A couple hours before now...
Bront said:
[sblock=Layferi conversation]Mel smiles at Layferi, "I.. I am glad to see you too. But please, I must speak with you alone, it is urgent that I not be seen here for long."
Assuming he follows her to a place to speak...
"Layferi, I am sorry to surprise you like this, but I have much I need to talk to you about, and I am afraid of who may find out. But before I can speak with you, I need you to swear that you will not repeat most of this to anyone. I believe I can trust you, but if you find yourself unable to do so, I shall have to turn and walk away, and I fear I will never be able to see you again," Mel says, looking deep into his eyes, fighting back a tear. She seems nervous, which she is.[/sblock] Rayni, lurking close by, can pick up
Once Mel returns to the dance, she will mingle with anyone she can, looking to pick up whatever courtly gossip she can.
Mel: [sblock]"
Melphina... of course! I promised you I always would keep your secrets, and the years haven't changed that. I know how to keep secrets, my family would have disowned me decades ago if I couldn't, and I won't do anything to make you walk out of my life," Layferi says, brushing a gentle hand along Mel's cheek and ear.[/sblock] ~~~~~
Now...
Tondrek and the old elf man talk nearly non-stop for the next couple of hours, while Hxaptos keeps a close eye out for any more unusual eyes... or other ocular appendages. Mel and Rayni pick up a little gossip, mostly relating to the fact that several people haven't decided to show their faces on the basis of this or that scandal. "Scandal," in this instance, means being caught in some compromising situation, being seen with an unsavory character, or perhaps in bed with another's spouse. One man, at least, had been humiliated when his apparent pair of matched gray griffons turned out to be covered with illusion, covering a rather unbecoming shade of muddy yellow-brown. The illusions had been broken when his maroon and blue skycoach was making a landing at the Sharn Opera House, and the man wouldn't be able to show his face in public until he had gotten himself a pair of something really spectacular to draw his coach, or until a year had gone by at least. A litany of other woes is discusses, mostly relating to minor feuds between nobles families and rich merchants, with a few being between the two Houses of Shadow. Of course, the ones being discussed at this party are the ones that can be talked about in public. Anything lethal or truly dangerous wouldn't be talked about here...
~~~
Someone said:
"Sure" says Harolk while inspecting the strange weapons displayed. Then turns suddendly "But just a spar would be boring. In a party like this, we should make things interesting. Why not a small bet? If I win you find out for me where poor old Silas could be"
Lorien strokes his chin a moment on that. When Harolk had been asking around the party as to where Silas could be, he had gotten a lot of blank looks. Granted his cousin was a rather colorless character, as exciting as a rock and as interesting as a fence post, but he had been invited to more than one of these things, surely
someone knew
something about him. He had even bothered himself to ask a few men wearing badges of the Pure Guild, Silas' guild, and had gotten nothing.
"
Seems to be fine to me. Though if I win, then you shall owe me... well, I'll tell you when I win. Nothing more than a secret of some small import to myself," he replies with a small nod, sealing their gentlemens' agreement.
The party sails on, the people drifting to rooms near one end to see several new spells demonstrated. While House Thuranni's specialty is spells that are as subtle as breath, such things are both uninteresting to view and often not suitable for the uninitiated. But there are a few battle spells that had been developed, mostly in response to threats encountered in Xen'drik. Most were demonstrated with stuffed wood and cloth dummies to illustrate their effectiveness. One, called the
bolt of conjuring, hit a foe with a bolt of magical force of no small deadliness, simultaneously summoning a creature, in this case a golden hawk.
"
While the creature summoned is only from the first tier, such creatures can be very useful in capacities other than combat. Distraction, or perhaps snatching something out of your enemy's hand," the wizard explained, gesturing floridly. Another spell is aptly called
cross of lightning, with four bolts leaping out from four different directions from the spellcaster, admirably sweeping an entire room of enemies. "
Developed by myself when I discovered myself in a tomb in Xen'drik, filled with hostile drow from all corners, and myself with no way of hitting in all ways at once. Had I not had faithful allies, this might have never seen Khorvaire," the presenter pointed out. The last spell,
dragonskin, "
...comes to us from the barbarian tribes of Argonnessen. The material component is rare, the scale of an actual dragon! Yet it can protect oneself from the breath of that dragon, and gives one's skin the hardness of a true draconian. This was developed from the dragon shamans of the Bluesteel tribe..." and he goes on to detail the history of the spell, apparently taught to them by a dragon benefactor generations ago, and brought to Khorvaire by a Thunder Guide in good standing with the tribe.
The magical weapons are no less spectacular. One weapon, with odd sharp instruments engraved on the blade, was apparently magically enhanced to seek out the weak points in constructs' bodies. The enchantment was developed, according to the presenter, near the end of the Last War and never saw use with the armies. "
While there are no longer armies of warforged to use these weapons against, there are still evil arcanists that use constructs to do their dirty work, and it behooves us to be prepared to meet any eventuality." What's not said is fairly clear however; these weapons were designed to kill warforged, and there are many people who feel that all the warforged should have been destroyed at the war's end. And while it's true that there
are, somewhere, rogue constructs or warforged, or constructs with evil masters, the development of such weapon is... troubling. Bane-weapons meant to target humanoids are banned within civilized society, but something like this wouldn't be... at least not yet.
Another weapon shown is the red metal, ruby-encrusted sword carried by the chief sword-dancer, Lorien d'Thuranni. It is called a
flameheart weapon, and when Lorien utters something under his breath, his blade begins to glow red, then orange, then yellow, then white-hot. The heat is obvious even from fifty paces away. "
In the depths of Sharn, deep in the Cogs, the finest foundries and smithies use the rivers of lava to make weapons of uncommon quality. However, the lava is sometimes a portal or Fernia, the Sea of Fire, and creatures sometimes slip through. While creatures of fire are uniquely vulnerable to cold or water, keeping such things near a portal is difficult. Even a spell or weapon of water can find itself dampened near such a place. But fire... ah spells of fire are enhanced near there. But fire creatures are immune to fire, so how is one to fight fire with fire? This enchanted blade is indeed hot, hot enough to even harm a creature born of flames. This is fire so hot it will slice through metal like a hot knife through butter, so hot it will cut through fire resistance, so hot it will burn a creature made of flames! A demonstration, if you please Lorien," the presenter says. Four servants scurry over with a pair of Y-shaped stands, a large and shallow trough made of metal, and a bar of a dark purple-black metal that they place on the stands, the trough under it.
"
The metal bar, ladies and gentlemen, is pure adamatine, the hardest metal in the world, indeed, in the entire cosmos! This has been certified to be adamaine of the purest kind by the Pure Guild," and here he gives a short bow to a cluster of clerkly-looking fellows who nod back, "
And I will now give you a demonstration of the metal's amazing qualities." In turn the bar is loaded with an amazing amount of weight, subject to strong magical forces of fire, cold, acid, and lightning, and even hit with several weapons, from a blacksmith's hammer to magically
keen weapons. Harolk can even test the bar with Orange Crush if he wants, when an open call is made for others to try the metal's strength. His weapon can put a small nick in the bar, which is perhaps the most abuse it has taken the whole night. The presenter seems impressed, as do several others. "
The man has a strong arm and a powerful weapon, but even he can do no more than put a chip in it! I say to you that a flameheart weapon can put this bar in twain in a single strike! I shall even have a protective spell of immunity to fire placed on the bar! Lord Purret," he says, gesturing for an elf in Thuranni colors to cast.
"
Those of you who are magicians amongst us, is the casting true?" he asks, and receives several nods and murmurs in return of affirmation. "
Lorien, if you please. Note the sweat on his face, ladies and gentlemen! Holding a flameheart weapon is not without danger, and Lorien is wearing a magical ring that protects him from heat! Even through its protection, he can feel it. Now, watch!" the presenter says, waving at the bar. Stepping forward, the ruby blade glowing white-hot in his gloved hands, Lorien raises the sword above his head, and brings it down with stately grandeur. Instead of making a wild, showy, overhand chop, he places the blade an inch or two above the adamantine bar and slowly moves it downward, never pausing or slowing, until, with a shockingly loud clatter, the two halves of the adamantine bar drop into the trough below, their ends melted and dripping. With another word the weapon goes back to its usual non-glowing red, and Lorien sheaths it to applause and gasps of surprise, while the presenter raves on and on how the magic of the blade did that, rather than the strength of a sword-arm.
A little later, once a few more demonstrations are completed, Lorien begins to limber up for his duel with Harolk, smirking a bit more with each passing moment. The participants are placed within a magical dueling circle painted upon the ground, meant to protect the spectators from accidents, and meant to disqualify a duelist if he steps outside the boundaries by announcing a loud chime.
“
Come and gather around, ladies and gentlemen. Lorien d’Thuranni and Harolk Karrnathen shall perform a duel for our pleasure, to test magic blades and hard-won skill against one another, for honor and for the right to brag insufferably for the rest of the year,” the presenter says, the last to a few chuckles. The crowd gathers around as the two finish their stretches and any other preparations they need to make. “
The rules are simple, as is fitting. The duel is to three bloods, whoever draws blood three times will be declared the victor. We have our healer available for after, of course. No one may cast spells or use other non-tangible powers, though the use of magical weapons or other items is permitted, provided they are not wands or scrolls or the like. Once the magical circle is empowered, no one may enter without, or leave from within until the duel is concluded or one of the participants calls to forfeit. And so… bow and begin!”
Lorien and Harolk pace to the middle of the circle as is it empowered and bow to one another. As Harolk gathers himself to attack, Lorien takes a pace back and mutters something, and his blade begins to glow white-hot. “
Hello. My name is Lorien d’Thuranni. You killed my bother. Prepare to die!” And with that he lunges for Harolk’s heart!
