Empire 6 - The Grand Conclave

[mystic1110]

"I fear I will have no more time than your sister to attend such a spectacle - but I do have a nephew who I believe would be more than happy to return with you and partake in my place.
But I do not think I was granted your name - if you are Aste's brother, are you...Malv, then? Wist would be too young still, I think."

Malv paled at his impropriety. He practiced for hours on the way towards the sanctum but when he got here he forgot to announce his own name? His sister would never let him hear the end of it if she heard. He quickly tried to correct himself and explain who he was.

Yes. I am Ank’Anske’Thalez’ir Malvaceo. Young Wisterio is my Nephew.

[bc56]

Wandering Thunspeaker
The Scrimthun delegation is approached by a party of Veramondi, the Queen at their lead. "Thunspeaker, a moment of your time. There is something we should discuss." Enavi carries a scroll case sealed with orichalcum and bearing a mark which the two Keepers know well, but is yet unseen beyond them: the symbol of the reformed Dream Speakers. "It is good I was able to deliver this to you in person. It is hard to find reliable couriers these days."


Dinner
The turnout was less than hoped, but surely everyone has more "important" matters to attend to. The one visitor from the isles is a fascinating change of pace from discussions of Kiswan politics, family matters, and the Truthseers.
"Come in friend! I'm sure one of our weavers would be thrilled to tell you about their craft. But you must have traveled far. Come in, sit, eat if you wish. I am Queen Enavi of Veramondo, and this is my niece, Matji Bulandi of the Vygra Confluence, and her family. Come, tell us of your distant homeland. I am quite curious."

Conclave
Queen Enavi listens and seems unsurprised and unimpressed. What secrets had the Dream Speakers imparted her before their fall, none may know, but much of this may have been among it, and one cannot forget her close familial and political ties to one of the Flame-Tempered Souls.
But when it comes time to speak, she stands with the Thunspeaker. "You have told us of our enemy, but yet not the most important information you possess. Let us see this map you claim to have. That is far more important now than the history of your order. Like the Fingerwolf of the north, we cannot destroy Artavazd if we do not know where he makes his lair. Nor can we ignore his bastion of power within the Twilight. To strike a blow to him there would wound him in the waking world as well."

[Nefarion Xid]

Guardian Sanctum (pre-conclave)
Matji Varsha accepts the invitation of the troll queen to attend a more private conference than that of the Truthseers' primary topic. While her children and Sanu-ai continued their visitations with the Veramondi and other delegates, the Ahra walks to the Guardian Sanctum with significantly less presentation than their initial arrival. Her stride is stately, with perhaps a touch more seeming solemnity added by matching her pace to the plodding step of the shorter-legged fffolkkk who accompanied her.

Both take advantage of wash basin provided, though with rather less ceremony than the Ashir. Bulandi simply rinses her hands, which are quickly dried by the subtle breeze that shifts around her. Utttlannn immerses her arms as deep as she can in the bowl, then brings a double-palmful of water over the top of her head and allowing it to run down her neck and within her shell. She shivers slightly in appreciation of the coolness, allowing her thick leathery skin to soak in the moisture with satisfaction.

Inside, both disarm of their staves, and greet the Dhraanish queen. Bulandi bows in the Vygra custom, hands spread to both sides, while Utttlannn cranes her neck forward and down, chin nearly touching the center of her shelled torso. "Queen Usuukhusaa, we thank you for your invitation. We are glad to join here, and lend ear to your words." The Ashir then receive similar gestures of greeting. "A shala elem, Sultan Harun il Jana. I am Matji Bulandi, of the Vygra Confluence. This is Utttlannn Ironshell, one of our finest warriors. I am pleased to have this opportunity to meet you in person here in the lands of our friends."

Greeted in the traditional Sikarian way, the sultan did not rise to meet Bulandi, nor did the prince and princess. They did give a slow, respectful nod. The purpose of the shala was to put the disadvantaged party at ease -- expecting a man at rest in his tent to rise to meet you in greeting made about as much sense to the Ashir as waiting patiently for a farmer to find a horse and climb on top of it. Besides, Harun had near to seventy years, though he was indistinguishable from his two children who may have been twenty or thirty. Even without the benefit of the fruit of life, the Ashir avoided sun exposure, and so they did not wear age and weathering on their faces as much as other humans.

"A shala elem, Matji. I should know you from my father's account. He has a keen eye and enjoys describing faces in great detail. I regret that he is not here, as I am certain he would enjoy seeing you again. My mother is at our camp, if you would... like to greet her."

Jana was a blunt instrument. An abundantly clever woman with many skills earned in her century of life, but diplomacy and polite conversation with foreigners were not among them. She was pleasant enough, if she liked you, but also saw little reason to lie if she didn't. Famously, she had not hesitated to abuse Sol'ikoth royalty, slapping a prince's crown from his head before twisting his ear hard enough to make him double over. A renowned warrior from the age of thirteen, problems that could not be solved with swift violence frustrated her. And apparently, the goal of politics was to avoid problems that she would not be adept at solving.

"Utttlannn I know as well. My little sister Rafa competed against you at the Trials of Iron. Your people must be proud." Glancing between the turtle and Bulandi, Harun added, "I would be interested to hear your thoughts on chariots. Why a competent warrior would consent to be dragged behind a team of mules in a cart is beyond me. Are you a fighter, or a sack of millet?"

[Frostwander]

Guardian Sanctum (pre-conclave)

The ra and the fffolkkk find seats where they can face and continue to converse with the Ashir and their host. Bulandi sits with her knees folded on a broad cushion. Utttlannn finds a bench and relaxes her knees until the weight of her shell is upon it, giving the impression of simply leaning back rather than sitting.

"I will certainly visit your camp to deliver our greetings to your mother in person. And we would be pleased if you would be so gracious as to carry our good wishes to your father upon your return home, as well.

Utttlannn, directly addressed, speaks deliberately in a slow, low, creaking voice that many would associate with an old woman. Those familiar in dealings with the fffolkkk people would realize this is a common tone, however, and not indicative of her age. "I recall Amira Rafa, as well. She ... was a skilled and agile competitor, and showed ... great endurance, as well.

"I have not ridden a chariot ... into battle ... but I do find ... that they are suited to carrying me over long distance ... when speed is of import." She cranes her neck around and down to look at her legs, flexing the squat, stumplike limbs beneath her shell, "And that a horse and I ... do not match well enough ... in shape ... to make the saddle desirable."

Bulandi smiles, "Our cultures have not had the benefits of the breeding and training traditions of the Ashir, to have our warriors born to the saddle. Nevertheless, we do find that horses or similar beasts can bear greater loads pulled behind them with the aid of strong wheels than on their backs. Thus a chariot can bear two or three warriors with a greater load of arms than a single mount."



Conclave
Matji Bulandi, Sanu-ai, and Utttlannn have stood silently by, near to the Veramondi and Bannanda leaders, listening patiently as the Truthseers have unfolded their tale. Much of the knowledge is not new to them, but it is an enlightening perspective to hear it directly from the elder crones. Bulandi's eyes have remained locked on the map since it's presentation, pouring over it, absorbing and committing to memory as much detail as possible. As Thunspeaker Atir and Queen Enavi raise their concerns, Bulandi nods in agreement, her gaze leaving the map to take in the room briefly before returning to her study of it. The Flame-Tempered Soul waits eagerly for the Truthseers' response - to find a path against the ancient emperor and the Trespasser have long been guiding goals of the Vygra Shepherds.

[Silent_Interim]

Wandering Thunspeaker
The Scrimthun delegation is approached by a party of Veramondi, the Queen at their lead. "Thunspeaker, a moment of your time. There is something we should discuss." Enavi carries a scroll case sealed with orichalcum and bearing a mark which the two Keepers know well, but is yet unseen beyond them: the symbol of the reformed Dream Speakers. "It is good I was able to deliver this to you in person. It is hard to find reliable couriers these days."

The Thunspeaker bows slightly before accepting the case. "Indeed, these are troubled times. The shortage of good couriers is most certainly an inconvenience. But, it is good to finally converse with you directly. It is a welcome reminder that though we stand a world apart, we also stand together, in difficult times. Now... what was it you wished to discuss? A matter of import to you is most certainly of import to me."

[TheDarkDM]

The Conclave

Though they remain impassive in the face of the Thunspeaker's bloviating, the crones rise at Queen Enavi's question, the effort clearly a strain on their ancient bodies.

"That map of Nemoikriosus is one of the few documents to survive the calamity of the False Dawn. Though we preserve the memory of the island as it was, we have heard whispers that the Sentinels and their allies have more recently braved those Blighted seas."

Three sets of eyes turn towards Matji Bulandi, inviting the contribution of a Flame-Tempered Soul.

[Frostwander]

Bulandi finally looks up from her study of the map, meeting the gazes of the three crones. There is a long moment of silence as she considers, then gives a slow nod. Her voice bears none of its usual diplomatic grace; her tone is that of a general at war council. "Four decades ago, the Sentinels of the Stone assembled a fleet of ships and warriors to sail to Nemoikriosus. The goal was to reach the island, and determine the condition of the Trespasser, and scout for any vulnerabilities - whether and how the source of the blight might be harmed or destroyed."

"They did not reach the shores of the island. As they neared its position, they found the entire island concealed by a wall of black fog. A barrier of blighted magic and keening wraiths. Upon testing the barrier and attempting to sail through, the ships were beset by hordes of various blightspawn that seemed to spawn from the darkness itself. Only one of the vessels survived to return."

The Vygra matji unclenches her knuckles from the edge of the table. "We still have only limited knowledge of this blightfog ... it is difficult to conjecture anything to be specifically effective to pierce it without direct testing, and that is a costly task. It will likely take an artifact or power of significant potency. But we have learned a few valuable elements, thanks to Agatha of Mamut in her dying days twelve years ago. From her fated journey south of Daezirn, she discovered and imparted two crucial details.

"First, we have a map of the location and full circumference of the barrier, and confirmation that it fully encircles Nemoikriosus. And secondly, that the blightspawn within are growing stronger."

[Torv]

Veramondi dinner outside
Vinolygur bows until his torso is parallel with the floor craning his head back, as to not break eye contact.
"Well met Saunu-ay of the Vygra Confluence, I would be delighted to listen to your descriptions. All knowledge is of import to us, though some is best left untouched. But that is a subject for a darker night. Let us speak of the joys in our kingdoms first.”

Inside
He stepped inside at the tent, silently marvelling at the variety of people and clothes inside before getting absorbed into their conversation, joining them in their meal.
“Thank you, I have travelled far indeed upon a ship permeated with a tale of friendship and comraderie, it has despite its length been a refreshing journey. The Bozuls have mastered both the air and seas it seems, though the latter is not without help from our forge. Then there is the firemanes from Citlalli, ardent in their battle against the blight and responsible for the death of the Lion-Hornets. A feat managed by all of Daezirn, including Amka of Avicennia. Avicennia is home to the sloths and groves of glowing moss, shimmering like no other place in a stunning display of evershifting light at night. More recently the Scrim from Mamut have ventured into our homeland too, overcoming their fear of the deep and bringing sanity to some of the less pleasant aspects of the isles. But those can wait for another time I am quite intrigued by Kiswa and your crafts as well.”

[Moriko]

When the Sewune delegation arrived it meeting was well on its way. A man of sturdy build looking to be in his thirties and a young girl with curly black hair that could be no older than twelve. They got a quick synopsis of the events and statements made thus far and sat down. They were here to listen and gather as much information as they could about the secrets kept by the other kingdoms about these matters that concerned us all.

[TheDarkDM]

The Conclave

Nodding at the answer of the Matji, the wrinkles on the crones' faces deepened as they considered the revelations purchased by the life of a Sentinel hero.

"You bring a grim truth with you, Gale of Kiswa, but in such truths we may yet find strength. The Blight has ever sought power, and now we know it to be an expression of Artavazd's immortal avarice. But for all his might, all his desire, failure has ever been his shadow. He failed to become a god once. He has failed to destroy the peoples of the New Kingdoms. He has failed to prevent this Conclave. You have bought your victories with your blood and toil, as we bought ours long ago with our eternal vigil, and those sacrifices must be honored even as we consign ourselves to sacrifices greater still. But whatever he has become, be it ghost or demon or nightmare, Artavazd began life as a man. And all men must die."

[Torv]

The Conclave

Balvodur fiddles with her tunica, patiently listening to wisdoms from around the world. The sage of the isles might have left a few things out in their previous discussion, but it is clear the Truthseers know a great deal.
Yet they do not know the Blight, only how to murder it and the Emperor's influence over it. She raises her voice, to be heard around this table of titans.

"The Blight doesn't seek power or wealth. It slumbers. Those inflicted by it don't turn into monsters by its force alone. Residing in Twilight He tortures them, leaving them senseless, lifeless, unless they meet Him. Then He poisons them with affection and love, until they're numb addicts, doing His every bidding.
Avarice isn't of the Blight, it's Artavazd alone, influencing something He doesn't truly control. If the Blight is an enemy or friend in its lonesome remains to be seen. I'll prove it."