Just as the eager Rusalka is about to pass the weighty arch of curiously-embossed blocks which comprise the entryway to the Keep's dungeons, she is arrested by a gesture from one of the two Gorh'Tohn Legionnaires.
The Ogreborn Legionnaire of the Symphony stationed on the right menhir of the arch slowly raises his gigantic palm outward to face Zalona, dolorously performing a threatening gesture of warding, indicating that he does not wish her to continue her procession.
He begins to speak in an almost unbelievably low, guttural language to his fellow, none of the words of which are known to Zalona.
Zalona considers swimming for it, just to get a glimpse, but realizes that this place is a maze and she would never make it without being caught. She affects an irritated-but-patient demeanor, and floats in place, waiting to see what the holdup is.
The Gorh'Tohn Legionnaire appears to completely un-possessed by any motive to quickly attend to Zalona's person. His gaze is slightly turned to his fellow, though the arresting motion of his gigantic open palm remains open. He continues to speak an extended communication to the other, who appears to listen intently, and with some evident curiosity indicated by a cocked eyebrow and slight inclination of the head.
The Kai-lio mercenaries have now noticed that Zalona remains on the far side of the door and are likewise regarding the forbidding Legionnaire with some interest, or even apprehension, especially the one who permitted the Rusalka to pass.
Zalona stays where she is, looking bored, and she starts to sing. She doesn't lace the music with any magic; just warms up her voice a little with a song she used to sing to her daughter when she was impatient.
.
Upon the commencement of the first note, the attention of the Ogreborn Legionnaire blocking the Rusalka's ingress has been arrested. His lengthy comments to his fellow cease as he regards Zalona with some curiosity, and perhaps unwelcome interest, given his enormous size and feral aspect.
The Kai-lio armored in the curious shark-tooth plate who had spoken his permission and warning to the Rusalka interjects as the Gorh'Tohn returns his attention to Zalona.
"What is the matter, then? We've let every visitor into the oubliette over the past several days, and I see no reason why this one is any different. And if you're going to make an objection, at least speak in a tongue your fellow guards can comprehend. You are, in fact, guests of this conference, neither you, nor your Prophet were invited to attend the delegation, and your presence is in truth most unwelcome. And now you interfere with our duties without explanation, assuming an unwarranted jurisdiction."
Given his tone, Zalona senses that this incident is far from the first aggravation which the Symphony Legionnaires have unwillingly imposed upon the Scarthan mercenaries. Indeed, his irritation appears to grow the longer he gives voice to his tribulations.
Though his attention has shifted, the Gorh'Tohn appears utterly un-moved by the entreaty, and no more hurried in his actions, though he does begin a response in a seismically-deep, oddly-constructed, and heavily accented common,
"Stop music-noise!"
The Legionnaire grunts bestially as he continues,
"I know not your people. From where come you, and why want you to see the silent one?"
He then continues speaking in the unknown guttural tongue to his fellow, who now begins to reply, mysteriously almost at the same time replies, as if they are both listening and talking simultaneously to their comrade in arms.
The tooth-laden Kai-lio mercenary interjects again,
"Is this some new order from the Capitaine des Carabinier? Does he have any intention of communicating your forces intentions or disposition, or is he just going to descend capriciously throughout the watches to enact the equally muddled commands of the Oracle's representative?"
The Gorh'Tohn again replies without hurry, his companion mysteriously still talking as if their conversation had not been interrupted,
"Tohn'Tarh does the will of High One Nasrahl'Hath. You do not do his will. Speak low again of Nasrahl'Hath's eye, and we will kill you. Hold your tongue. The singing one must speak my answers. You are weak and thin."
From the moment Satazia entered Ghostlight Keep she has been keeping an eye and ear out for anything that might be of use to her mission. She will not allow herself to become complacent, not only would it be the end of her life, but her fallen companions deserve to be avenged if nothing else.
She sits at a table with several of her fellow mercenaries, sharing a drink during their off hours. As she raises the glass to her lips she toats her fallen brethren in her mind.
Rest in peace brothers and sisters, may you swim forever beneath the Mother of the World's protective gaze.
She she half listens to whatever the other mercenaries are saying, she concentrates on the other conversations taking place inside the inn, hoping to gain more useful information as she did in Merceria.
Once she is satisfied that she has overheard everything of note, she turns to her fellow mercenaries.
''This one hopes you will excuse her, she has heard of a disturbance in the Tower of Ghosts and she wishes to see it for herself''
After excusing herself, Satazia will get up to leave, noting the Rusulka that she notices speaking to an alliance messenger earlier.
That Rusulka looks familiar, she this one not see her in Merceria?
The delegation of the Gorh'Tohns is divided between the Legions of the Megalodon and the Symphony, the latter the personal army of the Pale Oracle. As with the Elven delegation, there appears to be some political rift between the two groups, with the Symphony Legion unquestionably possessing the upper hand in the relationship, having both much greater numbers, stronger, larger, weapons, vessels, and war beasts, and more significant representatives. There is a rumor that it has something to do with the Pale Oracle's treatment of the Megalodon Legion's totem.
The Sea Elves that used to tend to the keep have withdrawn in anger over some slight caused by the Devonorian delegation in the Tower of Ghosts. It is assumed to have some connection to the manifestation of the Maelstrom that they have summoned in the upper chambers of their current spire-residence, and whose hideous illumination can be apprehended from most vantages in the Keep.
There are rumors of a Sahuagin pack hunting in the deeps near the Keep. They may have accosted recent merchant caravans that were expected from the sheltered City State of Torn, one of the best-defended refuges of the Hundred Kingdoms. In particular, a shipment of arms for the Scarnthan mercenaries and Blade-Blessed assassins of Grathes is rumored to have been waylaid.
As soon as the big hulky thing says to stop the music, she does.
After listening to the argument, she says
You know what, this is definitely not something I want to get in the middle of. I just wanted a glimpse of the Amphian because the people who had already seen him upstairs made it sound cool, but I'm definitely not looking for a fight. If you don't want me here, I'm gone.
She starts swimming away. (Back the way she came, not trying to provoke them by getting closer.)
The Kai-lio who had already expressed dissatisfaction at the Legionnaire's behavior now continues in a more extreme volume,
"This is an outrage. You have no right to detain the movements of any who are guests of the Fourfold Alliance or the Melting Isles who, need I remind you, are the sole official members of this conferences. Indeed, your forces have no obvious reason for their presence despite the weak justifications offered by Tanh'Tonh in the Ghost Tower audience chamber a fortnight ago. I don't believe it, General Sartan doesn't, the Chamberlain doesn't, and the Circle doesn't either -- though that can't be any great surprise to you. In any event, I'm not going to allow you to either interrogate or hinder the lawful movement of this lady, whatever orders you might have received from the Capitaine des Carabinier or his clanking metal pet."
His voice now lowers even further,
"In truth, if you continue in this unauthorized behavior any further, the blades of Scarnth shall be forced to reassert their lawful jurisdiction, and rest assured your probable over-weening confidence born of an overgrown hulk will not best our blades, as similar brutes have in the past learned in a most difficult manner."
He begins to draw his cruelly-shaped blade in threat and menace.
The uncooperative Legionnaire maintains his blank, catatonic expression as he replies in voice of almost sonic depth,
"You have spoke ill again the Eye of Hath, and this thing we shall fight. The law is the law of Hath and the Tusks. Your law is not our law little child"
Both Legionnaires then begin to brandish the sickening ends of their spears.
Just as it appears a melee is about to commence in which Zalona will be an unfortunate and unwilling spectator, a new disruption sets all parties at attention.
The dark waters beneath the curiously fashioned bridge begin to churn with cloud of bubbles and miasma of brilliant points of light, sending the milling inhabitants of the wall-bound coral groves into a veritable frenzy of excited motion.
Slowly emerging from the disturbed waters below the bridge is a large metallic construct of some fashion, atop which ridges in a saddle-like contraption another Gorh'Tohn, this one smaller than the two Ogreborn Legionnaires, but attired in a similar set of armor emblazoned with the twisting symbol of the Pale Oracle, albeit one adorned with an additional set of gold ornamentation -- luxurious epaulettes, several medals of some kind, gauntlets with an additional set of serrated claws beyond the equipment of the two guards, and an elaborate helm with a single, serrated horn protruding from the forehead.
The Legionnaires appears to withdraw their attack as the new arrival begins to speak in the identical incomprehensible, guttural tones as they have employed, and they likewise in their curious fashion appear to both speak and listen at the same time.
Politics. Always politics. It was the doom of all sentient creatures. He had the feeling that helping one person would anger three, and one ally’s support would mean making deadly enemies. He was wary, to say the least. But as a newcomer, how could he be expected to follow the intricate politics of a race he had only seen for the first time but a few days ago? In the end, all he could do was to act with honor, and with the survival of his people in mind.
”If there is anything that I can do to be of help, then I would consider it an honor. Please, lead on.”
The new arrival removes his ornamented great helm without pausing in his continual stream of guttural pronouncements to the two Legionnaires, who likewise continue their sonorous replies simultaneously with both each other and the Capitaine des Carabinier now arisen before them.
Beneath the great helm, a certain surprise emerges, as the smaller, but still massively muscled Gorh'Tohn possess skin of a bright vermilion hue, almost as if painted, his noteworthy complexion providing a sharp contrast with the dull purple of the Ogreborn Legionnaires.
Zalona remembers a lesson from Avlislene of Merceria, who had explained that these red-skinned Gorh'Tohn were Tolhs, a breed of commanders and leaders within the Gorh'Tohn ranks. Though she had never seen one in the flesh during her sojourn in the Broken City, yet Zalona felt sure this must indeed be the correct identification of the Capitaine's genus.
Then, without warning, the incessant bestial banter of the three goblinoids ceases at the same moment as the wheezing war engine bearing the Tohl emerges fully into view from beneath the arcing span which divide the chamber in twain.
He seems to quickly and pointedly fix his attention upon Zalona, and speaks as he gestures at himself with one of his massive war-gloves, the serrated claws of which glimmer in the light of the fire and steam cast off by his vehicle's cacophonous engine.
"Balh'Takh I am."
Suddenly, a second version of the voice enters Zalona's waking mind, seemingly a telepathic counterpart to the Capitaine's verbal expression which he wishes to confine to himself and the Rusalka.
"Amoh'Sanh, Faceless Queen, has to you, sent me. Come, the voice of Bright Master you shall hear. Follow, please, and hear. Truth you will hear."
The Legionnaires part as the Capitaine's engine proceeds through the archway, filling it's not inconsiderable dimensions.
The Tolh then glances back to see if Zalona intends to follow into the oubliette to view the curious prisoner and his rumored activities.
The Imperial Savant Vicuska Virag the Dispenser, breaks his face into a rictus grin of approval.
"Very good, honored guest, we shall ascend to the audience hall. Your compatriots are already being collected by the other Savants in attendance upon the Emperor's Praetor, and will arrive shortly."
The Moonwater Knight follows behind, probably confirming that Vicuska's invitation was a politely delivered command from the Praetor, and the Savant begins to lead Hrungnir to the heights of the Tower of Ghosts, where the mysterious message has appeared.
The other Abluted and Lustrated in the Austorian embassy, having been dispatched earlier with other Devonorian 'guides' to engage the diplomats of the other realms represented at the conference, may provide some needed aid depending on the mood of the gathering when Hrungnir arrives.
Deciding that she has learnt enough for the moment, Satazia exits the inn, noting that tensions were rising and not really interested in helping if s fight broke out.
With a swish of her tail she started to meaner slowly towards the Tower of Ghosts, having heard that there was some kind of disturbance that had taken place there which seemed to be heightening tensions between the various groups. She wanted to see or hear first hand what exactly this distraction was.
She did as always keep an eye out for anything else of note that might catch her attention.
Zalona is creeped out and tired of people singling her out and getting into her head, but she reluctantly follows Balh'Takh.
She wonders if coming to see the Amphian was a mistake, and if there is anything she can do to get out of this mess.
.
The Tolh continues his procession into the oubliette, now apparently re-assured of the Rusalka's intention to follow in his wake.
Noisily marking the passage of the Capitaine, the plodding, seemingly unwieldy automaton which serves as his mount sputters and whines as it exudes intermittent clouds of dense, caustic exhaust from the veritable forest of pipes that festoon its engines. Despite this, it appears quite solid, and its haphazard lumbering never damages the machine, causes it to impact any of the surrounding surfaces, or in any apparent fashion quits it's steady if somewhat violent and inelegant motion.
Zalona's hearing is suddenly accosted by a new voice, this one slight and feminine, speaking, surprisingly, in the Rusalka tongue,
"Please don't be alarmed, I mean no harm, and please at least hear my petition before you throw your lot in with the Tolh. I am Narisca of Karthis, one of the Seven of Seven, an order of scholars recruited from the University of the Arts to assist the Chamberlain in his duties. I am a linguist by training, for which reason I can speak your tongue, having learned it from several old grammars in the course of a research project several years ago. I will not lie or dissemble -- I am desperate, as are my people. Our capital is under siege by the Elves, and I fear this delegation has become a trap -- though one I increasingly wonder will result also in the capture of the original hunters. I can offer you little as of now, but the thought that we are a free people, and I understand that your people also value freedom highly. We are beset by empires of slaves on all sides, will you not at least hear me? I have been waiting for several days for one such as yourself to arrive by which means I might more readily deduce the intentions of the Orchestra Legion at the Keep. If you agree, please continue speaking in your tongue so he cannot understand us. The Rusalka are known as soothsayers, so if you would pretend to mutter to yourself in a chanting tone, he will be none the wiser that we converse, as I am currently shrouded in a powerful enchantment of invisibility prepared by our sorcerer allies."
With but a brief pause Narisca concludes her petition,
"I can only plead on our common love of freedom, that you will at least hear me, and perhaps share what we can between each other -- I want only to save my people from the trap I fear is closing. If you agree, please answer in your tongue in the manner I suggested, otherwise, I will leave you in peace."
A tense pause opens between the ensorcelled spy and the Rusalka as she awaits Zalona's reply
The first thing to arrest Satazia's attention as she exits through the main entrance portal of the Creste of the Spectre, moving in an arc around the Shade Height in which are quartered the delegations of the Fourfold Alliance of the Hundred Kingdoms of the Sea Folk, and then quickly to arise to the very summit of the Tower of Ghosts is that a great shadow obscures the tower which lies diagonally across from the Shade Height, and is known as either the Spirite Toothe or Geist Nail (or, simple, 'the Tooth', or 'the Nail), and which houses the Gorh'Tohn delegation.
Shortly, it becomes apparent that the shadow is cast by an Orchestra Dragon and its pod of killer whales that are circling the summit of the spire. Doubtless, these indicate the force of the presence exerted by the Legion of the Orchestra, the army of the Pale Oracle Nassiral Hate.
Though this is not one of the immense, mile-long specimens that comprise the totem Cynophantis, it is likely the child of one of those greater wyrms, and its presence alone is enough to signal the immense power wielded by the Oracle.
That it had not previously made an appearance suggests that there are perhaps substance to the rumors that the Gorh'Tonhs are concealing additional forces, perhaps even an entire army, within the deep trench that abuts the Keep.
Satazia notes several others have paused in their commotion to observe the immense dragon.
Clad in his traditional garb, Hrungnir looked as much a warrior as the knights who escorted him. As they walked he traced his fingers over the runes on his Breastplate, reading the names of the fallen under his breath as he did so. He muttered the names of great past heroes, of personal friends, of talent that never had the time to be realized. It was saddening, and yet comforting, for he knew in his heart that this life was transitory, and that he would join them all soon enough. What was different though, between him and his order’s foes, was that they embraced their doom with open arms. They rushed towards extinction with fanaticism, throwing away the lives of their charges and squandering the potential of the future. There were many dark forces in the deep. Sadly, not all wore the faces of the monsters which lurked within.
As the Imperial Savant begins to lead Hrungnir from his 'guest chamber', up to the next room which contains any external or internal exit (), his attention is suddenly arrested by some apparition in the outward facing aperture, for which cause he slows, and slowly remarks, seemingly to himself
"I suppose I should not be surprised.... but no matter, we possess sufficient forces but..."
He turns to the Moonwater Knight before continuing,
"Noble warrior, please dispatch one of the squires to the capital. We may need to draw upon the Emperor's favor yet. I can conclude the present task."
Bertuska Boldi nods before dashing off,
"He will reach the gates of Luthlarlillus before nightfall"
Zalona replies as requested, appearing to chant to herself a little bit.
This is ludicrous, you realize. These guys can get into my head. I am not sure why you think this is going to fool them. As for "throwing in my lot" with anyone... that is well beyond any decision that I have made. I just came down here because I heard that the Amphian was an interesting creature, and now I suddenly find myself in the middle of all of these quasi-political machinations that make no sense. I assume he is taking me to the Amphian, which is where I wanted to go, so why would I refuse... I mean, other than the fact that he's massively creepy and invasive? I don't understand anything they are saying amongst themselves, but so far, he just asked me to listen to something that I already wanted to listen to, and this seemed easier than refusing and exacerbating the rift between these and the other guards. I am definitely not agreeing to join up.
I'm just a normal person, like the people upstairs in the bar that I heard about the Amphian from. I have no idea why these guys wouldn't just let me by, or why of all people who have come down here you think that I can help you. What exactly is it that you want?
Zalona feels a slight sigh of relief move the currents near her before the voice continues,
"Thank you for replying. I can probably shed some light of your current situation, at least as much as I've been able to put together so far under my own aegis. I want to observe your audience with the Amphian and share notes"
The voice then seems to halt and collect a detail that had been overlooked in her relief,
"I KNEW they were psychics among them. I just couldn't prove it yet!"
Zalona is endued with the impression Narrisca is collecting a veritable sea of jumbled thoughts before the voice continues,
"Well, he hasn't indicated anything, so I think this one can probably only speak into your mind, not look into its contents. Or.... he's being very crafty. In any event, please try to only think in your tongue, and I shall do the same... In any event, that confirms a hypothesis I had. You see, the whole situation with the Amphian is but one, very disturbing detail in this unfolding conference, which already I had divined was a very dangerous convocation before we had even set out under the leadership of the Chamberlain. You see, he just sort of wandered into these dungeons unannounced and, as far as I can divine from witnesses, he didn't even attempt to flee or struggle when he was apprehended by our guards. The Gorh'Tonhs have never touched him. And he's just stayed there, acting in no way like a prisoner. In fact, I don't think he's a prisoner at all, and could leave if he so desired. Rather, I think he's holding court in some fashion, and other activities I can't quite divine. The information I've collected is that he frequently stares at something that's not there, or appears to somehow commune with an unseen presence. I strongly believe he is also psychic, and is in contact with some power outside the Keep, maybe making some kind of... plan? report? I can only speculate. I believe he wishes to be here. Now the strange thing is that the Orchestra Legionnaires replaced the guards from the Megalodon Legion right after the Amphian got here... this is also something I don't quite understand. The Gorh'Tohn delegation is mostly composed of the Legion of the Orchestra, the personal army of the Oracle, and all the war beasts and command-class soldiers are also from this Legion. The Legion of the Megalodon and that of the Kraken, the latter of which has exceedingly few representatives here, hardly a company, have only a single commander each -- as if they were going to be, what? Cannon fodder in a battle? Additionally, I have hypothesized that there is a more select class among the Orchestra Legion soldiers, including this Tolh, who are psychic and form some more elite association. The Tolh and two of his other confederates have provided escorts to other guests of the Amphian, though many they let through without any comment, and they never talk much, like in the case of Balh'Takh here, so I thought they might be communicating in another fashion... but you say you don't know why, but I think the others did... maybe they had already been... inducted? What could they want with you, and who is this army within an army, and how have they gone undetected, or have they, by the other Gorh'Tohns... ?"
Zalona has the sense Narrisca is speaking as much to herself as to her ostensible conversation partner in part of this breathless monologue, which certainly sounds in character with an academic used to delivering lectures.
She seems to realize this when she then replies,
"To answer your question... to share information, hoping it will aid us in whatever is coming. Can I answer any questions for you before your 'audience', or whatever it is, begins with the Amphian?" I don't understand what's going on completely yet, but I've been piecing the threads together since we arrived and have at least some intelligence on all the major parties present here, and their aims."
Lost in deep thought, Ictaio's mind was lost in his studies of ancient lore, his the martial training to rehon his aging body. Above all else, was his desire for revenge, for his people. Nothing else truly mattered, enough for him to study the forbidden art of fleshcrafting. Becoming the monsters that his people worshipped, begged for protection from or perhaps tried to become? That however, was lost to the annals of history.
"It appears I am needed, and here I was hoping for time to study. Very well, bring me to the audience chamber. Let's hope this truly is urgent, I have much to study and oh so little time."
Ictaio sighed but remained complient, having lost the patience and bliss of youth, all that remained was the solemn husk of his formerself. However it would be rude to keep the Chamberlain of the Duke-Regent in waiting.
The Cabal Scion Elehuddi the Swordsage moves quickly to with the request, his argent blue cape shimmering in the dim light of the laboratory, lit only by a number of elaborately-carved wall-sconces, lit by some kind of oil, and which had been installed by the Caballists upon their arrival in the upper reaches of the Shade Height.
Then, as if physically seized by a quickly-arising thought, Ictaiojh's mentor among this strange collection of magic-makers effects a dexterous pirouette upon his heel, placing him back before the Deep One.
"We may need supplies -- grammars, lexicons, etc. Please collect these quickly and then follow after wards. I have a first inspection of the puzzle."
He leaves Ictaiojh to conduct this task without awaiting a confirmatory reply, and when Elehuddi has departed, the Deep One is left with a unique, but brief, opportunity to inspect some of the Cabbalists' facilities on his own if he should wish before collecting the desired tomes and departing.
Hmm. Thanks for the tip. I never thought about language being an impediment to psychic powers. I'll try that.
Observing and sharing information sounds fine with me. That's interesting stuff about the Amphian... that perhaps he is right where he wants to be. It makes me more intrigued to see him. The rest just sounds like politics that I don't personally care a whit about, but since you said I could ask questions... should I be worried? Am I in danger from any of these groups? I have no desire to be inducted into anything, but I suppose I'll see what happens when I get there. The Amphian can't like... actually take over my mind or anything, can it?
Satazia's mouth drops open as she gazes upon the enormous dragon circling around the top of the tower. She takes a moment to just stare in awe of such a powerful and majestic creature, especially in light of the fact that it is not even fully grown.
She takes a moment to try and recall any pertinent details about such creatures, though dragons were never a major focus of her studies.
Once she gone through her mental catalogue of knowledge, she will resume her trek towards the tower of Ghosts.
Narrisca's voice assumes a more hushed tone
"We are all potentially in danger -- I warned the Chamberlain before we arrived, but the Duke-Regent overturned my objection and that of my colleagues in the Sevens, and in some ways I cannot fault him. Our capital is under siege by a vast army of Ice Elven thralls and war beasts, and I don't know how much longer our defenses can hold them back. The bombards may run out of ammunition, and our store of Greek fire is almost depleted... but to your question, I would be especially wary of the Devonorians, the Gorh'Tohns, and the Elves. The various mercenary companies quartered in the south east tower are just trying to acquire new commissions, and shouldn't be actively hostile. You can already see for yourself how aggressive our Gorh'Tohn 'guests' have become -- they clearly acknowledge no law but their own and have no intention of cooperating with any of the other parties besides that to which they are forced by present exigencies. I don't think an outsider like yourself is in immediate danger -- except I don't understand what the Tolh came here to collect you for... did he say anything to you that might hint at that. This psychic society within the Legion of the Orchestra... I fear that is very bad. It's difficult to say. I would try to avoid the attentions of the Elves -- the majority of their number appear to be afflicted by some mysterious malignancy that corrupts their appearance, though not those who are direct emissaries of their Queen. I think their might be some kind of rift between those two factions, as my sources have observed a number of what appear to be disputes break out between these factions. Do you know what a Storm Priest looks like? They're the preachers of the Malestrom worshiped by the Devonorians. They have a distinct garb and you should avoid them at all costs. They will offer to baptize you in the emanation of their god they have summoned to the top of the Tower of Ghosts, and the considered opinion of the scholars of the Free Kingdoms is that the process results in the death or possession of the soul or mind in some fashion. They will not take 'no' for an answer and may try to take advantage of your unaffiliated status."
Zalona imagines the excited scholar taking a deep breath in the silence that follows the excited stream of words,
"As to your question about the Amphian, I won't lie and say I know for sure. I believe the others with whom he 'held court' may have been more willing or somehow more closely associated with whatever agency he represents. Will he try to force compliance if his goal is to draw you into something? I don't know, but I am a studied user of the arts myself, and may be able to effectively intervene, especially from my concealment and current enjoyment of a position of surprise. I don't have psychic powers, but I can probably break his concentration with my own magic if I have to, and at least distract or tie down the Tolh long enough for us to flee. Several of my compatriots are similarly concealed and will join in if something happens. Any encounter with such a mysterious and, I can only guess, dark power carries great risk, but you are as well protected with us as any outsider currently in the Keep can currently hope to be in the present circumstances."
She then returns to a previous question in her haphazard conversational manner,
"But what of my question, did the Tolh say anything to you to indicate why he is bringing you before the Amphian?"
.
He said that the Faceless Queen sent him to me, and he wants me to listen to the Bright Master. Is the Amphian the bright master? And no, I don't know what a storm priest looks like, but it sounds like I should stay far away from them.
This doesn't sound like a very safe place for anyone to be right now. I'm surprised that there hasn't been a mass exodus. Did you grow up with all of these political machinations, or is this a recent thing?
[b]"Those are both very curious facts. 'The Faceless' is a name attributed to the Cult of Cytabarides the Cynic, one of the blessedly short-lived collection of despondent thinkers that arose in the aftermath of the Great War and the death of so many of the gods once worshiped in these lands. His particular brand of cynical social games lived on in a small association for centuries, and exercised some limited influence in the literary salons of Merceria, but I have no knowledge they are at present anything more than a moribund refuge of spiteful cranks. Certainly, they are not an association I would have imagined had any influence in whatever is afoot in our present circumstances..."
However, it is the second statement that is both more interesting, and of greater concern. The 'Bright Master' is one of the many epithets, along with Wonder Worker, Dawn Prince, Sun Lord, the White Mage, the Bright Man, and many others, applied to the enigmatic general of the Dragon in the Great War, an event which I understand does not hold as significant a place in your people's history as in those of most other nations (). Many different stories have come down -- some say he was a manifestation of the Dragon, a vessel into which She poured Her rage and fury that it might devour the world. Others believe he was a mortal, one of the greatest magic-makers of all days, who willingly served the Mother of Monsters. Who can say? The surviving narratives do agree on his immense power, a strength eclipsed only by that of Prince Caheillidar, the Spellsinger, the Prince of the Mysteries -- Athanes' favored nephew and the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the lands of men."
"Though, this is a curious detail of the conflicting narratives. The more recent stories depict the Bright Man as weaker than Caheillidar, while the older ones describe them as equal rivals. It's also a curious detail I have noted from pouring over countless versions of accounts of the Great War that the oldest narratives never have them meet in person, or not at least in the sight of any witnesses. There seems to grow up, as far as I can tell, an immense apocryphal tradition that recounts in elaborate detail Caheillidar's defeat of the Bright Man, for the very reason that no such event took place before any onlooker, and so various attempts were made thereafter to provide one for the record."
"One narrative in particular to which I find myself continuously returning is found in volume recovered from a ruin that was identified as either Satharthes or Castigal based on sketchy Pre-Accord maps. The aromatic teak planks contain text that describes the defeat of the Bright Man as having occurred when he summoned Athanes' nephew to a lonely mountain top. When Caheillidar returned, he announced the end of the Dragon's general. I think this must be closest to the truth, and I feel that there is something there I have yet to grasp fully, but both the fragmentary physical condition of the text, as well as its uncertain transmission, unfortunately obscure the matter, perhaps beyond any true resolution."
She then interjects another comment that interrupts the other words that had begun to form,
"Do not, however, bring any of this to mind when communing with most in these lands. Caheillidar is worshiped as a saint, and is more favored among the masses even then Athanes, a small heresy that troubled her now vanished priesthood to no end. Always, his shrine in the teeming Temples of the Sleeping Goddess were better-attended than the main shrine dedicated to his aunt. As well, the story of his defeat of the Bright Man is the primary myth of his cult. You will have angry people throwing themselves at you if you assert it happened without any witnesses or spectacle."
"But I can't very well imagine that this same being is still alive. The Great War was... was a very long time ago. How long, you will find differing opinions. The Elves say it was sixty five million years ago, others several hundred thousand, or less. But even the shortest estimates are at least 10,000 years in the past. Even a great worker of magic could scarcely live that long, either by their own power, or through avoiding the exigencies of fate that eventually terminate life. No, that seems impossible, and why has he been silent for so long if in fact it is he -- that likewise beggars the mind. And that is all assuming he somehow survived the Great War, which is an idea I have found in precisely no text I have ever read on the matter."
"The only thing I could imagine is if he had been somehow concealed or asleep, and is only recently awakened, but that too... to have avoided any mishap to his hibernation?"
A slight chuckle interposes itself in her habitual stream of words,
"In any event, we might as well give up now if the Bright One has come back! I mean, if that's true, je could have been preparing his designs for 100,000 years! How could we possibly hope to combat so great an enemy with so great an advantage?"
"No, I believe there must be a lineage of his servants, and that the one mentioned by the Tolh is just the most recent. It's a title, not a name after all, one I guess must have been handed down. Still, the utter silence of this group throughout history troubles me, but perhaps they were few in number and adept at concealment... waiting for something?
"To return to your other question, the Amphian is thus almost certainly not the Bright Master -- I have dealt with many secret societies in my work, and I do not believe he is the head of the one of which he is a member."
"Oh,the Storm Priests -- it will be easier to point one out when we return to the Shade Height, they are always milling about"
"This all makes me even more desperate to attend an audience with the Amphian. I would understand your hesitation, but I promise you I ask no more than I would of any of my colleagues and agents, and I never needlessly endanger their lives. I believe this may be our only opportunity to exploit their overweening confidence, though a feeling perhaps that is not entirely unwarranted. I believe so far we have only seen what they want us to, and will continue to do so. If you let me help you, I am an expert at questioning apprehended agents from other secret societies, and can guide you in making him give away more than he intended, which I am sure he will -- in this way we will divine something more than simply what they wish us to know. Given all that, will you help me? If you will not, I will not retaliate, and instead guard your safe passage to my people's quarters in the Shade Height. But, I beg you, consider what I have said -- our only hope may lie in this imminent communion."
Zalona feels the desperation in Narrisca's voice.
Ictaio wouldn't help but feel, rejected. He would need to leave these foolish notions behind, his master had an important task and Ictaio received the solitude he wanted in return, if only for a fleeting moment.
Quickly he gathered the items his master would need. Once the items were collected Ictaio spent what time he could spare to fully indulge in on the laboratory that the Cabbalist generously let him research in. Jumping straight into action, he skimmed through research lodges and tomes for information, lore and history that he could use for his own devices. As well as spare lab equipment that none would mind or notice if it went missing.
This is the bestiary entry on the Orchestra Dragon:
Dragon (Song), Orchestra
A pod of killer whales surrounds this gleaming dragon. Its scales are a
gleaming metallic black, with snowy white highlights, matching the
smaller creatures that swoop around it. Its pectoral fins are massive
wings, ending in claws the size of greatswords.
Orchestra dragons are powerful predators of the seas,
controlling vast pods of orca that they view as their allies and
confidants. They believe every creature has its place in the web of
life and will hunt down and destroy creatures that seek to upset
that balance. While they are not inherently hostile to lesser
creatures, they show no mercy to those too weak, or foolish, to
survive.
Orchestra dragons work in close concert with their orca pod,
often appearing to have telepathic control over the members.
While they may seem as a huntsman and his hounds, the dragon
views the relationship more as a general and his soldiers.
Orchestra dragons care deeply for their pod, using their abilities
and spells to protect and enhance them and will take terrible
vengeance on any creature that destroys its pod, often targeting
those closest and most important to its target first.
While they prefer cold arctic waters, orchestra dragons will
often travel with their pod throughout the seas. Some orchestra
dragons take on the role of traveling judge, with its pod acting as
sheriffs, jury and executioners. These dragons are both greatly
feared for their cold justice and greatly respected for
their impartial nature.
In terms of setting specific information, you know is that they are more commonly found in the polar regions that form an unbroken barrier around the world in every direction (the planet is, as far as anyone can tell, some kind of flat surface, probably a square, that goes down a very far ways. The Sundered Seas are on 'top' of it). They are now associated with the Legion of the Orchestra under Nassiral Hate. Their horns are the basis of the Legion's symbol, which is four interlocking horns known as the tursaansydän or mursunsydän(). No one knows where Nassiral Hate acquired his immense pod of seven which form the totem Cynophantis -- they are far larger than any great wyrm, as great as any of the Gorh'Tonh mile-long war barges. Their children, including this present specimen, are also significant figures in the forces of the Legion of the Orchestra. The orca pods of the Orchestra Legion wyrms also include Dire Killer Whales.
The Squawk was arrested by the sight of Bulh'Barh, the great scarred steed of the Traitor Mage Kulh'Kanh, formerly of the Legion of the Kraken, now a servant of Nassiral Hate and his Legion of the Orchestra. He could not contain his curiosity as he approached the Naga Half Breed also brought to a diminish-ment of her progress by Bulh'Barh's sudden appearance.
He thinks he recognizes her as one of the Red Shields, another mercenary company quartered in the Tower of Melee, the south western spire of the Keep. At least, there was one such racial specimen among their number... hm....
"That's curious, isn't it," he said, half to himself, half to his fellow onlooker, "I wonder if that means Kulh'Kanh is here, even though he hasn't appeared at any of the delegations thus far. What do the other Red Shields make of it? Kerberbus is quite astounded by the behavior of the Legions after Hate's conquests. Even one who has observed them for o long, from a venerable line of those who have done the same, is startled. It's a new age, I think."
The information about the Bright Master causes Zalona to become much more serious and to wonder what her daughter was up to.
I will help you to the extent that you may observe the meeting and I am willing to pass on whatever questions you like. I would also welcome your help if escape is needed, but I will not commit further without knowing you further.
I also urge you to not take the idea of unusually hyper-extended lifespans so lightly. Are there not undead and unnatural creatures that feed from others and so extend their lives? This may be the very point of their whole cult, for most races crave longer lives, do they not? Keep your mind open and sharp, for we do not know what we face, or how powerful.
She also regards this bird-creature and carefully tries to figure out why he is speaking to her specifically.
Satazia regards the strange creature before her and thinks about what she has learned about the Red Shields before she answers.
Hrungnir raised an eyebrow at the apparition. Obviously there were political games happening. But, as an outsider, he knew little of what machinations were occurring, and truth be told, he did not care. All that mattered was that he fulfill his obligations, and that military support would be secured. He would not put his beard where it did not belong. Not yet, at least.
"Dread she-cub, I would be happy to be your representative to the Chamberlain of the Duke-Regent and determine what sort of message awaits for you, mystical or otherwise."
"This isn't untrue what you say, but what we are dealing with here is an unprecedented case. It's not that malevolent wielders of the sorcerous arts are incapable of supernaturally extending their lives, but that the extreme age we would have to ascribe to the Bright One in this case makes me at least wary of it's plausibility. There are treasure seekers and others who disrupt the rest of sleeping potenates, and any who work ill in the world eventually attract the attention of enemies. I can give you numerous examples from history of beings that survived for several thousand years, and were then slain... Though it still may be that my mind does not wish to compass the other possibility, even though it must."
She pauses before continuing in an almost reverential tone,
"Imagine, he might have spent years contemplating a single contingency in his plans, deduced every possible permutation of failure and success. He could very well have thought all we now ponder 50,000 years ago at his leisure. How should we begin to imagine besting such a foe?"
"It remains a mystery what exactly they are offering -- could the Bright Man possibly extend the power which infinitely lengthened his own tenure to others? Or is this a new plan, unconnected with his longevity. Does it involve his probable sire, the Dragon?"
"But come, we must not tarry, the door to the oubliette is there in front of the Tolh, and you must gather your strength and wits to face the Amphian. Do you have any last questions before the conference begins? Soon, we must allow the Tolh to resume his presumed guidance of this ritual."
In the course of his preparations, the Deep One discovers a tome that must have originated in, or have been copied from an original deriving from, the Forbidden City of Mourn. The pages are thin sheets of extremely dense metal engraved with the wedge-like pictographs of the Adybassian tongue, known as Aysybassian, and these are bound with rings two heavy sheets, thicker than any of the pages. It is a curiosity, to say the least...
One of the Queen's Deathspeakers, Song of the Nightingale at Midnight, attempts to draw your attention as you exit the chamber, speaking in the calming rhythms of the language of entreaty,
"Child of the Grey Wolf's House, I would speak with you of the First Daughter's deeds, and the wishes of the Mother of the People. Many matter rest un-assured, as if they were a sea falcon unable to alight upon the waters..."
Not sure why anyone would spend so long planning instead of living, but in any case, extra thinking doesn't solve every problem. It often just makes you obsessive and plodding, and when you get trapped in certain thinking patterns, you aren't open to newer possibilities. Intellectual limitations aren't enhanced by overthinking, although having so long to learn and improve could certainly help you in a lot of ways.
I don't have any other questions. Let's get this over with. Too bad. I was initially looking forward to this, and now it seems a dangerous burden. I suppose strength and wits are necessary.
Zalona never meant to pause in following Balh'Takh, but if she has, she now continues on to the meeting with the Amphian.
When she remembers who the Red Shields are Satazia narrows her eyes on the bird-creature.
''How should this one know what the Red Shields think. This one is not associated with that band of unorderly ruffians. Now this one would know who you are and why you think I know these Red Shields?''
Totally nonplussed by the manifest irritation of his new conversation partner, Kawsag's penetrating black eyes instead squint into a virtually epicanthic profile as he inspects Satazia with greater attention,
"Hmmm... I wonder if there are at least two of your kind present then" he says, seemingly mostly to himself,
Still speaking in a manner that appears largely to consist of an internal monologue made vocal, the Squawk continues,
"I am Kawsag of the Darkriders, an Inquisitor of the Goddess Kasugoan, Lady of Order and Silence, and I bear the firing arms of her servant Kerberus' sure hand. In short -- I am an agent of order in this chaotic world, and I bring the law of the heavens to the lawless with these muskets"
"I saw one of your kind among the ones of the banner bearing two red triangles on a black foreground, which is curious, almost as much as Bulh'Barh's unexpected appearance here. I think it means Kulh'Kanh has similarly arrived, though he is yet unseen, though I never got your view on my initial query... so... ?"
She offers him a small bow.
''This one has the honor of being called Satazia Zemrita. I am a mercenary who is being employed by Scarth. I am with the Company of Yozaril. Perhaps you have heard of them.''
She then gets an excited look in her eyes.
''This one seems to recall that you mentioned you saw a Lamian such as myself that was with the Red Shields? This is most unusual if it is true. The Red shields are agents of chaos and my kind generally are not so. Can you remember any other details about this Lamian you saw?''
Ictaiojh's eye seemingly light up, over some with curiousity he removes a bronze syringe filled with a strange oil from his utility belt amongst other alchemical oils in similar vessels. He injects the contents into the side of his neck.
Let us see what secrets lay hidden within the etchings of this tome.
Ictaiojh begins to scan through the tome.
In the tone of reconciliation, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path will say "I wish not to speak ill of one of such power, but I fear for the health of the Cub of the chosen. I believe this chair of rock she has is making her sick in both body and spirit, and I worry about her fascination with he whose name has been removed."