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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1314020" data-attributes="member: 227">With the rising dawn, the rays of light that crept across the valley side found a gathering, a handful of figures around the final resting place of Wolf Kieresane. The lifting gloom threw the collected band into contrasts of dark and light, as before them the final rites were said, a prayer to Ishrak to take the man's soul to Her halls and a prayer to Grumand to keep safe the corpse in the womb of the earth. After a night of tears and uncertainty, Wyshira gratefully stepped into the role of ceremonial priestess. She intoned the proper prayers to Ishrak, and with solemn grace assisted the Grumandic priest with the funereal rituals. She hoped that no-one would be paying close enough attention to her to notice the dark smudges of blue that shadowed her eyes. The sleepless night had taken its toll on her appearance, making her seem even more frail and off-color than usual. Burl stood in silence as the sun’s rays rose in the sky. Looks like a beautiful day for Wolf’s funeral thought the necromancer as the last words were said over his friend and protector. When the priest finished, Burl walked over to the grave. Picking up a small handful of soil, he tossed it into the empty hole. “Goodbye friend. You will most definitely be missed, but I for one will never forget you or what you have done for us. Some day we will surely meet again.” Then the grave was filled, the muscled Grumandic monks shovelling the soil back in as the administering priest watched solemnly. As the party moved to gather themselves and their wits, Kale found that the priest had moved quietly to block his passage, something in his hand attracting the mercenary's attention. Something of yellowed parchment or paper. A letter. The strong, wise eyes of the priest settled on Kale's face. "When we were preparing the body for burial, we took from it all that was not to be grave goods, and we have left them by your resting places that you might take them onwadrs with you. But we also found this on him. A letter. Addressed to you, Kale, or if you were not alive then to the others of your travelling companions." Then he handed the letter over, and left without a further word. The letter was crudely sealed with some wax. No symbol, seal-mark or stamp. Other than the directions as to who it was for, it had nothing more marked upon it. Breaking it, he could read the words written within. I am not sure who will be reading this, but if you are then this means I am either dead - or you're a thief who has stolen it off me. If the latter is the case, I'd advise you return it promptly or else start worrying about how good you are at covering your tracks. If the former is the case, then you're Kale or one of the others. In that case, here's a thing: I've been wrestling with a matter for the last few days about what to tell you of the Azure Blades. If I'm dead, though, then I don't have the right to keep it from you any more, because you'll have been touched by the ramifications of it. There is a nobleman in Tarravus by the name of Tobias. He will tell you more of the matter than I wish to disclose in a letter that might fall into the wrong hands. Show him this and he'll do it. It's not like I hadn't already discussed this with him. But suffice to say, you'll get some answers. And if I'm dead, I leave you with two more things. The first is a gift. To get it, you must speak to one termed Bloodclaw in the common tongue (I won't attempt to spell it in the original language). To find him, you must hunt yourself an animal - any wild animal will do - and kill it, and use its blood to draw a circle on the raw soil of the land. Then put the carcass in the circle and throw a handful of wolves teeth upon it. I have such teeth in a bag on my belt. Bloodclaw will tell you the rest. The second is a request. To fulfil it, go to a pool of water - any pool - at midnight of any day. It doesn't matter when. Bloodclaw will have told you what to do then. If you're wondering why you might want to do this - well, I know that at least Kale has noticed that I don't sleep. Do this and you'll be told why. Perhaps this letter will soon be cast aside, and I'll have told my travelling companions the truths of what are detailed here anyway. But if it's being read before then, hopefully this might help to explain a few things. - Wolf * * *As they prepared to move out, the day still early and young, Cord had something to say. "I must leave you to your own path now, my friends. It is not that I would wish to desert you now to the dangers that might lie ahead. Yet everything I have heard here just confirms what I already know, what I already feel. Something is wrong with the earth, and I must go to the Cathedral of Stone where the conclave is to be held. Even though I will be there before that, I need the time. I need that time to find out more of what is going on, and to put myself to the best possible use in aiding my fellows to deal with it." * * *Wyshira had spoken with Cord privately the night before, and he had told her that he was going to the upcoming conclave of Grumand, instead of travelling further with the party. "Let me come with you!" She had practically jumped at the opportunity. "You- you shouldn't travel alone," she had offered as an excuse. But Cord had clucked his tongue and pointed out that this was a monastery of Grumand; he didn't think that he'd have much trouble finding numerous others to accompany him to the conclave if need be. "Why are you so anxious to avoid going on with them, Wyshira?" he'd asked gently. "You know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." "No! I- That's not it at all," she'd stammered in reply. "Of course I want to keep on with them. Why wouldn't I? It's just that..... well, I thought you might want a companion. That's all." She'd said no more about it then, though she'd noted the skeptical look on the old dwarf's face as she bid him good night. She doubted that she'd convinced him that she wanted to go on with the party to the tower. She certainly hadn't convinced herself. * * *Yet they were also to be joined by another. After Kale's words with the Ironjacks the previous day, their arcane leader had decided to release one of the men to accompany the travellers for a while and to aid them with what they might find in the tower. Ansas'Turi, an Ironjack mechanic, and a tall and lithe woman, her dark hair cut short and tied into braids decorated with steel trinkets, clad in tough leathers treated with fire-retardant chemicals, and bedecked with the same array of tools and devices and with the same goggles as the rest of her kin. She was unaugmented, but then most of the Ironjacks were without such prosthetics anyway. She gave the band a wry smile. "I'm to be accompanying you, then, after your friend here's discussion yesterday," she said, gesturing at Kale. "Ansas'Turi, a mechanic and engineer in my homeland and on my home-rig, but here just a refugee. If this place you're going is as you say it is, I look forwards to practicing my machine training again." Burl took a moment to reflect on the new changes with Spike, his familiar. Well, old friend, it is a shame that Cord won’t be making the joourney with us, but I really never took the time to learn more about him. However, this new one intrigues me a bit even though it will probably take a bit before I trust her. She is going to have big shoes to fill. * * *The funeral and burial were over, and Wyshira still didn't know what she was going to do. She wished that Kale wasn't in such a big rush to get moving again. Not that she really wanted to agonize over this decision for another day. It was just that she felt she needed more time to figure things out. Does the crew really need me? she asked herself over and over as she listened to Cord announce his intention to remain behind. Or maybe the question I should be asking is: Could they do better by finding someone else to be their healer? The truth was, she had lost her confidence. She felt paralyzed by the fear that she might let her friends down again. They probably could recruit someone else while they were here at the monastery. There were bound to be clerics of Grumand willing to go along. They'd found the Ironjack mechanic easily enough, so why not a healer? She could tell Kale right now, and he would likely find a replacement before morning. They'd only lose a day on the road to the scholars. How far could a bunch of sages get in a day? One look at Kale impatiently herding the crew toward the stables, however, told her how he'd respond to that question. He was ready to move on NOW; he wouldn't delay an hour. In the end, it was easier to get on her horse when the time came and set out on the journey in her usual place. She had serious doubts about her ability to look out for the party's welfare now, but she couldn't abandon them either. She bid Cord farewell along with the others, and asked the Lady of Storms to watch over him. "I hope our paths cross again sometime," she said with feeling. Then she turned her back on the mountain retreat and rode off with the others towards the alchemist's tower. * * *Cazamir woke early, as did the rest of his band. The sages were gathering their equipment up quickly - the old men were eager to make good time since they could quite possibly reach the tower today, and if they did they wanted a chance to make some preliminary investigations before the darkness fell once more. The quiet Naserian pathfinder, Jarvis, had made sure they were all up before the crack of dawn. * * *Thus it was that despite Kale's best efforts to get out of the compound first that morning, the companions found that the Drakkath wizards were already on the path in the direction of the tower by the time they departed from the hospitality of the monastery.* * *Sebastion rose early, not long after most of the monks, and ventured down to the stables to prepare the horses for the journey. Despite a reasonable night's rest, he had a fearful headache, like a wet leather band slowly tightening around his temples and the base of his skull, where it met his neck. Fearing it was perhaps the tension he'd worried about the night before he tried some simple exercises, drifting through the single-sword forms with his new, black blade, calming mind, body and soul. By the end he felt content, and the ache had receded, though he was a little later than he'd intended in returning to the others at the breakfast table. Surprisingly, the compound was quieter than he'd expected, and it soon became clear why when they found that the wizards had stolen a march on them. "Perhaps it is not so bad a thing as you imagine?" he offered, to Kale's obvious disgust. "Though I wouldn't wish it upon anyone, if there is danger on the route it will befall them first. If there isn't, then at least we have an uneventful trip to look forward to. Besides, we are a smaller group, and there is every possibility we might catch them as we travel." he offered, trying to maintain a little good humour. It was difficult, with the ache and the memory of the past few days, but life had to continue. Setting his horse off at a gentle walk whilst the well-travelled path was available near the monastery, Sebastion took the lead for a while, then gently fell back to be near Melisande. He'd considered speaking with Wyshira about the sword, but he trusted Mel not to laugh at him a little more - only a little. The possibility of speaking with Burl about it never really entered his mind - he wasn't sure about the idea of travelling with a Necromancer, despite the fact that he seemed a decent sort. He wasn't, however, going to discuss magic with him at all. "Morning." he greeted, quietly, as the Aasimar came alongside him. "I was speaking with Ebri last night, and she said that there were spells to see if something was magical? I wondered.... would you be able to tell me if my father's sword is?" Melisande smiled a greeting as Sebastion fell back alongside her mare. Her eyes were a little swollen again from the overflow at Wolf's burial, but there was something else in them as well. Her conversation with Ebri Zol the evening before had galvanized her will, and it showed: there was more poise and less flighty distraction, as if heavier thoughts weighed down her glance. Since setting out she had been determinedly yet vainly racking her brain for the "symbol" Ebri suggested she'd need. Things that are between? Things that are blue? Perhaps it was the influence of Grumand's monastery (as well as her own child's imagining of her origin, when her mother had disappeared into a mountain and came out pregnant), but she kept coming back to the image of an underground river. Sad there wasn't a cool name for that. Then there was the amphibian, like Pierre, a creature between water and earth. The Blue Newt? No-o.... Inspiration was not coming as easily as she might have hoped. * * * * * * *She'd spoken to Ebri earlier on that same subject, as the group broke for the last time from Wolf and prepared to depart. "I did pay attention to my dream last night," Mel whispered to Ebri confidentially, "but I'm not sure what to make of it. "This is it: I was at Lord Ecurius' manor again, and everyone was there--you and all my friends, and some other important people, and Lord Ecurius was giving us all a tea-party. Even the Solar Beholder was there, but he was in the corner talking to the wizards so no one minded. Everyone kept coming up and congratulating me on my new quest, and saying such nice things that I started to get embarrassed. And then I realized I was naked. And then I woke up." She shrugged. "I don't think it was a sign." More likely dinner... Ebri thought, and conveniently, loose gravel on the slope they were traversing caused her to lose her footing momentarily, providing her time to come up with a response. It does not seem profound, I agree, but nonetheless it may be useful to consider it... For instance, you were surrounded by companions and friends. Yet last night you expressed to me your fears that you would be lonely. Those around you whom you trust acknowledged the validity of your new endeavor..." She went on, calmly, focusing Melisande's attention upon the first dream, for she was certain she did not want her ward's mind turned toward the second. Karbal had warned of this, that the agents that opposed them would seek to work upon their target's mind through dreams, and this was a clear instance of it. As far as she knew, it had been the only case, but her reason told her that for Mel to recall the dream, to continue to be chilled by it as she said, could not be productive or safe. And that which you would normally find most threatening - the beholder - was revealed to be not so. Think, too... you were only embarrassed by the excessive praise of the others, not even realizing your nakedness. While odd, I grant you, it seems not without its lessons: it speaks of a new strength and confidence in you. Those things that make us fearful are very often the products of our own minds... As she reached a crest in the pathway, she paused to allow the other woman to breathe; most of the others were still un-used to the thinner air at these altitudes. "As I meditated last night, the image of a luminous sapphire came to me, hidden deep in the fastness of mountain rock, waiting to be discovered, for its light to reach the world... She shrugged, as if to discount the validity of the suggestion. "It may not serve your purpose, but it came to me, for what it is worth... Ebri demured, rather pleased with this particular bit of fiction.After a thoughtful pause she added, "I did have a strange dream once, though. It was a while back, when we were traveling from Corvus city to Tarravus. I remember because when I woke up you were doing a sort of dance even though it was the middle of the night. In it I saw this sort of ring of shadow-men surrounding someone bathed in gray light. And when I looked closer--it was me. Then darkness rushed in and swallowed up everything." She shivered. "Ooh, it still gives me the creeps." Ebri pondered. "As for the nightmares, I hope they do not trouble you further, but if they should, I have always found the best approach is to talk about them right away, instead of brooding on them. My mother always said that evil spirits hated the sound of human speech -- that this was why they come to us in our sleep, when we are silent. Look there-- it is a Tadenvine-- " Not entirely feigning excitement, she pointed out the creeping groundcover trailing its way down the slope ahead of them. "Its roots are extremely strong, and do not rot; they are useful for cordage. The leaves are a poultice against sores of the mouth..."Mel let herself roll along with Ebri Zol's comforting monologue, glad of the woman's understanding and that she hadn't laughed at Melisande's silly dreams (the naked-in-public theme was a recurring one on anxious nights since childhood, and Mel had taken it to signify simply how much everyone was laughing at her expense without showing it). But she could hardly contain herself when Ebri mentioned the sapphire vision, and after that hardly listened to the rest, waiting only for a pause long enough to leap into. "Yes--Tadenacea tenace--but the sapphire! Ebri, it's perfect! You're wonderful!" It seemed to Mel then that it was the perfect symbol for her quest: the gift of Naskha, hidden, full of light, and tinted blue, that she must work to uncover and hold forth. Only later did it occur to her, when she was thinking of her mother, how hard, cold and cristalline--lonely and inorganic--that gem seemed. Not that that made it any less apt a symbol; only a more daunting one. As she rode she stole a glance at Kale, just to see if he was still holding up. A clockwork heart for Kale, and a mineral one for me? Is that what we're striving for--or against?* * * * * *Now Mel was grateful for the distraction from her brain-racking, and also for the opportunity to be of service. "I was speaking with Ebri last night, and she said that there were spells to see if something was magical? I wondered.... would you be able to tell me if my father's sword is?" "Sure! Just hold it out and I'll have a look." Melisande's divination magic brought the world alive with new hues of glowing colours that traced the movements of her companions, after a moment resolving around the enchanted objects they carried now - Ebri's earring bathed in its own silvery-blue aura, a blue-green shimmering from Kale's scabbarded short sword, Burl's wands sheathed in phantasmal glows, and the rest of the arcane bits and pieces they had. And Sebastion's sword, suffused with the glow of inner magic. She could see where the man had just so recently touched it to hand it over to her, the marks of where his hands had laid deliniated by particularly strong energy, welling up from the sword, reacting at his touch.Regretfully, Melisande blinked away the beautiful aftereffects of her spell, waiting until her eyesight returned to normal before she spoke. "It's magic all right," she announced. "Funny you ask. Didn't you know? Or is that what it was about when you asked me if magic sleeps? If the magic in this sword was dormant before, it's definitely kinetic now--and it looks to me like you are what activated it. There are handprints of magic where you touched it." She passed the sword back to him--carefully. "I've never seen anything like this before, though," she mused further. "Usually it takes an arcane word or gesture, or a certain action in certain circumstances, to 'wake up' magic. But the way the sword responds to you it's as if your own hands are what focus the arcane energy. When did it first start? "Oh--are you all right? You look... tense." It was not the first time she found herself wondering this: two days ago Sebastion had gone into some kind of shock after the battle, and now there was a slight paleness, a hollow look to his eye, that belied repressed pain. A second after she said it though, Mel winced under an onslaught of self-consciousness, and pretended to be very busy adjusting the height of her right stirrup. "I mean, we all are, obviously," she muttered dismissively. Sebastion nodded, sagely, after the confirmation trying to school his face to attentiveness as his mind skimmed over the technicalities. 'Dormant' he thought he understood - he'd heard it somewhere once - but 'kinetic' didn't sound like anything he'd come across before. Something of it, however, must have shown in his face, for she leant in slightly peering into his eyes. "Tense? I suppose, a little. I've a headache that feels like there's a cave bear sat on my shoulders trying to squeeze my ears together. I slept well enough, but... I don't know what it is, maybe the air will clear it as we go." Looking ahead, he desperately avoided staring at his hands, wondering what he had that could put magic into a sword - wasn't that the province of... who only knew? * * *Ebri found occasion around midday to smile, introduce herself and give welcome to the newcomer. It seems we have similar preferences in styling our hair--" she jested, "--though I doubt anyone will confuse us..." Privately, she noted how much noise the woman's trinkets made, with even the slightest motion. Her own braids, though she loathed them, were wrapped securely with dark thread. Either she has no need of stealth, or she believes herself the equal of her foes-- "It is a pleasure to meet you on the road, Ansas'Turi," she said warmly. "I am Ebri Zol, a traveller and servant of Immar. As these others will no doubt tell you, I collect tales and lore in my wanderings. I have never encountered one of your folk, I confess. If you do not mind, I would love to hear how it is you perceive the world we walk through. Or any of your favorite tales. Or whatever you would care to impart..."" The jolly, welcoming companion... But it was useful to make a good impression, and if the woman reacted badly, then she would understand her the better. But her humble admission of her refugee status did not indicate she would. Ansas'Turi, the Ironjack woman, glanced over with vague interest as Ebri approached her with her questions and inquisitiveness, the little metal trinkets wound into her hair shiftign with her turning head. "Immar? That's one of the gods here, isn't it? Some of your gods we know of over in Avoria, others we do not. Not that it matters to us. We have only a passing interest in such matters," she answered cooly. "Why is it that you collect tales and lore?"Seeming to happily acquiesce, Ebri picked up her pace, strolling along even more jauntily as she talked. "Oh, any number of reasons... " she began, taking a conversational, non-proselytizing tone. "It is a general duty laid upon us by our order, those who worship Immar-- the god of travel, and, some say, luck and fortune-- to collect information as we go about the world. I keep a "Register of Exceptional Destinations", for example, and generally note things of interest and things that have changed in places I pass through.Our interest extends not only to the places, but also to the people that inhabit them... For the nature of travel is both to appreciate and foster diversity and mixing among those of different faiths, traditions, and lifestyles. In chronicalling and supporting these things, we honor our god. Also, in asking, in seeking out information, we are brought into contact with others, affording us the opportunity to both deepen our own faith and insight, and spreading the worship to others, though we would never bring it where it was unwelcome..." Ebri chattered on, enumerating the supposed benefits of this superstition. "It also preserves knowledge that might otherwise be lost, were no one to collect it and organize it and spread it. For instance, say a flood or a famine wiped out an entire village, or a clan were uprooted and forced to leave their land for a city-- their tales and wisdom, and any healing remedies, for instance, these might be lost entirely... "Such had nearly happened to her own clan, for instance, the priestess reflected, not feeling much one way or the other on this account. "And, also, to provoke interest in travelling, in sightseeing, among those who might not otherwise do so, well... it is good for prosperity in a land. Many a small inn could not survive without travellers on the road. And so, it is another form of service to the world." But, frankly, " she summed up, in a way that she thought might appeal most to the apparently unromantic woman, "--it does keep one awake on a long path. Tales are wonderful for passing the time... and for acquiring food and lodging, when one has no other means..."* * *Cazamir jogged forward, focusing his mind on his surroundings. The run itself was effortless – while in his old monastery, they would run for great lengths of time while concentrating on other disciplines. Cazamir had honed this activity for other uses, constantly sharpening his mind in the search for new talents. It was during such exercise that he had learned how to make the ground quake before him. He hoped it would yield more as his travels continued. He spared a glance back to the group of sages, reassuring himself that they were not under assault or throwing spells at one another. As a whole, they were more animated as they approached their goal. The possibility that this ‘umbral tower’ could be reached by nightfall had spawned an even greater number of arguments. Cazamir wondered if they were trying to get the last bit of rancor out of their hearts before settling down to work. Satisfied with no signs of arcane warfare, Cazamir continued forward. He slowed his approach as he neared the low rise where Jarvis stood in silence. The Naserian watched ahead, scanning for something, but when Cazamir looked all he saw was a barren expanse of land. I now know why you scout forward, away from their constant debates.” Cazamir said, moving up beside Jarvis. “I’m thinking to take up a position far to the rear of the group.” Cazamir grinned at his jest, hoping in vain to earn a smile from the stoic Naserian. “The sages are curious to see what progress we are making. Of course, arguments and debates have sprung up around it. Johan suggested I check with you to placate them.”As Cazamir caught up with him, Jarvis gracefully wheeled round to look upon the approaching monk and, further back, the scholars. The pathfinder gave a faint, wry smile at Cazamir's comments. "Tell them we're making fine progress. We'll be there well before sundown. However, you might want to take note of this..." he said, indicating further back down the path they had taken from the monastery. "The other large band of travellers from the monastery, the ones that arrived yesterday. They're coming the same way as us. From what I overheard one of the... blue women saying to a couple of our scholar companions, I thought they might even be going the same way we are. That confirms it." There was the distant but discernible image of the second band following their path.* * *Kale took point. Following along behind the dry footprints of their competition, it was like silent dusty testimony that he was already insufficient for the job. Absent feeling, the mercenary did not feel self-conscious, only darkly fatalistic. How would the team turn this around, successfuly deliver the goods? It simply could not do to return empty handed. Hours passed, Kale could not make account for how his mind had bided the time. But there still remained the same dilemma: how would they deal with the mages riding before them? Pulling back to the group to consult, Kale spoke in measured tones. "Unless we jumped ahead and jammed the door behind us, there's no way we're going to be able to keep that grip of bookkeeps out of our objective. We can forget about making our way easy out of there with anything we find. I think we'll have to make a deal... before we get to the tower." Kale rode on, not liking the prospects of negotiating with a bunch of scholars. "We can sell them on our mechanical expertise," he inclined a repectful eyebrow toward the IronJack, "to keep them safe from protective contrivances, and extra arms for the unexpected. In exchange, we keep the mechanic lore they're not interested in anyway..." and we can learn from them some more about the shadows, besides... Recruiting some extra help was one thing, but taking on an entire alliance was another. The whole crew would have to be together one this one. Watching the road and watching his companions, Kale measured their reactions to their predicament...</blockquote>

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