The Noctuary [IC]

[chaincomplex]

The Noctuary

OOC Thread ▪ Tactical Maps

---

There are several versions of the story as told by passing planeswalkers, usually given as third- or fifth-hand accounts, but what they have in common is thus. First, that floating somewhere in the Astral Sea is a demiplane, and on this demiplane is a cosmic observatory said to track all affairs planar. Second, that the observatory is maintained by powerful golems, created by a high magic of a kind unseen since the Art of Ancient Netheril, evidence of provenance mortal yet as close to divinity as the story of Karsus can caution. Third, that the intricacies of using the observatory is beyond the ken of even the wisest archmagi on most worlds, and the already very few who have managed more than the briefest of glimpses of its grand clockwork-arcane complications have retreated almost wholly in defeat. And fourth and finally, that a supposed legendary handful of heroes have managed to pierce the observatory's mysteries, and use its powers to ascend to a status akin to divinity, to reshape entire worlds and fulfill all dreams big and small.

So goes the story. It is told with more or less embellishment, but what features are consistent are told with such consistency that most of the wise agree that the observatory must exist, and that it must be the locus of great power. Less certain are they of the claims of divine or near-divine power, and frustratingly their attempts to locate or even name the observatory are met with dead ends so convincing that the vast majority give up.

Our protagonists do not count among this vast majority. While they have not ascertained the observatory's location by a long shot, they have discovered a somewhat obscure factoid in their arduous search, that is, the name of the observatory. It is called the Noctuary, a record of things that pass in the night. After cross-referencing the name across countless archives and libraries, and aggressively pruning topics unrelated to planar affairs or observatories, our protagonists discovered that a certain planeswalker has in his travels happened upon a planar orrery with golem guards, with unidentifiable clockwork-arcane machinery, that is named the Noctuary by its unknown creator. The planeswalker chronicled his findings in his journals, before traveling for worlds unknown and disappearing for good.

The planeswalker was called Aecillian, the Spear of the Stars. His journals, nearly three dozen volumes in all, have but one copy each, and all reside in the archives beneath Candlekeep, an old library-fortress in the Western Heartlands of a region known as the Sword Coast on the world of Toril.

---

Entry into Candlekeep is very much an affair for most mortals, being required to donate a tome that does not yet have a copy within the library-fortress' collection, a stringent enough requirement to keep out all but the most devoted knowledge seekers. Our protagonists are, however, anything but mere mortals.

In this part, our protagonists will secure a means of entrance to Candlekeep, legitimate or illegitimate.

[chaincomplex]

Waterdeep: The Cynosure. (Noon, Highharvestide 1374 DR, Year of Lightning Storms. Ux Utanar and Syana.) There is a young but sprawling city by the coast, a mosaic of wood, stone, and plaster, of whites and reds and tans glittering under the beaming noon sun, large sails at port barely peeking out over the multistory buildings that line the wide and narrow streets both. It is a bustling city, but even amidst its heart, nestled between castles, towers, thoroughfares, and bazaars, there is an empty but grand hall that once was a temple.

This is the Cynosure. Within this hall there is a prevalent effect of impeded magic: it is a DC 20 + spell level Spellcraft check to cast any spell. Local wise men say Myrkul, Lord of Bones, died here, and so the veil to the Fugue Plane thinned, leaking its nature into the material world.

With the large entrance doors slightly ajar, light leaks into the Cynosure's dark main chamber. Here footsteps echo between the marbled stone floor and vaulted ceiling. Six imposing and gargantuan statues of the same cloaked, old, and bearded man gaze down upon trespassers. Over a dozen rows of elegant wooden benches are arrayed before a dais, upon which is what was once a stone altar, now carved for the purpose of being a cross of a lectern and a table.

The duo of Ux and Syana stand by the entrance, silhouetted against the light streaming in. The dragonborn received a vision in his dreams to come here, and so here he came. The Cynosure is almost empty save for one other, a cloaked humanoid figure standing at the foot of the dais, looking the other way. The figure's hooded head turns back slightly, acknowledging the Cynosure's newest visitors.

The muffled sounds and alluring aromas of the Highharvestide Fair filter in. The Fair is right outside, as a matter of fact, right along the Market's grounds. Nonetheless, the cheer and hope of Waterdeep's citizens do not penetrate the shadows of the hall.

---

Beregost: Feldepost's Inn. (Lorwyn Suaril and Delja Utorak.) The main room of this inn is modest but comfortable and clean. At this time of day there are only four patrons. A kindly older human woman waits on them with a jug of sherry in one hand and a plate of generously portioned, steaming dumplings in the other. Pastoral embroideries decorate the wall, a reminder of the humble farming backgrounds of Beregost's generations past. Beregost is, of course, more than a village now, it is a fully fledged town, with walls, courts, townhouses, and its very own wizard and accompanying wizard's tower.

Feldepost's Inn would have been quite a large building by village standards, but it is merely an unassuming place among the town's many newer properties. Anyone who walks in, local or outsider, can immediately feel that it is in many ways a love letter to a prior time, and its owners and staff old enough to at least remember the stories told by their grandparents.

With the beaming noon sun outside, it is relatively dark in Feldepost's Inn. Candles only play a part in lighting the place. Half-open shutters let just enough light in to prevent trips and falls. Sounds of passing wagons drift in, alongside the occasional autumn breeze.

Lorwyn and Delja sit at the counter. The waiting woman leisurely paths her way back to the counter and greets them. "Travelers, dears?" The duo are, of course, disguised. "Staying the evening? Here for a quick bite? Maybe you're here to gossip? Most of us are celebrating Highharvestide at the Burning Wizard, if you young ones are looking for a bit more people of your age and that youthful flair." She chuckles. "The Morninglord's clerics will also hold service later today, giving thanks for all the small blessings we receive in life. When I was but a girl I always loved hearing them tell stories of selfless charity. Then after the sermons, of course, I would stuff myself full with partridge dumplings." She sighs wistfully. "Can hardly say, 'The good ol' days,' because I also remember the mothers sobbing over their children dying from some fever a cleric can fix like that." She snaps her fingers. "But things used to be so much simpler... probably 'cause I was a dumb girl with nary a thought but food in my head. Ha!"

---

Athkatla: Moonhall. (Varis and Aeric Hartford.) The colossal, angled walls of Moonhall Temple carry motifs of a starry night sky into the ceiling several stories high. It is supposedly a precise depiction of the night sky at a certain momentous date and time eons ago, and its artistic realism is unmatched. Subtle magic illusions make some stars twinkle, while less-subtle ones draw lines of shooting stars that appear and vanish from one heartbeat to the next. For some, walking into Moonhall can cause vertigo.

Missing from this enchanted artwork is Selûne herself, who would ordinarily be front and center, but as Highharvestide lands on the new moon this year, she remains hidden in the black veil between the stars. The same, of course, applies to the Tears of Selûne.

Varis and Aeric walk down the main path of smooth black granite, flanked by gentle artificial streams sourced from unseen fountains, upon their surface reflected the twinkling stars above. Behind them the large entrance doors slowly shut on their own, taking with them the midday sunlight and plunging the duo into starlit shadow. They are now wholly within the Moonmaiden's domain. Isera is, of course, nowhere nearby—it is generally regarded as a poor life decision for a fiend to walk into a place such as this.

The path does diverge to several alcove-type substructures in this great hall, but they are all empty. Only the primary path, which goes up some stairs to an elevated balcony, leads to another living being. This is Aryn Gallowglass, an older human woman, the High Priestess of Selûne here in Athkatla (and really all of Amn). She is one of the best-connected figures in and around the Sword Coast who is also regarded as being unambiguously good, a rather difficult combination of reputations to maintain in these lands of intrigue.

At present she is lounging in flowing white robes on a pile of cushions by a low, round table, reading a light book. Behind her are four large, well-organized bookshelves, not only holding dozens and dozens of books on a variety of topics, but also pricey-looking trinkets such as statuettes, feather tokens, spyglasses, and so on. She does not fail to notice Varis and Aeric. Her expression mostly shows surprise. "I suppose we are open to visitors, though I've sent home almost everyone to be with their families. The Moonmaiden does not celebrate Highharvestide, so few seek her blessings today. I have to ask, why are you here?"

[Metastachydium]

No drinking. No drinking. No drinking. No… Things getting bigger all the time… Delja, as of now, the single most plain Lightfoot Halfling to grace the Coast, with loose, walnut brown traveller's clothes, all simple linen and wool pulled close around her even as she leans againt the counter, a small left hand hanging to the edge of it, the right out of view, clutching a straight stick, barely a walking stuff, resting on her knees, nods to the woman against the backdrop of her own internal mantra. Pity I couldn't see it small. Nor will get to see much of it as is. she adds, her face twitching in an outward display of apology. We're just drifting through, from the east, left Nashkel the other day. she explains. I hope the Gate and Amn are good with each other, speaking of. Road was less busy than I expected. Do you get much traffic going north? Might strike back south, otherwise.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Bluff, to pretend all interest is casual: (1d20+21)[28]

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar progresses slowly, holding his staff aloft so that its rattling against the floor does not mar the welcome silence. He whispers to Syana.

"Good thing my dream sent me looking for someone in a place where there's only one person around."

He closes his eyes briefly to better recall the vision the Lord of the North Wind had sent to him. That throws him back to the paradise of Celestia, and his memories of rejoining with dead but blissful Ereshki. He gets a little sidetracked here and keeps his eyes closed for a dozen seconds, looking either meditative or stupid.

But after that, he resumes walking towards the hooded figure, enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles beneath his naked feet.

[namo]

Syana glides along the ground more gracefully than a swan on water.
She has eschewed her favoured red-haired shape for the moment, and it's an older woman with green eyes and blonde hair done in countless little braids that accompanies Ux. The rune-engraved staff on her back might draw the eye, as well as the extensive amount of jewelry she's wearing: circlet, necklace, earrings: though none of them look extravagantly luxurious, they place her as a noblewoman or at least a merchant's wife. The rest of her is covered in a green cloak, from which a gloved hand emerges, holding the rest of a flaky pastry purchased as they crossed the market.

She answers "Quite" then pops the rest of the pastry in her mouth and chews with gusto.

She does not fully trust Bahamut - not any of the gods really: they have their own agenda, and seem to care little for the Dragonsong, even though they're a part of it. Yet she does not expect treachery here; she does trust Bahamut to have her most faithful servant Ux's continued health at heart.

"But this place... I find it grating."
Magic to her is as vital as breathing, and she instinctively feels something is wrong with the Weave here.

As they near the figure, Syana hails it: "Greetings. We have come a long way to this old place."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Sheet up-to-date with her status.
She's used Shapechange to turn into a Planetar, than used its Change Shape ability to appear as a Medium human.

[Chambers]

Lorwyn (Disguised as Sara, the Human Adept).

Could be worse. Lorwyn thought to herself while thinking about the sherry. Could be at Winter's Court. She shivered at the memories that brought up and glanced around the room to break her thoughts. At least her travelling companion seemed content to carry the conversation. Tired of looking at the décor, she started studying the waitress, paying attention to the shape of her hair, the cut of her dress, how she shifted her weight, taking in all the details save for the color of her eyes. Lorwyn never looks anyone in the eyes. You never know who could be a Fey hiding behind human skin. Old habits learned hard are seldom forgotten. Best not to tempt fate.

Lorwyn's go-to travelling guise is a woman named Sara, a country magician with a middling talent in the Art. "Sara" wears layers of loose clothes with bright colors and swirling patterns. She pins her red hair with charms of the well-respected deities of the Art, Mystra & Azuth, as well as a larger one for Selune, carries a simple dagger in her belt, and pays for a strangers meal at every inn. While not a lettered sage, Sara can read anything written and speak with any beast of the field which endears her more to the common folk who appreciate useful, safe magic rather than spell-blasting mercenaries and knights.

Nashkel? Looks like 'Sara' has been traveling far recently. Lorwyn nods along with Delja and slips a silver penny from her moneypouch and slides it across the bartop. "With all the others here for the festival, maybe there's some that could use a meal? I'm sure you'll know who needs it most." Lorwyn says to the waitress. "Yes, yes, yes, and....yes!" She says in answer to her questions, a small smile at the mention of gossip. "I'm known as Sara, hedge-witch for hire. I mostly find lost pets." Lorwyn says and slides another silver penny across the bar. "For our own food and drink, thank you."

[remetagross]

"Why is that?" enquires Ux softly. He then proceeds to focus down on the feeling emanating from the hall, to try and find it himself.
"Ah. Well, fair enough." He can somehow distinguish that his own magical abilities are impeded as well.

The dragonborn joins in the greeting from his comrade. He simply bows, not adding anything else.

[chaincomplex]

Beregost: Feldepost's Inn. (Lorwyn Suaril and Delja Utorak.) "The Amnians aren't testing us," says the waiting woman softly. "But the blood stays bad. The Murann problem and the Court at Darromar keep them too busy to give us grief, though. Small blessings. Take 'em wherever you find 'em, right?

"Still, if you're on the road—sleep with one eye open! The Flaming Fist only just about reach down this far south, as you well know, and the ne'er-do-wells know this better than we do, I'll wager. Even with the big iron caravans that come up from Nashkel, the Sword Coast has always been and will always be the Sword Coast, if you catch my meaning. But it's at least not as bad as that stretch between Chionthar and Winding Water. Small blessings, ahaha!

"But I prattle on like a goat. Well met, Sara, I bet you turned heads when you walked into town! Alas, a plate usually runs three silvers, and a cup two, but we do try to feed those we know who are down on their luck, so I accept the spirit of your coin and see your good heart." She winks. "I'll be right back with some sherry and hot dumplings for the both of you. Anything else I can get for you two?"

[Delja Utorak: Bluff success.][Delja Utorak: Sense Motive success.][Delja Utorak: Disguise success.][Delja Utorak: Knowledge (Local) success.][Lorwyn Suaril: Bluff failure.][Lorwyn Suaril: Sense Motive success.][Lorwyn Suaril: Disguise success.][Lorwyn Suaril: Knowledge (Local) success.] Delja and Lorwyn sense the waiting woman is sharper than she pretends to be, not much more than folk wisdom and the relatively short human lifetime to refine it, but enough to surprise the unlucky brigand who might try bluffing their way into town or showing up in disguise. Certainly enough that she does not quite buy Lorwyn's somewhat stiff introduction. But even among honest folk, assuming false names for safety's sake is common practice on the road here along the Sword Coast, and so the waiting woman does not seem to take offense. Indeed, she otherwise appears to have bought both Delja and Lorwyn's disguises, and so generally remains unsuspicious of any motives "Sara" may have.

---

Waterdeep: The Cynosure. (Ux Utanar and Syana.) [Ux Utanar: True Seeing.][Syana: Darkvision.] As the duo step further into the Cynosure, they see along the far walls some dozen humanoid statues shrouded in shadow, smaller in stature than the six great cloaked ones but nonetheless bearing an air of sanctity and tragedy. Behind them, concealed in deep darkness, are house-sized murals and framed paintings depicting great turmoil, in shifting landscapes of battle and disaster, and in depictions of what are probably important historical figures in dramatic struggles, both personal and with each other.

The figure takes off their hood and comes into relief as Ux and Syana approach. It is a human man, not a local of the North by appearance, and quite young at that. Nonetheless he is dressed like any other lower courtier in the city, and would not stand out among the crowd. He fixes the duo with his large eyes and piercing gaze, then after a brief pause offers a small smile.

"As travelers, or as pilgrims?" he says. "The resident overgod does not grant spells, so we pilgrim-types are out of luck."

Ux Utanar's Dream. [Ux Utanar: Wisdom success.] There are visions, there are dreams, and there are visions in dreams. Recalling dreams can be difficult, they tend to fade like a receding lighthouse upon the sea, mostly washed away by the waters of memory with only the burning light remaining deep within. Ux's dream did not feature the Platinum Dragon speaking in person—at least, Ux does not remember it—but rather images of great ships in Waterdeep's port, sails billowing in the powerful winds of the Sea of Swords, then soaring above the great once-temple that is the Cynosure, slowly but surely falling into ruin amid an ever-expanding city of cosmopolitan desires. How Ux knew these waters to be that sea, he cannot quite explain; how he knew this port to be that of Waterdeep, well, his early life saw him closer to Dragonmere than the Sword Coast, so this is also a mystery; and how he knew this temple to be the Cynosure, he also cannot quite put his finger on. But this is the nature of divine visions, and indeed of divinity, as Ux well knows.

It is in this manner that he first "met" the Platinum Dragon, when while summiting Mercuria, he felt that he was on the exact right path in his bones, he felt the North Wind whisper to his soul, long before he ever caught sight even of Bahamut's Palace. It eased his aching limbs and gave him warmth, both literal and spiritual. It is in this manner that he "met" Ereshki, seeing her so close yet so far, almost within reach yet separated by an impenetrable distance. There Ereshki sat, meditative, beneath a shining pavilion upon a great snowy peak. No words were exchanged, but her soul touched his, and he knew they saw each other, even as far apart as they are now; and he knew in his soul that Ereshki was there, forever watching Ux's fate weave its vibrant tapestry under the Platinum Dragon's gentle gaze.

It is enough to bring a tear to Ux's eye. If he wishes to suppress this reflex, it is a Will save (DC 15).

[namo]

"You could say every one of my travels is a pilgrimage, in a way." This has a double meaning, for here in the Realms it is Shaundakul, god of travel, whom she feels closest with; but it is also an allusion to her quest for the Dragonsong, whose winding path she hasn't strayed from, a path that goes through the Noctuary.

"A lonely business it must be, worshipping the Overgod. Still, I for one am thankful he remains an aloof arbiter, keeping the balance. I can easily imagine how much worse things could get if he took sides, got involved in mortal matters."

Syana doesn't remember meeting many worshippers of Ao, but of course this would be the place to meet one.
Throughout the conversation, she keeps an eye on Ux, checking if anything triggers a memory or a stroke of inspiration; she almost expects him to start speaking in (Draconic) tongues on the spot.

[Metastachydium]

No drinking. No drinking. No…

"I'll be right back with some sherry and hot dumplings for the both of you. Anything else I can get for you two?"

Damn. Delja gathers all her strength to nod with appreciation. That should do, and marvelously. She's paying. she points a thumb at Lorwyn. And don't you worry. I'm rather bad at sleeping anyhow. Even as the roads being still open and traversed is some relief. she she adds, quite conversationally, before raising a sudden finger as the woman's about to turn and leave. Oh, and one more thing, speaking of Coasts. I keep forgetting we're so close to the sea. I grew up in one of those briny places, you know. she can't not realize how much of the nostalgia creeping onto her face is genuine. Know any good spot on the shore nearby? Maybe without trekking through the wild much, too. We've got some road ahead, you realize! she tilts her head to a side, inspecting the woman's face in what is meant to look like good humour.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Another Bluff, if needed: (1d20+21)[24]

[Chambers]

Lorwyn (as Sara)

"Oh, sorry, let's fix that." Lorwyn says and gets out the proper amount of coins. "Thanks." She doesn't bat an eye at Delja offering to use Lorwyn's money. Certainly far from the strangest thing she's had to deal with. She half-listens to the barkeep and Delja talk, paying just enough attention to be aware of any new lies she has to agree with.

Write a book... Lorwyn thinks while checking out the other patrons. Write a book about sword dancing, and talking to bears, and...and a sylvan language travel guide? Moonmother, what have I agreed to this time? At least she seems friendly. Hasn't murdered anyone or stolen their first born. Yet. "Uh, also..." Lorwyn says, startling herself with the interruption. "But do you know if there's any unusual animals around here? I actually do talk with them." She says and realizes how awkward a question it was. "Sometimes I talk before I think. Sorry."

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar does not try to refrain a rolling tear. Why bother? He is a sentimental bloke, and that's it. He takes a moment to let it roll past his face before speaking up.

"As to me, it definitely is a pilgrimage that has brought me here. A vision, to be more specific. From Bahamut."

[chaincomplex]

Waterdeep: The Cynosure. (Ux Utanar and Syana.) The young man grins briefly. "Wouldn't mind if the Watcher took some time to meddle in our affairs. But, I'm not actually a worshiper, and my 'pilgrimage' is mostly an academic exercise. Supposedly an overgod once spoke here, and I asked, do echoes of his presence remain?" He shrugs. "I don't hear a thing, not here, not now. Nothing except the strange tones of the Land of the Dead, which we cannot reach anyways—not without a little magic.

"So, unless your dragon god wants you to take up history as a profession, or bask in the presence of the dead, I can't guess why he'd have brought you here. For my part, this is my last day trying in vain to listen to the past. It's better to dwell on the present." He begins to leave, striding towards then past the duo, light footfalls echoing across the chamber.

---

Beregost: Feldepost's Inn. (Lorwyn Suaril and Delja Utorak.) "I too talk to animals!" The waiting woman chuckles as she accepts Lorwyn's coin. "Specifically my cats. Can't say they talk back, though, ha! So: the Sea of Swords is straight west of us and maybe half-a-day's walk without breaks. Pick any point along the coast and you'll have a view even the gods'll envy, I guarantee it. But it is a hard way west, there are no roads and the land is full of hills and ravines, so only our rangers do this trip. A better shot would be to head north along the Coast Way. In a quarter-day's hike there should be a trail west, take it for about a day or two and you'll find the coast, with this beautiful castle on a cliff. This would be Candlekeep, and they won't let you in. But we sometimes camp along the cliffs, and the Candlekeep folk are nice enough to protect us from highwaymen anyways.

"As for your animals: we mostly get weasels and wolves out here, black bears and the occasional brown, they'll leave you alone unless you bother them, or unless they're real hungry, ha! If you're unlucky though you'll run into some real beasts, who'll hunt you without fear. Worgs prowl in the dark between the hills, ankhegs beneath the fields sometimes snatch up a farmer or two, and our rangers speak of landsharks and chimeras, though don't ask me where you'd find 'em, I'll be happy never to know. I'll tell you though, up by Candlekeep if you're lucky you'll find griffons, alighting for the night or just soaring past in the day. They're beautiful but keep your respectful distance, I don't think they much care for us, ha!

"Alright, enough blabbing, I'll be back with your meals." She wanders off to the back, humming an oddly somber folk tune as her figure disappears into the doorframe.

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar chuckles at the impishness of the man.

"To be fair, I don't know why he guided me here either. But I'd wager it's to try and do pretty much what you've tried to achieve: perceiving echoes, memories, prophecies maybe. This place seems as good as any for that kind of enlightenment. Since you haven't had much success listening to the past, maybe we'll have more luck looking for the present or the future, eh?"

That said, Ux does not keep the man from leaving if he's not interested in a little chit-chat. Ceremoniously, he walks around the room, peering at each of the statues big and small, trying to get the feel of the place.