Nor-Rokkus shot a death-glare at Sangorius, then glanced down towards Captain Lizzete with a more neutral look.
"If you actually know something, I suggest you just spit it out already." He said. "It might be the best possible way of diffusing this ridiculous situation."
While trying to avoid getting in the middle of things, he also prepared himself to make a move if Sangorius did, in fact, try to kill her for no good reason. Nor-Rokkus had a feeling that he was well on his way to convincing this woman that he could be a valuable ally, and that was not something he intended to let go to waste so easily.
Wizard of science.
Underneath Sjir
Thirturas made his way towards the largest of the chambers, located underneath a series of vertical tunnels that were used whenever the mighty beast felt like exploring the surface world. But today, his focus was on the side entrance, another series of tunnels- these ones forming a long system that eventually took you to the surface- dug up by a group of diggers hired up by the Followers whose remains had been dispense from the dragon's body eons ago. His Followers surrounded him as his wings shivered, the cold air that was so characteristic of this chamber brushing up against his scales. Men and women carried around a strange set of objects: some held large bowls, some hunched over a fire, and some were carrying different set of clothes.
"Ready, my Followers?" Thirturas slithered, and the men and women nodded in unison, uttering a single 'yes' that garnered a satisfied od from the dragon. He leaned down, his nose almost touching the ground, no more air coming from his lungs as silence reigned through the room. His head was concentrating, using his chest of knowledge to set the pieces, like a contraption that would be activated with one single move. Chemical reactions were put on queue, biological agents were woken up, and his scales ruffled as they prepared...
Thirturas' eyes shot open, and immediately, ripples began to travel along his belly. First to go were his stomach and anything near it. He opened his mouth, a Follower quickly putting a giant bowl underneath it, as gallons of brown and green goop leaked out of his mouth, bits and pieces of everything from tissue to bones coming along with it. Inside his body, his stomach was mashed and changed, its skin spread out to form, on the edge of his belly, the beginnings of the skin layer of a body. The agents travelled again, this time attacking anything on Thirturas' lower half, and his belly rippled again, a bump growing on it as he dug his claws on the ground, lips quivering at the immense pain the proccess caused. A line between his cells and the cells of the forming body was created, and the dragon's vision went blurry as his nutrients were transferred to this budding human.
His lower half now nothing more than a sack filled with blood and veins, the agents got to work on cleaning out the area, transforming his veins into the human body's veins, and his blood into the human body's blood. A circulatory system was being formed, and out of whatever was left of his digestive system, a heart was being created. This body was still small, yet the bump on Thirturas' belly was noticeable. Followers moved closer, each with a small vase, as blood leaked out of the dragon's eyes, nose, mouth and ears. This blood did not go to waste, as the Followers promptly drank it: the juice of knowledge, to speed up their minds. To drink their Guide's blood was to be eternally blessed. The goop that Thirturas had expelled was also being put to use, as Followers started the long, arduos proccess of turning it into paint and other liquids used for maintenance. Nothing would go to waste.
The shedding proccess began. As the agents removed his wings, their outer layers started to crack like wrinkled old skin, the remains being taken by the Followers and thrown into leather pouches. These would be used for armor, in case the need for battle ever came. The bump was growing bigger as the agents disposed of Thirturas' lower half. His arms cracked as bones were removed and downsized, his body becoming flacid as his lower half could no longer support the upper half, the dragon now closing his eyes as the bump started to strain his skin, the Followers spreading some of the goop on it with a paintbrush to ease the proccess. His lungs were dissected and recreated, and slowly everything but his heart was removed. Thirturas mouth opened as tongue and teeth fell down- the teeth would become tools, the tongue would become food. His arms were now nothing more than mangled appendages, his scales dropping, the flesh burning as the cold air touched it.
The human body was now complete, but now he had to be developed. Thirturas opened his mouth and raised his head to the sky, but no sounds came out- his vocal chords had been removed, after all. His eyes were sucked back into his head with a wet slurping sound as the human body inside him got pumped full of cells and nutrients. T Hirturas' body began to shrivel and shrink, his claws digging into his own belly before also falling to the ground, his tail splitting open to reveal nothing more than an empty shell as his insides were drained out. His own face started to melt, as if it was being punched into a pulp, before he dug his meek, weak hands into his belly and attempted to roar as the agents cut it open from the inside, a stream of blood, goop and unused bits and pieces flushing out alongside a naked adult man. And as the man shivered in the cold, Thirturas' frail body fell behind him, lifeless.
The man was slick and wet, covered in his own liquids, a line of flesh connecting him to his old body. He quietly stood up, still shaking, getting used to these new legs, until the line of flesh fell out, revealing his belly button. Standing in front of the Followers was now a lithe, well-built man of approximately thirty five years, his long black hair reaching up to his waist, his legs sharing the same build and muscle as the upper half, the necessary to hold such an impressive body up. The man looked up, and took a deep breath, his sharpened teeth shining in the light of the fire as his black eyes opened for the first time, his meaty lips twisting into a grin. "It has been so long," Thirturas spoke, his voice now roguish and handsome, as his vocal chords had been modified with esophagus tissue. "Since I have inhabited a vessel. I think this one will fit for tonight." He took a deep breath again, getting used to the new air limit on his lungs. "A new design."
The Followers sprung into action: the ones carrying bowls of water, sponges and towels started scrubbing their Guide clean, as one of them moved to cut his hair- "Keep it this length." Thirturas said as he remembered what it felt like to have certain areas of a human body scrubbed- and the other to cut his nails. They weren't as long as his old nails were, but for human standards? That had to be fixed. He was scrubbed clean, and when that was done, another Follower approached him with a small pile of cow meat, which he gorged upon- he always made sure to keep his teeth enhanced when changing forms- as the Followers started cleaning the place up and cutting the rest of Thirturas' old body so that they could eat the flesh and turn the rest into utensils- "No use in burning it up. Feast upon my body." Thirturas had told the first generation of Followers.
Then, came the clothes. Each Follower held a set of clothes portraying a stereotype of the surface world: noble clothes, warrior clothes, thief clothes, religious clothes... Thirturas fingers stopped upon the knight set. "I think this form is built to be a knight, do you not?" He asked the Follower, smiling as the others dressed him up. After a few minutes, the chamber was once again clean, and standing in the middle of it was the brave, bold and beautiful human knight 'Bethir'. And a few minutes after that, Thirturas was feeling the first winds of the surface world he had felt in years, his grin growing wider and wider, until he finally reached the grassy field outside the exit. The Followers returned inside, closing the exit, and it was like it never existed.
Dressed in a classic knight costume, draped with the colors of Sjir, Thirturas took the road to the city, just as a long group of carriages came up behind him...
edited 13th Sep '14 6:23:15 PM by TheBigBean
Loch Mór
Kruach Mór watched until Adelinde had flown out of sight before his attention switched to the ruby she gave him, turning it over in his claws with covetous glee, like some ancient filthy cat playing with a mouse.
But his desire for artifacts of power was matched by his paranoia; he found her generosity suspicious. He thought of Adelinde as naïve and her fanatical devotion as irrational, but he knew she wasn’t foolish: she must know that the two of them would surely come to cross purposes at some point. He made a note to examine them for unwanted magic before even thinking of activating them. But first things first...
Over the next few days, bad weather descended on the city. Clouds filled the skies, a chilly rain fell, and a dark fog ran through the streets. More worryingly, the lake and surrounding ocean turned ever rougher, with dangerous water and rising winds keeping ships from arriving, or from leaving. Contact with the rest of the empire began to wane.
A strange mood befell the people, and a growing number of citizens found themselves thinking that they should visit the shores of the lake...
edited 13th Sep '14 6:26:04 PM by Vox
Too Orky For You
Destroyed Village
"You seem to be under the impression you have a choice in whether or not you will give me the information I desire. How delightfully deluded you must be. And you may call me Klovengaar rather than one of those insipid little nicknames you attempted." Klovengaar responded, utterly ignoring Sangorius and Lizzete.
／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼ Will you make a contract with me?
"Fine, Klovengaar." Nor-Rokkus said, deciding to settle with the name the larger dragon choose for himself. He contemplated continuing to use one of the other names simply to tick the dragon off further, but decided against it. Sure, it would give him a thrill, but negotiations such at this were always a matter of give and take.
"But you are mistaken on another matter - I do have a choice as to whether or not to actually give you what you want. Unless, of course, you happen to have some means by which to pry the information directly from my brain."
Given Klovengaar's attitude, Nor-Rokkus guessed that if the larger dragon was, in fact, capable of prying the information from his brain directly, he would have done it already.
If the information Klovengaar wanted - whatever that might have been - was truly so valuable, that gave Nor-Rokkus a distinct advantage. Klovengaar would have to physically beat Nor-Rokkus into submission otherwise, and even then that would require a fight where Nor-Rokkus would not go down peacefully and likely result in one or the other - or both - dying as result. In either case, Klovengaar would ultimately loose since he would still be without the information he desired.
Better yet, starting a fight right here and now would undoubtedly get on Sangorius's bad side since it would make it very difficult for the dragon to get the information both he and Nor-Rokkus desired. And if Klovengaar started the fight, that would greatly increase the chances that Klovengaar would have to fight not just Nor-Rokkus, but an angry Sangorius as well.
In other words, despite anything that Klovengaar might have believed, after a calculated assessment of the situation Nor-Rokkus held a distinct advantage.
"But if you wish for me to peacefully tell you want you want voluntarily, you will dig up whatever patience you are capable of acting upon, you will take a moment to realize that the world does not revolve around you, and you will wait until I have finished with what you clearly fail to recognize as something I see as far more important than your petty desires."
Discordian Agent
Outside of Sjir
As visceral and impressive the 'birthing' of Thirturas new form was, it went unnoticed by the approaching wagon train, perhaps fortunately. The more provincial mortals might have been somewhat put off by the process.
The wagon train soon began to catch-up to the wandering 'knight', it's outriders paying the lone rider little mind, beyond a cursory greeting. Most of the men and women seemed to be elves or of primarily elvish lineage, which would be appropriate for the House of Silverleaves. From this close, Thirturas could easily make-out their finery now, and would be able to easily place the family's name, if he was the sort to keep up with events.
A few surreptitious glances wold reveal that this wagon train was traveling relatively lightly, as far as armaments and supplies went, suggesting that they didn't intend on traveling beyond Sjir, and expected it to be their destination.
What was more clear was that it wasn't goods they were bringing, but passengers.
Far to the North
The mysterious figure seems rather easy to sneak up upon, as it quickly resolves into the form of a man, staggering unevenly through the heavy snow. His drunken gait aside, the man also seemed to lacking more than a few pieces of his clothing; with no shoes or shirt or coat, frostbite would be an issue for most. Even from a distance it was not difficult to hear the muttering and chuckles of the man, as he stumbled around, before collapsing into the snow.
The Destroyed Village
Captain Lizzete, while apparently fearful of the displays being put on by the beings in front of her, managed to hold her ground. Whether that was bravery pinning her feet to the ground or such absolute fear that she couldn't bring herself to move was debatable.
As it stood now, the lowly human woman seemed inclined to wait for the dragons present to reach a...conclusion to their discussion. Her deathgrip on the hilt of her still-sheathed sword, and the way her eyes glanced off to the side seemed to imply she didn't think things were going to end well.
Loch Mor
While the loch, and it's surrounding regions were no strangers to poor weather, the stormy weather and rough tides quickly put a damper upon their celebrations. The magic in the air could almost be felt wafting through the air, as the city soon shut it's gates and tied off there fishing boats.
The lakeside city soon became terribly quiet, but for the sounds of harsh weather, as guard patrols began, moving down the walls and through the streets. The people were not unfamiliar with magic and could feel the power in the air, even if they did not understand what it's source was. Increasingly, Kruach Mor could feel magic coalescing with the city, as the cities mages congregated and sought to push back whatever had befallen the people.
Of course, they were expecting malicious, spell-casting mortals. Not the nigh legendary beast of the lake, and Master of Storms. Their meager power, while rebellious, could not push back the power of dragons, and perhaps only blunted the worst of the weather.
"It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how they are themselves." -C.G. Jung
The Maid
Far North
Curious about the man and deciding to seize the opportunity to step once again into the world of men... Adelinde stalked the man for a while... observing his behavior as she slowly shifted her body into that of a somewhat familiar shape. A fair elven maiden, with long silvery hair, ice blue eyes, a regal bearing and wearing a fine white dress with light blue colorings.
After a little while, she steps out from among the trees, looking at the man and asking "Aren't you dressed a little lightly for the weather, Sir? You'll catch a cold at this rate"
If I'm sure of something it's that I'm not sure of anything.
Destroyed Village/Pit of Vile Hopelessness
"Begone!" Sangorius said in Klovengaar's direction. "Cease your senselessly ramblings at the boy, or soon the Volcano that Walks shall be known as the Volcano that Hobbles. There is a time and a place for terrifying the humans speechless, and today and here are neither."
He placed his front left claw a few feet from Lizette and spoke. "I will not ask again. Speak."
edited 16th Sep '14 12:50:20 PM by nman
"Look, Captain Lizette, if you know something, just say it already." Nor-Rokkus said, practically agreeing with Sangorius but for an entirely different reason.
"Though before you actually do anything to her," Nor-Rokkus said as an aside to Sangorius, hoping he might have at least some measure of reason more than Kloven did. "you might want to keep in mind that she might be very well terrified speechless right now and that as a large, intimidating, and powerful dragon your threats might actually be making it more difficult for her to speak at all."
edited 16th Sep '14 1:10:56 PM by TheSpaceJawa
Loch Mór
As he acclimatized to the modern world, Kruach Mór was finding that some things, fundamental things, had remained the same. The humans trying to work against him were mages... but from what he could tell, they little more than pale imitations of the ones from days gone by. Great magicians who rent the heavens and the earth asunder, some of them almost mighty enough to challenge the dragons. Almost.
But diminished as they were, he didn't doubt that their desires were still the same. All magicians were driven by their all-encompassing lust for power.
He had always looked upon their greed with contempt, amusement, and also a certain amount of endearment, much like a warlord slaughterer of thousands might look upon a child swinging a wooden sword around. In a way it was almost draconic - but like all humans, they were too lacking to acquire and use power properly.
Weak magicians were easier to captivate than strong ones, not to mention easier to control. He didn't doubt that the city's wizards could be swiftly tempted with promises of power.
It would only be a matter of time before some hapless fool of a mage tried to confront the disturbance at the source, and sought him at the lake...
edited 16th Sep '14 6:27:36 PM by Vox
Wizard of science.
Thirturas had to hold back every urge to lick his lips- the taste of elves wasn't new to him, but he couldn't deny how good they tasted, especially above a roaring fire and with the appropriate amount of salts- the mere thought of consuming the flesh of those weak-willed beings and absorbing the knowledge hiding beneath that skin causing one of his hands to quiver. But he did not succumb to his emotions, remaining steadfast in his desire to move to Sjir.
"Ho there!" He announced to one of the horse-riding elves, raising his hand. "You are marching into my land. Forgive my wariness, but times have not been good for our kingdom. I am Berithis, and I am honor-bound to the people of Sjir... and so I ask, what is your reason for visiting my land?" His voice was strong, deep, wheathered by time and battles. There was wiseness, but also carefulness behind his tones. Nothing betrayed who this knight really was...
Discordian Agent
Outside of Sjir
Gaining the attention of one of the horse-mounted elves, the rider gains the attention of one of his fellow guardsmen, before riding over towards the apparent knight. The guard formation quickly shifts to account for their breaking off, with swiftly coordinated signals passing along the wagon train.
Once within easy earshot, the first elf hails 'Berithis' as the second rider shadows him "Greetings, sir knight. We were not aware that these lands were held under the guard of any singular champion. Our apologies for not sending forth word to your person."
They're simple niceties, that seem to have been drilled into their heads over the years, but they do seem intent on presenting a good image.
"We come, escorting our lords and ladies of the House of Silverleaves, who have business with those who oversee this city."
Far to the North
The strange man seems content to lie in the snow for a few moments, before he seems to suddenly convulse. A few moments later, he haphazardly staggers to his feet.
Turning towards Adelinde, the man reveals a deformed face, the skin barely clinging to his bones, hit teeth rotted out, and his eyes glazed over. From this close it quickly becomes apparent that the rest of the man's body is in no better shape.
He soon starts to stagger towards Adelinde, giggling as he reaches his hands out towards the apparent elf-woman.
Loch Mor
Kruach Mor would be correct in his belief that some braver souls would set out from the city, to seek out what plagued them. In time, the lake-dragon would see more and more often bands of guardsmen escorting mages and priests along the coast and surrounding lands.
Of greater interest, is the pair of long-boats that are now being readied to set out onto the lake. With a large contingent of men and a number of skill magicians aboard, it was evident they intended to set out to investigate the loch itself.
The Destroyed Village
The guard-captain seems to grow a bit of a spine, as the dragons here all seem to begin to turn their attention towards her.
"I am capable of speaking! However, I know not if I should without knowing your intent, dragons. If I can be assured of no malicious intent, towards myself or those in-my-charge, I do have something that may illuminate this event."
More than any other, her call for assurances of safety seem more geared to Klovengar, seeing the lava-dragon's presence as perhaps the least conducive to her safety.
The more attentive of the dragons, might note some small amount of movement along the edges of the town.
edited 21st Sep '14 6:38:49 PM by dungeonguy88
"It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how they are themselves." -C.G. Jung
The Destroyed Village
"Could you at least tell us for my sake?" Nor-Rokkus asked. "Believe me, I have no specific ill-will towards anyone here, I just want to know what happened so that I might have a better chance of solving the problem. I can't help but imagine that dealing with whatever happened here is something you would like to do as well, so I believe it would be mutually beneficial if you were to simply tell us what you 
know."
Nor-Rokkus sighed briefly as he realized he had come close to loosing his own patience and temper.
"My apologies, but you are helping no one at the moment by continuing to withhold information that might aid in dealing with this problem."
edited 21st Sep '14 10:22:47 AM by TheSpaceJawa
The Maid
Far to the North in Zombie Land?
"Ahh... so that's it" Mutters softly Adelinde as she raises a fist... looking at it for a few seconds as she hardens the skin on it... reinforcing the flesh, strengthening the bones... improving the muscles along her entire arm. Then, as an extra measure against touching such a disgusting thing, she breathes upon her hand... shaping around it a glove of pure, hard ice.
Then taking a stance, she awaited for the thing to come ever closer to her before she pull her fist back... and then punches the pitiful creature before her, right on the face... with enough force to shatter stone.
"Thank you, sir... you answered my questions quite nicely" she says to the likely remains of the man before she carefully approaches it... using her magic to try and understand the nature of the malady which had gripped him.
If I'm sure of something it's that I'm not sure of anything.
Destroyed Village
"I am not an unreasonable dragon. You have my word that I shall not harm you or your little friends on this day, after you tell what I desire," Sangorius said. "I will even give you safe passage from this wretched hive, and protection from the large lackwit."
He opened his mouth into a wide, toothy dragon grin. "However, I am not bound by such a vow before you speak," he added, lifting up a claw that began dripping with blood. "It would behoove you to cease with the delays."
Discordian Agent
Far to the North
The man easily quickly backwards from the blow, his face caved in and spurting blood from his ruined nose and teeth, as he collapses into the snow. The man's body twitches for a couple of moments, his chest labors briefly struggling to take in another breath, before the life seems to flow out of the man. In his last moments, he briefly coughs up a small gout of blood and broken teeth, as more blood oozes from his broken nose.
Zombies don't breathe and they don't struggle to do so. For that matter, they rarely bleed, and in this cold weather his blood should be as thick as pudding.
This man is, or rather was, alive.
Closer examination will back this, as while the man smells rather foul, it distinctly isn't the smell of rot or putrescence. There was no lingering hint of necromantic energy or any other distinct kind of magic upon the man's body.
The Destroyed Village
Captain Lizzete briefly looks up to Klovengar, before casting her gaze towards Sangorious and Nor-Rokkus. After a moment of consideration she nods "Fine."
Nor-Rokkus had been reasonable enough throughout the ordeal, and Sangorious for all of the terror he inspired could be considered honorable, in his own way. Or so she had been informed.
A moment later, the woman visibly swallowed down her worries, before she reached to her side to retrieve a small pouch.
"...we had been...going over the area for several hours before any of you arrived. Cleaning up, retrieving bodies, and trying to make sense of everything. It took me a while to realize that we may have been missing something..." She explained, as she retrieved a rolled up piece of paper, and began unrolling it.
Holding it up, showed a simple sketch of what looked to be the pit. Unlike now, there were a number of pieces of debris arranged around it. Looking about the ground now would reveal drag marks in the corresponding locations, from where the humans had dragged off the debris. The debris, mostly lengths of wood, seemed to have been arranged to look like bent lines extending out from the hole.
"Fortunately, I have a good memory for such things...it was more than just a trash hole." Captain Lizzete explained, before setting the paper on the ground. Tipping over the bag, she emptied a small object into her hand.
"We also found this..." The guard-captain continued, before holding up a small roughly hammered out metal disc with some crude carvings etched into it.
"...if you can't make out the markings, they're from one of the tongues used by the savage folks...it, more or less, translates as 'taking something, but also losing something'...Or, more poetically...'trade'." Captain Lizzete finished.
edited 21st Sep '14 6:26:32 PM by dungeonguy88
"It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how they are themselves." -C.G. Jung
Nor-Rokkus glared at the paper and metal disk for a bit, and then took a few steps back. Standing on his hind legs, the dragon stretched, and then a number of cracking sounds could be heard from his body. To any onlookers, he appeared to shrink.
It was slow, for the first couple seconds, but then all at once as he magically contracted into his humanoid form. Overall, the process was relatively much slower than in reverse - whereas going from humanoid to dragon was like letting water burst out of a dam, constricting himself to a smaller form was like taking that same water - if it were then frozen - and then trying to push it back into the dam. Effectively, what he had just done was an inherently unnatural state that his body would relish the chance to change back from.
The transformation came complete with the emergence of his robe about half-way through that seemed to go to and come from nowhere at all when he was in his larger, natural draconic form. He had learned long ago that nudity was not something that smaller species had as easy a time ignoring as his draconic kin. It was especially so when conversing with someone that was so much closer in form and size. So while he could have continued to walk around as he had previously, Nor-Rokkus knew full well that conversation with the likes of humans was far smoother when their kind was not forced into such a discomfortable state.
"Now then." Nor-Rokkus said after a couple coughs, a touch of fire coming out of his mouth as he did. He stepped back towards Captain Lizzete and attempted to get a closer and better look at the items she had presented. As much as he was loathed to admit it, there was something about taking on a smaller form that made the examination of such things easier.
Oh, he could certainly look at them fine in his larger form - after all, with his eyesight build to see things from far off to accommodate his flying, distance was not a problem. And yet, there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on that made it feel more 'natural' to try to read and handle items built by and for smaller species when he himself was closer to their own size and form.
Stepping in but not yet actually taking the items from the Captain, Nor-Rokkus examined them and tried to see if he might be able to get a better understanding of what she had and what use he might be able to make of it.
Wizard of science.
Outside of Sjir
"I am not the only one that shares in this honorable task," Thirturas continued with a fist over his heart, the sign most used by Sjir nobles and knights. "I am nothing but a mere knight who just happened to be taking this road at the same time as you and your fellow men. I have returned from a long journey of self-reflection... and if you'll excuse me, I must inquire as to what business do your lords have with mine- if that is not too much to ask?"
Destroyed Village
"Why would something like this be found in a village such as this?" Sangorius said, looking down at the disc.
Too Orky For You
Ruined Village
"Why should we care? Let the mortals sort it out. And you, boy," Klovengaar spoke, giving a short nod towards Sangorius, "I would suggest you watch your tongue lest I remind the world why I am called the Kinslayer amongst our own kind."
／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼ Will you make a contract with me?
Discordian Agent
The Destroyed Village
If anything, Nor-Rokkus' transformation seemed to unsettle the woman even more than the initial arrival of the dragons. Who knew that watching a being larger than most buildings physically compressing it's body into the size and shape of a man would be unsettling?
It took a few moments for Captain Lizzete to recompose herself, but managed to shake herself back into action at Sangorius' question "Well...my leading theory is that this was some manner of offering. They destroyed all of this, and killed all these people so that they could offer it to some...thing, in the hopes of gaining something in turn...Hence 'trade'."
At Klovengar's words, the woman seems briefly tempted to say something, but holds herself back. She had no promises of safety from the lava-drake and she didn't want to get involved in whatever dispute my be brewing between the dragons.
Outside of Sjir
The two elven riders seem to consider the 'knight' for a few moments, glancing towards one another, as if to see if the other might have anything to say. At a nod from the second man, the first turns back towards the disguised Thirturas "I'm afraid we can't speak to the specifics of this visit, only that it pertains to recent trading arrangements. As far as I've been led to believe, our House of Silverleaves wishes to forge stronger ties with your fair city."
edited 22nd Sep '14 6:41:17 PM by dungeonguy88
"It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how they are themselves." -C.G. Jung
Destroyed Village
"Hm..." Nor-Rokkus mused out loud. "Then it would seem that these would be our leading clues at the moment."
"Provided that neither you," He nodded to Captain Lizzete "nor Sangorius would object, perhaps I could borrow these items and attempt to research the matter. Even if I do not have the ability to gain the information myself, it is possible that someone in the city of Sjir might be able to provide greater insight."
And while he didn't say it out loud, it would also give him a good reason to finally pay the city a visit. He'd heard that it was quite the location when it came to more mental interests, and while he had desired the opportunity to visit the city himself, he had yet to get a good reason to do so.
"I would, naturally, share with both of you whatever it is that I am able to learn." He said, hoping that they might be more willing to let him take the items and look into it if they had assurances that he wouldn't use it as an opportunity to further himself at their expense.
And perhaps they'd see a benefit in letting him do all the work while they reaped the benefits. He had found that letting people believe they were getting the better end of a deal went a long way to making them agree to said deal.
"While I'm certain our methods and aims may widely differ, I wouldn't doubt that we share a mutual concern of learning all we can about this tragedy so that we can properly respond to it."
edited 22nd Sep '14 6:50:50 PM by TheSpaceJawa
Loch Mór
As the boats made their way further towards the center of the lake, the dark fog descended slowly but inexorably, until all aboard could barely see ten feet ahead of them. The water seemed still and silent, when without warning a huge wave crashed over the boats, dragging them under in an instant before the surface became as flat and still as before.
The passengers would find themselves surrounded by rushing darkness, moving downwards at great speed. When light returned, the boats were resting upon the impossibly dry floor of the lake, surrounded and protected by what seemed to be a massive bubble. The only source of light was a yellow glow from outside the surface where, looking as though he were sitting behind a sheet of murky green glass, Kruach Mór reclined on a large rock, fixing the luckless mages in the brilliant glare of his eyes. He spoke, the sound distorted slightly by the water.
"Greetings."
His voice was soft and smooth, his demeanor calm and urbane, but the more perceptive of the passengers might have realized that the bubble of air keeping them alive was only there at his pleasure.
"In normal circumstances I exact a toll from all who try to cross my waters, but I am willing to make an exception. I would have words with the mages of the city... that is of course, if you would care to speak with me?"
edited 23rd Sep '14 3:26:46 PM by Vox
Destroyed Village
"Offering? An offering? There is one who dares take blood offerings?" Sangorius said. He knew all too well the dangers of summoning powerful entities to this world. This was deeply troubling indeed.
"Grargh!" he roared. "I am the Blood God, Death Lord, King of Bones, and Seeker of Blood! It is I who demand blood and I who command the lives of mortals! None but I shall be permitted accept sacrifices of such manner. Those who dare allow it shall be put to the claw and their life force drained!"
He looked over at Nor-Rokkus. "Very well. Take the trinket to your famed Sjir. But know this, before you think of betrayal. I left the Castle Ajanya barren of life for millennia before, and should I be given reason, shall restore it to such a state."
Destroyed Village/Pit of Eternal Despair
"Foolish mortal, cease your stalling. My patience... WANES!" Sangorius said, shouting the last word. He lifted his head high and stared down at Lizette, as a possibly-intimidating geyser of blood erupted vertically from his mouth, then rained over his body which re-absorbed it.