At last the silence is broken as the door re-opens and the Countenance returns with Tian’dir. Ia and Ivor reform their seats and take them, while Gerallt walks to the center of the room. He waits for Tian’Dir’s prompt.
The mask speaks, “Please share the verdict of this trial.”
Gerallt rest his eyes on Vladimir and Irravin for a moment. “We reflected together, seeking to understand how your actions determined the outcome within Mercia. We sought to understand how deeply you stepped beyond the oaths of our Order. We sought to understand how those balanced.
We quickly came to the conclusion there was wisdom and light within your actions. We trust your hopes and ambitions. But, after long deliberation, we concluded that, due to the unique nature of what may lay before us within Mercia and the Faedark Forest, trust is not enough and we must be sure.
Thus we come to our verdict: each of you will be tested. I shall test Irravin, intending to confront his professed convictions of loyalty to the light in ways that may enlighten him as much as me. Ivor and Ia shall test Vladimir. The entirety of his case is based on the existence of Dormin, and so that existence must be witnessed using the same magic that Ia brought to bear in the trial. To refuse these tests is to refuse your duties.”
Gerallt gives a slight bow as he completes his speech. Tian’Dir turns to Vladimir and Irravin, “To be clear, to refuse these tests is to face expulsion. It is your choice to choose from the paths before you.”
Gerallt nods. "Very well. Then let us deliberate."
The Countenance and Tian'dir leave to an adjacent chamber. The chairs they had been using shift and rejoin the floor. Vladimir and Irravin are left in silence.
Tian'Dir addresses the Countenance regarding Irravin's request. "If Ia and Ivor agree, it is permitted at Gerallt's discretion." Without hesitation Ivor shrugs and waves his hand to proceed. Ia considers a moment before nodding.
Gerallt looks for Irravin's eyes. He speaks in a calm, honest tone, "I mean to have words with you quite soon. But must it interrupt our current decision?"
Vladimir recounts the vision on his hands and knees, facing the floor, before the Countenance. He shares a tale of a mortal life that betrayed the ideals that Vladimir holds most dear. He humbles himself before the Countenance and requests that they refer to him by the name of this past life, Irn, to better remember the evil of which his soul is capable.
Gerallt nods to Irn’s request, “What is truly our own if not our identity? Our possesions, our bodies, even our souls will someday part from what we currently call ourselves, but our name remains there, eternal. You are Irn until you speak to me otherwise.”
Ivor softly pounds his hand upon his chair in agreement as if with a gavel or tankard and Ia nods her approval.
Tian’Dir addresses the Countenance, “What else does the Countenance ask of Irravin and Irn?”
There is only a moment of silence before Ivor speaks with certainty in his voice. “I have heard enough, and I know my fellow Countenance well enough to say that they also are satisfied. Let us hear anything they have to add, then reflect upon the words spoken.”
Gerallt and Ia nod their assent, and Tian’Dir turns to Irn and Vladimir. “You may add anything to your testimony now, then the Countenance shall reflect in private before announcing their decision.”
Ia’s amulet has a moonstone at its heart, set in spiraling silver. The outermost metal forms a ring. Upon closer inspection, the inner spiral and outer ring don’t actually meet, and some magical force holds the amulet in its shape. The moonstone gives off a soft white smoke that glows. The smoke dissipates before it reaches farther than a few centimeters from the amulet. The spiral symbol is commonly used to represent to domain of Air.
It is difficult to read the expressions beneath the masks of the Countenance. Ia remains stoic at being called blind and ignorant. Ivor shifts his stance when Vladimir directly challenges and insults Ia.
I’m curious what Irravin thinks!
Ia seems to measure her response, then acts in an instant. She brings her right hand flat before her as she incants, and a magic takes grip of Vladimir.
Vladimir's Will Save:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 Vladimir's Will Save:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18 Vladimir's Will Save:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14 I rolled extra for duration
The force of it grasps him in an instant and he is held, paralyzed, in his chair. No amount of physical effort enables him to do more than breathe and move his eyes. Ivor and Gerallt both stand. Gerallt speaks first his voice calm, but edged, “Ia, we did not discuss this. What are you doing? You shall not harm him.”
Ia responds, “And he shall not be. I have the right to compel him to undergo divination if I deem it necessary. And I do.”
Tian’Dir flies to Ia’s shoulder. “Then you surely remember that I must bear witness to such an interrogation. Don me.”
Ia complies. She returns her golden starburst mask to its vial, and replaces it with the white mask. The beautiful face contorts, and recognizably shifts to Ia’s.
Ia steps closer to Vladimir and speaks quietly, “If Dormin exists, you are not him. You are a man, who seems to have forgotten he is fallible. If you claim your past lives victories let us see if you will accept their failures as well.”
She draws forth energy from her amulet. The smoke condenses upon her palm into a sharp spear of light 15 centimeters long. The same light burns within her eyes. She presses it into Vladimir and it passes into his skin. Eventually her palm rests on his chest. Vladimir’s eyes take on the same light.
Vladimir:
As the energy enters you, you begin to fall, deep into blackness. The Citadel recedes above you, until every horizon is but blackness. Only Ia remains with her palm on your chest. The sensation of falling fades. From all directions, motes of light begin drifting by. As you look at each, memories flood you. A life of a baker… a soldier… a scholar. For a moment you touch on one that’s familiar. Arcus.
Ia speaks, her voice sounds empty in the blackness amongst the motes of your past lives. “Fine lives. Simple or heroic. But there is nobility in both. That is why we must go deeper. Show me shame.”
Her final word is a command. Once again you fall. Deeper and deeper. Now the motes that drift by show other things. You blackmailed someone. A fat life of lust and greed. Lives that shaped your soul by letting you experience the fruits of evil. Until finally…
You move through the temple confidently. It is very important to look like you belong when you’re up to no good. You learned that a long time ago. Others move through the temple on the business of this strange Order. But they don’t think anything of your passage. The dragon had greeted you as an honored guest, so why would they question you?
Truly, the happiness of Azithax had been moving. He had greeted you as a long-lost friend. It could have been easy to lose yourself in such kindness. But that kindness was fake. All he really wanted was to use you to create his true friend. He expected you to just delete your life, give up everything that made up Irn, and become someone else. To the Abyss with that. He used who knows how many of your other lives, so you could keep one for yourself.
But you always recognize a mark when you saw one. Azithax’s love for Durman, or whoever, blinded him to you. And so you nodded along. Until Azithax’s left to prepare for your ascension that would never come. You spare a look over your shoulder before you walk down the stairs and follow the tunnel. This place was reserved for the dragon and samsaran. No one would see.
The tunnel opens up to a large room filled with fantastic objects and trinkets. You almost drooled the first time you saw them. But you know these aren't worth as much as what you seek. Such objects always had requirements. You must be this righteous to ride and all that. Makes selling them hard. But one thing would be worth a fortune no matter where you went.
At the back of the room, you see the three eggs sitting submerged in the pool, scaled orbs of bronze. The damnable things are heavy, and it takes awhile to get them into your portable hole filled with the same nursery of water. Once they are stowed, you use the scroll of water breathing. You dive into the pool of water. There you find the tunnel that leads to the pool within the Faedark. No one saw you leave. You simply vanished. The necklace of non-detection should keep you safe. Azithax would find the eggs eventually, long after you sold them and were gone. You don’t need to feel bad. Still… it’s a hard feeling to shake.
You are Vladimir. The life drifts away into memory and then into… nothing. You return to the blackness with Ia. Even through her mask, you can see pity.
Vladimir Sense Motive:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27
Ia gestures with her other hand, and you are hurled to the material plane.
Those not in a magic trance:
The two stay locked in their respective positions. Ivor paces back and forth. Gerallt sits once more. He locks eyes with Irravin. "Vladimir will be fine. Ia's word is adamantine."
Ia speaks, her eyes still glowing with Vision, “Fine lives. Simple or heroic. But there is nobility in both. That is why we must go deeper. Show me shame.”
Time passes. Vladimir whispers a single word, "Irn."
Vladimir’s Fortitude:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Vladimir tumbles from the chair gasping for breath. Ia lays her hand on his shoulder for a moment, without magical purpose.
She turns and walks to her seat. She removes Tian’Dir, and sets her gently in the air and the mask takes flight. She dons her own once more by the smoke filled vial. Her voice has shifted. The barb has left it. “I have not come to judge Dormin or Irn, but Vladimir. The victories and failures of such lives hold no sway here. You spoke to me swollen with pride. And the path you have walked has led you to power. Both were true of Zadan as well… and I wish we had acted sooner, before he lost himself. I cannot speak for my peers, but only humility may earn my pardon. And you have not demonstrated it yet.”
Irravin addresses the questions put forth by Ivor and Gerralt. He sought to test himself by peering into his dark reflection he saw within Zadan, and proclaims he shall set the Divine Visage as his guiding light.
A silence falls after he speaks. But somehow the tension has lessened within the room. The subtle language of postures tells of anger and suspicion fading away.
Tian’Dir speaks, “Are there further questions for Irravin?”
No one speaks for a few moments, then Gerralt looks to Irravin, “I have many further questions, but none that pertain to your interactions with Zadan. I am ready to move on, Tian’Dir.”
Ia speaks, “Indeed. We must hear from Vladimir.” Though her tone seems neutral, tension floods the room once again, as Ivor and Gerralt turn to the ranger.
Tian'Dir turns to Vladimir as well, "The floor is yours. Offer your own personal experiences regarding Mercia and Zadan, or add any detail you deem important."
Vladimir recounts his experiences in Mercia, taking time to answer the questions that had been put to Irravin. He mentions the atmosphere of fear and desperation that blanketed the besieged town, and how it urged them to seek answers. He recalls binding and interrogating a human-demon hybrid and calls upon the strange dark stone to depict it for him in stunning detail, complete with pixelated dripping blood. The Countenance cannot hide their shock of what is depicted, but also of Vladimir’s ease of guiding the strange magic.
Vladimir continues his tale, saying how their efforts were too slow, and their enemy’s victory drew close, and so they turned to Zadan. But Vladimir recognizes that path was dangerous not just because of where it took him, but because it was driven by fear. He links this mistake to his chain of lives as a Samsaran. He imagines the blood biography stealing part of the wholeness of a soul like his own and is ashamed.
Tian’Dir speaks, “The Countenance may now ask any questions of Vladimir.”
Ia stands and takes the floor immediately. She paces, taking inhumanely long steps. She walks around Irravin and Vladimir before she speaks. She speaks as a teacher. Not as a teacher before children, but as a teacher speaking to brilliant minds that still stands above. “Irravin, I hear the remorse in your voice. Though you have borne the mark of hellfire, I believe you have set yourself on the path of salvation. I hear remorse in your voice as well, Vladimir. But it hails from somewhere else. You regret your actions for their mark upon yourself, not their mark on the world or the Divine Visage. I can see it through your transgressions as well.”
She stands in front of Vladimir and slowly closes the distance between them as she speaks. “Zadan asked for information you reaped in your service of the Divine Visage. Knowledge of your foes, the Demons, and you shared. He asked for service to complete the blood biography, and you complied. He asked for entrance to the Sanctum of your “ascended” self... and you balked. There was a line you could not cross.”
She stands just in front of Vladimir’s seat, and leans over him, towering over him. The first sentences comes out in a regretful whisper. “Because you are selfish. What belongs to the Divine Visage you share, but what you see as yours, you hoard.” Her pace quickens as her voice rises, “Look deep within yourself Vladimir. Your own agenda rises higher in your heart than your duty to the Divine Visage. You plundered an ancient sanctum and took for your own what is no more yours than the accomplishments of my forebears are mine. Tell me it is not true! Do you place yourself before the Divine Visage, as Zadan did before you?”
Her accusation echoes longer in everyone’s mind longer than it does in the chamber.
Irravin's questions/answers should continue to be posted. The posts dealing with Tian'Dir and Vladimir shall commence here, but they are understood to take place after Irravin is finished chronologically.
After Irravin's questioning and answers are complete, Tian'Dir turns to Vladimir, "The floor is yours. Offer your own personal experiences regarding Mercia and Zadan, or add any detail you deem important."
Irravin takes his seat and begins his tale. Even though the seat is made from stone, it still somehow offers cushion and is quite comfortable.
Tian'Dir's face remains emotionless as Irravin recounts his experiences. The members of the Countenance generally make no attempt to hide their reactions even behind their masks, except for perhaps Ia, who maintains a fairly stoic presentation.
The description of the destruction within Mercia, particularly the metaphor of rivers of blood of innocents, is met with mixtures of anger and sadness. The air grows tense as mentions of meeting with and aiding Zadan come. Irravin's words are weighed carefully.
Sense Motive DC27:
Talk of Zadan stirs a great anger within Ia. Although it is hidden beneath her mask, her eyes are narrowed with concealed fury.
Irravin ends his story with a dedication of his life and loyalty to the mask.
Tian'Dir speaks, "The Countenance may now ask any questions of Irravin."
A moment of silence. Minds churn with thought and emotion.
Ivor leans forward in his chair and takes the open floor. "Zadan attacked individuals and tried to access an artifact that both were under your protection. I can understand you seeking him out in jail and questioning him, even though he is excommunicated. You saw it as a requirement to fulfill your duty. However, I cannot understand why you would meet with him after. In the eyes of Mercia, he was a criminal, and in the eyes of the Divine he consorts with demons. What was your hope in meeting with him? Why did you not instead apprehend him?"
After hearing Irravin's answer to Ivor's question, Gerallt adds his own. He brings his palms together and places his fingers upon the lips of his mask as he speaks. "Irravin. I must ask you a question you may not have asked yourself. I see you speak honestly when you say you would now reject Zadan's assistance, that you would now follow the path set before you by the Divine Visage. However, in your own recounting Zadan's actions and information were critical to prevent even greater destruction within Mercia. Critical in preventing the Dark Seer from grasping artifacts of unknown power and origin within the Sanctum. Given the same path again, would you truly choose differently? The burden of our duty pushes us towards any means for victory or we must face the burden of death and destruction upon our souls."
Ia speaks quickly in response to Gerallt, "You're simply asking him if he will keep his word, when he's already broken his oath of service to the Divine Visage. I do not see the point." There is impatience in her tone.
Gerallt locks eyes with Irravin, then he looks to Tian'dir, "My question still stands."
The mask beats its wings, and begins to hover in the air. It speaks with a woman's voice, that echoes where others do not.
"This investigation and trial shall commence under my adjudication. We shall maintain and respect the Words of Founding of the Divine Visage. We gather to ascertain the nature of the actions taken by individuals that involved dealing with and possibly aiding Zadan. The Countenance shall identify themselves."
Knowledge Religion or Planes DC 15, trained only:
This is an Angel. Cassisians typically take the shape of a helm, but this one bears the form of a mask for its connection with the Divine Visage. They serve as messengers and scribes for more powerful angels. They have a perfect memory.
The monk stands. "I am Gerallt Gwyn. I lead the Shattered Veil. I wish us gathered here to seek the truth." He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment. His peircings expand, and in a moment he wears a reflective, metallic mask.
The man clad in plate stands. "I am Ivor Goldmane. I lead the Reckoners." Without gesture, a mask slides from within the helm of his plate, and his white and gold mask is donned.
The woman stands, towering over the room. "I am Ia. I speak for the Seraphic Eye. I would see justice done here." She withdraws a vial filled with smoke or mist. She unstoppers it and the mist engulfs her face, leaving her mask upon her. It has a golden sunburst upon the forehead, and trailing lines of sunset colors falling down the cheeks like tears.
The mask turns to Vladimir and Irravin. "Please give your name, don your mask, and swear to give the truth fully and willingly."
After Vladimir and Irravin have done so, Tian'Dir continues. "I would hear of Vladimir and Irravin's efforts within Mercia, with specific detail of their dealings with Zadan. The floor is yours Irravin."
