I owe nothing to your patron. Only to you. Coming with some gifts is always appreciated when you visit someone though. Perhaps you have some valuable information to share or can make some other gifts. Let's not waste any more time though. I'm eager to leave this place, it has bad energy.
Amunet beings to lead the little group out of the mines and the mountain, taking some detours, looking for followers, ultimatively bringing them to the elven camp though.
As she leads her new companions to the ruined temple beside the Mountain of Altars in which the elf's made a semi-temporary camp on the edge of their ancestral hunting-grounds, Amnuet-Ra is surprised by the appearance of another elf in the party, though not by his supernal manifestation from out of the very shadows.
For, indeed, she has witnessed this strange ability performed previously by the pale elf known by her people as Silan Tilak Darkfriend, or simply as the Shadewalker. He had previously ventured among the Serpent Singers perhaps a decade in the past, when Silan had paid a visit to the ruins of Kalidnay. The strange elf, whose armor was made of kreen chitin harvested from a breed not native to the Tabelands was generally enigmatic, but was eventually pressed to reveal a few details of his person to the Dreadseer Anubisemonekeh.
Silan, whom these city-dwellers appeared to know as Slavathras, was a member of a distant elven tribe that lived on the borders of the Deadlands, the great obsidian plane that extended in all directions to the south of the Tabelands. This tribe, which he claimed were known as the Thought Makers, had, like the Serpent Singers, lost their market when its parent city was destroyed by the arcane cataclysm which created the Deadlands.
The visionaries of the Silan's people, presumably a caste of the Thought Makers comparable to the Dreadseer and her kindred among Amunet's own tribe, had foreseen a great darkness would soon consume the Tablelands, as well as the territories beyond. For this reason, Silan undertook a journey throughout the Tablelands, attempting to discern the source of this threat to the peoples of Athas.
Or so he had communicated to the Dreadseer Anubisemonekeh within Amunet's hearing -- in truth, his manner and behavior encouraged little confidence in his truthfulness. At the very least, he must have held back some significant detail about his history and mission.
In any event, following a brief sojourn with his elven brothers and sisters amongst the Serpent Singers, the Shadewalker had disappeared into the ruins of Kalidnay, and never returned. Though it had grieved her none, Amunet had not considered the matter further until now... with his unexpected reappearance among these equally curious city-dwellers.
And now he was their guide, or was he? What had transpired in the moons between his visit and the present moment? So many unanswered questions...
Pak'cha as per usual, does more listening than speaking.
"I rejoice that we have been able to free those of you who now join us. BY free I mean to say I feel no debt of gratitude from any of you are owed to me outside of aligning with us for mutual survival in this harsh place.
I too am ready to move along from this particular space.
One thing disconcerting, if Dregoth was well and truly slain, how have his or her Templars gained power? If Dragoth once more... exists, by what way was the Sorcerer King raised and by whom?
Rhetorical questions for now I suppose".
For the majority of the brief excursion, the House Vordon embassy, along with its freshly-acquired fellow travelers, crosses the sandy wastes before the dead fire mount which houses the diamond mines in quiet.
However, a notable exception arises in a return to Pak'cha's question about Dregoth which, though perhaps originally proposed rhetorically, is met with the halfling druid's pointed consideration,
"I have been pondering your words as we walk, and this matter has also touched my concern."
"It is well known from the accounts of this period, during which my order existed, that the great sorcerer-queen Abalach-Re and her allies amongst the Champions of Rajaat thoroughly extinguished the life of ancient Giustenal. Their armies lay siege to its walls, breached the great city's defenses, and proceeded to butcher every man, woman, child, and beast of its inhabitants, showing no quarter or discernment, mercy or stratagem in their vicious slaughter. After they had dispensed with the last doomed inhabitant of Giustenal, the bodies of their victims collected in great towers of distended sinew, streams of blood, and fields of broken bones, they set fire to the already rubble-strewn city, and it is said the inferno burnt continuously for an entire year afterwards."
"In addition to laying waste the mortal population of the city, the Grand Vizier and her allies salted the earth outside Giustenal. It is a dead city in a dead land astride a dead sea."
"And yet, these creatures, these dray, claim to be the children of the departed sorcerer-king..."
"I wonder if they are somehow responsible for his return to the mortal world."
about the history.
about the dray.
”This does seem to fit the usual pattern of our world.” Malkaer said. ”Powerful fools destroying everything so that they might be lords of nothing. While we can’t rule it out, I think that we can safely assume that these Dray are not here to colonize the land.”
[dice=Knowledge X]1d20+11 about the history.
[dice=Knowledge X]1d20+11 about the dray.
[dice=Knowledge X]1d20+11 about the history.
History on Athas is hard to come by. At least, the reliable written type of history by which generations leave the wealth of wisdom to their heirs. A glaring exception to the rule that, if it happened in the past, it is long forgotten is the name of Lord Dregoth, long dead ruler of Giustenal.
While details of the demise of the mighty defiler are hard to come by, rest assured of two things: first, whatever ancient feud might’ve resulted in the death of one such as Dregoth is, one hopes, long since resolved. Second, whatever forces were conjured to bring about such heresy do not dissipate so quickly as the memories of men.
Most of ancient Giustenal itself is unplumbed ruins long since swallowed by the silt of the sea it borders. What portions remain explorable are to be avoided at any cost. They say someone or something calls to the minds of those explorers that try the Ruins.
[dice=Knowledge X]1d20+11 about the dray.
Fail
”This does seem to fit the usual pattern of our world.” Malkaer said. ”Powerful fools destroying everything so that they might be lords of nothing. While we can’t rule it out, I think that we can safely assume that these Dray are not here to colonize the land.”
The halfling druids nods sagaciously,
"Indeed, I would, too, guess against their constructive purposes in the ruins of Kalidnay should I be forced to make a wager on the matter."
The waxing light of the greater emerald-green Ral and the more-distant golden sphere named Guthay casts an arresting pallor upon the enigmatic proceedings of the some dozen Serpent Singer elves gathered together in a arcane convocation on the precipitous roof-top esplanade of the ancient temple.
In the curious green and yellow illumination of the twin moons, the fey assembly stand in a semi circle surrounding a pyramidal frame, under which a lithe female elf lies outstretched. The frame's summit contains a small pyramid, seemingly made of a dark stone such as malachite, which pulses with a vibrant inner light of an intense magenta hue, fluctuating rhythmically, almost as if it were breathing.
Next to the frame, on a small altar of dark stone, the mantle of which significantly overshadows its base, another, larger pyramid of similar construction likewise pulses with the strange violet light.
The semi-circle chants in a high pitched, strange tongue, and the robed figure at the head of the assembly brandishes two short rods in a dizzying performance of highly variegated oscillations.
Though the elf lying peacefully beneath the frame betrays no alteration in her condition, the ritual appears to draw to some kind of denouement as the House Vordon emissaries and their new companions draw close to the nocturnal convention.
The head figure looks up, unhurried, at Amunet's approach. Her high cheekbones, rigid as a hunter's knife, only accentuate the native imperiousness of the glance cast by the golden pupils which flash from the elf's catlike eyes. The long, luxuriant tresses of her hair descend to her ankles, and are only slightly contained in an ornamental circlet which rises above the elf's brow. From the circlet's center, a small gem of the same violet hue as the two pyramids used in the ritual flashes in the slightly chill night air. From her elaborate mantle, a gauze-like robe of some sinuous black cloth cascades in a myriad of rippling planes to the roof of the temple, and stirs slightly in the soft breeze.
At first, she seems to only smile knowingly at Amunet's return, but her expression betrays a noticeable surprise, and then amusement as Slavathras comes into the view of her convocation.
"Well, well, well, I didn't expect to see you again. And you even brought company this time?" She smirks. [b]"Shall I dare to imagine what your third visitation might entail, Silan Tilak of the Thought Makers?"
Hmm, I cannot tell Slavathras. Is she happy to see you or resentful? Let's get our answer here as quickly as possible, if possible.
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20+11
Hmm, I cannot tell Slavathras. Is she happy to see you or resentful? Let's get our answer here as quickly as possible, if possible.
She seems highly amused, as if perhaps it were not an entirely unpleasant occasion of serendipity. Something about the particular crook of her slight rictus makes him wonder if perhaps the two elves shared a romantic assignation the last time they met. In any event, there seems to be a mixture of superiority in the sense that he has now effectively crawled back to her, along with a quasi predatory, siren-like interest in the bard's person.
The pale elf responds to the mysterious female's remark with an utterly nonplussed pout,
"I share your surprise as well, Anubisemonekeh of the Serpent Singers, for I had not myself planned to pass this way again for many years, if ever..."
Silan Tilak, the Shadewalker. You are back to visit us again? What brings you here this time? Have you just returned from the ruins of Kalidnay?
Amunet-Ra tries to hide her surprise to see the unexpected visitor again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Malkaer and Taalik:
I know nothing about these Dray you mention, but i heard the tales of Dregoth and Guistenal and it's end as well. Who would colonize that land anyway? If there is anything to this story, it sounds like dark magic. It would surprise me if something good came out of it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amunet-Ra slightly bows her head to Anubisemonekeh and waits in silence as Slavathras speaks, motioning the others to wait as well. Only when he is finished, she speaks up herself:
Greetings Anubisemonekeh. Forgive the belated return, not everything went as imagined. Instead of riches from the elven market i bring you these visitors to our tribe, who seek to obtain ancient and secret knowledge from us. Thanks to them, we could return from the fangs of the degenerated ones. The Shadewalker joined us only recently on the slopes of the hills.
Beware, not everyone might be what it seems, but dangerous spies. It will become clearer of what when they speak their wishes.
|
Kuro can't help but exasperatingly sigh to himself as he see's his companion's begin to move off with the two newcomers. Heading to a place they haven't really relayed back to him. Where ever they are going, Kuro isn't going to let them leave him behind so easily...
He glances over the lip of the volcano and frown's
This will be a long way down...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
After catching up with the party, Kuro skulks at the end of the group, red cowl once again wrapped around his head to protect him from the desert winds. The two newcomers naturally gain his attention throughout the trip, but he make's no motion to introduce himself yet as there are more important things to deal with first.
When they arrive at the Temple, he is momentarily silenced by the head figures presence. His mind has been a bit rattled by holding onto his Steel for so long against those monster's in the volcano and he hasn't had a chance to rest yet.
"Is there anyone here that you don't know Boss?" he ask's Slavathras, young voice even yet curious...though a less perceptive person would find it condescending instead.
Kuro can't help but exasperatingly sigh to himself as he see's his companion's begin to move off with the two newcomers. Heading to a place they haven't really relayed back to him. Where ever they are going, Kuro isn't going to let them leave him behind so easily...
He glances over the lip of the volcano and frown's
This will be a long way down...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
After catching up with the party, Kuro skulks at the end of the group, red cowl once again wrapped around his head to protect him from the desert winds. The two newcomers naturally gain his attention throughout the trip, but he make's no motion to introduce himself yet as there are more important things to deal with first.When they arrive at the Temple, he is momentarily silenced by the head figures presence. His mind has been a bit rattled by holding onto his Steel for so long against those monster's in the volcano and he hasn't had a chance to rest yet.
"Is there anyone here that you don't know Boss?" he ask's Slavathras, young voice even yet curious...though a less perceptive person would find it condescending instead.
The elf snorts derisively at the red-cowled archer, churning the air in his nostrils like an exultant predator,
"Bah! I've forgotten more faces than you've seen, young one."
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About three weeks ago, in the city-state of Balic
The great city of Balic is in several respects unique among the other urban centers of the Tablelands. In the most distant era of the Green Age, millennia before the rise of Rajaat and his genocidal Champions, the peninsula in the Estuary of the Forked tongue upon which the metropolis would eventually stand was an isolated oasis in a vast frontier region.
In this verdant recluse, an ancient race, now vanished from the world, breathed, and loved, and fought, and died. They were not human – the ancient cave paintings from this unnamed era which survive in the secluded grottoes beneath the teaming streets of Balic depict lion-like creatures of terrible aspect. Legend accords them various names – ‘nemeans’, ‘liitorians’, ‘walwai’, among others.
With the aid of their weird sorceries and servants, they erected enormous rings of standing stones on the smoking mountains that ringed the two clear-watered lakes whose cool, sweet waters blessed the forest-laden peninsula upon which these beings made their home.
They spent their days divining the world of the spirits and ghosts by means of the vapors which wafted in the high caves of the isthmus’ smoking mountains. Indeed, their increasing visitations of the darkness that would one day become known as the Black emboldened theses creature’s naturally savage ways, changing their shape and nature. Their manes receded and their teeth lengthened, and they began to stir with an awesome and terrible rage. This sickness led them to draw the unorganized tribes of nomadic humans which populated the hinterlands of their territory to their rule.
Slowly, the uncivilized humans were taught the ways of their masters, until they had mastered them, and determined to once again live freely.
In the wake of the slaughter which ended their master’s uncounted days of rule, the tribes that would become known variously as the Tarḫunz or the Tarquan, lived under their kings in peace. However, they remained less free than their legends might suggest, for the seers among the tribes had been seduced by the power of their masters’ sorceries, and so continued to live with and among the ghosts of those who had taught them the hidden knowledge of the black arts. This deep knowledge was passed from initiate to disciple for a hundred generations within what would come to be known as the Cult of Mitra.
The rule of the Tarḫunz was ended by the migration of the Anaeans, a pastoral people who uprooted the kings of the ancient tribes and established a new republic on the ashes of the peninsula’s previous rulers.
Under Anaean rule, the Tarḫunz dwindled, becoming a small minority within what was once their sovereign domain. They continued to persist chiefly as seers who maintained their ancient rites, and the enigmatic divinations of the Cult of Mitra continued to be transmitted from one generation to the next, and the most ancient rulers of the twin lakes and the smoking mountains looked on from their endless lives in the depths of the Black, and they took some satisfaction in the shape that history had taken.
As is the way of all things, the Anaeans were themselves overthrown by the arrival of the Peliades from in a vast armada from across the sea. They hailed from a distant land across the sea, to the east, where merchants ruled in place of nobles. This flotilla convened by the ravenous forces of the lesser merchant houses of their homeland destroyed the Anaean city and port, and established a new capital, Balic, with triple walls and a great circular dock known as the Chthon within the crystal-watered bay embraced by the city’s new defenses.
And finally, the Peliades themselves were overthrown by the arrival of the Dictator Adrophinus in the closing days of the Cleansing Wars. A serpent-tongued beguiler, Adrophinus conquered the city by deception and intrigue, having himself first elected the head of the Great Council before effectively abolishing its independent power.
And thus he has ruled since the day when the sun was tinted red and the sands consumed the green earth.
Though the ancient paradise of the Green Age is long lost, several of its features remain evident in the current shape of Balic. The two lakes remain, and are a guarded reserve of the city, as does the smoking mountains where the ancient seers of humans and their precursors plumbed the mysteries of the Black.
The rule of Adrophinus has always been harsh, but the impositions of the last decade have stirred a new spirit among the people of the city which has long been absent from aught but song. Murmurs of discontent grow, and the members of the Great Council have begun to chafe at the Dictator’s hard yoke.
It is this same spirit that animated the House of Nicephorus, the noble Peliadean family to which Leonidas was sold as a young boy. Intended as a companion for the young heiress of the house, the lady Arsinoe, the now-departed patriarch of the house, Nicephorus Alcibiades XIV, was also intrigued by the youth’s connection to the ancient Cult of Mitra, into which his parents had inducted him before extended privation in the odorous under-reaches of the Grand Promenade forced them to relinquish their only child. In time, Nicephorus’ designs against the Dictator were discovered, and his head removed for the offense, leaving the patriarch’s wife Persephone, and her daughter Arsione, un-armored against their enemies among the servants of the sorcerer-king. Even now, Adrophinus’ Templars hunts the pair, seeking either their capture or death.
Leonidas followed their trail with difficulty, tracking the pair on the trade routes headed west for several weeks, and now stands at the doors of ancient Kalidnay’s ruins.
Is this where they have fled?
Night draws on quickly, and the spirit-haunted seer finds himself on the outskirts of an ancient temple hidden in a gulch beneath a towering rock bluff. The roof of the structure is illuminated by an intense violet radiance that reveals the shapes of some two dozen figures congregated on its wide rooftop precipice.
Perhaps the beginnings of an answer may be found within the first evidence of living creatures he has seen in several days while approaching the ruins…
Silan Tilak, the Shadewalker. You are back to visit us again? What brings you here this time? Have you just returned from the ruins of Kalidnay?
Amunet-Ra tries to hide her surprise to see the unexpected visitor again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Malkaer and Taalik:
I know nothing about these Dray you mention, but i heard the tales of Dregoth and Guistenal and it's end as well. Who would colonize that land anyway? If there is anything to this story, it sounds like dark magic. It would surprise me if something good came out of it.--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amunet-Ra slightly bows her head to Anubisemonekeh and waits in silence as Slavathras speaks, motioning the others to wait as well. Only when he is finished, she speaks up herself:
Greetings Anubisemonekeh. Forgive the belated return, not everything went as imagined. Instead of riches from the elven market i bring you these visitors to our tribe, who seek to obtain ancient and secret knowledge from us. Thanks to them, we could return from the fangs of the degenerated ones. The Shadewalker joined us only recently on the slopes of the hills.** spoiler omitted **
[dice=Bluff]1d20+15
The Dreadseer smirks with an expression something like amusement, before replying in the hand-language of the Serpent Singers while simultaneously speaking to the new arrivals,
"I can readily see, child, that your venture terminated in several unexpected ends -- but really, I would have preferred you return with the blossoms of the Glass Garden, instead of these... strangers... and," her pupils subtly fix on Silan Tilak of the Thought Makers, "those who have long been both strange and estranged from his people...
"Greetings travelers -- I suppose I may have you to thank for the rescue of this daughter of the Serpent Singers from the devourers who now rule in the mines."
"Pray tell, what price do you hope to extract for her safe return?"
Cae scans the small crowd, green cat-eyes glinting in the dual moonlight. Seeing no sign of his quarry, he is about to slip away into the shadows when the woman mentions the mines. Thinking that he might learn something before entering himself, he settles back into his crouch to listen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A faint blush can be seen on Amunet-Ra's face as her posture grows a bit stiff and she stretches her chin up high, before continuing to speak.
They seem save. There will be another opportunity to gain blossoms from the glass garden and maybe more. His motives are unknown to me, they seem connected though.
A missed opportunity to leave this world, i did not asked to be rescued and was ready to meet my fate. Alas, they acted on their own terms, which seem honorable.
Amunet-Ra turns to the group:
Tell her what you told me. She may be willing to answer your questions.
Rokan looks to Taalik, and gently prods him to relay the story of his ambushed caravan.
Taalik is one of the others that we freed. He tells us of being in a desert caravan that was betrayed from within by serpentine creatures who could alter their appearance. We fear they infest the mines and wish to learn of your ways that can reveal them. Taalik, if you would please recount the details?
Rokan looks to Taalik, and gently prods him to relay the story of his ambushed caravan.
Taalik is one of the others that we freed. He tells us of being in a desert caravan that was betrayed from within by serpentine creatures who could alter their appearance. We fear they infest the mines and wish to learn of your ways that can reveal them. Taalik, if you would please recount the details?
"Revered one, I am but a humble warden of the distant city-state of Raam, a member of an order devoted to the care and restoration of our blighted lands. These same sun stricken and desert devoured territories in which you and your kin have seen fit to make your home, despite its habitual harshness."
"I have been delivered, like your fortunate kinswoman Amunet, by a concatenation of strange and unforseen events, whose unfathomable course has now deposited my person, and those of these companions of mine, upon your doorstep, as well as at the mercy of your favorable disposition. Knowing mistress, you doubtless have heard the accounts of the fall of Giuestenal, whose dread ruler, if the legends speak truly, attempted the same arcane gambit as did the long lost sorcerer-queen of your own former domicile, Kalid-Ma."
"My caravan was sent to attempt a revival of Raam's fortunes, for it as hoped that the remaining bounty of the diamond mines which scar the horizon yonder would supplement the dry veins of our city's native quarries. However, this intention was abruptly aborted by the revelation that our expedition had been infiltrated by disguised servants of the ancient evil that once ruled Giustenal. These draconic entities, who called themselves dray of the second generation of their people, revealed their persons in a brutal nighttime assault on our company. I believe the source of their illusory abilities to be elemental in nature, and their vocation to be Templars of the sorcerer-king Dregoth."
"Their abilities are apparently quite impressive, for, so far as I and my order are aware, this subterfuge has yet to be uncovered by the Templars and assassins of the Grand Vizier Abalach-Re. In any event, they drugged our company and used our incapacity to kill some unlucky ones and then trade several to the creatures that rule the diamond mines in exchange for safe passage through their subterranean territories. I was about to be sacrificed to a hungry fire drake when I was rescued by this company. We believe the knowledge of auras may be the only art which will reveal the presence of these terrible servants of Dregoth. My order possesses ancient texts which speak of this art, but their libraries are located in the distant city of Raam. I also have knowledge that your tribe's cultivation of pyramid energy may provide an avenue to similar abilities. We seek an equitable exchange so that we might have access to the means of uncovering these dreadful agents of that sorcerer-king Dregoth."
"They have also yet to disclose the important detail that Dregoth's apprentice Faalcuun appeared recently in an artifact of the Green Age, a vast vessel of black stone, and charged us to close the Great Orrery in Kalidnay which has recently been reopened, as you are doubtless aware. His presence certainly means that Dregoth lives, and that he seeks, as did Kalid-Ma, access to the 'greater seed' that is capable of shortening the path to full dragon metamorphosis."
Cae scans the small crowd, green cat-eyes glinting in the dual moonlight. Seeing no sign of his quarry, he is about to slip away into the shadows when the woman mentions the mines. Thinking that he might learn something before entering himself, he settles back into his crouch to listen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
[dice=Kn: Religion(ceremony)]1d20+10
[dice=Kn: Local(Serpent Singers)]1d20+7
At the urgent behest of her kinswoman Amunet-Ra, the Dreadseer listens attentively to the explanations offered by Rokan the psionic monk, Taalik the halfling druid, and the mysterious elven bard known as Slavathras, whose name appears to also be Silan Tilak of the Thought Maker tribe, at least as he is addressed among the Serpent Singer elves.
The Dreadseer appears intrigued, even slightly amused, by the cavalcade of details proffered for her consideration.
As Slavathras completes his interjection, she turns to regard the darkness which extends, shroud-like from the massive foundations of the ancient temple upon which are gathered her tribal confederates.
"And who might you be, brave traveler, venturing near our camp in this manner? It seems as if we shall have no end of unexpected guests this night!"
Using his staff to stand, a tall young man steps out of the shadows. His hair and beard are blonde and he is adorned with several tattoos. His manner is relaxed and in a deep musical voice, he replies.
"I am one that seeks two that they may be three again.
Some call me boy, some servant, even Cae now and then."
Using his staff to stand, a tall young man steps out of the shadows. His hair and beard are blonde and he is adorned with several tattoos. His manner is relaxed and in a deep musical voice, he replies.
"I am one that seeks two that they may be three again.
Some call me boy, some servant, even Cae now and then."
The Dreadseer cocks her lithe neck slightly, and purses her rich lips in an attitude of apparent amusement,
"Ah, a reply as well formed as it is empty, nothing surrounded by splendid adornments of well-crafted verbiage. Consider your surprised hostess for the moment impressed. We shall see, however, if your hostess I shall remain, my eloquent stranger. But come, do join us, for we are even now convening some exotic admixture of diplomatic convention and an unexpected reunion. Surely your presence cannot render our current proceedings any stranger than they have already become. But do tell me, from where might your own person and this strange trinity to which you have so poetically alluded have arrived? We of the Serpent Singers have long dwelt in these climes, and your manner and mien I do not recognize."
The tone of the august eleven lady's voice conveys the distinct impression that her invitation should be understood as a command, and that she will attempt to compel Cae's compliance should it not be quickly forthcoming.
Accustomed to figures of authority, Cae remains relaxed as he comes forward and replies in a friendly manner.
"Accepting your gracious hospitality,
Strangers might find some commonality.
Stranger still, now among the snakes,
Once from smoking mountains and twin lakes."
The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?
Accustomed to figures of authority, Cae remains relaxed as he comes forward and replies in a friendly manner.
"Accepting your gracious hospitality,
Strangers might find some commonality.
Stranger still, now among the snakes,
Once from smoking mountains and twin lakes."
The Dreadseer sniffs vigorously, expelling the chill night air from her nostrils in an unmistakable expression simultaneously of wry amusement and barely constrained contempt or frustration.
"Precious beyond description! What new enormities will our hospitality struggle beneath this strange night, I cannot even imagine!"
The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?
The Dreadseer only maintains her smirk as she calmly awaits the approach of the new visitor, her hands and fingers feverishly animated in some enigmatic expression of imperious boredom,
Peace child, for, rest assured, should these this company of strangers present to our tribe a new danger, you and I both know well that I shall be your shield, and not the inverse. I remain entirely dissatisfied with the intelligence I have so far gathered from these newcomers. How were you and the halfling druid who calls himself Taalik freed from your captivity? Did this company penetrate the deepest recesses of the diamond mines on the assumption they would locate some number of unwilling captives, or did they make some arrangement with the devourers, and, if so, what was it? I will understand their motivations,and whether their desires align in any respect with those of our people.
Amunet-Ra grows very silent suddenly and all her movements stop for a moment. She eyes the newcomer one more time and then turns to Rokan and the halfling.
It would be fortunate to tell the dreadseer the complete story, why you were on that caravan, what your goals are overall, what kind of deal you struck with the bloodless in the mines, how exactly you freed us and why and what you were doing in the mines in the first place.
The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?
The young man pauses in his movements as the elven woman intercepts him, and leans on his staff, looking at her curiously.
"No mockingbird in a sunbeam,
My song is the song of the Dream.
Invitation given and heard,
Do you deny the Lady's word?"
After she turns away, he finishes his approach and bows to the Dreadseer.
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Yes, Taalik has spoken of the hazard which directed his course to slavery under the bloodless, and how we came to find him him along with you Amunet, but we have no yet spoken of why we were there and encountered this situation to begin with.
Rokan begins, turning to the dreadseer.
I will try to begin with the most crucial of elements and let you decide what details draw your concern. A company of us traveled on a chariot belonging to the House Vordon of Tyr, to re-establish the trading post of Kelmarane. The passengers of the chariot witnessed a great awakening event at Kalidnay as we passed it. Soon after we were run across by the vessel of Falcuun, whom requested audience with us. He explained what we had seen as the opening of a trans-world gate by the recently awakened mind of Kalid-Ma. He blessed us with additional power and tasked us with traveling into the ruins to close the gate. When given the choice of paths, we chose to traverse the mines. Soon after this we witnessed a great ceremony in which Taalik was momentarily going to be sacrificed to a fire drake. We ambushed the proceedings and successfully debilitated their company to the point that we could bargain with them and free both Taalik and Amunet-Ra. After hearing Taalik's story, we became concerned with finding a way to not fall victim to the ruses of the dray as we proceeded into the mines.
Yes, Taalik has spoken of the hazard which directed his course to slavery under the bloodless, and how we came to find him him along with you Amunet, but we have no yet spoken of why we were there and encountered this situation to begin with.
Rokan begins, turning to the dreadseer.
I will try to begin with the most crucial of elements and let you decide what details draw your concern. A company of us traveled on a chariot belonging to the House Vordon of Tyr, to re-establish the trading post of Kelmarane. The passengers of the chariot witnessed a great awakening event at Kalidnay as we passed it. Soon after we were run across by the vessel of Falcuun, whom requested audience with us. He explained what we had seen as the opening of a trans-world gate by the recently awakened mind of Kalid-Ma. He blessed us with additional power and tasked us with traveling into the ruins to close the gate. When given the choice of paths, we chose to traverse the mines. Soon after this we witnessed a great ceremony in which Taalik was momentarily going to be sacrificed to a fire drake. We ambushed the proceedings and successfully debilitated their company to the point that we could bargain with them and free both Taalik and Amunet-Ra. After hearing Taalik's story, we became concerned with finding a way to not fall victim to the ruses of the dray as we proceeded into the mines.
"I was well aware, city-dweller, of the Great Orrery and its operations. Long ago, my people lived a storied tenure in the city which is now a ruin, and our Elven Market was renowned far and wide as a font of mysteries, boon, and blessings, from which all licit and illicit desires alike might be obtained. Have no doubt, we have marked the stirring of the gate, and remember well its terrible powers whose operations are recorded in the voluminous histories of our people. We were likewise not unaware of the Dread Lord Dregoth and his ancient betrayal by the other Champions of Rajaat. However, there is a point upon which my curiosity remains thoroughly dissatisfied, and that is concerning the nature of your agreement with the ones you refer to as 're bloodless', and who now exercise rule in the mines. They are the twisted descendants of the humans who once lived beneath the yoke of the sorcerer-queen Kalid-Ma, and in the wake of her defeat they retreated into the depths of the mines and came under the rule of strange abominations that live in the depths and who wear skin as if it were a garment when it serves their pleasure. This we have known for any years, but these flesh dancers have themselves given way to some new power, for in the recent seasons, our passage through these dark corridors have been contested by some new force, who has brought with it the fire drakes you mentioned, as well as endowed several of the skin wearing horrors with bizarre new pyrotechnic sorceries. With whom exactly did you commune in your negotiations that freed Amunet-Ram our people's daughter and these others, and did your interlocutors divulge any information which would explain these new draconian manifestations, as well as their willingness to parlay with your company?"
The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?The young man pauses in his movements as the elven woman intercepts him, and leans on his staff, looking at her curiously.
"No mockingbird in a sunbeam,
My song is the song of the Dream.
Invitation given and heard,
Do you deny the Lady's word?"After she turns away, he finishes his approach and bows to the Dreadseer.
For the moment, the Dreadseer appears to have lost interest in th new arrival as she launches into her interrogation of the human monk and psionic named Rokan. Only a slight gesture of her alluring gaze as she refocuses her attention hints that their business is far from concluded.
”I must take responsibility for the negotiations. I know not whom we spoke with, exactly. But all that was divulged was that we came here on a mercantile mission, which to be fair, is true. I believe that our truce comes from us sharing a common enemy, and any hostilities between us being a losing proposition. So long as we oppose their enemies, fighting us only weakens these dancers while strengthening their foes. I do not trust them, should they find the opportunity to safely remove us as a threat.”
”I must take responsibility for the negotiations. I know not whom we spoke with, exactly. But all that was divulged was that we came here on a mercantile mission, which to be fair, is true. I believe that our truce comes from us sharing a common enemy, and any hostilities between us being a losing proposition. So long as we oppose their enemies, fighting us only weakens these dancers while strengthening their foes. I do not trust them, should they find the opportunity to safely remove us as a threat.”
Her interest piqued, the Dreadseer turns her attention to Malkaer,
"You concluded an agreement with an unknown party? This I do not understand -- were they invisible or somehow otherwise beyond identification. How did you fight them if you were unable to determine what sort of beings they were? You must explain this more. Clearly, you had some sort of communication with some party from among the pale skinned remnants of ancient Kalidnay's population. I must know more of this matter."
"You speak of a 'common enemy' -- who is their enemy? If you indeed made a compact of some sort with the pale-skinned creatures and the flesh-wearing entities that command them, I wish to know who is their foe. We have become aware of titanic struggles occurring beneath the earth, but have no direct knowledge of their details."
"Further, you have not answered my question regarding the new master or ally of the flesh-wearers. We have witnessed several novelties, including the presence of fire drakes, that lead us to believe they are joined to some kind of draconic force. If your interlocutors were the white fleshed ones and their body-stealing handlers, who is it that they now make common cause with, or serve?"
I remember seeing you talking to this robed person with riding a large horned beast...
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Kuro sniff's from his position behind the group, listening intently to who ever speaks up to explain. While he was able to listen to bits and pieces of the deal and the talk leading up to their exodus here. he missed quite a bit as allot of the discussion was done verbally.
'is...he Rhyming?' he thinks to himself.
I remember seeing you talking to this robed person with riding a large horned beast...
[dice=Knowledge for that]1d20+11
There were three figures -- a horned beast, a rider of the pale entities, and a red-cowled member of the white-skinned creatures. These were killed by the House Vordon emissaries, but resurrected by the power of the flesh-wearing abominations that now rule the former inhabitants of Kalidnay.
”I must take responsibility for the negotiations. I know not whom we spoke with, exactly. But all that was divulged was that we came here on a mercantile mission, which to be fair, is true. I believe that our truce comes from us sharing a common enemy, and any hostilities between us being a losing proposition. So long as we oppose their enemies, fighting us only weakens these dancers while strengthening their foes. I do not trust them, should they find the opportunity to safely remove us as a threat.”
.
Rokan jumps back in to explain further, again providing course-grained points for the dreadseer to choose from for deeper elaboration. The monk likes to start with minimal sufficiency...
Simply, the diamond mines are ruled by serpent spiders. The morlocks and intellect devourers see these as enemies, though the intellect devourers have their own domain known as the Thinking Towers. In our negotiation with them they kept referring to "The Master of the Aerie", or the "soul trader", seemingly their patron. They desired that we followed them to meet this figure. Instead, we have chosen to free these folk and come to your abode with Amunet-Ra, for our aforementioned purpose.
The Dreadseer smirks slightly in response to Rokan's clarification,
"See, city-dweller, that wasn't so difficult, now was it? Hmmm... fascinating. So this, 'Master of the Aerie' must be the entity that has bestowed upon the devourers their recently discovered draconic servants and abilities. Did they say anything else about this figure? From where did he arrive? Presumably, he is a visitor from distant climes, as the long history of my people contains no record of such a entity"
"The 'Aerie' is perhaps the most enigmatic portion of the mine complex. We have long known that the mines, before they were plumbed by the human subjects of Kalid-Ma, were home to dwarves, and perhaps halflings before them. This 'Aerie' is a tomb of these previous occupants, who lived at the beginning of the Green Age, and perhaps even the Blue Age. When our ancestors lived in the Elven Market of Kalidnay, they knew that the humans who worked the mines used to leave small offerings at the entrance of these catacombs, but were unable to enter their premises on account of some ancient enchantment. I see now that they have become the possession of a new master."
"You say he is a 'soul-trader', who told you that? And from where did he arrive?"
"We have been aware for several months that some new terror stirs in the depths beneath the city, and I would venture to guess that these 'serpent-spiders' are this recently-arrived threat. Though I know nothing of them, I would surmise that they are responsible for reawakening the mind of the sleeping sorcerer-queen and her templars, and, through them, the Great Orrery."
"What did the devourerers say concerning this new threat?"
”It is as my comrade says. My apologies for my imperfect memory and tardiness in answering you. From where I stand though, blind conflict is rarely the proper answer, especially when prisoners are involved. I must ask though, when the master of the Aerie was called “soul trader” by the devourers, what does that mean? Is this a euphemism for slavery, or are souls themselves bought and sold? And if the latter, how and why?”
"Did the devourers mention where the 'Master of the Aerie' came from before he took up resident in the ruins of the mines? This might give us some clue as to the nature of his employment -- there are certainly powerful individuals who trade in the spirits of other mortals, in a quite literal fashion."
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The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?The young man pauses in his movements as the elven woman intercepts him, and leans on his staff, looking at her curiously.
"No mockingbird in a sunbeam,
My song is the song of the Dream.
Invitation given and heard,
Do you deny the Lady's word?"After she turns away, he finishes his approach and bows to the Dreadseer.
Arsinoe, the companion to which Cae's fortune-lacking parents had bound him by his forfeiture to the House of Nicephorus, was always the most inflexible of idealists. Even when they were children, she never relinquished an opportunity to inform their chaperone of any misstep of Cae's part, but neither had she even taken pleasure in this duty. Cae briefly remembers a representative incident where his frolicking with the family's pet marsupial lion Ajax had shattered one of the fine china saucers which comprised the children's replica of the house's formal table setting. Though she might have easily allowed their then chaperone Alcander to assume the rambunctious animal was to blame, though Arsinoe might have simply remained silent, she did not do so. And yet she kissed and tended the welts on his hands after Alcander had punished the young Cae with a dozen lashes of his devilish reed...
This same attitude, inherited honestly from her mother Persephone, governed their relationship with the Veiled Alliance. The father of the house, though its namesake, was free of any arcane talents, and thus the women of the domicile were the primary interface with Balic's hidden society of preservers. Whereas the majority wished to wage a war of subterfuge against the Templar Council and the Dictator Adrophinus, Persephone and Arsinoe, known colloquially as the gray maidens or the shroudbearers, intended instead to lawfully rest power from Adrophinus in one of the city's intermittent elections. To secure their personal safety in the course of this dangerous gambit, the two had secretly cultivated experimental magical deterrents to counter both the defiling arts, psionic powers, and elemental forces alike which would doubtless be deployed by their foes. Their most successful venture by far had been the scarabs known as gloweaters, who possessed the remarkable ability to stymie the arcane interventions of templar, psion, and magic-user alike.
And it was for this hubris that the gray maidens had been forced, in the end, to flee their homeland, and seek their allies' secret camp where the gloweaters were bred...
The sun must have fried his head...he didn't come with us either!
Amunet-Ra takes a step to stand between Anubisemonekeh the Dreadseer and the newcomer.
You there! Are you mocking our traditional songs? Do you always enter others camps uninvited and unannounced?The young man pauses in his movements as the elven woman intercepts him, and leans on his staff, looking at her curiously.
"No mockingbird in a sunbeam,
My song is the song of the Dream.
Invitation given and heard,
Do you deny the Lady's word?"After she turns away, he finishes his approach and bows to the Dreadseer.
"Everyone else might have been satisfied by that pitiable display of mummery, but I am in fact a bard by trade, and am neither mollified with respect to my thirst for proper entertainment, nor is my curiosity slaked for such an unexpected arrival. Where exactly did you come from, and what are you doing here? And if you answer in another poem, I'm going to make my displeasure unmistakable."
Amunet-Ra tries to hide a content grin on her face, happy her own shortcomings in taking a better look and her loss of memory aren't subject right now and amused by Slavatras interrogation of the unknown riddlemaker as she stands back and waits what will all be revealed and come of the situation.
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Cae's green eyes flash towards Slavathras in the moonlight and his posture stiffens slightly. His voice has a rougher tone to it in his response:
"Neither civility nor grace from the Son of the Snake,
Your desire to be entertained, not my duty to slake.
Into the circle, the one seeking two the Mother did invite,
Insults and threats are not the same as a bite."
He smiles at the self-proclaimed bard, revealing extended canines. He then turns back to the Dreadseer, dismissing Slavathras.
Malkaer smirked at the rhyme. "The bard's wit cut's like a knife, does it not?"
Jimbli raises an eyebrow toward the rhyming newcomer. Though he did not follow much of what was being discussed, he did know this guy is either a goof or has some reason to pass for one.
"Too many here to be wary of...."
Jimbli glances to the exit - judging the distance in case he decides to split.
Rokan is able to contain himself, in his typical stoic discipline. But on the inside he cannot contain his amusement at this exchange.
He... doesn't look convinced Slavathras. He's just going to snub you for the dreadseer...