaning is clear - _there had better not be._ "I see," is all Seldan says after a moment. "A fey forest, then." His entire demeanor has gone impassive. "A piece fitting for a home such as this, and no doubt work worthy of its residents.

Not knowing about Grandfather, he turns his head towards Telamon and falls silent, allowing the topic to turn away from his affairs.

Telamon chuckles as well, face relaxing. "The old arvek joke, Sir Seldan. Friends help you move, real friends help you move the bodies." He rocks his hand back and forth. "In any case, no, I have no need for such. Might need help moving furniture after the fresco's done, though."

His eyes glint. "I think I might spend some time curating and consolidating the Chalice library at some point, though. I found a copy of 'Most Secret Mysteries' in there." He rolls his eyes. "If you're not aware, the book crops up now and then -- I think it's some elaborate Tarienite joke. It purports to be a tome of occult significance, but nothing in it actually works." Tel looks at the ceiling. "Except that if you take the first word of each chapter, it's the first two stanzas of a common hymn to the Coyote."

The Goblin eyes Seldan in return. The look's meaning is clear to her, and she cants her head ever so slightly. "It was a jest.", she says softly, gesturing to Telamon. "He understood the reference. The joke being that the offer to browse the Chalice's library is enough to elevate the one to the status of 'real friend', and help move bodies." Simony gestures with her hands. "The only bodies I've moved are those of the recently deceased at the monastery, and only after the proper rites have been observed. And occasionally in the medic tents or triage areas during emergencies, or in Guild jobs."

Looking to Telamon, she snorts and laughs. "You should keep it, Telamon. It sounds very much like a thing Tarien himself would be pleased with. Kooky rituals that make people look silly, and yet do nothing. If that doesn't say Tarien's tweaking your nose, nothing does."

A sharp exhalation of breath that could be a snort escapes Seldan at the description of the tome in question. "Indeed does it not surprise me to learn that such a tome exists, nor that it keeps reappearing. Such a prank is just the sort of thing." Ice-blue eyes look heavenward, as if for patience. As to bodies - sometimes it must be done. I would not see it done frivolously."

He unpacks his knapsack, then, to reveal quite the collection of mundane rations and supplies, enough to see three through a hard and long journey of some weeks - jerky, bread, cheese, spices, dried beans, tea, and more. "Zeke must see his rations prepared before him, or he will not accept them. This shall I do with him, ere we depart, and set his aside." His tone turns businesslike, and topics turn to less flighty matters. He allows the topic to pass unremarked in the process, and thus a hot afternoon is passed in a cooler way. Autumn will be here soon enough, and wishing it away will change nothing.