Responding to Daxniss when she asked her question, Ssilax shakes his head.
"No, it wouldn't be in this plane of existence." the apprentice says in a hushed tone as they sit. "If I remember correctly, the Astral plane is both everywhere and nowhere at the same time, if that makes sense. It touches all of planes of existence which there are a whole lot. I've never heard of a place that the dead gods go to, but I haven't read about a lot of things. Just because I've never read about it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. There is so much I don't know." Ssilax scratches the base of one of his larger horns as he thinks. The dirty hand prints of the imp are still visible upon the ivory horns.
"I think what Za..er.. Captain Zafe meant was that he found the sphere there, it being the remains of a dead god of some type. I'm guessing a Planer Ship is like a normal ship, except it travels through the planes rather then the water."
With a handful of flaps of his wings Zafe lands back on the dragonkin's shoulders. The imp switches his eye-patch over, letting his infernal eye shine. Looking down at the dragonkin with an appraising eye, Zafe raps the dragonkin on the head.
"You're smarter than you look, lizard." the pirate imp chuckles unpleasantly.
"Ummm, thank you? Do you have to keep calling me a lizard?" Ssilax is trying to look at the top of his head with little success.
"Yes."
"...great." Ssilax mutters with a sigh.
As the Deva finishes up her tale, the dragonkin forgot about the imp standing on his shoulders. Well, almost forgot about him.
It takes time for Wrathe to find a seat, not wanting to be rude, but lost in his reverie for a time until he realizes what had been asked of them.
Daxniss taps her fingers on a knee while paying attention to the Deva's story, nodding at Ssilax's words as he managed to explain things in a way for her to grasp at a better understanding. Wrathe seemed to be lost in thought, as well as acting out the what Daxniss thought was his norm. Still this was not the time or place to voice her concerns, just to take the time to address them later.
Argon tries to imagine a planar ship, but only comes up with a regular ship sailing through some "planar liquid" (which looks, in his imagined picture, suspiciously like sea water).
Giving up on that, he decides to ask his earlier question. "So, Deva, are you going to lead us out of here so we can complete the task? Will a high priest be able to have her god destroy the demon?"
Argon is not overly trusting of priestesses and whatnot, and wonders if they can do what's necessary.
The Deva silently seems to be appraising the gathered youths, as to what the divine creature was looking for was anyone's guess. Nodding to herself, the being seems to find what she was looking for.
"No young man, the high priest will not be able to destroy the parasyte, the god will. I mentioned telling the clergy because they might react poorly if you just place an evil object upon their deities altar. I doubt the orb will just disappear." the angelic creature says with the barest trace of a smile.
"Besides, if you don't tell the bootlicker's that run the place, you won't get a reward," Zafe interrupts with a snort of amusement. The Deva shoots him a look that carries just a hint of disapproval. The imp rolls his infernal eye at the Deva.
Dorian continues to appear to be relaxed as he sits down. However, his eyes move about a bit too much. The rest of the youths have an idea that the young monk is keeping vigilant. The half-living monk detects no sense of falsehood or deception of the part of the Deva or the pirate imp.
"I believe the safest way to get you closer to your destenation would be the teleportaion circle. I have spent a great deal of time watching the city, so I believe I know just where to send you." The Deva looks over at Zafe. He seems to be thinking of some reason to say "no" but can't come up with a good one, so the pirate nods.
"Alright lizard, on your feet! Time to get the lot of you off my vessel, I've had enough company to last me a few years." The imp's grating laughter floats in the air for a few moments. Guiding the dragonkin to the tunnel that was to the left of the ornate door they entered in. Led by Ssilax, complete with the small devil on his shoulders, the group walks across the spherical chamber. The Deva follows behind them, floating a few inches above the ground.
As they move through the tunnel, the obsidian-like walls show a series of almost paintings. The wall paintings seemed to be faded by time. The first of the panels show three similar looking individuals paths crossing, and the three travel together. The next panel shows what appears to be an encroaching darkness, leaving death in it's path. The third panel shows several other figures, one of them much smaller than the others. This panel seems to suggest these figures aiding the three as they march towards a wall of darkness.
Reaching the forth panel, a large, intricate tribal marking is seen. Much of the finer details of the design are lost. It seems faintly similar in some regards to wards of protection. The fifth panel has a shrouded figure of death lurking behind the three, faint lines leading from the long fanged skull to the three. The three figures are wrapped in the marking of the fourth panel. The final panel has them standing both in and above the darkness. Some form of battle is taking place, several symbols are marked into the painting.
Wrathe feels a chill in his soul as he recognizes an ancient marking of Asmodeus.
Exiting the tunnel, Zafe mutters to himself. It's hard to understand, but it sound something like the "Fatso figured out how to make some illusions." He appears a touch annoyed, glaring at the images as if they irritate him somehow.
They find themselves in another spherical chamber, about thirty feet or so round. Of to the right of the chamber are three sarcophagi. The stand almost as tall as a man, and are about eight feet long, and perhaps five wide. They are made of a light absorbing rock or metal, devoid of any ornamentation aside from simple markings. The first, all of them recognize a primitive symbol of balance etched upon it's front. The second, Daxniss recognizes as one of the other symbols for fool, but there looked to be a fanged skull behind it. The final sarcophagus was marked with the symbol for a devil. It is the only one that is open.
Zafe and the Deva don't seem alarmed by the open sarcophagus, mostly ignoring. Aside from Zafe who shoots it an glare as if blaming the inanimate object for something.
The left side of the chamber was much different. A circle had been traced upon the ground, covered with both divine and arcane markings. A eight different places in the circle where small potted trees.
"Do any of you have any questions before I send you on your way?" asks the Deva. Zafe had taken wing, and hopped off of Ssilax's shoulders. The small devil walks around the circle, looking at it with a glowing infernal eye.
Argon takes in all the paintings, understanding little, except that it is a story of some kind, and Zafe seems do dislike it. Still, he tries to commit it all to memory, as it may be important in the future sometime. Argon discovered in his training that his memory for things is pretty good - compared to the other militia trainees. He knows compared to Wrathe, Ssilax, the former Lilith, and even Daxniss, it is not very special.
He follows the others to the circle. He had been hoping they could bring Dainoth to whatever church they were going to - he would give their story credibility, and guide them to the right place.
But now, he does not want to mention Dainoth's name, or where he lives, so he figures it's just best to get on with it. He considers asking where they are going, but decides they will just deal with it when they get there. Hopefully it will not be too far away.
Daxniss puzzles over the symbols, trying to recall if any of the other symbols are similar to her Harrow Cards " The Fool card has been found. " She mutters to herself before an urge to get closer to the sarcophagus strikes her which, she suppresses. The practical side of her stifles the impulse to go checking around a possible crypt, she turns to Zafe and the Deva and says. " Who were the three in the paintings? "
Wrathe takes in the paintings, nodding along with Daxniss' question.
Wondering if the two things were connected he asks again, "Please tell us more of this time of change and potential annihilation."
Then he points at the last of the sarcophagi, "Where is the occupant now?"
Eyes glancing back at the illusionary paintings, Ssilax, looks back at the others. He had so many questions, but figured the others wanted to get out of here and one to the adventure part. Between the Drowned Ones and the flaming wards, Ssilax had enough excitement for one day.
Listening to the others ask their own questions, Ssilax sorts through his mental list.
"Why have you stayed here so long? On this plane, I mean." the dragonkin asks
"Certainly. The three in the paintings were individual that banded together in response to the encroaching Madness. Perhaps Fate had a hand in putting them together. There names no longer exist within my memory, I remember there was but one sun in the sky then. I do recall who they were in life. A Druid prince, a mighty Oracle of Nature, and a Bladesinger of Elven training. The three half-orcs began their tale simple enough.." the Deva launches into a lengthy tail.
Illusions of people and places long since gone appear in concert with the Deva's tale. While names might have been erased from her memory, the details remain almost crystal clear in focus. Ghostly figures silently act out the actions as the Deva recounts the ancient tale.
Falling silent for a few moments as the illusions of the final battle flicker and fade, the Deva seem to be contemplating her role in the tale. She didn't pull any punches concerning her deeds, nor the appearance of Asmodeus and those that penned a contract with the then Prince of Hell. Of note, she seems far more relaxed then the blood covered, battle frenzied Deva of War. Almost like a different being entirely.
With a graceful gesture the Deva indicates the three sarcophagi.
"Two of the three lie here. One sought piece in Eternal Slumber rather then symptom of Madness. The Bladesinger, after his devil contract was up, sought a cure for his vampirism with the aid of his magic and knowledge. He was not successful. The third, signed a second contract with the Devil Prince after his first was up. Ultimately, a decision that brought him regrets once more akin to a mortal creature rather then a Devil," There was a slight look of what might be pain upon her sculpted features for the briefest of moments. "Now, he seeks to "Bring about Balance once more," as he puts it. As to his location, it is somewhere within the city walls. He keeps himself well hidden from scrying."
Zafe, who had at the beginning of the tale, had dropped down to lean against the middle sarcophagus. The small imp had pulled his pirate hat over his uncovered eye. The imp apparently dozes off, or whatever it is immortal beings do when their bored. Stretching his arms and wings, Zafe hops into the air, landing upon the dragonkin's shoulders once more.
"Because there are a few things I have left to do around here. Plus, I've got couple of freeloaders who would do nothing but whine if I did leave." the imp says with a mock sigh. "I should have included a time limit on the contract we agreed on. How was I supposed to know they'd be so damn slow at getting their s~@% together?!" the pirate imp grumbles, mostly to himself.
The fantastic recitation complete causes him to crane his lower jaw back up into his face.
Wrathe considers everything that had been relayed. If it could be believed then there was a half-orc, who was thousands of years old, wandering about the city. They had been shown the image of the half-orc, so at least they would be able to recognize him.
The words and the pictures relayed deep in his mind, he awaits for them to be sent on their way.
Argon looks a bit confused. In the way of many young people, he seeks clarification.
"So, Zafe is one of the Half Orcs in the drawings??"
"Daxniss rubbed at her her head, now anxious to leave this place, she had many new things reveled to her and Daxniss was ready to be done with this day. Daxniss shakes her head at Argon's words, as she doubted Zafe was one of the three.
Mulling over the tale, Ssilax scratches at the base of a horn as he thinks. He wasn't sure what to make of the tale, or the fact the imp was lingering on this plane.
Filling the room with his horrid sounding laughter, the imp is doubled over, pirate hat falling off his head.
"No, the Captain is certainly not one of the half-orcs. The awake of the three second deal altered his form, but it is still much closer in nature to that of a half-orc." The Deva says in a manner of explanation.
Argon just nods his head and keeps quiet. The deva and Zafe were sometimes hard to understand, and he would like to just move on.
Wrathe leans against a vertical section of wall, his strange eyes playing about the players while he considers what has been revealed, and wonders how much had been truth and how many lies had flowed forth.
"Now, if everyone is ready, join hands within the Circle," the Deva indicates the markings ringed by eight small, potted trees. For a few moments, the Deva set of four wings appears, glowing a shimmering pure white. Dorian finds himself uncomfortable buffed by positive energy. He finds himself moving a few feet further from the positive aligned divine creature.
After she plucks a perfect glowing feather from one of the two sets of wings, the Deva's wings fade from view once more. Handing the feather to closest of the youths, which happens to be Argon, she smiles pleasantly.
"Don't lose that. You'll more than likely be asked to provide proof as to how your used the Circle upon arrival. As it should lend proof to your words," the angel pauses for a moment, looking the group over. "Give the feather to the one that sent you here to scout out the sphere, as I believe the Demon's deception needs to be known."
Making sure that their hands where joined, and seeing that Ssilax had put his tail on Dog, so the animal would be within the spell as well.
"May your journeys be blessed. I hope that we shall meet once more," the powerful divine creature says with a slight bow. Divine arcane flows from her lips as she cast a teleportation spell.
As the magics gather up the group to spirit them off, Zafe's unpleasant voice is heard, as if from a distance.
"So, you and Fatso been bumping uglies long? Or is this a new thing for you?"
They are snagged up by the powerful magics and flung away before the shocked looking Deva's response could be heard.
For several seconds they experience the sensation of being stretched. All most as if they where in two places at the same time. Like part of them had leaped ahead and was trying to tell them what they rest of their body was going to be landing in.
Blinking in the setting sunlight, the group finds themselves standing in a small Druidic groove's summoning circle. Complete with a very surprised looking black panther whom had been lying down in front of the circle. The noise of the city can be heard faintly in the background.
Filing what he had learned away in his mind to be transcribed later in his journal, Ssilax joins his friends in the circle. His tail lifts the back of his robe slightly, as he touches Dog with it. He was trying to not hop from foot to foot in excitement. More so than the thought of leaving, it was experiencing his first telepotation that had the dragonkin all excited.
As they were fading, the dragonkin hears what Zafe had said, and his jaw drops in surprise. Only to reappear with the same surprised look upon his scaled visage.
At the command of his stomach mixed with a healthy dosage of vertigo, Ssilax prompt drops to his hands and knees and noisily vomits.
Argon takes the feather and holds it carefully but strongly. If they arrive somewhere with wind, or are attacked, he wants to be sure he doesn't lose it.
Zafe had said something at the end, presumably to the Deva. He would have to ask what bumping uglies means, but he thinks he has an idea. He also wonders who Fatso is....
The ride through the.... whatever they have gone through ... is fantastic, and he feels like he's flying, or moving through the earth; or both at the same time. Seeing Ssilax lose his lunch, Argon smiles, assuming he'll be fine. He looks around the new circle and tries to get his bearings, based on the time of day and the sun. He looks at the city to ensure it really is Caern.
Finally, he voices his concern. "I do hope we can find the temple or church we need..."
It was a fascinating experience to be ripped through space.
It was just too bad that Wrathe's stomach disagreed...vehemently. A technicolour yawn stains the ground with the contents of his stomach via a series of heaves and contractions.
He vows to study teleportative magics as he had vowed previously to study the shadows. Wrathe would master both.
Once he wipes his sandals clean, of course.
Daxniss let's out a groan as she feels like she is two places at once, the odd sensation twisting her guts in ways she had never thought possible. She felt that the new ground that she was now standing on was rushing forward, staggering a few steps forward she stops trying to fight the bile rising in her throat and let's the contents of her stomach lurch out of her mouth.
Spewing her lunch, she does her best to make sure that none comes out of her nose, as that would just make things even worse for her. Spitting the last of the bile out she let's out a growl, of disgust, one thing she was thankful was the fact she didn't have long hair.
Flopping back on his hindquarters, sandals as clean as a quick splash from his waterskin could make them, and with vomitus drying near him, Wrathe draws out his travel journal and records what he had learned, while the experience was fresh in his mind.
Words come out in many languages, as well as in quick sketches.
The burgeoning wizard demonstrates literacy in public, showing little regard for his own safety.
Sights are mostly concealed within the small Druid grove, but Argon recognizes a few landmarks that lead him to believe that they are in Caern. Specifically, Ascendant Court district, the hub of all things religious within the city. The wind carries the faint sound of chanting and occasionally, the tolling of a bell calls out.
Daxniss comes to the same conclusion a few minutes later. The other three are pretty confident that they are in Caern and not in the Puddles district.
The grove does an amazing job at blocking out the city. It was easy to imagine that you where deep in the forest.
The black panther that had been lying in front of the circle watching them. A feline expression of curiosity was in it's blue eyes.
And then Dog comes running up from outside the grove and promptly sticks his nose in the feline's rear. Needless to say, the large hunting cat was less then pleased.
Letting out a surprised yowl, the cat spins around and cuffs the white furred canine across the muzzle. The cat must have pulled its claws, because Dog still had a head. Letting out a surprised yelp, Dog scampers back to Ssilax who was attempting to stand up on shaking legs. The canine bowls the dragonkin over and stands atop the apprentice mage, wagging his tail happily.
"That, is an extremely rude thing to do," the panther says in perfect common as it sits back down on it's haunches. "What brings you weened cubs to my grove?" The panther's eyes grow large at the site of Wrathe writing in his book. "Hsst! I'm not sure where your from cub, but unless your a sanctioned caster, that little book can get you in more trouble then you can imagine." The felines's form shifts and elongates. The form flows like water, and in a few heartbeats, a pretty young elf stands before the group.
Dressed in simple leathers, so soft looking that silk would seem harsh to the skin, the young elven druid maiden looks at the group. A mix of suspicion and growing concern appears in her brilliant blue eyes. Her silvery hair was done in simple braids, joining into a longer braid that travel down her back.
Fighting nausea, a spinning head, finding himself on his back, and Dog's legs tangled in his limbs, Ssilax really, really wants to go back home and hid under his covers for a few weeks.
With some effort, Ssilax grabs a hold of Dog's leash so he begin to untangle the robe from himself and Dog. At the sound of a melodious voice coming from the big black cat, Ssilax freezes. The dragonkin makes an imp pretending to be a statue look down right figity. His robes where pushed this way and that, and his cowl and hood weren't even on.
The brilliant platinum and golden scales on display, Ssilax's nervous sapphire orbs darted this way and that behind the black and white face mask scaled pattern.
Daxniss wipes here mouth on the back of her sleeve, turning around at the sound of a different voice. The fact that it was coming out of a panther, was only more disturbing but it didn't seem to be threatening.... yet.
Daxniss lightly smacks the back of Wrathe's head and says " Oi, I know that you want to note things, but you need but be aware of your surroundings. I apologize about appearing here, I didn't think that we would have been sent here. "
Argon sees the pretty elf and starts. The cat was sleek, but this woman makes his heart skip a beat. Since he's the one holding the feather, he figures he should speak first.
"...Ummm... We.. We were sent by an angel. To find a temple to a goodly deity." He lifts the feather to show her, as if that explains everything.
Hunkering down Wrathe finishes the last few sentences, blows on the ink to help it dry faster, and sheepishly puts his writing implements away.
It is only then that he realizes that it's a talking panther. The truth of which is revealed in the wideness of his eyes.
Daxniss looked around and realized the the panther was not a panther anymore, as young elven druid maiden looked over at the group. Shaking her head at Argon when she glanced out of the corner of her eye. The corner of her mouth curling into a smirk, Argon must be almost stuck dumb at the young elf maiden.
Trying to avoid staring at the shape changing druid, Ssilax finishing pulling up his hood.
"Again, we are very sorry for intruding upon your grove. The being who teleported us here said it was a safe place," Ssilax says, almost sounding a little defensive. Nervous, but defensive.
Dog sits on his haunches, sniffing in the direction of the druid occasionally.
"Ummmmmm, would you mind telling us where where the Temple of Nethys is located? We haven't been here before." Ssilax speaks the truth, more or less, he and the others(to his knowledge), had not been to the district of the Ascendant Court.
The dragonkin had been mulling this over since the Deva told them how to destroy the demon. The young theurge felt that offering the orb to Nethys would be better. Ssilax had no doubt that the Lord of Magic would destroy the demon. How painful it was going to be, was for the demon to find out.
Daxniss turns around and flicks Dorian on the nose saying " Hey now, your kicks tend to leave bruises, I thought a light tap on Wrathe's head would have been enough, more to get him back in the present moment. " Daxniss scolds Dorian lightly.
If Wrathe notices any of the assaultive activities, they do not show on his face.
He glances about wondering where the heck they are, his mind on teleportation and other things.
Watching the group interact, a slow smile grows on the young druid's pretty features. Brushing a lock of silver hair out of her eyes, she looks at the feather, squinting her brilliant sky blue eyes. Holding out a hand, as if to touch the feather, her fingers stop a few inches away, as if feeling an invisible field.
Sniffing at the air in a curiously animal like movement, the elven maiden smiles warmly at the group. With a liquid grace only the fey have seemed to master, the druid strolls around the circle. The uncomfortable thought of a cat circling a mouse springs to mind.
"What curious scents you all have," she says, mostly to herself. A few steps puts her within the group, the faint scent of lilac dances on the air. Suddenly leaning forward, the elf sniffs at the left side of Ssilax's neck, near the base of his jaw. He had let out an Eep! as the druid had gotten much too close for his comfort. she sniffs the other side of his neck. "Hmmmmm, so that is the scent of dragon," the druid speaks to herself in elven. The druid turns to the others.
Taken a few steps, her fingertips play in the still sitting Wrathe's tangles locks.
"Your scent almost masks this tieflings scent," the young(?) maiden's says, once more speaking to the group in the common tongue. Spinning on her heel, she faces Argon, looking him up and down slowly, bringing a heat to his cheeks "This one of fire and earth." Slowly turning her head, the odd elf casts a rather unfriendly eye in the direction of the monk. "And this one has death seeping through his scent like rotting flower." The elf finally stops moving and is staring at Daxniss.
"So what brings a dragon touched and her little harem of males to my circle. Do the males speak the truth? Or do they're wiggling tongues lie for you?" the druid asks the rogue. The elf seems almost to be challenging the other female for intruding upon her territory.
Daxniss wanted to sink into a shadow and hide from embarrassment for a heartbeat or two at the druid's words, letting out a melodious laugh at the thought. Pushing off the flush of embarrassment Daxniss says " A girl needs to have someone to carry the heavy things every now and then. As for the wiggling of tongues and lying; I don't think that they have much ideas on how to mislead. " Daxniss finishes with a bow of her head, keeping her eyes on the druid.
" Indeed we are looking for a temple as the others have stated we have a need for a priest and their alter to get rid of something foul for the city. "
The flash of embarrassment gone from the girls mind as soon as she was talking, finding herself at ease with the conversation. Inwardly Daxniss is trying to stay calm, the last thing that the group needed was a druid angry with them.
Wrathe's eyebrows knit as he is likened to a tiefling, but he quickly moves on, as he is not one to hail onto such things, and he accepts it as a fair point since has been tainted in much the same manner.
He considers speaking up, but thinks better of it. He was not being directly addressed, BY A FREAKIN' PANTHER THING, and Daxniss was much better with honeyed words than he.
The silvery haired elven druid laughs at comment of carrying things, looking at the two casters.
"Well, since everyone has been so polite, I suppose it's the least I can do to show you the way to your lost temple. I'll even forgive you for interrupting my nap. And the dragon's rude dog," she says with a dismissive sniff.
It seems she is under the impression that the group is not from Caern, as she warns them about the some of the more overzealous humans. She points at the concealed dragonkin and tells him to keep under his hood.
Argon bows and says, "Thank you" after the woman agrees to lead them where they need to go. He looks over the grove, trying to remember landmarks and features, before they leave.
Trying to be extra polite, he says to the elf, "I'm Argon. Do you have a name?"
Slinking back into the depths of his voluminous cowl the young Xthian crosses his arms 'neath his soiled scholarly robes, protectively falling upon the contents of his belt pouch, and falls in a contemplative reverie regarding all that had transpired.
Wrathe desperately wishes to find time, in a safe location, to record all that he had learned.
Daxniss nods at the druid's words, content to allow her to think that they were new to Caern, wondering briefly about her words to a lost temple. Daxniss keeps an eye about her, trying to draw a mental map of her surroundings and where some other churches were at not being completely familiar with this district.
A bright smile flashes across the druid's face.
"I'm called Storm by the locals, that works well enough for a name." The druid looks up at the trees surrounding the grove. "I'll be going out for a bit. Don't let anybody in while I'm gone." A strangely hand like lower branch of the oak tree bends and creaks as it reaches out to touch the elf's cheek. The treant opens it's eyes and looks the group over as it returns it's arm to original place.
"Alright, come with me now, we've got a bit of ground to cover. And I hope you like alleyways, because it's safer then the main streets. Well, safer for nonhumans anyway," Storm says trying to suppress a grin.
Turning, the druid walks out of her grove, the group in tow. Argon manages to note enough landmarks to estimate where the grove is. When he looks back at the grove, it looks different somehow. Almost like the trees had shift so that they created a wall. Curiously enough, Argon finds his mind just wants to "slide" of the area, and dismiss it. The Slayer shakes of the sensation and catches up with the others.
Storm leads a the group at an almost run. Ssilax is forced to run to keep up, which he does so with no complaint. Racing through a series of alleyways, that are amazing clean, compared to the Dock and Puddles wards, a few glimpse of the Ascendant District can be glimpsed. A great deal of gold had been spent building this district, that was for certain.
They catches occasional sight of groups walking the fine cobblestone streets. Clergy, adventurers, well dressed citizens of the ward, knights in shining armor on patrol, occasional revelers celebrating the gods know what. Not to mention the periodic mad person on a corner preaching the end of world.
Before to long they reach the Temple of Nethys. The God's duality is represented in the square building. Onside appears to be built from a pure white marble, a sense of warmth and protection flows from this side. The other side of the building is built from a black stone. Flashes of energy curl and twist from deep with in the stone. The sense of surging destruction seems to flow from the black side the longer you stare at it.
The group stands in the alleyway across the street from the walled off temple. The large stone gates of the towering wall are shut. A single guard stands in front of a what looks to be a heavily warded stone door. Argon get the impression that the building was designed to survive a siege from the all sides. The armored guard wears a set of black and white robes over a suit of chain. A set of wands are strapped next to a sheathed blade at his right hip.
Storm looks at the group and raises her fine silver eyebrows.
Breathing heavily after the run across the district, Ssilax's sapphire orbs are locked onto the temple. The theurge had never had an opportunity to visit an actual temple of Nethys. A few small shrines, and small alters. The building radiated magics, the feeling of it danced along his scales.
Glancing around to make sure they where in the clear, the young theurge take a few moments and quietly chants. At the completion of each of the chants, the dragonkin points at each of his friends. A faint ripple waves through their clothing, making it clean and presentable once more.
"I'm not going into the temple looking like a beggar," Ssilax says looking over at his friends. The dragonkin drops his gaze as he says, "Plus, we where still covered in the dust from the... chamber." A slight shudder runs down his spine.
Wrathe all but needs to be dragged from the grove, his attention fixated upon the treant, eyes scouring its surface. Marching right up before it he starts spewing forth a stream of inquisitive words, wondering about all manner of things, such as how long treants live, and what they devour for nourishment.
He expects to be told to go pollinate himself though.
Hearing the others' voices fading, he rushes to catch up, a huge smile splayed across his face.
Argon finds the whole grove experience interesting, but they have to leave in a hurry. He follows the pretty elf closely, not noticing Wrathe getting left behind. No matter, since he catches up eventually. Still, he makes a note to watch him. Like himself, Wrathe tends to get caught up...
Seeing the temple of Nethys, he nods. He hadn't known Nethys was a 'goodly god', but since Ssilax was touched by him, he supposes it makes sense. He had heard Nethys was sort of crazy, but then, aren't all the gods?
He turns to Storm. "Thank you for bringing us. Will you enter with us?"