The Dream of Cormanthyr [IC]

[BelGareth]

Corran grimaces as the enemies leave as abruptly as they came, and as another mage somewhere else dismisses the sentient darkness to the light of day.

He frowns, feeling weak and wounded he looked to the others near him, "That undead Beholder weakened me, but I feel my strength returning back slowly" he says winding his right arm up, as if to warm up the muscles.

He shrugs apologetically, "Those gloom assassins were fierce, I was caught unawares, something I am want not to do," looking at the others he frowns a little deeper "What was that thing, and how could such things enter the city like this? I thought there were wards to prevent such a thing..."

[rypt]

Linvala

The light that returns in the wake of the glooms' disappearance reveals Linvala's robes scorched and torn, stained by the rotting viscera of the undead beholder. Her dancing blades now float idly beside her, and portions of her metallic skin are blackened and charred. As she moves to inspect the Pool of Loss, she does so with one one hand held to her left side.

When she senses a stranger's art banish the pool of shadow, the aged armathor follows the edge of the acidic cloud until she spots the masked hathran. "Ah, you must be ambassador Selskhiva," she says, managing a weak smile and a formal bow. "My name is Linvala Ithruil and this city is grateful for your aid."

"Their presence here is troubling indeed," she says to Corran. "We must make certain that the Coronal and the Court Mages have been alerted of the attack." Stepping towards the broken window, she wonders how far word has been carried by those who fled the tavern. It is then that she observes the unnatural stillness of the city and the sudden disappearance of its inhabitants.

"Aillesel Seldarie," she gasps. "What magic is this?" She turns from the window to those that remain, and then to the stairwell when Tyrielle calls from below. Hoping to find the answer to her question, she heads downstairs immediately.

Spoiler

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The gloom's attack misses.

[BelGareth]

Corran frowns, not being answered and only having his concerns mirrored was worrisome, perhaps the others who they came here to help would be of some use, they certainly were in the fight.

Closing his mouth in an image of frustration, he followed Linvala downstairs.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"I am," Ayorra responds to Linvala, nodding respectfully. "Well met. I only wish our meeting could have taken place under better circumstances." To Corran she adds. "The city does have wards against such intrusions...or did. That such creatures could intrude is troubling indeed. It bears further study."

The Hathran motions for the others to precede her down the stairs as she taps her acorn brooch and speaks softly to the air: "Coronal, the Serpentspires Feasthall was assaulted by two glooms, a death tyrant, and a Shadow Weave manifestation. The assault was repelled, and Sir Ardentwings and I are safe and have made contact with other defenders of the city. Please inform us if you are in danger or if there are other incursions to which we must attend."

Ayorra is more terse than normal in her replies due to the mental effort of suppressing the Pool's infection. She slowly follows the two newcomers downstairs, chanting a prayer under her breath as she goes in the hopes of destroying the infection.

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Ayorra casts break enchantment on herself (caster level check (1d20+15)[31]) to remove the Pool of Loss's effect.

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel offers his companions a smile as they come down the stairs, and invites them to take a seat, indicating with a gesture that he would explain the presence of the stranger in their midst shortly. He takes a moment to help Linvala to her seat, his hands aglow with healing magic that starts to heal the worst of her injuries, silently wishing he could offer more. Confident that everyone present had a firm grasp of the elvish language, he chooses to correspond in his native tongue. <"Allow me to begin by introducing everyone. May I present Ayorra Selskhiv, an Ambassador from Rashemen and a true friend to the elves; armathor Linvala, a noted blade-dancer and master of an esoteric metallurgical magic; and Corran Narlberth of Evermeet's Queensguard, on loan to the Coronal and a noted champion of the Crusade."> He pauses for a moment, standing in front of the aged druid, searching her eyes for something...and failing to find it. <"Of course, The Dreamer in Birch needs no introduction.">

<"I am sure you are all wondering about the identity of our mysterious guest, except of course for you, Ambassador. If you will all please bear with me, I feel the best way to introduce the Selu’Taar is be reiterating the events of the day.> Taking a deep breathe, he begins to pace slowly back and forth as if delivering a lecture, his wings twitching occasionally. <"For some time now, the People of Cormanthor, elf and non-elf alike, have been inflicted with terrible nightmares and covert attacks. Earlier today, a powerful earthquake spell hammered the Dlabraddath District, killing many, though it could have been far worse if not for the mercy of Mystra and the grace of her Chosen. We have discovered that this spell was cast inter-dimensionally, coming from a rift that had been generated just above Six Tyryl Towers. An instigator appearing to be a human proficient with bardic magic attempted to incite a riot shortly after the quake struck, but fortunately his efforts were foiled.">

<"I am not as familiar with the following events, so please, Ayorra, fill in any important information I leave out. The Ambassador and her companions inferred that the source of our woes was sequestered in the plane of Dream. Using their magic, and I imagine no small amount of courage, they managed to retrieve the lost Selu'Kiira of the High Mage Lethanil Greenvine, a noted expert on all things Dream. Through the high loregem, we've managed to contact Selu'Taar Greenvine. I will now leave it to him to enlighten you as he has enlightened us."> At this point, Tyriel gestures to the elf seated at the bar, inviting him to introduce himself.

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Using his 1/day Cure Serious Wounds to help Linvala with her injuries from the beholder-bomb
(3d8+15)[27]

[Chambers]

Serpentspires Feasthall, Cormanthor District

Lathanil shrugs as Tyriel praises the groups efforts. "Well, no one died at least. Though I'm surprised each of you so willingly entered the Pool." He says and nods towards Ayorra. "I'd have expected better forethought from both of you."

Ayorra feels only a strange hum when she tries to contact the Coronal, like a message sent with no where to go.

He nods to Corran and Linvala as they come in and more glass of wine appear on the bar. He stands and bows to the Dreamer as she shifts back into elven form, then takes his seat again. "Huntsman." He says to Corran after taking a drink. "You should have already sharpened your senses before coming into the feasthall. You are overly reliant on your elven instincts; not all of your foes will be of the People." He glances at Corran, casting his gaze up and down and then rolling his eyes.

"And you, Swordmistress." He says to Linvala. "You have skill at arms, to be sure, but you took far too long to down the beholder. It was able to disintegrate you twice before you armed and killed it!" He quaffs the rest of the glass. "The Iron wall was an adequate delaying measure and the light an effective defense against the glooms and pool.." He says, turning back to Tyriel. "But overall the coordination was poor, just barely above acceptable." He runs his finger along the lip of his glass. "I'm half-tempted to run you all through it again but that would lack the element of surprise." He waves his fingers. "Don't worry about your bodies for the moment. They are still as they were when you entered the real Serpentspire. All that has happened since you came through the portal has been inside this minor dreamscape. If you had died though..." He says and shrugs.

As Lathanil critiques your performance a heavy fog rolls in over the outside world. First the tall trees are swallowed up and then the spires of the Palace. By the time he's finished the fog bank has advanced up to the doors and windows of the Serpentspire and there it stopped.

"If you're going to wear me..." He says and narrows his eyes at Tyriel. "I expect you to perform with more competence than you displayed here. This little dreamscape is nothing compared to where you'll have to go through to stop your foe." He says and then smiles. "I looked around after we left your estate, Ambassador, and found something interesting. You all know that these terrorists are operating from the Dreamscape of Myth Drannor that has a functioning Mythal..." He says and waves his hand as if that's old news. "But I found that there's more than one Dreamscape of our city that's in play here. After the Army of Darkness took the city..." He says and pauses as even his gruff demeanor is cast into sorrow at the mention of the Darkness...even if only for a moment.

"When they took it, the Mythal did not die right away. It became corrupted by the overwhelming fiendish influence brought by that many demons and devils living within it, but for a time it still lived...and people still dreamed of the city. Except their dreams now were nightmares of our beloved home overrun by fiends and worse things." He touches his wine glass and then leaves it be. "Your foes are using the Nightmare as well as the Dreamscape. They two are linked together, the negative emotions of the Nightmare empowering their rituals and increasing the fear and terror felt in the real city. To stop them, you'll need to travel through both realms, the Dream of Myth Drannor...and the Ruins."

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In game terms, he cast an Epic Dream spell when you entered the Serpentspire (no save, no SR), that brought you into this dreamscape.

To the new folks: Yes, he's an ally. Yes, he's kinda a jerk.

[BelGareth]

Corran follows everyone downstairs and is about to show the respect deserved of such an individual, his mouth about to retort, but nothing came out, he wanted to speak, to say and ask, how dare he put them through such a test, but he didn't know how to frame it, he wasn't used to such callous behavior, especially from a Selu'Taar.

He ended up merely closing his mouth and nodding at the highmage, and wandering how bad a nightmare realm could be...perhaps it was just like the old Myth Drannor, merely filled with demons and their ilk...he wandered to himself.

Pausing upon his own reflections he spoke aloud "A mighty test, and one I am glad we succeeded, even if it was close to failure, might I ask though?" he says, to the newcomers "How are we to travel to this dreamscape?"

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra remains silent as Tyriel speaks, only nodding her head to each new arrivals at the right inclination to convey the appropriate amount of respect; interrupting the Selu'Taar's introduction to make the appropriate greetings and fill in minor details would only irritate Greenvine and make him more insufferable than he already is. She scowls behind her mask as she shortly discovers that she could have spoken freely, as he planned to be insufferable anyway.

"On the contrary, it is a Rashemi virtue to brave danger to aid one's allies," she replies mildly to Greenvine's critique. "The Pool's taint is hardly a permanent affliction, easily overcome with the Lady's aid, but the same cannot be said for death at the hands of beings capable of creating such a Pool, who might obliterate one's soul...or worse." That she wasn't entirely certain of the Pool's effects before plunging through it the ambassador declines to mention; the actual phrasing of the Rashemi warriors' saying is closer to "unsheathe swords first, question second, hesitate never," but she doubted Greenvine would appreciate the sentiment.

She pushes aside her dislike of the Selu'Taar to consider his words. A second dreamscape, formed of ancient elven nightmares? She had never stopped to ponder whether an elf's long lifespan would make her more easily able to face and deal with her nightmares or simply give her more (and worse) to be afraid of, but now she did, and she dearly hoped it was the former. "Traveling into Dream requires powerful magic, but is not unduly difficult or complex in theoretical terms," she answers Corran. "I'm sure more than one of us could learn the appropriate spell, or of course we could find someone more experienced in these matters to assist us with the journey." She gestures to Greenvine with that last bit, as if it weren't already obvious who she meant. "The more important question is what we might find when we reach our destination. There are literally infinite possibilities for danger in a realm of nightmares, so to have any hope of preparing ourselves we must attempt to narrow them down. Selu'Taar, have you any knowledge of the threats we might face, or any other information that could prove useful in completing our task?"

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel's gaze fixes upon Lethanil, all humor draining from his face, eyes becoming cold, distant, and more than a little haunted. "I am no stranger to the nightmares engendered by Myth Drannor's fall, Selu'Taar Greenvine. If this little experiment of yours was meant to serve as a taste of things to come, it falls far short. If it was meant to test our resolve, I believe we've proven that we will not run from a threat. And if you meant to judge our skill, then you needn't have bothered, because right now, we're all you have. Our synergy will improve as we continue to work together, do not doubt."

Shaking himself out of the melancholy that always overcomes him when forced to reflect on those dark, bygone days, he applies himself to the more scholarly discussion occurring between his colleagues. "I do not think it will be that easy, Ambassador. Remember, as Lethanil so pointedly reminded us, they have access to a functioning Mythal, and one of the foremost powers of most any Mythal is forbiddance. I have been wondering all day if the weakened planar barrier over Six Tyryl Towers could serve as a way in...or if it was left as a trap. We will have to rely heavily on Selu'Taar Greenvine as we move forward." Upon acknowledging this, Tyriel tips his head respectfully to the spirit.

[Chambers]

Serpentspires Feasthall, Cormanthor District

Lathanial smiles at Tyriel and chuckles. "Ar'faern, watch your pronouns. They're slipping away from you." He says. "You presume my intentions and are waylaid thusly." He shakes his head. "This is not my battle against an evil force. You are not my team of heroes that I rely on. To say it blunty..." He pauses and his eyes flick towards the Coronals symbol on Tyriel's shirt. "...I care not at all whether Cormanthyr lives or dies. I left your realm years ago, of means of my own choosing, for reasons that followed purposes of my own." He says sharply.

"You wear my stone." He says and narrows his eyes at Tyriel. "Thus far you have been found to be a worthy bearer of it and so it pleases me to aid you in your troubles, but do not be mistaken that they have become my troubles." He says and holds Tyriel's gaze for a few moments and then shrugs, then turns to Linvala and Ayorra and half-bows. "Of course, I don't deny enjoying the company of wise and beautiful women."

"Functioning Mythal...in some ways, yes." He says. "Though remember they are operating from Dream which has it's own laws and rules, which you can use to your advantage. Myth Drannor in Dream is not difficult to find, even for novices in the field such as yourselves. Finding your way through dreamscapes is more about intention and concentration than having a map." He says and nods to Tyriel. "To those who have studied it, shaping Dream is not overly difficult...favorably comparable to forcing your will upon the randomness of Limbo. More refined control takes years to master. Fortunately for yourself, you have a bypass. While bonded to my stone it will impart some of the more basic techniques of Dream shaping to you. Which is also fortunate for me, as I have no intention of tromping through those nightmare Ruins again." He says and his eyes unfocus for a few moments.

"So, that was the purpose of my little experiment. Here's a Dream, alone and empty save for us. Take your leave now or stay and practice, as you will." He says and grins with mischief. "Close the door behind you when you leave." With his final word he vanishes from the room with the familiar pop of dimensional travel.

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OOC: Part of the Special Abilities for being bonded to the selu'kiira is that you gain the Dreamtelling, Oneriomancy, and Improved Oneriomacny feats as bonus feats (Heroes of Horror). By 'practice' he means changing the features of the dream you're in. Base cosmetic stuff is pretty simple, an unopposed Int, Wis, or Cha check to gauge how well you shaped it. More advanced changes like planar traits, opening portals to other dreams, etc are much harder DC's.

[Heavensfury]

Shaking his head ruefully, Tyriel mutters aloud "Just when I think I'm starting to understand that man, he goes right ahead and throws my for a loop." Closing his eyes, Tyriel casts his consciousness deep into the selu'kira, seeking to learn about these dream techniques Lethanil had mentioned. Simply by turning his mind to the task, he's surprised to find new knowledge and insights suddenly available to him, information obviously new, but somehow feeling very familiar.

"He's right, the high loregem has revealed to me new lore about the realm of dreams and nightmares. We should take this opportunity High Mage Greenvine has provided us to learn what we can of dream-shaping. Magic may not always be reliable where we are going, and our ability to actualize our imaginings could mean the difference between success, and disaster." In an attempt to demonstrate what he means, Tyriel holds up his hand, and bending his formidable will to the task, attempts to conjure a silvery and luminescent butterfly into the palm of that hand.

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(1d20+10)[29]

[rypt]

Linvala

The truth of Greenvine's test leaves a sour taste in Linvala's mouth, an aversion that only grows in strength as the ar'faern reveals himself to be both presumptuous and condescending. As much as she would have liked to say something in reply, it is not her place to comment on the archmage's actions and neither would their purpose be served by any confrontation. She receives Lathanil's criticism in silence, the only way she can be certain that she will remain respectful.

Regardless of what she thought of Greenvine as an individual, there could be no denying that his discovery of the nightmare realm is a disturbing one. As Linvala considers what unspeakable horrors might be found in such a place, she is reminded of Lathanil's comments regarding death in the dream and their separation from their bodies.

"If it as you say, ar'faern, that while our minds inhabit this dreamscape, our bodies remain in the physical realm, is it not so for our enemies as well? While their minds attempt to exploit the magics of these twinned dreams -- of a city ruined and a city restored -- are their bodies not vulnerable?"

Once Lathanil has left, Linvala makes her first attempts to shape the dream to her will. Taking hold of a wine glass, she attempts to enlarge the glass, leaving its shape unchanged. She then attempts to reshape the wine glass into a glass tumbler. Finally, she attempts to change the material of the tumbler from glass to steel.

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Enlarge the glass: (d20+8)[13]
Shape the glass: (d20+8)[12]
Glass to metal: (d20+8)[10]

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra is quite glad to see Greenvine go. "Relying on the Selu'Taar is hardly a good strategy," she responds to Tyriel's flattery of the insufferable mage, "particularly when he does not even pretend to care whether we are successful in our task. Unfortunately it seems we have no other choice, unless anyone here knows of another expert in dream manipulation. I wish I could say I am one, as all Ethrans are required to study this and similar phenomena as part of our training," she continues, letting a hint of frustration show through her mild ambassadorial attitude, "but I must admit I never took to the more esoteric studies, and it has been decades since I studied Dream in any case."

To Linvala she replies, "It should indeed be the case that our enemies' bodies are vulnerable while they work in the nightmare realm, but it may not be, as it is possible--if incredibly dangerous--to physically enter Dream. Even if their bodies are still in the physical world, they could theoretically be anywhere in Faerun while their minds meddle here...and in fact I would find that quite likely, as I doubt that all the Mystra-knows-how-many conspirators would leave their bodies in the middle of their enemies and vulnerable to discovery or even accidental damage from their own schemes. Like it or not, I believe entering Dream ourselves will be necessary."

Between being repeatedly separated from her male escorts, having to rely on the crude battle magic she disliked to defend herself, becoming exposed to the Shadow Weave, getting stuck with following the orders of an uncooperative spirit, and very soon being forced to deal with Dream and all the difficulties that entailed, Ayorra feels like the universe has conspired to take everything that a Rashemi knows is right and proper and flip it around on her. To hopefully brighten her mood, she places both hands on the table in front of her and, drawing on the scattered bits of lore she remembers from her training, wills the insignia of her late husband's Great Eagle berserker lodge to paint itself on the tabletop.

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(1d20+8)[10]

[BelGareth]

Corran shakes his head as the others talk about the possibility of the dreamers having entered the dreamscape bodily, or having been more strategic, they had left their bodies somewhere else on Toril.

The warrior in Corran wanted to agree with that idea, it was the correct tactical thing to do, why on earth would you want to actually enter the dreamscape? And thinking his knowledge of the matter was wildly inept on the subject, he dismissed any other thoughts regarding it, he would leave it to the others, they were far more suited to handle these kinds of things. He was a hunter, not a mage or some high priest.

"Aillesel Seldarie!" he exclaims as he watches the others attempt to shape the area before them. He had never seen such things, and it amazed him.

He moved towards a stool and knowing his own abilities at spellcraft wasn't as good as the others attempted to alter its height to make it shorter.

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(1d20+4)[23]

[Chambers]

Dream of Serpentspires Feasthall

"In your efforts to understand him..." the Dreamer says as she stands near the bar and watches the silver and translucent butterfly appear and float in Tyriel's hand. "It might be wise to remember that he is no longer a man. No longer living, yet not dead. What one such as that would find interesting or worthwhile I couldn't fathom."

The wine glass wobbles in Linvala's hand as she focuses her will upon it but the dreamstuff resists her. It stretches briefly with a loud and slow screech as the glass is pulled thin and it shatters, unable to take the stress upon it. The shattered glass floats in the air defying gravity, almost as if the glass forgot it was a thing that was supposed to fall down. Ayorra has similar luck with her exercise as paint burbles up from small cracks in the tabletop and spreads out over the wood in a blob of darkened shadows that might look like an eagle if one squinted.

Corran finds his bit of wood more receptive to work with and the stool shrinks down two hands, remaining in perfect ratio and balance. "I will refrain." The Dreamer says and motions towards the door. "While it may be worthwhile to experiment further, I find myself unwilling to remain in a place where he expects me to be." She says, clearly referring to the elven archmage.

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Whee, moving again. If you all want to stay and play with dreamstuff that's fine. If not you can post IC saying so or do so OOC and I'll update this post bringing everyone back.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra looks down at the results of her dreamshaping attempt with distaste. For an ambassador, who should be at least passably skilled in all of the fine arts, it was a very disappointing outcome; perhaps she should have chosen an Ice Troll Lodge emblem for her first attempt, since such a troll is supposed to be misshapen and ugly.

"I agree," she answers the Dreamer as she moves towards the indicated door. "I have made no secret of my dislike for the Selu'Taar, and now that we have all determined the basic mechanics of dream alteration and our aptitudes therewith, I do not think it wise to remain in a domain over which he has such control."

[Heavensfury]

Tyriel smiles as the bright, silvery butterfly lifts off from his hand and begins to fly in the slow, dancing way of its kind, each flap of its wings shedding motes of starlight that gently drift and fade. Listening to how Lethanil has miffed the others, he thinks it fortunate that ultimately the task of communing with the High Mage has fallen to him. His journeys through the multiverse often caused him to come into contact with individuals, and even entire cultures, that were less than congenial. He resolved to stop thinking of the disembodied spirit as another elf, and instead deal with him as he would one of these outsiders.

"Before you depart, let us attempt a joined Shaping. We need to ascertain any advantages we can get before venturing forth into Dream on the morrow." Tyriel nods in satisfaction of the shared working when it's complete, confident they'll be able to make use of this knowledge in the days to come.

"Thank you for humoring my curiosity. If we are all satisfied, then I believe this is the way out." Striding over to the tavern's front door, he opens it and stands to the side, waiting for the others to file out before striding over the threshold himself and closing the door behind them, taking the Sel'Taar's departing jab at face value.

[rypt]

Linvala frowns at the shards of glass hanging in the air before her, her pride as a craftsman wounded slightly by her failure to realize such a simple expression of her will.

Of course, the dreamscape is foreign to her, the rules that govern it yet unknown, and after witnessing Tyriel's remarkable success, she decides to take a different approach.

First, she attempts to conjure a new wine glass, as similar as possible to those willed into being by the now absent archmage. If successful, she then attempts to spontaneously heat it, mirroring the process that would be undertaken to shape glass in the castle's workshops. Finally, she attempts to draw the glass lengthwise, reshaping it into a flute typically used to drink sparkling wines.

Regardless of how successful she is with the manipulation of the glass, Linvala next attempts to conjure a small iron rod no longer than the length of her hand. If that effort is successful, she attempts to create incrementally larger rods until she fails.

Once her own personal experiments are complete, she joins the others in their collective effort and then departs, curious to find out just how much of the time she perceived to spend in the real feasthall was actually spent in the dreamscape instead.

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Linvala will take 10 on each of her shaping checks for a result of 18.

[Chambers]

Serpentspires Feasthall, Cormanthor District

As Tyriel closes the door to the tavern there's a loud click as the door sets in place. The fog rolls back revealing the streets of Myth Drannor as you knew them only minutes ago and the door opens again, held by a young elven women wearing the colors of House Goadulphyn. She looks surprised to see you all standing on the porch. "Oh! I didn't hear you come up." She says as she quickly scans the faces of your group and notices the leaves worn on your shirts. She takes a step back and curtsies, then invites you inside. "Please, enter and be welcome. I received word of your coming and have prepared a table on the upper balcony for you." She says. "Ambassador, your countryman is already there, waiting for you along with General Mithranix."

The elves inside the Serpentspire pay little attention to the new arrivals and the hostess swiftly leads you up a spiral staircase, opening to a wide balcony. You can hear voices coming from outside as you approach, one of them belonging to Mithranix.

"You've traveled a long way from Rashemen then, to speak with the Ambassador."

A pause.

"I have traveled a great distance, that is true. The Ambassador and I have known each other for some time now, and I long to speak with her again."

Ayorra immediately recognizes the Rashemen but there's a subtle cunning in the voice that betrays the speaker. When the group steps out onto the patio Mithranix stands up and brushes back his cloak. "My friend, it's a pleasure to see you again." He says with earnestness and strides over to clasps hands with Ayorra. He motions with his eyes towards the other figure, also standing up with a broad grin on his face. "This fellow says that he'll need no introduction." He says, his face unsure. Mithranix steps back and looks at the other arrivals and gives a short bow. "I'm glad to see you as well. She said others had been brought to our cause. Has Ayorra filled you in?"

The other fellow dressed in the style of a berserker, complete with hand and a half sword, clears his throat. "Ah, new companions. Allow me to introduce myself." He says, dropping the Rashemen accent in favor of one more cosmopolitan. "I am Andwer." He says and bows, as if that were all that need be said. "I was only practicing, my lady." He says to Ayorra with a wink, then moves to the sideboard and refills his wine glass.

"The General was quite circumspect in his small talk, and though it was a trifle boring I suppose he is to be commended, given his stature and the state of affairs. To wise elfs." He says and nods to Mithranix, then takes a drink.

Mithranix's eyes narrow and his hand stays fixed on his rapier. "I do not understand what he is speaking about Ambassador, and I would greatly desire to." He says, his eyes fixed on Andwer. "Sometime within the next few heartbeats."

[Heavensfury]

"Greetings Brightstar, Andwer." Tyriel says in greeting, offering a respectful nod of his head to the elf and a more perfunctory nod to the man. "Andwer was brought to our city by Lady Ayorra and Lady Sydil, general, after their recent expedition." He turns to the ambassador, also interested in what she would say in regards to this unusual individual.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

After greeting Mithranix as well, Ayorra listens with a mixture of amusement and exasperation to Andwer's supercilious talk. "I believe, General, that what Andwer means to say is that he was impersonating one of my countrymen because it is the only way by which he would be allowed in to meet with us, and that he finds your circumspection somewhat amusing given that he is already somewhat aware of our mission."

Gesturing to Tyriel, she continues, "As he said, we brought Andwer with us on our return from the Auantiver Labyrinth, as that is where we found him, caught within a trap to which Sydil and I almost fell prey ourselves. He aided us greatly in our escape, and he has given no reason to believe him to be less than trustworthy." She may be shading the truth just a bit and giving Andwer more credit than is due, but it never hurts to massage a dragon's ego and the last thing she wants is for the General's suspicion of Andwer to lead to conflict, either with words or with blades

[Chambers]

Serpentspires Feasthall, Cormanthor District

Mithranix holds his stare on Andwer for a few more heartbeats then nods and his hand leaves his blade handle, while a hint of grin emerges. "I do appreciate a good bit of tradecraft. Glad to have you on our side, Andwer." Andwer raises his glass in acknowledgment of the compliment and seats himself, motioning for the general to continue.

"While I would like to hear a full report on your trip to the Labryinth that may have to wait." Mithranix says with a sigh, the smile draining from his face. "Everson, Adria and I had a busy afternoon ourselves. That halfling informant slipped away during the earthquake, but she had a hunch about the elven collaborators. She reached out to some friends in Waterdeep but we haven't had a report from them yet."

Mithranix walks over to the side board and picks up a glass, then paces away before filling it. "Everson and Adria are back up in the skies." He says and nods upward. "She's put the city on double guard for the evening." He goes to take a drink and realizes it's empty, shakes his head and finally takes a seat.

Andwer slowly finishes the last of his drink with his eyes closed, a smile on his face. "Ah, to taste the fruits of the elven wood again." He says and opens his eyes. "General, I do have a message for you from Lady Sydil, along with the Ambassador and ar'faern." He says, nodding to Tyriel. "Alas, I was not permitted inside the House of the Night's sun with the two ladies, so Sydil suggested a quaint dwarven tavern nearby where I might rest and relax while they spoke with the priestesses. Oh, the Stout Folk are excellent conversationalists, if you know how to speak with them correctly. I met this one fellow, Ulfar Ironshield, he is quite the expert on architecture, and not just dwarven stonework either!" Andwer says with a laugh.

Mithranix frowns and leans on the table with one elbow. "You said there was a message..."

"Oh, of course." Andwer looks at his empty glass and pushes it aside. "Sydil came out and found me after some time and said that the halfling priestess would require her assistance within the temple for the rest of the evening. She sends her regards..." Andwer furrows his eyebrows and glances out the window, then at Tyriel. "And she said that Delphine had a personal message for you, Tyriel. She had, to be honest, an unsettling look in her eye for someone so short when she said it. 'Shadows walk in places where no one sleeps.' I don't suppose you know what she meant?"

There's a knock on the door before it's opened by a servant, floating trays of food following behind him. With delicate motions each dish is levitated off the trays and onto the table, spreading out to it. "My lords and ladies, if there's anything else we can assist you with this evening, please ring this hand bell and we will be along shortly." The servant says and takes a handbell from a pouch too small for it, placing it on the table before he bows and closes the door behind him.

"Dinner. Excellent, I'm famished." Andwer says with a gleam in his eyes.

[rypt]

Linvala

"It is good to see you again, Brightstar." Linvala greets the General with a gentle nod and what would have been a warmer smile were the weariness of the day not already weighing on the corners of her mouth. She turns then to Mithranix's human acquaintance, taking her cues from the general's assertive posture. As long as his hand remains on the hilt of his rapier, so too does a storm of steel remain on the tip of Linvala's tongue.

After listening to the ambassador's explanation of the man's presence, the General relaxes. So too does Linvala, happily so, dismissing the spell back to her subconscious. "I am pleased to meet you, Andwer," she says, extending a hand in greeting. "Linvala Ithruil."

The ferromancer smiles a patient smile at the man's account of dwarven hospitality, the mountainfolk holding a special place in her heart as well, but that smile begins to fade when he relays both Delphine's cryptic message and the look in her eye when she shared it.

[Heavensfury]

"I suspect Delphine's warning concerns the danger that lurks in Dream. Though whether the reference to 'shadow' is merely an acknowledgement of our enemies' elusiveness, or serves as a more concrete identifier of our foe...prognostication is infamously obscure." He turns to Ayorra. "We could attempt more divinations, having narrowed the field of possibility a bit, but I suspect what's needed now is action. We know where we must go, have been prepared at least somewhat as what to expect, and have been gifted with a tool that may just give us the edge. I would like the opportunity to study my grimoires so I can offer our quarry a proper greeting when we at last meet, but otherwise am unsure what more we can do to prepare."

He turns to address the gathering in its entirety. "Is there more we must do here? If I am missing something, please speak up."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ayorra nods appreciatively to the servant and begins choosing delicacies to sample from each tray. She begins eating as Tyriel speaks, cutting her food into very small pieces so she can bring them to her mouth without moving her mask enough to reveal her face. "I agree that now is the time for action. I believe the Lady of Mysteries has given me as much information as she is willing to provide, and spending excessive time in preparation would merely give our foes more time to act. We should be able to move forward with what preparations we have made, and we can make further plans once we have made some progress."