Lament of Vilarus (Part 7)
Vilarus's Retreat, the residence of the Archmage, late morning
Standing in the parlor, it is clear that wherever the party finds its answers, it may not be from Vilarus himself. A skeleton wrapped in his robes, albeit faded from a thousand years, lies sprawled on the couch, hands crossed over his chest. Music plays softly from a small box, an endless melody of sildanyari heritage.
Looking around, the parlor appears to have served as a study of sorts. Books sit in neat rows on shelves, and a scattering of small, familiar-looking blue gems lie on the desk. A large slate blackboard is mounted in a wooden frame, chalked with half-visible equations and notes. Hanging on the wall opposite are a series of landscapes and architectural designs.
GAME: Karasu rolls Heal: (5)+6: 11
"I suppose we should be grateful he is dead." Karasu remarks looking at the corpse. He doesn't touch the body, but he does try to determine the cause of the skeleton's death. There is no soft tissue left remaining however, nor are the clothes disrupted in any obvious way as to suggest a stabbing or some other easily identifiable cause. "We should search the remainder of the house for further clues. At least it seems that his death was not caused by any struggle or attack that is easily identified."
GAME: Murder rolls perception: (8)+23: 31
"Wealth of power, wealth of dreams... and poor with his time." Carver muses. She hooks thumbs to her belt as everyone spreads out to investigate, the quiet tomb of left melancholy with the discovery of the great mage's remains and the trilling of Sildinayri lutes, the gentle music box's tunes wafting out. "I wonder if he gave up. Failed and just... wasted away." Carver is a romantic, it would seem.
She picks very carefully forward and collects the music box, holding it up to her eyeline with a thoughtful frown. "Pretty."
The Goblin rubs at her cheek, and lets out a breath of relief. "Well, on the upside, he does not appear to have become undead. On the downside, the poor automatons here... what do we do with that information?" Murder tilts her head back and forth, vertebrae popping noisily.
"Hmmm, alright, but uhm, let's not touch anything, okay?" She moves towards the blackboard, squinting up at the equations. "Hmmmm." Her eyes flick to Carver momentarily. "I doubt he gave up, I mean, this has all the appearance of a life's work. Hut uhm, he must have had a backup plan." She gestures to the blackboard.
"Anyone know what these equations are about? Might be useful..." She blinks. "Magpie?"
"As for those blue stones, I think they're more speakstones, yeah? And the shelf is full of books. He definitely wrote stuff down, so perhaps we should spend a bit of time reading, after we search the place."
GAME: Magpie rolls knowledge/the planes: (8)+18: 26
Cor'ethil frowns, affected by the sight of the dead person in front of him. _He was a person once._ That was something his father had said long ago about the graves and memorial trees that he would tend to in other groves, even the ones belonging to people with less-than-great reputations. Everyone contains multitudes, and their bodies are reminders of that. They were born by someone, and almost certainly loved by someone. Sometimes, too, hate is notable, but Corey remembers that image of the young woman...
His silver eyes half-close solemnly. "Permit us trespass in your space," he says softly. "We must look around... And then, perhaps, we can discuss dealing with the remains." He's not a Vardaman, but it's a shame to leave the man like this.
Carver's collection of the music box draws Cor'ethil's eyes. "It's playing something in sildanyari style, but I don't recall the song, exactly," he says. "I'm not the music historian. My twin would be more helpful here."
Carver closes the music box, then offers it to Core'thil. She has no use for it, pretty bauble or not.
"Oh," Magpie says softly, as they enter the house... only to find Vilarus, seated in his chair, and listening to his favorite music. "Oh, Vilarus, you poor..." Loosing a long, gusty sigh, she slips further into the house, nodding her agreement with Karasu and Murder. At the latter's questioning, she moves to the equations... And her eyes widen, further and further, lips moving silently as she reads over the equations. With each chunk of arcane math she looks over, her face grows paler, eyes grow wider, and tears begin to stand out.
"...It was the Sundering," she says softly. "It happened *shortly after* he'd gotten everything ready, but he was *in here* when it happened. He was just trying to *go home.*"
Pressing a hand over her mouth, she steps back and turns her eyes back to the enrobed skeleton. "He was marooned here."
A search of the house reveals several notable things.
First off, while there are several intriguing small boxes scribed with arcane runes and labeled as foodstuffs, they are completely empty. Not even dust inside. In fact, the devices are still functioning, and apparently generate a preservation field for nonliving matter inside.
Secondly, while Vilarus's bedroom is quite obvious (large, but not ostentatious), there is a second room and study. Judging from the faded but recognizable decorations, it belonged to a young woman -- perhaps his apprentice. But her bones are nowhere to be found.
Lastly, despite the man being a wizard of considerable power, there are no magical devices aside from the preservation boxes to be found. But, curiously enough, Murder opens a closet to find a pile of depleted wands, two rods, even a staff and a dozen or so other formerly magical items. All of them have been drained of magical energy through some unknown means.
Karasu finds the remains in the house - the non-human ones - troubling. "It seems likely that he died of starvation when the food supplies ran out." He makes his way for the exit with the house thoroughly examined it seems foolish to linger further. "Perhaps we should return to the library... Or continue our search to see if there are any other locations here that might be of some use."
Frowning slightly, he motions to the food-preservation boxes. "We should bring those with us. Just in case." He doesn't want to say it out loud, but the depleted magical items make him worried that they will end up trapped here too. Just as the mage was.
Murder's eyes widen with the news, her expression growing distant. A hand reaches up to pat the Gnome on the shoulder. "Then we shall take him home, yes?" "After a thousand years, he is not forgotten, and all of his notes can be useful for future reference. He has not died in vain, and he is no longer alone."
The Goblin lets out a low sigh. "I doubt he can be brought back, but perhaps we could find a way to speak to him. The clerics back in Alexandria could probably help, yes?"
During the search of the house, she remains silent, only speaking when spoken to. At the discovery of the closet, she ohs, and begins to examine each thing in turn. "Huh. Completely drained. I don't know if it is just the long years or..." One of the rods is held up. "I don't know how you would drain an immovable rod... and these all seem to be defensive or offensive wands. Someone made a last stand or drained them of power somehow."
The fact the apprentice's remains are missing sit poorly with Cor'ethil. "I wonder where she's gone," he murmurs.
When Murder suggests bringing him back, Cor'ethil shakes his head. "Centuries have passed," he says gently. "Speaking with him might be a possibility, but resurrection... He'd likely be more comfortable in the Halls, assuming he hasn't already been judged by Vardama herself. I just wish he didn't... starve." Starving's a horrible death. He can only imagine that the apprentice maybe left to...
He blinks. "Maybe she left to get help," Corey says to Karasu's remark about searching other places. "We should keep looking for signs of where she's been."
GAME: Karasu rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (10)+12: 22
Carver nods, starvation certainly makes sense. Very difficult to find truth to the matters sadly.
She turns at mention that the woman's remains were not found, giving another thoughtful purse of her lips. "Maybe..." She goes to take a look around the room herself.
GAME: Carver rolls perception: (17)+21: 38
"Unless she was on the *other side* of the gate when everything went thlabber," Magpie says softly, closing her eyes as Murder pats her shoulder. "And *he* might've drained all that stuff, trying to power his way home. ...Which, uh... *we probably* don't have to worry about, unless another Sundering is happening *right now* and we're not there to notice."
Drawing in a long, deep breath, she turns back to the door. "I think... when we're ready to go, we should ask the greeter if he had any wishes that should be carried out in the event of his passi--"
Blinking, puzzled, as Carver enters the second bedroom, she seems about to say something... then slaps her hands over her mouth, because *of course* if there's any sign to be found, it's one of Alexandria's best trackers who'll find it!
After a moment, Carver comes back out and lays what she found on the table. A spellbook, locked and secured. An empty hanger, scattered and dry rotted robes of former fine make, a beautiful crystal flute with gentle elvish engravings. Things that point to a certain truth that even wizards are held to.
A good pair of boots are worth killing for.
"I think she might have been stuck here as well." Where? Now that is left to the imagination.
Karasu pauses, his face offering a faint thoughtfulness and then in a low voice he looks at Cor'ethil. "He almost certainly did starve. Before the Sundering mages had a method for preserving their lives without food, but... the problem was that they did eventually starve. They had no rings of sustenance." Karasu turns his eyes toward Carver as she enters another room. Then returns with evidence of the other mage's existence. "But no bones. Which suggests she did not die here."
Carver nods in agreement.
GAME: Murder rolls spellcraft: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Magpie rolls spellcraft: (5)+20: 25
Cor'ethil finds himself admiring the flute. His oldest sister--who is now living the high life as their mother's heir within the Unseelie Court--is known to dabble with the flute from time to time, although she's always preferred to simply sing merrily and loudly for all to hear. But then Carver comes to her conclusion about the apprentice, and Karasu says his piece.
The paladin frowns. "Stuck here, but not dead in this chamber. I'm hoping, for her sake, she is truly dead... and not worse."
The Goblin nods to Magpie. "We're at least together, and there are several people here with magical potential. I doubt we will be trapped... as well, we have people on the outside who know we're here.
Murder grins. "Telamon will do what he can to get us back, he did send us here after all. He wouldn't want our ghosts haunting him." She snorts.
When Carver plunks down the spellbook. "Well, uhm... perhaps his apprentice decided to take matters into her own hands and not starve to death? Morbid but..." The Goblin shrugs. "There is also the guardian to consider..."
"Locked, but not warded," Magpie murmurs, passing a hand over the book. "...I don't suppose anyone has a more misspent youth than me, and could do something about that?"
Looking back down at the book, she gathers it up in her hands, holding it as though it were the elfiest of needle-thin crystal lattice sculptures. "...We should take this stuff back to camp, and then think about checking the lake."
GAME: Karasu rolls Disable Device: (10)+20: 30
The Archmage was very much a man of letters. His journals are a bit of a load, his spellbooks more so, and the gemstones clink nicely in a bag. A historical haul, if nothing else.
Once the material is safely tucked away, the walk to the reservoir is downright pleasant. A light breeze, the 'sun' shining overhead. If it wasn't for how deserted the plane is, it'd be a wonderful place to work or live. The party soon comes to a large area with... grass? Yes! Somehow, life is finding a way -- green shoots at the water's edge, starting to spread into the soil. The waters of the reservoir look clean, though it's hard to see too deep into it. But near the shore can be seen living underwater plants, waving gently in a probably-artificial current.
GAME: Karasu casts Detect Thoughts. Caster Level: 5 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+15: (3)+15: 18
Karasu pauses not-so-near the edge of the water, eyeing it warily. "Anyone have any ideas as to how to communicate with this guardian?" He himself has no idea what the guardian is, much less how to talk to it. Then he has a small idea, and he shakes his head at himself. "Or perhaps I have an idea."
With that, he casts a spell, sending his own thoughts out to reach toward the waters that he can not pierce the depths of. After a long moment he nods slowly. "It *is* there. A being guarding something precious... But I doubt it will allow us to simply take that thing. Its thoughts are of its master. It... cares deeply for him. Waits for him. Is lonely without him." These are things that Karsu can relate to.
Murder is happy to help with moving the journals and spellbooks, the Goblin strong beyond her small frame. She remains silent on the walk to the lake, a hand casually hanging onto the handle of the sword on her back.
She eyes Karasu when he speaks about the guardian. "So it is there in the lake. Shall we call to it? Perhaps we can explain to it what's happened?"
"I have an idea," Magpie says, lips pursing in thought. "...But y'all are gonna want to step way, way back."
Papier-mache crinkles audibly, as she rubs a hand over one of her sleeves, and she closes her eyes in concentration.
It doesn't take long, before Magpie's very color seems to leap from her person, reaching out and spinning itself into the shape of what is probably a gnome, wearing a huge, iron bell over its head, a long tube trailing back to disappear into the sorceress' sleeve. More concentration, and phantasmal 'bubbles' burble up from the bell, and the figure holds up a series of signs, printed in Sildanyari.
Hello. Sorry to bother you. Can we talk? We're on the shore, follow the tube. We promise we're friendly.
The signs cycle once, twice, thrice through the message... then the illusion toddles to the water's edge and leaps in, producing a convincing splash, complete with ghostly ripples over the water.
GAME: Magpie casts Haste. Caster Level: 14 DC: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+15: (3)+15: 18
Carver seems more bemused than anything as the figure takes form, taking a few steps back as Magpie draws on her magic to deliver her request. There is only the 'perceived' splash as the gnomish bellheaded deepdiver descends below and then the awkward silence, the ranger digging a toe into the dirt.
Uh....
Well, might as well increase her combat efficiency while they wait in case it is not friendly. She mutters a shaman's chant as she takes a beautiful gentle curving moon rock and hangs it to her bow.
GAME: Carver casts Gravity Bow. Caster Level: 14 DC: 15
"Awww." Cor'ethil's eyes are tender things as Karasu explains the guardian's thoughts. He can tell that Karasu can relate, at least in a way that few other people can pick up on without knowing his husband as well as he does. He has to resist the urge to give Karasu a hug (they are, after all, on business here) because it'd probably make Karasu a little grumpy. ("Not in front of the lake guardian," Karasu might complain... Or maybe not. Corey's been surprised before.)
When Magpie casts the spell, Cor'ethil is admiring the spellwork. "If it primarily prefers Sildanyari, I can translate," Cor'ethil offers for anyone who doesn't happen to know the language he was born speaking... Or was it Sylvan? He'll have to ask Mother when he sees her next.
For a few moments, there's nothing. Just the illusion, trailing into the unknown depths of the reservoir.
Then the water ripples, in a way different from the continuous current. Starting to bubble and roil, as -something- is coming up from the depths. Could there truly be an elemental lurking down there? No. This is no elemental. It breaches the surface, and rears up -- taller than Corey, a small mountain of black ooze shot with cerulean veins. Water runs off it in torrents as it looms over the party, thirty feet tall. A dozen eyes opening in its surface to stare down at them, eyes that are huge but strangely, heartbreakingly human in some indefinable way. A dozen mouths open, and a soft moan echoes from the vast -thing- that has risen from the reservoir.
And then it speaks in sildanyari, thick and lisping, hard to understand, but the words are clear enough. "Where is Master?"
GAME: Murder rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (2)+6: 8 GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/dungeoneering+4: (19)+13+4: 36 GAME: Murder rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (9)+6: 15
-TBC