Menel Arrives

Mikilos rubs at his eyes, having taking a break, but still pushing himself. The wizard has his equipment gathering around, ready to take action if this time is different, and the spell actually works. Setting the silver mirror upon its stand, Mikilos murmurs the required incantation, fingers running lightly over the runes carved into the metal edges. Leaning closer, he watches as the polished surface clouds over, hoping this time it will clear.

This time it does, finally it does.

An image resolves of the very man that Mikilos remembers. A tall tanned man with pure white hair and eyes the color of the summer sky. It's remarkable to actually see him again. To realize that he's not just a fever dream. Menel then, is standing in a wasteland of white, it's snowing hard and there's no sign of civilization in any direction, not even the tower. His back is a mess of red, his steps leaving red stains where his feet have been cut by the harsh ice beneath him. He looks haggard, as if any step might be his last. As if only pure stubbornness keeps him walking.

Mikilos takes a slow breath, fighting the urge to pinch himself, and being murmuring a second spell, pushing through the Scry to bypass the distances between 'here' and 'there'. "Menel Dinmorin, I remember you, and at last I've found you again. It's Mikilos. Can you hear me?"

"Who?" Menel stops in his steps and wavers, looking around for the source of the voice he can not see. "Mikilos?" He laughs a little bit, exhaustion clear in his voice. "It's nice to hear your voice, even if I am probably hallucinating."

Mikilos chuckles himself. "I understand the feeling. I questioned my memory, until we found your family. Can you tell me where you are? If I know where I'm going, I can teleport to you."

The white-haired man laughs again, stumbling forward, walking as though it's all that's keeping him going. "Home. I'm home..." He sighs and looks around, looking for Mikilos as if the other man might be right beside him. "Somewhere in what they call the Savage North, but it's home to me Mikilos. I never thought I'd be back."

Mikilos tsks mildly, but nods, and motions carefully, pulling a shelf of maps over to himself. "I'm glad for you, but I'm going to need something a little more specific. A mountain, a river, something I can find on a map. I've visited the North before, but I don't know it well."

Menel's brow furrows and he finally stumbles, falls to his knees. His blue eyes are slightly glazed over and his breathing which has been labored becomes short. "North. Black forest. Where are you Mikilos? I can't." He huffs out a breath and kneels on the ground, palms touching the cold unwelcoming earth. "I'm so tired."

Mikilos eyes flick over the map. Black forest. That's still a large area. "Alexandria, Menel. I'm in Alexandria. But I'm comming to get you. I know you're tired Menel, but I still need you. I need you to find shelther. Keep yourself safe until I can get to you. Help me get to you Menel. I know it's hard, but I need a landmark. Something to find you by."

GAME: Mikilos rolls perception: (5)+18: 23

"I don't know Mikilos. I see trees. Is that enough?" His blue eyes stare at the line of forest before him. "Almost home." He stumbles, tries to get to his feet and manages though he's wavering. It's all he can do to stand there.

Mikilos peers though the mirror, spying the treeline, and nods. It will have to do. "It's goon Menel. It's close enough I can start. I have to leave you Menel. I'm going to get help, and then we'll come get you. I -will- find you. Get to a tree Menel. Get shelter. Stay warm. We'll find you as soon as we can. We will -not- give up." The magus gathers his things as he speaks. The Guild? Too far. The Mountain Temple; Mourners, Absolutions, maybe some visiting adventurers. It will have to be enough.

It's enough to get to him, to teleport to him and back to the temple of Vardama.

Everything is peaceful - or as peaceful as it ever gets in the temple to Vardama. There's a lull of silence and then suddenly Mikilos is there half-carrying a white-haired man who's blue eyes are half glazed over. The reason for this is immediately clear. He's covered in frost. His tanned skin is red with it. The man has four seconds of standing before he tumbles over onto the ground face-first. His back is a ruin of flesh. It looks rather like someone flayed the whole thing off of him. But it's not bleeding heavily because here too he is covered in a layer of thick snow and everything is frozen to his flesh. "Home." He mutters as he goes down.

The silence IS peaceful. For however long it lasts. At the commotion, nothing happens. At first. But their presence isn't missed for long. A copper-scaled Sith steps from the temple, broom in hand. To respectfully clear up the latest rounds of offerings. "Peace on your nessts.", Geir says automatically when he sees people standing there. A blink. A deep breath. "Doess one require.. healing or a burial, sser?" This asked of Mikilos. Another blink, and the Sith shuffles over, the broom being left leaning against a small lattice which several ivy plants cling to. Prayers to the dragon of death are offered. And the cleric's hands glow brightly.. after some hesitation, he begins to gently touch at the wounds. "Blanketss!", Geir calls out. He looks about. "He should be carried insside, to warmth and rest!" Once the healing has begun to take hold, the Sith will begin to move Menel... with assistance, of course,

The silence is interrupted by the arrival of BOSHTER of BLAR!

He's bounding through the area and then the arrival of Mikilos happens that causes him to skitter to halt and vault face first into a pillar.

In spite of Geir's call there's not an immediate response; people are rather busy with other things at the moment, and so there's only two people that come forward to assit Geir getting the man somewhat to his feet and carrying him to a sickbed. There he lies mostly unconsious, his breathing labored and much of his wounds unhealed. It's clear that the man was at death's door and that just a small amount of healing will not be enough to cure him of his ails.

Geir guides the other two folks in getting the man inside and to a bed. He then spends several minutes glowing a variety of holy colours as he expends his healing powers on the man. "Where did you find him?", the copper-scale asks of Mikilos. "Is he.. the one who helped, before? The eyess and hair seem to match, though you sspoke of someone in better health."

Delilah enters, the golden-haired sorceress as non-challant and cheerful as always. What could bring one of such demeanor to such a place of somber peacefulness? Who knows? She arrives just in time to bear witness to Mikilos and the frost covered man. "...Well that seems awkward," she observes, before she moves to help the man, being as how she's there and all. During this process, she looks Mikilos up and down, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. "...Do I know you?" she inquires. "You look familiar."

The man on the bed jolts from the powerful healing pouring into his body. Instantly the wounds on his back close leaving a huge scar on his back. It covers the whole of his back from one edge of the spine to the other and across the breadth of his body. Scars that do not heal with the magical energy poured into him. Perhaps they're too old. Perhaps there is some other reason. He rolls upwards, his sky blue eyes wide and he grasps for something nearby, anything to hold onto. "Mikilos!" He looks around but doesn't see the man. All he sees are strangers. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"What... what was that about?!" Boshter stops dead, glancing around wildly before skittering towards the man in question. "Hello! Are you all right?" He asks, "You know Mikilos? He brought you here and then... I think he mumbled something about tea? It was probably tea. I do not speak elf!"

The copper-scale Sith slowly raises a hand. "Peace on your nesst, sser. Be at easse. This is the temple of Vardama, on the mount overlooking Alexandria. Mikiloss hass brought you here. He begss your pardon, he had ssomething to see to. Ssomething of import, as you likely know. Be at easse while one tendss your woundss. You are... Menel, yess? One is Geir." Geir looks to Boshter then, his head canted slightly. "He sshould be alright, sshortly."

The man, who is indeed Menel nods uncertainty, his blue eyes taking in everything. "Yes... I'm Menel. And this... Is this Alexandria?" He looks at the copper-scaled sith-makar and then Boshter. He doesn't look like he really believes it, like it might be a dream.

"Yes," he agrees, "yes, this is. Have no fear. You are in the temple of Vardama." His tone is more serious now. "Here, you will be protected and safe. you were brought here by one of the city's prominent wizards, whom it seems you may know."

-End