Trog's Tavern CCLI

[Recaiden]

"So you will be on the run soon. What, did you head off to Brittania or something?"
Cleo leans her not-at-all-draconic self to a more comfortable lounging on the bar position. Her eyes (only two of them!) follow the bow on Reina's tail as it moves.

"But with your fur, you might have wanted a cooler tone. A nice lavender, maybe."

[Gullara]

"Just get outside and wait for me then." She did not want to get inside trog's, so much weirdness going on in that place.

If they go outside they will soon see a steam elemental descend down at trog's only to dispatch in a cloud of steam, revealing Cessie. What are they doing as she arrives?

[Just Outside]

Oh yes, Trog's is far from a respectable place. She wouldn't want to go inside there! Look, even outside some couple is making ou- Oh, that's Sakura and Adir.

The dryad has Adir backed against the wall. She's has one hand balled up in the front of his shirt and the other on the back of his head to pull him down to her level. She kisses him without the least amount of shame, as if they were all alone. She presses in close while she shoves her tongue down his throat.

It's safe to say she hasn't seen Cessie yet.

[Slii Arhem]

"Interesting." Is all Renault says in reply to that.

"I think I will do one more reading." The elf decides, picking up the bag of seer stones again. "What will come if I seek the Crystal Cavern?" He asks, shaking it between his hands and then, for a third time, tipping it out onto the table.

Sorrow, Loss, Danger, Power, End.

A neophyte, newly in training to replace one of the fallen. He does not understand the order, nor their methods or reasons. He does not understand why they keep sacred the name, why they must steel their resolve. He is not ready to know the crime, but he has learned the name and seen the path, and will know the error of his youthful folly soon.

For as he lays awake on downy bed, the name he must clear from his mind in times of weakness lest his lips form its syllables and his breath shake loose its sounds, comes to the forefront of his mind. He regrets, he sympathizes, he worries.

The crime. He worries about the crime and not knowing it, as if such a thing could be committed without knowing and he could be next. Such an unspeakable evil that only the most prepared minds must face it.

And without knowing why, he speaks the name. Renault can just barely hear it within the vision, the name Orhndal. His name. A name he was forced to remember, but never speak again. And then a glow, a void, and finality. Nothing. The neophyte and his room are gone, and the vision is nearly done. The twinkling of torchlight shimmers to life, reflecting off the many crystals, and Renault can feel the being inside the prison more than see it. Orhndal. He Who Seeks will find him, and in so doing find themself.

[Artemis97]

Renault blinks, coming out of the trance. He looks shaken and reaches out for his teacup, now cold, and takes a sip. The elf pulls a face, but needed the drink to bring him back to reality, and to wet his dry throat.

"I... I know the name." Renault stammers out. "What am I to do with this information? It's dangerous to have. However, in Seeking him I shall find myself. That is incredibly tempting, to know who I am, truly." Nervously, the elf fingers a golden torque locked around his neck.

[Deathkeeper]

Tep leans back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Names have power. I'm sure you could use it to find the place you seek. If that is what you wish, I do not think it would be very hard to find now that you know the name and the direction. Do you know how to scry? Or would you need my assistance?"

[Artemis97]

"I am a trained diviner." Renault says, pride coming into his voice. "I have a mirror. Some other tools. What do you have in mind?"

[Deathkeeper]

Tep points down to what he's sitting on.
"I would have used my Record. It's very good for finding things out. It was made for and by Knowledge, after all." he explains.

[Artemis97]

Renault perks up a bit. "I would be very interested to see how that works, actually. Would you mind using it?"

[Deathkeeper]

Tep nods and stands up, kicking open the book and flipping through it at blinding speed, stopping at a seemingly blank page. Runes spill from the ancient pages, and he flicks a finger at each in turn, with no rhyme or reason to the outside eye which is touched, its color changing or getting more vibrant, and which merely float. Then, at last, a simple line appears, and a feather pen.
"Give it the Name, and we'll see how hidden it is."

[Artemis97]

"Amazing!" Renault marvels at the runes the book emits and delicately reaches for the pen. Before touching it to the paper he asks "Will others have access to this? Those men tried so hard to keep this secret. I don't know if I should speak the name aloud, nevermind write it."

[Deathkeeper]

Tep turns up his muzzle.
"The Akashic record is an artifact handed only to-" he stops, reigning himself in before he blows his cover again.
"No, they would have to kill me to use my tome. You have my word."

[Artemis97]

"Very well." Renault writes down the name: Orhndal.

[Cyber Punk]

"Near as I can tell they've always been like that. There was apparently a cool one about 200 years back, but hey, that's one. As for 'Real' Sith? That term has been super-loaded, and it seems like people forget that the 'real' Sith were aliens that went extinct a thousand years ago or something," Nimaah says with a frown, "And all the current Sith are are nuts with borrowed ideas from an extinct species and not the just inheritors of the galaxy."

The twins seem to look thoughtful for a long moment, rubbing their chins in sync and looking down at the bar.
"So, the original Sith are aliens..."
"...and the present Sith are merely pretending to be something they're not."
"It does beg the question, though..." Currant begins as he turns to look directly at Nimaah
"What makes you so different?" Dixie continues, pointing at the Sith lady.

The twins then turn to each other and start talking to themselves.
"I'd wager she's not so different after all." Dixie says simply.
"I'd wager she is, dear sister." Currant replies, disagreeing.
"How so?" She appears confused, but only slightly.
"Any difference, no matter how slight, is still a difference." He raises up two fingers, separated by a tiny space.
"I suppose you're right, dear brother." She thinks for a bit, then nods in agreement.

[Murkus]

[Just Outside]

Oh yes, Trog's is far from a respectable place. She wouldn't want to go inside there! Look, even outside some couple is making ou- Oh, that's Sakura and Adir.

The dryad has Adir backed against the wall. She's has one hand balled up in the front of his shirt and the other on the back of his head to pull him down to her level. She kisses him without the least amount of shame, as if they were all alone. She presses in close while she shoves her tongue down his throat.

It's safe to say she hasn't seen Cessie yet.

If Adir is seeing anything but the backs of his eyelids, he doesn't make it apparent. He just came out here to get some fresh air! He was attacked! Why, his thoughts were innocent and pure!

Now he's joined at the mouth with a small brown woman, and his ears twitch like freshly struck lightning rods. His hands push deep furrows in the soft places around Sakura's waist. It looks like he could go on this way for a while... without temptation or naughtiness in his thoughts, I'm sure. His head gently moves every so often to accommodate their shifting mouths.

[Lost_Deep]

The twins seem to look thoughtful for a long moment, rubbing their chins in sync and looking down at the bar.
"So, the original Sith are aliens..."
"...and the present Sith are merely pretending to be something they're not."
"It does beg the question, though..." Currant begins as he turns to look directly at Nimaah
"What makes you so different?" Dixie continues, pointing at the Sith lady.

The twins then turn to each other and start talking to themselves.
"I'd wager she's not so different after all." Dixie says simply.
"I'd wager she is, dear sister." Currant replies, disagreeing.
"How so?" She appears confused, but only slightly.
"Any difference, no matter how slight, is still a difference." He raises up two fingers, separated by a tiny space.
"I suppose you're right, dear brother." She thinks for a bit, then nods in agreement.

Nimaah rolls her eyes, honestly annoyed by now. "Oh come on. I won't get into all the stuff, but two things: One, I use my brain as something other than a grudge-keeper. Two, I let myself feel emotions other than anger and hate. They seem to have forgotten that 'passion' covers, you know, most of the strong emotions."

[Shadowcaller]

[Just Outside]

Cessie doesn't look especially amused or surprised. She had no patient waiting for them to be done however. "Ahem, you wanted to go home? Since here I am." She smiles faintly. She did recall meeting Sakura here many years ago. It felt like lifetimes however.

[Gullara]

[Just Outside]

"Oh!" Sakura pushes off from Adir and stumbles over to Cessie. "Cessie! You came!" She suddenly tries to envelope the other woman in a bear hug, which really means she's just going to be hanging off Cessie.

[Slii Arhem]

"Very well." Renault writes down the name: Orhndal.

And the name was again loosed into the world, and the world did taste it again, feeling its presence long after it must be forgotten.

A shift, a glimmer of light beneath their feet begins to pulsate and widen, extending north before splitting into two shafts that encircle a deep, yawning void only Renault and Tep can see. Stairs flow from the walls, forming a spiral stairwell into the depths that awaits their entrance with the patience of a tomb.

Speak the name and you will know the way.

[Artemis97]

"Oh my..." Renault gasps at the appearance of the stairwell. Cautiously, he gets up from his chair and pokes at the steps with his staff. Were they real, or illusionary? "Are you seeing this?" He asks Tep.

[Deathkeeper]

Tep picks up his book and flaps up to land on Renault's shoulder. He's surprisingly light, even with his tome.
"Yes, I am." he says simply.

[Slii Arhem]

The stairs certainly seem real enough. There's a draft coming from down below, and if Renault retreats from the staircase, it will shift with him, the hole in reality staying to his north, always staying at least a few feet away, waiting for him to enter.

If you know the name, you can follow the path.

[Artemis97]

Well, there it was, the way to the cavern, laying open before him. What could be learned? What could be gained? Of course it could all end in disaster, but surely he was clever enough to stay out of danger?

"I suppose there's no turning back now. It's following me, even. I'm going down." The elf decides, gripping his staff a bit tighter as he takes that first step into the stairwell.

[Reinholdt]

"Ah, you know, espionage, spying, sanctioned murder, that kind of thing." Bliss replies, waving her hand dismissively. Jordan doesn't stop her from saying too much, it's the Nexus, after all.

Bliss giggles at Reina. "Aww, you noticed! Thank you, I like 'em! I like you, too, you're funny."

"Bliss." Jordan says in a chastising tone, causing her to pout. "I didn't mean it like that, J!" She turns to Reina. "You know I didn't mean it like that, right?"

She changes her seating position so she's closer to Reina than to Cleo, leaving Jordan close to the pink-loving draconic lady.

"So you will be on the run soon. What, did you head off to Brittania or something?"
Cleo leans her not-at-all-draconic self to a more comfortable lounging on the bar position. Her eyes (only two of them!) follow the bow on Reina's tail as it moves.

"But with your fur, you might have wanted a cooler tone. A nice lavender, maybe."

"I'm not sure. Maybe?" Reina decides, inching just slightly away on her seat from the admitted participant of espionage and murder. It is hard to tell what Bliss meant by that funny comment largely because Reina doesn't even recall anything she said that could be construed as funny. Maybe Bliss's species considers drawing attention to one's wings a topic of humor? Comedy really translates poorly across species.

Might as well be blunt about it and figure out what Bliss is so miscommunication doesn't become a big issue. "What are you?" About as straightforward as you can get.

"Lavender, huh?" Reina glances at her own tail, considering. "I'll take a look at it next time, thanks." No reason not to try it out.

[Deathkeeper]

"I have nothing better to do, and you should not plunge into the unknown alone. " says the imp, not moving from his elven perch as he steps into the portal.

[Slii Arhem]

Well, there it was, the way to the cavern, laying open before him. What could be learned? What could be gained? Of course it could all end in disaster, but surely he was clever enough to stay out of danger?

"I suppose there's no turning back now. It's following me, even. I'm going down." The elf decides, gripping his staff a bit tighter as he takes that first step into the stairwell.

"I have nothing better to do, and you should not plunge into the unknown alone. " says the imp, not moving from his elven perch as he steps into the portal.

The stairs are cold, well-worn stone, and as Renault takes that first step the tavern will fade, the portal closing and pulling along anything even partially submerged within it, so the lingering scent of stale beer and various smokes mingles with the damp, mineral-tinged cavern air.

They are truly in another place now, Outside of all that's familiar.

[Deathkeeper]

I wonder, as I enter this bar, the center of this nexus, if this task might be beyond me. Perhaps it it beyond any one person, I think. I am quite sure it is not as simple as crafting a Wonder, or we would have many True Worlds. I claim to myself and my students that I am here to study, to attempt to observe the anomaly of this place, the strain in the fabric of worlds that allowed the portal we came through. Let it even exist. This is not untrue, but perhaps its' not even a half-truth.

I can feel it as I walk in. This place is more real than our home. It is almost True. A mechanical truth, but still, there is something here that isn't in that Directory. As the pads of my feet press on the floor they pick up dust. They pride themselves on clean glasses, miracles of optics and containment that most will end up too drunk to appreciate. Apparently not so for clean floors.

I slink to the bar, place my paws on a seat, straighten up to address the bartender. Xorn Zinfandel, my request. He (?) (I have such trouble telling humans apart, given all those garments) opines about whether "I mightn't prefer Feline's Fancy.". He doesn't have a chromatic field. The body is human, but he is something else. Elemental. I chuckle and smile toothlessly, indulging his thoughtless humor. The glass is full, sliding towards me, the drink creeping higher and higher, stopping just before the lip. The motion of this glass was foretold, born of long expertise.

I stretch to wrap my tentacles around it and take a careful sip. I shudder. I can feel it run through my whole body, even my horns tingling. When the place stops spinning and ringing I finally regard the room.

A young woman walks in. The narrator of the previous post might have trouble knowing she's a woman, if she tends to have that problem with humans. She has dark hair hanging at just above her shoulders, and she's relatively tall and fit. More than that, and possibly of notice is the many small bits of magic in and around her. The first, and most obvious is the fae glamour that tries to make her seem a bit more glamorous to those viewing her, though what that means depends on the individual. The second is her innate gift of the theater, which is not currently active. And the third, and one so subtle it might not go noticed save for reading this narration, is one that has been woven into her being since before her birth, which has been determining her genes since the beginning.
Regardless, she simply sits down nearby and waits for a drink, looking both tired and very relieved.

[Recaiden]

Someone of interest enters. Human shape, but there's interesting magic around them. Glamorous. That's what the magic is for, but the magic is itself glamorous. I turn to get a closer look, a closer feel, for how this magic works. Was he created magically as well?
"Long day?"
I ask of him, because tiredness is obvious, even in different creatures. I offer to pay for this magical thing's drink. I've barely touched my own, but it's the gesture that's important. The humans here are rather different from those at home. Some of them are not completely worthless. Maybe this one is among them.

[Deathkeeper]

Clara looks at the strange creature next to her and smiles.
"Yeah, finally finished my last show of the month, so I get to be me again. I've been beefy and furry for weeks. Maybe I'll miss it, but I'm too tired to think about it now."

The glamour is as described: it's meant to affect how others see her. The theater enchantment is somehow bound to her specifically for the theater, and affects her mind and body. And the last spell is simply meant to ensure she inherits small things like hair color and height from her father and mostly everything else from her mother, and wasn't a minotaur like him.

[Recaiden]

The strange creature next to her is the most superlative strange creature of its sort in all the Nexus. Not much competition, you see.
I wonder about the theater-magic, and where she came by such glamour. There's no obvious magic source in her herself, just this thespian gift that she was born with. "This self is more real to you? Not just a default part?" It's good to be precise about such things.

I am more puzzled by the inheritance spell. It seems like sorcery, and rather frivolous. Is it what anchors her to humanity? If it were undone, might she remain in one role until the next comes along? Well. That's her business. I remember it as 'strange magical phenomena' and mostly forget about it.

I smile back; we are not inexpressive visually just because we hear best.
"Do you have much time before you have to get ready for the next show?"

[Deathkeeper]

"I s'pose so. It all feels very natural at the time, less so afterwards." she answers to the first question.
The spell would likely do little at this stage if simply undone. Perhaps reversing it would have more visually noticeable effects, if only due to her father being a different species and her mother being a red-head, but it has already been forgotten, it seems.
"If I'm lucky, it'll be a week before I'm given my next part and things get weird again. Boss is experimenting with what I can handle, and it's already gotten bad, like I said. If I'm not, he'll have a great idea in the mail to me by tomorrow."