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Message: <blockquote data-quote="PhoenixAsh" data-source="post: 2815361" data-attributes="member: 18230">Update #33: A Punch Bowl and a Dark DreamRuel folds a leg over one knee casually as Kashandi storms into the dining hall.  All eyes turn to the two entertainers, which the bard seems oblivious too.  Ruel notes this and smiles, speaking loudly for the benefit of the crowd, “Yes dear?  Did I forget to take out the garbage again?” He is rewarded by a few snickers and smirks, especially among the male passengers. Kashandi fumes and then splutters, “Gar… Dear…  You!  You wrote that note!  Talk about garbage!”  She quotes several lines out of the poem Ruel wrote for her.  One of the ladies gasps, several of the men cough and Ruel can see Ermineth covering her mouth to cover her reaction, though he can also tell her eyes are filled with amusement.  Niall Goldsmith rises suddenly from his seat, “Utterly improper!”  He glares at the pair and leaves the dining hall swiftly. “That is going to be trouble,” Ruel thinks.  Alexandre nods seriously from his stacks of dishes, “Poetry, pure poetry.” Kashandi whirls, shooting daggers with her eyes at the deckhand, who answers with a wry grin and a cheery salute with a pair of fingers.  Ruel clears his throat, “I have no formal training as a poet, but I did the best I could.  I was inspired by a play I saw, Bergio of Cyre, where a handsome man took advice from a deformed man with the soul of a poet.”  Ruel rakes his fingers through his dark hair, “Sadly, I forgot that I am the handsome man, not the poet.”  The passengers struggle not to laugh, which draws Kashandi’s baleful gaze right back to the wizard, “YOU!” She gestures sharply and something unseen lifts a punch bowl from a nearby table.  Too late Ruel recognizes the command for an Unseen Servant.  The bowl hovers over Ruel’s head, turns and douses him in pink punch.  Jasper peeks from behind the velvet curtain and draws a hand over his mouth in dismay, retreating from the hall abruptly.  The room erupts in laughter and even applause. Kashandi looks at Ruel.  The wizard has the look of a drowned rat, his long dark hair clinging to his cheeks.  There is a lemon slice lodged between his tapered ear and head.  Her face breaks into a smile, then a grin, and finally she dissolves in helpless laughter. Ruel watches her with a placid expression.  From beside him, Ermineth gets up and gently helps Kashandi into her chair.  Unobtrusively she retrieves her satchel and turns to leave, grinning at the entertainers.  Kashandi takes several moments to compose herself, then with a hiccup extends a hand to Ruel, “Truce?” Ruel cants his head a moment, considering.  He murmurs a clipped phrase and gestures down in a spiraling circle and a gray mist envelops him, spiraling serpent-like down from shoulders to the floor and spreading out along where the punch pools on the carpet.  The Prestidigitation leaves the half-elf and the floor clean.  Flicking the lemon slice from his ear, he takes her hand and shakes it with a smile, “Truce.  Just so long as you understand this does not mean I will go any easier on you in our performances.” “Oh do not worry, I intend to trounce your paltry stage abilities at the earliest opportunity,” she smirks and then taps her chin thoughtfully.  “I need to speak with Jasper, I don’t know what he was thinking.” *** “She didn’t!  She dumped punch all over you!  How awful, why would she do that?” the woman gasps. “Clearly she was jealous, poor girl.” Ruel sighs, “I fear our bard is a touch… unbalanced at times.  A lack of discipline.” “That surprises me,” the woman comments after a moment. “It does?” Ruel blinks. “Your employer, Ravien, he seems like an intelligent man.  I would be surprised if he put up with fits of… unbalanced behavior and a lack of discipline aboard his ship, from any of his crew” she reasons. Ruel clears his throat, “Actually, she did end up getting us both in trouble with Ravien.” “Ahh.  And what did he do?” she asks as the sky-coach touches down in the Upper Meniths. “Oh it was not so bad, he scolded us.  Though actually, he had us repeat the performance the next day.  It turns out the passengers thought it was a staged event, and those that had left early wanted to see what they missed!” Ruel laughs as he exits and helps the woman from the coach. The woman laughs as well, “Thank you.  But then you should have told him how it happened.  I am sure he would have seen your side.” Ruel smiles mischievously, keeping her hand as the walk into the vibrant and crowded tower streets, “I was tempted, but I had a different sort of comeuppance for Kashandi in mind.” The woman looks askance at the wizard, “What did you do?” “Let us just say that when it came time for our second performance, her laughter at my discomfiture at the hands of her punch bowl was… lacking from its former hysteria.  I corrected that with an application of my other new spell, which I now call Kashandi’s Hideous Laughter.” “Ruel!  You’re terrible!” the woman rolls her eyes.  “Small wonder she did what she did!” Ruel laughs, “It is hard to explain exactly, we are just… competing against one another.  In a way… it is like she is a sister, a crazy, imbalanced sister.”  Ruel’s _expression darkens suddenly and he mumbles, “Though at least she is not trying to kill me.” “What was that?” Sasha asks, leaning closer.  “Nothing,” Ruel smiles again as they pass deeper into the crowd.  Swarms of humanoids of every size, color and description revel around them, passing into chic restaurants and clubs to dine, dance and drink.  Music of many styles spills out from every window and street performers vie for attention with dazzling displays of acrobatics, pyrotechnics and magic. It is some time before they are able to speak again without shouting, but as they pass into a quieter part of the district, the woman is first to speak, “What did you think of Sharn, when you first saw it flying in on your airship?” “Actually, I did not have much time to mark the view.  There is another reason our layover here is so long…” *** Ruel approaches Loki, the powerful half-giant is hauling tables to the deck, setting up a picnic lunch for the passengers.  The Liralen has been traveling south and the milder weather, along with the Lyrandar’s protective wards have made an outdoor luncheon an appealing prospect for the passengers. “Aloysius said I could help by repairing a broken table leg?” the wizard queries.  Loki nods and points to a table lying on its side by the cabins, one of its legs splintered badly.  “Cheap wood,” Loki comments. Ruel nods with a smirk, “What did you think of what the two Emerald Claw prisoners had to say?” Loki snorts, “Not any of our business, I’ll be happy to keep away from the Mournlands for a good long time.  Sounds like Elaydren will have her hands full with that Garrow, I’d rather not have a vampire looking for the same gear I am. Ruel bends by the table and invokes briefly, his Mending cantrip restoring the table leg instantly.  “I agree.  Did you see how that soldier tried to kill Mallora the second she started spilling the beans on Garrow?  I do not understand that level of fan-“ The conversation is broken off as the Liralen itself shudders, its elemental ring flaring to full life and surging forward at maximum speed.  Ruel is pitched against the table, which collapses on him.  Loki staggers, but keeps his feet.  A few precarious seconds later, the airship’s ring flares down to embers, petering along at a gentle coast.  Loki moves over to help Ruel up, “You alright?” “Yes, yes I am,” Ruel grimaces as he looks down at the table, the newly mended leg is now snapped in two places.  “We better see what is going on.” Crew and passengers are scramble to find out what is going on, and the two Jorascos onboard are kept busy tending scrapes, bruises and bumps, while Dox finds himself with the unenviable task of placating Niall Goldsmith over a chip in one of his wands.  Ruel and Kashandi start up an impromptu performance to help calm the nerves of the growing crowd on deck. Captain D’Meryl strides out grimly onto the flight deck, “Ladies and gentleman!”  All performing and talking stops as every eye turns to the captain, “We are experiencing a minor difficulty with the elemental ring.  For your safety, all passengers will be disembarking by pinnance in Wroat.” “Wroat!?  I booked this ship for Sharn!  I’m a busy man!  Who will recompense my time and money!” Niall challenges, waving his damaged wand in the air. “House Lyrandar will accommodate your transportation to Sharn and of course any damages will be paid for in full.” D’Meryl replies, struggling not to glare at the belligerent Goldsmith. “Ladies and gentleman, worry not!” Sarenti d’Orien skips upon a large crate to speak to the crowd.  “House Orien will be happy to ferry you in comfort and with the greatest possible speed to Sharn aboard a Lightning Rail!” Niall snorts, “At least someone aboard this ship is competent, thank you dear lady.  Last time I do business with Lyrandars!”  He turns on his heel and storms back below deck. D’Meryl does glare at Sarenti, and nearly grinding his teeth manages, “Yes, House Lyrandar will work with House Orien to see you safely to your destination.  Thank you, Sarenti.”  The woman gives D’Meryl a curtsy and a wink before hoping off her crate to issue placations and promises amidst the passengers. *** “Your ship was disabled?  Goodness, what happened?” “I am not exactly certain, some trouble containing the elemental in the ring.  I am certain the Lyrandars will have it fixed up in no time,” Ruel explains. The woman nods, “That must have been very hard for them, I do not know much about Dragonmarked Houses, but everyone knows those two are always trying to one-up each other.  Did everyone make it to ground safely?  I take it you brought the Liralen herself in okay?” “Oh yes, the passengers were fine and so were we.  We scratched a little paint berthing her, but the ship has some emergency air sails, and Loki and Elisa have backs strong enough for any wild wind.  Alexandre too knows a lot about sails and rigging, it was-“ Ruel is interrupted as a grotesquely-masked figure bursts out of an alleyway, screaming at the pair.  The mask is the deformed and exaggerated guise of a vampire, with exaggerated fangs, ash skin and malevolent eyes.  A shifter boy laughs and pulls up the mask, seeing that he has frightened the male half-elf stiff as a board, but he runs off quickly as the female gives him an angry look. “Foolish boy, where are his parents?” the woman shakes her head.  She looks to Ruel, the wizard is deathly pale and his eyes are as wide as saucers.  She lays her hand on his shoulder, “Ruel?  Are you alright?” *** Wind.  The touch of grass.  Darkness. Ruel sits up slowly.  All about him is shadow.  The grass is not green, but thousands of tiny strands of gray shadow-stuff, licking at his fingers and legs.  A rolling field of shadow.  Ruel squints, but the small strech of field is bordered in perfect darkness, neither the sky nor the horizon is more than inky darkness. The hard clack of bone on bone draws his attention.  Three figures are wrestling in the field, bull-men, with large horns and bestial features.  Their eyes are bright green and all three are striking at each other, hewing and grasping at something below them in the grass. Ruel watches as gradually, viciously, one of the bull-men drives off his two competitors.  Reaching down it plucks the object from the grass, holding forth the diamond-shaped schema, the very same the Irregulars recovered from Whitehearth, reverently.  The bull-man sits, turning the schema slowly in his fingers, studying it lovingly.  But behind the bull-man, Ruel can see the shadows distorting. Quick as a serpent a figure of shadow is upon the bull-man.  From within a great dark cloak a horrid, pale wrinkled face is revealed with glaring, menacing red eyes.  Its mouth gapes impossibly large, and its teeth are like daggers.  It sinks them into the bull-man’s neck, who bellows.  The schema is thrown in the air to land by Ruel’s side. The red eyes focus on Ruel. He grabs the schema and runs, finding his feet and tearing into the shadows.  He is blind, the shadows close in around him, he cannot see.  The only light comes from the red eyes behind him, growing larger, closer. The chase seems to stretch an eternity. Lights form ahead of him, emerald eyes.  One pair, two, five.  Helplessness is replaced by hope, he runs towards them. “Don’t be a fool, those eyes are many and sharp, they will see you!” Ruel feels the voice in his mind, and a sudden churn of heat in his stomach.  Grasping his stomach with a gasp, the heat disappears and a bundle of cloth fills his arms. “Cover yourself!” Ruel shivers, suddenly feeling naked before all the bright eyes.  He hurls the cloak around his shoulders, and it billows like fog around him. The omnipresent darkness breaks and a massive five-headed hydra stands before him.  Its heads dart and twist, sniffing at the air, but its eyes do not see him. Then all its heads turn his direction!  Ruel scrambles out of the way, but he can see they are focused on the red eyes behind him.  The dark shape leaps on the hydra, the hydra sinks its teeth into it and they wrestle and struggle in the shadowy plain.  Ruel hears a creak from above and looks up.  A massive puppeteer’s controller is splintering above him.  Ruel can see its strings extending to the hydra and the vampire, their savage battle revealed to be nothing more than bobs on the string.  But the beams above snap, and rend, coming crashing down.  Ruel turns to run, but it may already be too late… *** Ruel feels the Dragonmark on his stomach throb warmly as he recalls his dream, the same dream that has haunted his sleep every night since encountering Garrow.   He does not hear the child’s laughter at his expense, but something darker and deeper.  He has the sudden sense that the shadows in the alley are about to leap at him and he flinches back. “Ruel!” the woman grips his shoulder tight, the wizard is moving precariously close to the edge of the tower.  She turns him to face her, “What are you doing?” “Visions,” he whispers.  His eyes focus on the woman and the spell of his dream is broken.  “Have you ever had… visions?” “Visions,” she whispers back, her brow furrowing.  “You are frightening me Ruel, visions… they are dangerous.” “Yes, I know,” he answers distantly.  The wizard sets his gaze on Sasha’s eyes, “How do you just… know?  How do you follow your God if he does not reveal himself to you?”  Ruel’s tone is harsher than he intends. “But he does, Ruel.  Constantly.  You have witnessed this yourself,” she answers. “Yes… yes I know.  I apologize.  What I meant was… how do you follow in his path?  How do you know what you do is right in his eyes?  How do you know that he truly favors you and what you do? Sasha Larkana, cleric of Dol Arrah, swallows.  She has heard those questions and others like them asked by many, even by herself at times.  Coming from the obviously shaken wizard, with all that has happened in the past two days, they touch on the very core of her fears and doubts.  Still her voice is firm, yet kind when she answers him, “Faith, Ruel.  Dol Arrah does not have to reveal himself openly when he does so through the actions of those around us.  Even in you and your companions.” “I do not understand,” the wizard replies carefully. “I know.  I will try to explain.” ******The 'bull-men' in Ruel's Dream represent the three factions of House Cannith, more typically represented by a Gorgon.The Five-Headed Hydra is part of the crest of House Phiarlan.</blockquote>

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