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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1209320" data-attributes="member: 227">Meanwhile, down in the cave...Wolf seemed to be concentrating on acquiring the rocky minerals rather than the debate over the objects in the alcove, apparently unwilling to give his opinion on the matter, as Kale picked the items from the alcove up, the candle still burning unwaveringly and shedding no hot wax over his hand as he lifted it to add to the fitful illumination given by the flaming serpent. The serpent itself was busy answering both Burl's and Kale's requests. "Bloodkin, the power holding me here rapidly wanes and I will return to the Flame soon, though I can be called again when the sun's orbit has circled once more." To Kale's question it answered, "I speak to this man because the talisman he holds, the rod, is attuned to ones of his blood lineage, and to them it unlocks its secrets." And with that the serpent suddenly went out, reducing down to a crumbling pile of ash. Burl stopped dead in his tracks. Turning so quickly that he almost dropped the load of rocks he was carrying, Burl looked at the flame serpent, his mouth agape. However, before he could say anything, it crumbled into fine ash.It was a shocking discovery, yet there was little anyone could do about it now. "It's not about you or anything you've done," Kale spoke quietly to the perplexed mage. "It's about family. There's something about your forebears. You didn't seen to think your father knew, or your mentor knew. But the assasins in Iril knew, the Toranites knew, and I suspect many others."As far as Kale could figure, this was somehow the source of the entire realms' interest in the young mage. Walking in the back of the party, Kale felt as awkward as he looked, his arms a jumble of ore, balancing a candle in hand, with a lumpy cloak trailing behind. Odd as he looked, he could still move with a jarring smoothness- that he was off-balance was simply a trick of the eye. If only his mind could assume such posture: in reflection, the young mercenary realized he hadn't been very centered ever since he'd met his new companions. There was much yet to learn. Wolf's common-sense veto to any trickery merely reinforced the point. "Strange thing, but sometimes who we are, has nothing to do with who we are, if that makes any sense." The paralysis must still be effecting his brain. "People might kill you for being tied to Gilamesh, or catch you to tie you even closer. It's got nothing to do with you- it's family." Kale Amegrion frowned at that last, strange emotions somehow tied to the whole mess.Wolf, an entire hefty stalagmite rested over one shoulder, struggled his way back up the sloping floor of the cave. "We might as well all go back out and up. It's the only way out, after all, and our best chance of making it out of this alive is by not angering the beholderkin. If it suspects we're trying to pull a fast one on it because we don't all go back up..." He left it hanging. "Besides, It'll take us all to get any decent amount of this ore up there. Come on everyone, grab at least a piece." * * *Melisande and Wyshira found their attempts to make a distance between themselves and the solar beholder difficult; edging away was excruciatingly slow when the damn thing could see in all directions at once, even with most of its attention focused at the figure moving up the ravine. And it was a figure. Clad in gold and white silks which the faint breeze tugged at incessently, it held in one hand what looked like some sort of incredibly ornate shortspear, using it as an aid in walking up the rocky gully. But the most striking thing about it was the same as the most immediately noticed feature about Wyshira and Melisande, which was that it was blue. At first it crossed their minds it might be a Cerulean One, but as it came closer it became apparent that the skin of this person was truly blue, not the illusion created by the intricate tattoos of one of the Naskharite sect. Cutting an impressive figure, somehow emanating authority, the blue-skinned man was completely bald, but for some odd reason a single small horn seemed to be protruding from his forehead, and while he had no eyebrows either it appeared that there were instead small patches of blue-green scale upon his brow in place of any hair there. As he came closer, both Melisande and Wyshria could feel the divine power that seemed to flow out of him. Then the rest of the band reappeared from the caves. Spattered with ichor and blood, and damp with the caves moisture, Wolf dumped down the minerals he was carrying to stare at the oncoming figure. Ebri, as she exited from the gloom of the cave mouth, could now feel the divine presence as well, her skin prickling. Even the others could feel something on the air, a sense of awe. Some thirty feet off, the figure stopped, but before he could speak the beholder rumbled out a demand. "Who are you that walks... so confidently into my territory? What do you want here? I can feel the... energy rolling off you..." The figure smiled pleasantly. "I am Klavius, divine emissary of my Lord Naskha, and my business is not with you, Mychalarenus of the sandstone, but with these others. They have put a soul to rest which has long been tormented, and deserve my thanks, and so I am here. Now," he spoke directly to the band, "please, follow me, let us talk a while as you continue on your way, and..." He was cut off by the beholder again, its voice like an avalanche of boulders. "They do not go anywhere until they have brought me the minerals they owe me for disturbing my meditations, emissary." Wolf aimed a kick at the stalagmite he had dropped, indicating to the others to pile their loads of mineral in the same place. "All here, as much as we could carry in one trip, though you could have warned us there were bloody ghouls down there." The emissary smiled at the beholder again as if he were chatting on a pleasant stroll about some matter of little import. "There you go, so they can leave now. After all, I'm sure you weren't thinking of trying to detain them any longer, were you?"~The beholder snarled irritably. "Of course not, emissary. Go now then, be off..." and its massive, stony bulk floated through the air towards the minerals as the divine emissary signalled the others to follow him down the ravine. * * *"You killed a ghast in that cave," the emissary said nonchalantly as they made their way down the gully towards the wooded valley floor. "Once there was a brave Wave Hawk knight errant who travelled many lands, as the Wave Hawks alone of the Orders are wont to do,, and accomplished many deeds in the name of Naskha and of good. His name was Lazarus Thrazan, and he met his end at the hands of the Dread March when the Great Necromancer and his minions came over the Sarokeans in their noisome horde." "He didn't waste his life. He slew one of the vampire lieutenants of the Great Necromancer, and in punishment for this the Dark One denied him the honour of death, instead turning him into one of the things he had fought against, a vile ghast. Worse, the Dark One assimilated him into one of its foulest experiments, the ghul-packs, bands of ghouls linked together by their malign energies. When the war was over and the Dread March scattered, the ghul-pack of Lazarus went into those caves, and laired there." "In moments of clarity he would remember his old life, and keep his gear in good condition in a... shadow of his past. Until now he remained down there in his own personal damnation, lost from the annals. And now you have slain him and granted him final death at last, and what had happened came to light with the return of his soul to its rightful place. And I am here to thank you for freeing the soul of a brave man; and incidentally to extract you from the grip of that beholder should it have considered reneging on its deal..."</blockquote>

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