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  1. - Top - End - #241
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    At Zvyce's insistence, Blue takes both of the tokens, placing them directly into the pouch at his belt. "Thank you for this... old friend. I will keep your instructions in mind." He says nothing else, but makes a note to study the two objects when he has time alone and is not waiting for a lightning rail.

    When the transport does come, the others react in different ways. The warforged paragon observes the Reacher's panic, and slowly places a hand on the man's shoulder. "It is a lightning rail. Elementally powered machinery. I suggest you ignore Zvyce and come inside. Certainly warmer, and it will be easier to hear us." Blue's eyes stare down at Bel's patiently, without judgment. When it is clear that the druid has calmed down some, he will remove his hand and escort him to the door.
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    You divine bastard.

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  2. - Top - End - #242
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    Bel mutters something, as he nods to Blue, the gigantic hand dwarfing his head and shoulders easily. The size wasn't much a concern to him, he had been larger himself, in several different forms. It was the cold touch of blasphemous wood and steel upon his skin that intimidated him, pushed his fear down and succored his panic, replacing it with the cold hatred.

    He moved towards the contraption....just another thing he had to suffer.

    Just another thing.
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  3. - Top - End - #243
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    Looking characteristically grumpy, Sidara arrives at the station almost precisely at the appointed time. She hates waiting, especially so early in the morning, and even more so when what she thinks she's waiting for is little more than a horse-drawn buggy to Sovereigns-know-where. She'd hoped she might find the wagon waiting for her when she arrived, but it is nowhere to be seen, and so she spends the next few minutes pacing around the platform.

    At the sight of the mechanized railcar, Sidara's frown begins to fade. She smirks when it stops beside her, and when a clockwork gnome invites her to step aboard, she laughs at the absurdity of it all. Only the Cannith would give such a mundane name to such a ridiculous-looking machine. She boards it eagerly, leaving the panicked druid in Blue's capable and enormous hands.

  4. - Top - End - #244
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    As you enter the 'wagon' the bridge re-enters while the door closes behind you with a loud ticking noise.
    Indoor, the 'train' is quite well crafted, presenting twelve seats and four windows (that you weren't able to notice while outside. There are some tables between the seats, all with different bottles and glasses; the walls are coverd with motives recalling gears and wheels, and they almost seem to move, due to the incessant ticking noise coming from outside. Strangely, the noise almost disappears into the comfortable atmosphere.
    The clockwork gnome moves its left arm to point you at the northernmost seats and, as you move toward them, disassembles into a swarm of tiny gears that disappear into the floor.

    A muscular man approaches you; his fine lineaments and the elegant beard that covers a Cannith dragonmark on his mandible and neck are present a nobiliar look, further increased by the simple but elegant jewel he wears around his neck. He wears a simple black dress, as is customary for some Cyrans after the day of Mourning, with long trousers and a sleevless shirt.
    His right arm is made of a golden metalloid substance that seem to perfectly insert into the shoulder, as if it was actually a real arm. On the end of it, in place of the hand, there’s a warforged fist that is attached into the golden arm in a way that looks a lot less elegant than how the arm is connected to the shoulder.

    He reads from a sheet on his hand and looks at you, maybe trying to recognize your faces.

    “So... Sidara Kell, Sgt. Jackhammer and... three more?”
    He looks at the Warforged "Oh yes! Blue! I read about you! And you must be that Lyrandar project! The one with that...name.
    And you are... ehm..."
    He looks at Belter clearly uncomortable figure "A... beggar? Maybe? No? I suppose you're a westerner... Central command should really start to get their dossiers right. Anyway, I'm Stannix d'Cannith, and I'm here to brief you on your next mission. Oh, yes, and cogratulating for your service to the crown of Breland, the Elites, and a couple of other groups I don't care to remember about."

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    You remember some things about Stannix: he was a Cannith scion especially gifted in Artificer sciences. who worked in Easton during his youth. He disappeared for some year, coming back in 990 YK with an artificial arm. Rumors say he was involved in the creation of Elemental Airships and lost his arm in an accident, while other believe he fought against Thrane.
    After the war, he made a name for himself as a philantropist and sponsor of the Gliding Race Championship.


    The man sits and the 'Lightload Wagon' starts moving, while he brings out other sheets from one of the tables and spread them on it.

    "So, according to one of our agents, there are some problems with a community of Cyran Mercenaries and refugees allocated near Flamekeep; there have been some skirmish between them and Thrane militias, and it seems that those problem could be tied to some of the Sharn's accident we are investigating upon. You will have to officially present yourself as representative of Thronehold Tribunal and try to discover what is happening there."
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  5. - Top - End - #245
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    Blue's reaction to the collapsing gnome and the moving gears on the walls is to spare another glance at Bel. The man seems uncomfortable with all of this, so the warforged stays fairly close to restrain him if he starts to panic. With three foot long arms, it isn't too hard to manage. He does not move for his sword, or even consider drawing it in this enclosed space: such an obvious show of force would probably not help with a frightened response.

    When the man arrives, Blue takes a second to look at him closer. To hear confirmation that there are still notes about him being published among the scions of House Cannith is... not pleasing. For a moment, he considers pressing the issue, to ask this 'Stannix' what he's read, and where he got the information. But it's clear that this is a mission briefing, so Blue holds his tongue for the time being.

    I could always interrogate him later.

    Not having room to sit down in one of the chairs, the juggernaut peers down at the sheets of paper as they're spread out on the paper. "The fires in Sharn, you mean," Blue says as much for the benefit of everyone else there as for himself. He is not quite sure of the connection, but perhaps one of the others does? "Have there been any deaths between the two groups? That would make it harder to keep the peace." Picking up the parchment carefully between his adamantine fingers, the warforged holds it up in front of his face to read. The sight would be comical, if not for the earnestness of the gesture.
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    Quote Originally Posted by Zeno Desaqqara View Post
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    "Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of certain defeat."

  6. - Top - End - #246
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    "Sounds like a simple peacekeeping mission on the face of it. I assume we should expect it to be less simple when we get there. What do we know about the locals in charge of both sides of this conflict?" Zvyce has managed to divorce himself from the spectacle of the train and it's crew. He remains seated as he watches the rest of the party and their informant.

  7. - Top - End - #247
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    Put the new gloves on your sheet. I assume you are exchanging your old gloves for them, right?

    Jack is even more impressed by the inner workings of the wagon than by the outside. Arcanists and Artificers might harness magic in different ways, but that does nt mean they can not appreciate each other's work. he sits in one of the seats in front of Stannix, extending a hand to shake during the introductions. He's never heard of the man before, but both the family name and the artificial arm point toward the fact that is is no ordinary tinker. The half-giant accepts the brief he is given and dives into it, keeping his attention divided between reading it and listening to the man's words.

    As Stannix mentions Flamekeep, though, his train of thought gets momentarily derailed. Apparently, trouble is much closer to home this time. He steals a glance at Sidara, trying to gauge the reaction of the temperamental warrior. He has no trouble believing that the two groups mentioned might be finding it hard to coexist: Thane is a fine place to be, as long as you are one of the Faithful. What he finds harder to see is any connection with their main mission, so he wastes little time before bringing it up: "Keeping the peace is panamount: that's why we are all here in the first place, after all. However, I might be missing the connection between this issue and what is happening in Sharn. I was lead to believe the Emerald Claw was to blame somehow: is that still the case, in the light of what we uncovered?" He keeps listening as his friends make more direct questions on the subject at hand.
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  8. - Top - End - #248
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    Sidara recognizes the arm, the name and the black attire. "Stannix," she says with a hint of relief in her voice. She extends a hand, offering a handshake that can withstand the artificer's battlefist grip. Though she'd never met the man before, she knows his reputation, and she is well aware of -- and indeed, grateful for -- the assistance he provided in Eston's defense.

    She glances around the interior of the car. "You've been busier than news would suggest. Last I'd heard you were running glide races." She claps him on the shoulder as she moves to take a seat. "Good to see you're still fighting the good fight."

    When Stannix mentions their destination, Sidara grips the arm of her chair so tightly that the wood splinters and cracks. Were it not for the sound of the damage, it's unlikely she would have noticed it at all. She exhales a deep, volatile breath before muttering an apology. She then crosses her arms to make sure she doesn't accidentally damage anything else. To say nothing of her own personal enmity towards Thrane, it infuriates her to know how desperate her fellow Cyrans must have been to seek refuge within the theocratic nation's borders.

    "I don't get it either," she says after taking a moment to think -- or perhaps just to calm down. "What does this have to do with the Emerald Claw?"

  9. - Top - End - #249
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    As Sidara damages the seat, a little insect-like mechanical creature sprouts from one of the walls and flies gently over the chair's arm, placing a honey-like substance into the cracks.

    Stannix listens to the various questions and tries to answer as best as he can, while looking through other sheets.

    "For as much as I know of whatever Eluvan sent you to investigate on, the Emerald Claw was only one of the possible power behind the attacks and, after the informations you two uncovered, I'm led to believe that things may be more... complicated."


    The man listen to the two warforged questions, and tries to explain the situation.
    "As of now, there haven't been any casualties among the citizens of Flamekeep or the refugees, else I fear we would be called to act in a more direct way. Let me explain you: one year after the war, a group of Thranish nobles guided by Merek ir'Wyrnan, one of the many minor Wyrnan who are not really happy with Cardinal Krozen work, concluded a contract with one of the best Cyran mercenary bands, 'The Black Roses', for those of you who don't know them as well as me and Sidara, they were part of the Cyran Border Guard during the sixties, and their fights against Karrnathian soldiers first, and the Red Gauntlets later, are stuff of legend;"
    Stannix stops, looks around, then touches his chin with his left hand "Mh... what was I saying? Oh yes, Thranish nobles! So, after New Cyre and the effect it has on King Boranel's popularity within the upper classes, those nobles tried to leverage on it, and when the Black Roses showed up with all their families, they were able to colse a deal: the mercenaries were to work for Thrane (in fact, for the part of Thrane loyal to Merek ir'Wyrnan) for a total of 10 years and, in exchange, they got to settle on a big chunk of territory property of the ir'Wyrnan. During the first months all went well, apart from some minor protest by overzealous citizens. Lately, there have been a rising in tension, coupled with some strike against Thrane and Cyrans farmers. The authorities of the Silver Flame forbid anybody to investigate, but we were able to obtain some information anyway, and there are rumors of summonings and conjuration magics at work there. the link is tenuous, but not enough for the Dragonmarks Elite to ignore it."

    Stannix stops for a moment, as if recollecting his thoughts on the matter, then looks directly into Sidara'a eyes "We want you there, because we hope your influence can be enough to instill reason into the Cyrans there. And our Flameist friend will have even more work to do, I fear."
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  10. - Top - End - #250
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    "So we are a preventative measure." Blue nods in obvious acceptance. His duty is to the Elite, and after sitting out the last mission, he feels a sense of... duty? Obligation? He will not let the others down this time. Besides, a peacekeeping errand with the official mandate of Thronehold is something that the soldier can feel quite comfortable seeing through to the end.

    Although... Blue takes a look at Sidara, noting the ruined chair and the crossed arms. Then his expressionless eyes look over at Jack, taking in the mage’s body language and posture. This is perhaps not the best group for such a mission. There are internal struggles that might rise to the surface if the Elite are not careful. The living construct says nothing for the time being, but makes a note to keep an eye on the two of them for signs of impending violence.

    If Sidara and Jack do end up coming to blows, Blue trusts that he will be able to help mitigate any lasting damage to either of them. Then there are the other two Elites to consider. Bel is still something of an unknown quantity to the warforged, and Zvyce... Blue wants to believe in the best of him. For now, the artificer has earned a measure of trust. Best to keep things focused. It is wise to think of possible difficulties, but a soldier should always keep a foot in the here and now.

    "These skirmishes, the Black Rose farmers. Any known ringleaders?" Blue has heard the name of the company before of course, but it was before his time.
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  11. - Top - End - #251
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    Jack listens intently to Stannix's answers. At the mention of Cardinal Krozen, he scoffs, mumbling 'No surprise there...'

    He grows more preoccupied as he hears about the notion of conjuring magic being involved. That can be very dangerous, and a source of more trouble than simple strength of arms can solve sometimes.
    Still, he tries to remain optimist about the whole thing. In a way, being able to pin the growing tensions on an external threat, rather than simple human nature, would almost be a relief.

    "Is there anyone on site that we might call upon, or shall we expect to work independently? My status black in Flamekeep is not as peerless as I wish it were, especially in some circles, but I hope I'll be able to mediate any issue that might come up. Failing to do so would be a matter of personal and national disgrace."
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  12. - Top - End - #252
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    Sidara grumbles in response to Stannix's pointed request. The only way she ever envisioned visiting Flamekeep was with an army at her back. To go there now, like this, feels like an affront not only to her efforts during the war, but to the faith she has found in the years since. Her every instinct tells her that this is a mistake, yet she knows that there are too few of her people left to to abandon so many to the predation of Thranish zealots. She recognizes that their needs must come before her own, but that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it.

    "They're pawns in a political game,"
    she mutters before turning to answer what she can of Blue's question. "That's Ramas Kormalek's company." Her voice is distant. She's still coming to terms with the situation. "You might've known them as the Blue Roses. A seasoned lot. Well trained, well equipped. It's a credit to their commander that none of the Thranish agitators are dead."

    She looks back at Stannix. "Do the Thranes know we're coming?" Her question refers to the collective 'we,' but it's not hard to figure that she's mostly interested in whether or not they know that she's coming. It's hard to imagine the Thranes want her there any more than she does.
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  13. - Top - End - #253
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    Bel grumbles as he is moved inside, but under the watchful gaze of Blue, he merely frowns at everything, having resigned himself, he crosses his arms, and tries to weather the storm of atrocities that were assaulting him.

    He listens with one hear, while he stares around, looking at everything else, trying to take it in.

    At the mention of 'summonings', he perks up, everything else as just static to him anyway, names, and places he had never heard of. This, this was interesting, and bespoke of magical abuse, such as the likes of this profane contraption he was standing in. But one he could battle.

    Also....farmers. He wanted to spit, just saying the name rose thoughts unbidden in his mind, he had killed his fair share. But this time, he would be protecting them.

    The thought curdled his stomach, and he hoped the gnomish pizza from the night before would not come back up.

    "What kind of summoning?" he says, surprising even himself at the question.
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  14. - Top - End - #254
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    Blue pauses, before nodding slightly in Sidara's direction. "Ah yes. That could make things easier for us. If they are well-trained, they could see reason."

    The warforged does not comment on the ability of the Thranish contingent to do the same; not out of malice, but simply because they are an unknown variable. During his time at war, he rarely found himself allies or even interacting with people from Thrane outside of the battlefield, and the experience is not a parallel he wishes to draw on.
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  15. - Top - End - #255
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    "I, for one, am eager to see to this task. I see it as an opportunity to prove myself to you folk. "

    Zvyce turned to Stannix once more, "Master Stannix, has a hearth been arranged for us already? And, if not, who would we talk to about finding such a location?"

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    As the angel of Eston answers to Blue question, Stannix adresses her and Jack's considerations "Yes, the Thranes know you are coming: the need for an external arbitration is perceived from all sides, and the higher ups in Flamekeep are more than happy to have a foreign scapegoat aviable, if things go downhill. You should avoid this though. As for help on site, I think it's better if you call on your contacts, Hammer, but considering your official status as a diplomatic group from Thronehold, finding additional help should not be too difficult."

    As the warforged artificer known as Zvyce asks about their lodging, Stannix looks at him as if he reminded something "Oh yes, right! We provided you with... well, nothing at all! As far as I know, Sgt. Hammer has already a home at Flamekeep. I thought it better if you warforged spend as much time as possible with the Cyrans, while Sidara will receive a 500gp bonus to spend for the mission. You can use it to rent a little house for the time needed, or else if you prefer. The authorities in Thrane have a tourism office which you should visit as soon as possible."

    As Bel seems to wake up and asks informations on the summonings, Stannix turns toward him, and his face brightens up, as if he was hoping to talk about the matter. "Oh, well... as I told, we were only able to receive generic informations. Investigations from Thranish authorities uncovered traces of lingering conjuration effects, and witnesses talk about flying figures impossible to detect because of their high speed. We don't have a clue on what it could be, but if you have any idea I'd be glad to hear about it!

    Anyway, if you don't have anymore question, my briefing is complete. And I'm bored to death by this thing."
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    Zvyce pulls a piece of chalk and an Arrow from his haversack and settles into his seat better. With a loud CRUNCH he begins both his snack and his notes, scribbling and sketching on his left arm.

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    "Indeed, let's avoid becoming scapegoats. Not only it would set back this organisation's work considerably, it would also mean we failed to prevent the deaths of innocent people. I will start querrying my contacts, see if they can help."

    To Sidara: "Actually, I would skip visiting Flamekeep tourism office. It's mainly geared towards pilgrims, and I suspect their offerings mightn't be to your liking." he says, apologetically. It's not clear what's he being apologetic for, if it's the tourism office offering or Sidara's inconvenient views on religion.

    As Stannix concludes, he adds: "We're ready to go immediately, with your leave. Just one last thing. Would it be possible to acquire one of these animated gnomes, or something similar? Would they still function outside this wagon?"
    Last edited by iTookUrNick; 2018-03-18 at 07:56 PM.
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    Stannix raises an eyebrow at Zvyce, but chooses to ignore the warforged, instead answering to Jack.
    "Uh, you want an ugly bugger? They're just... wait... how are they called usually? Oh yes, 'dedicated wright', only made using gears instead of pottery. It's just a minor construct used to craft things when I prefer to get wasted in some sleazy Sharn pub. I could make one for you, but I'd need some blood."

    Without waiting for an answer, the man turns around, and opens a revolving door to a little cabin with some levers and two portholes (which you can recognize as being the 'eyes' of the Gorgon). "Have to restart this thing, so we can reach Flamekeep. If you have other things to ask enter here. One at a time possibly, or just speak me from outside the door. You know, personal space..."

    As he speaks, Stannix moves the leftmost lever and the whole structure starts vibrating; after a while, it moves and picks up speed. While not comfortable as a lighting rail ride, the 'Lightload Wagon' is less noisy than you expected, considering it's basically made of gears.
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    "Ehm... yes, one of those. They seem quite useful." He stops as he processes what Stannix said. "Wait... you want to drive us all the way to Flamekeep? Can we Teleport there and save all of us some time?"
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    Default Re: Dragonmarks Elite: Golden Stream of Silver (IC)

    As he moves another lever up and down, Stannix raises his voice to answer Jack. "Sure, a very good idea. While you're at it, teleport directly into your buddies keep, then fly toward the Cyran encampment with an army of wingwyrds. That oughta win you the trust of the refugees."

    The train picks up a little more speed as Stannix keeps speaking. "Even if some of you are well known, I believe it would be best to approach the matter with a little more... circumspection."
    The man hesitates for a moment, and you are not sure if he is scolding the teleport idea because of the reasons given, or because he didn't think about it first.
    "Well, in case you know how to teleport the whole Lightload Wagon, we should be able to cut away many hours of travel, or I could even go my own way... the choice is yours: either you teleport nearer Flamekeep and we'll meet someplace else in the future, or we travel by lighting rail and I can build you the ugly bugger."
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    The Flamite is mesmerised for a moment at the idea of leading a flock of Wingwyrds into battle. He shakes himself awake: that must be the zealot in him resurfacing.
    "Uhm, no, I don't think I could manage the entire wagon. I'll be happy to wait and enter Flamekeep discretely" says Jack, though he does not seem particularly happy "with the ugly bugger you mentioned". He does smirk a little at the end. "We'll manage to keep busy in the meantime. I, for one, will need a few minutes of everyone's time for weaving my magic."
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    Blue watches the exchange with some interest, but doesn't say anything. His knowledge of teleportation is limited to small dimensional jumps, and he's more than happy with traveling by lightning rail. It reminds him of the early days, riding through Cyre and Breland along lines that are now pitted and ravaged by the Mourning.

    When it is clear that the briefing is over for the time being, the paladin nods slightly to himself, before heading to one side of the car and find a seat. The living construct nearly shifts the car with his immense weight, settling down with a cacophonous creak of adamantine. "I can keep a lookout, if people want."
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    Zvyce places his chalk back in his haversack before turning to Jack. "You have as much of my time as you might require, my friend. How might I be of service?"

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    Sidara watches with evident displeasure as the others seem to embrace more than a day's worth of needless travel. "What is wrong with you people?" she asks with a groan. "It's really gotta me who has to push this? Of course we should teleport!" She turns to their host. "You've built a fine machine here, Stannix, but I don't see that we have much to gain by riding it around unnecessarily. We could be talking to Kormalek and his men right now. Khyber's depths, we could have been there yesterday." She looks to Jack. "It's not like we have to arrive in the middle of the damn city. Just have Stannix mark the Cyran camp on a map and aim for somewhere in between. You can pick up your toy gnome when we're finished."
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    Bel, though startled by the movement of the contraption, for it surely was a blasphemous piece of machinery and marvel, was surprised to hear them discuss teleporting.

    He had done it before, once. The order looked down upon it, for good reason. Though, it wasn't much different than tree striding, which, as a mater of point, Bel focused on the trees he saw outside the station, so he could go back there if need be in the future. With that in mind, he listened to them bicker. It was interesting, why could she not see, that some people would perceive the teleportation as well....wrong. Well, perhaps not wrong, he saw it like that, but he could almost emulate the perception of those they were going to help. Couldn't he?

    It was....ostentatious, above them, something....powerful people did. And lets not begin to talk about the repercussions on ones soul.

    "I think, comrades, that we should let the good mad drive us there. Teleportation, is, well, a waste. If we are expected to arrive in this, then why not arrive in this? Do you not think the enemy, whomever they are, or will be, does not have little squirrels, birds, and spiders that see and hear for them? If there is an expectation of us, then who are we to deny them of it?"
    He said, hoping he had gotten his point across clearly, though, he was wandering if he had.

    He shrugged and said "Chelovek sudit po svoim delam, a ne po yego slovam." he pauses and grins stupidly "A man is judged by his deeds, not by his words."
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    Sidara turns a bewildered eye to the druid. "What? Is that how you withstood the enemies of the Reaches? By doing only what was expected of you when it was expected of you?"

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    "Is that not how you do it? I was expected to crush my enemies, and I did, is the rest of the world so different that their soldiers are not expected to win?"
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    Blue finds himself nodding at the Reacher's words, despite his apparent attitude. The man's aphorism is true, if not appropriate to this scenario, but he lets it pass without comment. "It is not just a matter of expect," he chimes in in a grating grumble. "But also reliability. This construct will get us where we need to go, guaranteed. The mage might miss. We also have time to prepare this way."
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    "Teleportation errors are an issue, unless we're going somewhere I'm familiar with." admits Jack, as the discussion grows around him. "However, I have this nice park in mind that we could use as a landing point. It's just outside Flamekeep's wards but close enough for us to get quickly to the city. People go there during festivities when the weather allows it, but it should be relatively clear at this time of the day. It might be the best compromise we can reach."

    "In any case, I still need to weave us together. It won't take long, but it needs doing". He goes on to explain as he works: "The Universe, the laws of magic, the way this universe is shaped: whatever it is that describes how things are, it places a great deal of importance on individuals. Creature types, weights and volumes come second to this particular category. Yet, as with most every rule in existence, there are exceptions. We've known for ages that wizards and their familiars have a strong link with each other, so much that spell effects sometimes can be shared by the two. The same is true for paladins, druids and rangers. Where an exception exists, the able scholar can glean the pattern, the underlying structure that produces that specific result. From there, repurposing that structure to one's need is almost trivial.

    The trick, if you want to call it that, is to convince the Universe that we are One. We share a communion of intents, an unity of purpose, and we act in concert and enact synergies that further such goals and plans. We realise that an elf is no more different from a warforged than an eye is to a fist, and possibly much less so. We believe that harmony and respect should be the norm between all sapient beings. We believe that. I believe that. Truly. It is that belief that I shape with my magic, and it is with that belief that I bind each and all of us to better serve our shared purpose"


    It takes a good 10 minutes to iron out all the kinks of the binding, but Jack has done it many times before and could do it in a magically induced sleep. Almost. "This bond, it resembles that of a master and his familiar, but it is not quite the same. Not yet, anyway. I'm working on improving it even further, though. A life goal of mine."

    "So, to that park then? We could meet with our host here when he gets there. Who knows, if we are as good as we think we are, we might have everything wrapped up by then." He smirks at this last idea.
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