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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 3695752" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Realms #405c] Repercussions IV[/PLAIN]Later, after reuniting with Shamalin and Ixin Karak and Ayremac moved easily along the darkening paths of the forest settlement. It was either that its inhabitants were fully aware of The Order's presence and Hofralix's invitation to avail themselves of the city's services or they simply did not care. The result was the same; the Mellorn were cool and polite but distant, behaving less like individuals than a hive directed towards some singular purpose. It was only when directly confronted that they seemed to manifest individual personalities, and even then it was clear that they preferred being left to their tasks. It was unsettling and served to pointedly drive home the fact that The Order was an outsider here.The members of the party who remained in town were accomplishing much this day, it seemed. Karak had exchanged many of their excess magical items and a sizable portion of their ready wealth for favors from the craftsmen in town. In addition to securing someone to work on his precious axe, he'd left three suits of armor with the articifers in the smithy for tending - his own, Ayremac's and Shamalin's. Ixin had managed to speak directly to Lord Hofralix himself and extract from him the promise of an enchanted ring from his personal horde. Their next stop was the alchemist's."I really have no need of anything here," Shamalin insisted again, eyeing the shop with discomfort. "Perhaps I can meet up with you later... " Karak harruffed, "Now, now lassie. Do nae be so quick to dismiss the generosities of our host. Are you sure there be nothing you need to aid in the fight against chaos? Why don't ye just come in a bit and have a look around?" He was already forging forward eagerly. Ayremac touched her lightly on the back and leaned in to whisper, "At the very least you could help carry healing potions for Morier." He grinned wide, his teeth blazingly white and his eyes twinkling with mischief. Shamalin hesitated. She knew that such magics existed, of course, but had never actually purchased any herself. How would it be received by her goddess - that the divine connection which Shamalin had worked tirelessly in her heart to reconcile wasn't enough. That now blessings could be bought? She grappled with these ideas as Ayremac held the door for her. "It's ingenuity, Shamalin, resourcefulness - not lack of faith," he said gently, seeming to read her mind. She dropped her eyes and slid past, ashamed that once more the clarity of his faith had underscored her doubt.Once inside, however, her mood shifted almost instantaneously. The room was ornate and beautiful, meticulously organized and dry with a slight pungent odor that, while undeniably strange wasn't entirely unpleasant. The walls were lined with beautifully carved wooden shelves arrayed with hundreds of glass vials of every color, each carefully organized so that as the eye moved about the place, the colors subtly shifted from one hue to the next rather than assaulting the eye with a hectic riot. Each flask was corked and arranged neatly with small placards depicting the resultant magic: Cat's Grace, Fox's Cunning, Owl's Wisdom, Magic Fang. She stared, amazed, as Karak's attempts to get the alchemist's attention by banging on the counter set all the little jars and beakers tinkling. She ran her finger along the edge of one shelf which contained dozens of Resist Disease vials, thinking how paradoxical it was that such remedies existed to be purchased when whole towns were suffering from the blight of Ahpyx. It was an impressive collection of magical potential.  After nearly an hour, they left the store under the cover of full darkness, each clutching their respective purchases wrapped in oilcloth."See, lass," Karak grunted at Shamalin. "That weren't so bad, now was it?" The air was chill enough to turn each word into a puff of steam. The priestess smiled and shook her head."It was actually quite... magical," she admitted as they headed off toward their quarters.Ixin stood along the bluffside wall, leaning against one of the smooth wooden columns supporting the roof and smiling into the wind blowing off Crater Bay. It cooled the heat beneath her skin and drove away the scents of the city. Wood smoke from too many cooking fires competed with the stench of too many unwashed humans jammed into too tight a space in the streets below. But here, in the aptly named Rooftop Inn on the extreme edge of the Old City, the Western Ocean reigned supreme. With her eyes closed the hiss of wind and the roar of surf 500 feet below competed with the cries of gulls hovering above the fishing boats moored at Sordadon out on the bay. Standing thus, she could with little effort imagine herself back on one of the beaches on Blood Tide, far removed from Highgate and all her responsibilities to-She paused, her eyes opening slowly as confusion began to tug at her features. She couldn't remember the name of the wyrm who held her here, running the Dragon's Claw from the shadows. That seemed foolish; she'd been forced to stand in front of him practically every day while he and his half-blood sons, Drakes-Again she paused, but this time her brow knitted not in confusion so much as fear. The names of the three half-dragons weren't there. That part of her memory was blank as if someone had burned it away. She could picture the brothers and their lascivious expressions, smell the musk of oiled scales that choked their subterranean lair, but the names? They were just... gone.She turned to stare at the empty tables of the tavern, panic bubbling up from her stomach. There were food-covered plates set at them, but it was untouched as if the servers had set the bounty in preparation for a feast that had yet to begin. She threaded her way amongst the tables, moving to the opposite rail and looking down the street toward the center of the district.It was deserted. Or rather it was deserted of living things. Wagons and barrels and street-side food stands all choked the narrow lane as usual, but there were no drovers or teamsters or grocers to be seen. Everything stood ready for use, existing in a prolonged moment of expectation that clutched Ixin's heart like a glacier.She stepped back, slamming into a table and upsetting its contents onto the slate floor. Earthenware plates shattered and dvergar ale frothed through the air. The sound of the table hitting the floor was shockingly loud in the empty tavern and the drakeling staggered as she fought to retain her feet, slamming into the seaward rail with almost enough force to send herself somersaulting over the side. Gulping desperately at the air, she clutched a wooden column and looked down at Sordadon. It too seemed lifeless. Ships were moored at the wharves that girded its circumference, but they looked deserted. Crates and barrels sat where they'd been left by whatever hands had touched them last.And she realized that, while she could quite clearly hear the call of seabirds, her keen eyes could see none.Turning back, her heart thudding hotly in her breast, she gasped. The Obsidian Tower, half the length of the valley away, stood out darkly against the mountains behind, sunlight catching gold on the minaret and it seemed to occupy all her vision. The accursed tower, near which none of sorcerous blood could stand without being struck down, grew closer and larger, pulling her into its glittering blackness as it came. She pushed back at its approach drawing away from the Tower and the nameless, mind-rending dread that filled her guts with ice water. She pushed back and over the rail, spinning for a moment in horror before she felt Rhontra's Pull and went plunging down, screaming into fire...</blockquote>

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