Sympathy for the Devil
The Lupecyll-Atlon home, midday
Well, at least the snow has stopped for the moment. Already, snowmen are sprouting across the city like mushrooms, and spontaneous snowball fights are a hazard, especially in the University district. Some things never change.
But in a little two story home in the district, the chimney is puffing smoke merrily, indicating occupants. Sprawled on the couch in the living room, Telamon is napping, his wife having departed to run some errands. It's been a busy few days for him and he -just- got back into town. Fortunately, he's not alone.
A blanket is piled in one of the chairs, and burrowed into it is a small orange dragon with butterfly wings. Jyndei is happy to doze as well, as the house is comfortably warm and well insulated.
GAME: Simony rolls stealth: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+8: (6)+8: 14
While the neighbourhood is filled with cheer, children and adults alike tossing fluffy and sticky snowballs at each other, Simony is stomping down the street. With her posture and expression, one can imagine the little thundercloud floating along above her. She pauses to kick the snow from her boots at the the Lypecyll-Atlon door, before unlocking said door, and slipping inside. After securing the door, she begins to shed her winter things.
She stalks along on now-bare feet, peeking into the living room curiously. Her grumpy expression melts away quickly, and she smiles at seeing not just Telamon dozing, but also a certain small dragon. Her attempt to combine stealth and speed fails as she bumps into something on her approach to the slumbering Half-elf.
And that's when Jyndei's eyes pop open, staring at Simony. The little faerie dragon rears up, large eyes blazing, before he recognizes the goblin and his wings fold back again. "Hello there, Simony," he says softly in his squeaky voice. "I see you are welcome here in the house of the Lord and Lady. Shall I wake the Lord for you?"
His tail switches back and forth a bit as Jyndei wriggles out of his blanket nest. "The Lady has gone forth to collect some victuals, as Lord Lupecyll-Atlon arrived back last evening from his trip. He has not spoken of it but he seemed in good spirits, if tired."
The Goblin pauses and offers a wee curtsey, "I am sorry if I awoke you. Indeed, I do have a key, and I was hoping to catch him awake." Her eyes flick to Telamon, her expression full of mischief. She steps over to where Jyndei lays, and carefully arranges the blanket so that it is further covering the faerie dragon. "So how have you been, Jyndei, since last we spoke. Having fun adventures, or doing more serious things?"
"The courts of Quelynos are the usual swarm of chaos, only increasing as the Unseelie Court takes prominence in the cold months." Jyndei flicks his head irritably, before scratching behind one horn. "Even though the Dragon Courts are somewhat insulated from their machinations, I decided to brave the cold and winter with my friend." As Simony adjusts the blankets, the little dragon purrs and rubs his chin against her hands. "His house is warm, the Lord and Lady are accommodating, and even Pothy can be a gracious host so long as one does not threaten his meals."
The voices finally sink down into Telamon's slumbering consciousness, and he shifts on the couch. He makes a mumbled sound that resolves into a puzzled voice. "...Lana, is that you?"
Simony offers a helpful scratch behind that same horn, and rubs at the wee dragon's chin and cheeks. "Sorry, my hands are a little chilly." She grins brightly, and nods, "They have a well appointed home, do they not?" Her ears perk up a little at the sound of Telamon's sleepy voice. She brings a finger to her lips, slowly sneaking over to the couch.
The Goblin gently covers Telamon's eyes with her cold hands. "Guess whom?", she says, in a not-terrible facsimile of Grandfather's voice.
The Lord Archmage Telamon is not exactly swift to awaken. His expression becomes confused as hands cover his slowly opening eyes, but the voice simply isn't the same resonant timber as Grandfather's. Shaking off his grogginess, he reaches up to pull the hands up a little, peering at them. "...Simony? Oh! Sorry, I dozed off waiting for Lana to come back..."
The half-elf rolls around so he's upright, and then he scoops up Simony in a big hug, before setting her back down again. "But it's good to see you! It's been a few days -- been off doing great deeds of daring and adventure. And a little... strange, too."
She tries really hard to not laugh, the look of confusion on Tel's face causing her to grin broadly. Then he's snagged her hands, and she laughs loudly. "Hahaha, my voice wasn't convincing enough, I take it?"
Simony squeaks gently at the hug, squeezing at his chest in return.
"It's alright, I've only just arrived. I was going to steal a spot on the couch to warm up, but Jyndei heard me, and woke up. So I was catching up with him, and you started to stir." Once set back down, she climbs onto the recently vacated couch. "Mmmmh, nice and warm."
"Great deeds of daring and adventure? Do tell? I've only been preventing silly people from reducing themselves to fisticuffs on the street." She frowns, and crosses her arms. "Apparently I'm a runt, despite being completely average for my kind."
Telamon rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Well, that and your hands. Grandfather has very large, very clawed hands." He chuckles. "Still, though. I'm glad for the company. Hold on..." He crooks a finger, and there's a susurrus in the air. "Go put the kettle on, and get the -chocolate- tea." His eyes twinkle. "You'll like this, I bet."
As the unseen servitor goes about its business, Tel shifts around so he's seated on the couch, turning a little to face Simony. "Runt?" His eyebrow rises. "I remember someone telling me 'don't judge people by their size'. Who was that?... eh, anyways, kind of rude. Who was about to engage in extended brawling?"
"I wouldn't want to scratch your face though, so there was no way to properly emulate those hands of Grandfather's." Her eyes widen slightly, and she sits forward. "Chocolate tea? I've heard of chocolate coffee before, but such a tea is new to me." Simony claps her hands together and rubs them briskly. "It has chocolate, it would be hard to dislike it, I think."
The Goblin frowns again. "Dolan and Aelwyn were being quite... forceful, verbally, and it looked like it would come to blows. But, Aya and Aryia were also there, and only bad and mean words were said. Dolan told me, 'Butt out, runt.'" She huffs, her expression relaxing.
"I remained polite. But honestly, they both needed a good whack, I think. Aelwyn more so than Dolan, but honestly, Dolan could have said the same things he said, without being rude or crude, and it might have gone towards calming Aelwyn down."
"The Sith was upset because his kin, a brother I think, is incarcerated in the Arcanist's dungeon. For devil summoning. I don't know how the man got tricked into it, or how desperate he was, but apparently there was not a contract involved, which I find suspicious, to say the least."
Telamon listens, his face remaining placid and calm. Jyndei also listens, large eyes thoughtful, but the little dragon says nothing, apparently opting to let Telamon take the lead on this.
At the end of the tale, though, Tel's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh. -Oh-. That's... not good, not for Aelwyn's brother. And..." He sighs. "All three of those -- Dolan, Aya, Aryia -- they all have a specific mad-on for fiends. It's very, very personal for them. Dolan's scars, his lost eye -- that was from a demon. He was almost sacrificed by a fiend cult, years ago. And Aya and Aryia... Aya's body was hijacked by a fiend, used to commit all manner of foul deeds before Aryia was able to free her and reunite her body and soul."
"I understand that family is family, and nobody likes to admit a blood relation has gone bad. But if he's up on demon summoning charges... it won't garner him any sympathy. There's a reason Alexandria has the ward over it."
He sighs, and places a hand on Simony's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wish I'd been there to try and cool things down. I don't think Dolan meant it, for what it's worth."
Simony has partially disconnected.
The Goblin listens in return, nodding at the end. "I don't know their pasts, but I can understand. I mean, more than one fiend has attempted or wanted to kill me, and I could imagine how terrible it would be to be disfigured, or possessed. But I suppose being monks of a fashion allows the two ladies to remain calm? Or perhaps it is not quite so personal..."
She rubs at her chin, her expression thoughtful. "I was hurt by the comment, but I understand it was said in the heat of the moment. I try not to get upset at such things, but, as you might expect, comments about something one has no control over can be taken very poorly. But I really needed to get that out. All the things I wanted to say at the time would have probably provoked Dolan. And Aelwyn too."
Simony leans lightly against the hand, reaching up to squeeze a finger with her hand. "Thank you. Even without you having been there, it's comforting to have you listen. As for Aelwyn's kin, I think I will go and look into it. It sounds like it stems from a personal hmm issue between Aelwyn and his kin? I hope it is just that, it's easier to understand. But, I fear it may be something more sinister, that the fiend was, or still is, in a position to infect people's minds. Aelwyn mentioned Thoth, so I shall have to find the metal birdman to have a conversation."
Telamon smiles at Simony. "Now you're thinking two steps ahead. There's no point in provoking people further in that situation. But yes, definitely seek out others who might have information." He nods. "It's always a mistake to speak heatedly. Father worked on me long and hard to be -calculated- when I try to make a point, not to just shoot from the hip. Even when your blood runs hot, you have to remain calm."
He stretches, as the unseen servant returns with a piping kettle and some cups. He sniffs experimentally at the kettle, and smiles. "It's rather intriguing. You use the shells from the beans, rather than the beans themselves, and steep them like tea leaves." Pouring each of them a cup, he continues.
"Sir Seldan Padaryn requested my assistance on a private matter, helping reclaim some old property of his family. There were some complications involved, which I am not at liberty to discuss, and the manor was in fact haunted. We wound up fighting some... thing, some creature of the Void Beyond All Things. And we slew it, with the help of the gods and our own skills."
"Hah. Being a Goblin makes me lean naturally towards having heated things to say. I'll be the world's angriest Librarian some day." Simony snorts and laughs. "I know Dolan well enough to respect him, and I'm fond of Aelwyn. It's those things that kept my tongue civil. And also... any physicality would go poorly. I'm not exactly a threatening physical specimen. I would be tempted to dip into my God's gifts to me, and that would be.. a bit much, I think. Not to mention making the threat of bloodshed probable."
Her nose is already working at the air as the unseen servant returns with cups and piping kettle. The Goblin holds the cup with both hands, making happy little sounds as the warmth banishes the lingering remnants of chill in her fingers.
"Oh? A haunting so ... fell that the gods /intervened/ on your behalf? Goodness. Well I understand wanting to keep it under wraps, but uhm, when you can tell the full story, with all the niggling details, please let me know. I would enjoy hearing about that. I am happy to see that you're unharmed and simply ti... You are unharmed, yes?" Her expression fills with concern, momentarily.
"Indeed. I don't think Navos would look kindly on bloodshed. Nor would I -- Dolan is a friend of mine, just like you are. And I hate when friends fight." Telamon scoops up his mug, sipping it lightly and savoring the heat.
"I can say this much: one of Sir Seldan's ancestors had dallied with an artifact that was beyond his ken. In his defense, I do not think he realized what he was working with until he had made a critical mistake." He sighs. "I admit, there are ... parallels there, between myself and Sir Seldan. My own ancestor, Feadril, who fell from grace and was only rescued by the Watcher. You can tell why I was inclined to offer help."
"But yes. It was Sir Seldan, myself, Zeke, and Mourner Verna. And our devotion was answered. Our gods granted us... some drop of power. Above and beyond even what an archmage might wield. It has faded, but... there are remnants. Memories. I believe Ni'essa Sky-Singer intended thus."
"I find that it merely depends on the reason for bloodshed, as far as the Gods are concerned. Navos, I believe, would look even less kindly on destruction of knowledge, the burning on a library, the erasure of history, and damaging time itself. And for that, I would flatten feet and render kneecaps to jelly, without Navos' prompting. But watching friends fight is terrible, you have my agreement there."
Simony pauses now to sip at the mug's contents. "Hmmmm!", she says, her eyes widening. "It is good! It's slightly thinner hot chocolate, in my opinion. It's amazing to get such flavour from just the shells." She takes a little gulp of the slightly too hot liquid, and waves at her open mouth afterwards. "Hooo. That's hot."
"Sir Seldan is a proper hero, as you yourself are. You would have helped him simply because it was the right thing to do, that is your nature. But, it makes you two closer to have such similarities in your pasts. A stronger bond, forged in the thick of battle and shared experiences." The Gobbo's grin is broad. "It is rare for mortals to sip at the power of Gods. It must have been magnificent. For that brief time, the mountains you could move, the dangers you could scour away from the face of this world. If you could remain uncorrupted, goodness me, would I live to see that day."
"Indeed. There are things that are anathema to the gods, and by extension their followers. But having friends fight is not one of them. Better to seek a peaceful resolution." Telamon continues to sip his tea, smiling at Simony.
He looks thoughtful. "The power... was not something I think I would have pursued normally. But Ni'essa has evidently taken notice of me, and while I've no desire to try to use her tools... if she feels I am worthy to accept a tiny fraction of her might and insight, who am I to argue?" He shivers a bit. "I won't deny while the fight was frightening -- gods, that poor man, trapped by a void-monster and used like a mask for it -- my magical fury was -further- heightened by Ni'essa's gifts. Above and beyond what even an archmage might aspire to."
"Haha, there's no arguing with the Gods, unless you're absolutely right, can prove it, and are conversing with a reasonable God. And even then, I would not envy the odds." Simony sips at her mug, her face contemplative. "That's what makes you a good person. You do things under your own power, and only ask for help when they seem beyond your ken. More so... you accept help. Refusing, or being unable, to see when one is in over their head, and accepting help, are two things that bring those with power down."
"Oh, on a bit of a tangent? Have you heard from the Watcher at all? Simply curious, mind you, I know that they said they would be out of contact for a time. And I was thinking about the Watchlings, hoping they were faring well. I do keep them in my prayers, may Navos guide their curious minds."
Telamon looks contemplatively at his tea. "We -might- have been able to fight them without that power. Maybe. I do think it tipped the balance, turned a close encounter into victory." He muses. "But now I dream of a circle. Not like a protective ward, this is something else. I suspect I'll be doing some experiments in the near future. I'll let you know how it goes."
His eyebrows rise up at Simony's inquiry. "No, but there is one thing I never mentioned regarding the Watchlings -- an interesting term for them! When we had completed our task, I dreamed of the Watcher, and I did ask him about how they would learn about Ea. After all, there are so many things to learn. He had called my ancestor, Feadril, to guide them -- which I suppose makes sense. Feadril did owe the Watcher, and what better way to finally settle the debt than by instructing them?"
"Still, you accepted help. I don't like the thought of it being so close, that the Gods had to play their hand." Her head cants, and she sips a little more of the chocolate tea, licking her lips after. "Describe the circle to me?", she asks. "What do you think it is?"
Simony looks proud. "Well, they're the Watcher's hatchlings. Watchlings seemed like the perfect word for them." The Gobbo places one of her hands on her cheek, sighing lightly. "So your ancestor... wait, could he not contact you? Perhaps he might have more information? So uhm, he offered them instruction? No wonder they were so eager to explore. Hah, I hope we do not have to wait too long to see evidence of their presence."
"I can do better than -that-," Telamon teases. He gestures with a hand. "Emegar gete." A ring, vertically oriented, materializes and grows to about three feet in diameter. The geometric patterns have an eye-twisting aspect to them, like a maze that acts to confuse the vision, but there's definitely -something- to this. "I think it's some form of divination, but I'll need to test it. Carefully."
He laughs softly. "There was no way I could find time to tend to one hundred forty-four flumph children, Simony. Hence why the Watcher called up the shade of my ancestor. He wouldn't be bothered by a lack of sleep, breathing, or eating, and I daresay he could scare off any minor problems. He'll give them the primer for 'living on Ea', so they won't make too many mistakes when they start surfacing to live on the earth and in the air."
The Goblin's eyes go wide at the circle appearing, and growing almost as large as she is tall. She stands on the couch, cup held close to her chest, as she stares. "I uhm... have some small knowledge of divination, and this is beyond me. But, I would help you study it!" She turns to peer at Telamon, eyes big. "Please?"
Simony blinks a few times and laughs as well. "One hundred and forty-four is a really interesting number. Not to mention, quite a large sum of young to bear all at once. But uhm... you would have tried, yes, if you were offered that honour instead of Feadril?"
Telamon laughs again. "Alright, alright. I definitely want Lana here to keep an eye out, but I'll make sure you're not left out when I start experimenting." He collapses the circle again, dismissing the image. "I think I may inscribe it on something so I don't have to redraw it over and over."
He tilts his head at Simony's quip about the number. "Well, it's twelve times twelve. A gross, as some markets call it, though that's usually applied to produce or stock. Not sure why they used that number, though if you were going to send a group of your kind to another world, you'd want to send enough so that they could start a community."
"Hmm, there is a benefit in not making it a permanent thing. It can't be used by someone else. Not just to protect it from nefarious intentions, but also, you don't know what it does yet. You don't want the pixies accidentally wandering into it, and things of the like." She swallows down more of the tea, letting out a sigh afterwards. "This is rather delicious, thank you very much."
"I would be in your debt if you allowed me to observe, take notes and so forth."
Simony lets out a long breath through her nose. "Enough to start a colony, Telamon. Enough so that natural attrition wouldn't prevent it from succeeding. With knowledge from a long-lived race. I don't feel that it's anything untoward, but I am getting the feeling that the Watcher is planning the future of their race, and knows that he may not return. Perhaps may is too gentle a term. Perhaps they know they will not be returning."
Telamon hmms. "You've -almost- got it, Simony, but you're a little off." He refills both their teacups, before explaining. "Consider: you are a member of a long-lived race that battles cosmic horrors. Your mind is strong enough to endure such, but you are still mortal. Worse, you know that other worlds are vulnerable. You could find ways to traverse the endless gulfs between stars, bring the fight to the monsters in the void, but you would always be, at some point, trailing behind."
His dark, starry eyes glint. "Or... you send contingents. You know you may never see them again. But the worlds they go to might have a fighting chance. The seeds of a brighter tomorrow." He sighs. "I don't know if I could do it. I... dream of those three daughters, and the idea of sending -any- of them away forever repulses me."
The Goblin is silent for a long while afterwards, the only sound being the delicate sounds of her sipping her refreshed cup of chocolate tea. She nearly speaks a few times, but the words die in her throat. She stumbles forward to hug at Telamon with one arm.
"You would choose the other option. You would send yourself."
"A tall task for a single mortal. I would ask others to accompany me. But yes. I would go myself." Telamon smiles at Simony, and ruffles her hair. "Much like the dandelion spreading its seeds when you blow on it, so do they seed worlds with defenders, mentors, heroes."
He takes a deep breath. "I am intensely curious as to when the Watchlings will emerge. It's been..." He thinks, "Five months? Really? Goodness, I wonder how much they've grown. Still... I am patient. I don't want them to come forth early."
Jyndei peers at Simony and Telamon, having listened quietly through much of this. "You could ask, you know. I do not think you would be disruptive to their growth." The little dragon sniffs experimentally at the tea, and then gives Telamon a large eyed look... which draws a chuckle from the half-elf, who signals for a third cup to be poured for his faerie dragon friend.
"If you ever find yourself questioning why we still exist, it is for that simple fact. We take on tasks that simply bobble the mind. We do it willingly. We go where even angels fear to tread, and we even say 'Wheeeeeee!' along the way." Simony offers up her cup in a toast, "To the explorers!"
"Five months, it feels like five years. I wish to feel their minds again, to see them confident explorers of our world. Ardent defenders against the Void and what lays beyond."
The Gobbo peers over at Jyndei, and grins at his request for chocolate tea. "You mean ask the Watchlings themselves?" She glances back and forth between Telamon and the faerie dragon. She hops from the couch and draws nearer to Jyndei. "How?"
The dragon tilts his head. "The Lord Telamon does not fear the cold, the dark, the airless places. The ocean is no more dangerous to him than any other place on Ea. I daresay if he divined the ... school? Pod? of hatchlings' location, he could descend to them and interact." Jyndei looks at Simony. "You might have more difficulty though."
Telamon sighs. "Well, maybe if I can contact my ancestor, we can arrange a field trip for them. So long as some fool fisherman doesn't try to scoop them up in his net, we should be fine." He rubs the back of his neck. "Imagine, Simony, being serenaded by almost a hundred and fifty young flumphs again."
"Well, I think he would need to do something more graceful than walk along the ocean floor. But, uhm... even if he can stay down there, the ocean is a vast place. How would he find them?" Simony rubs at her chin. "Aha, yes, I enjoy breathing and I'm required to do so to continue living. I do not have the range of magical protections that Telamon has access to. But... I might be able to work something out."
Simony giggle then, "It would be an interesting sight. I know they could hear my blessing, I could feel their minds. It would be good to see them thriving, and touch minds with them once again."
Telamon laughs softly. "You just want to ask them a thousand questions. But that's all right. I want to ask them too. What do they think of this world? Where do they plan to live? It's a whole new place for them, unlike us. We've been here all along."
Jyndei preens himself, before starting to sip his chocolate tea, fluttering his wings at it. Meanwhile, Telamon rubs his shoulders. "In any case, there's always more to do. I'll have to look into this mess with Aelwyn and Dolan. Though unless there's some amazing extenuating circumstances, Aelwyn's brother is deep in the shit. I know for a fact that there's a Selentian noblewoman of high rank who's probably going to be burned for demon summoning. The Myrrish Kingdoms don't play around and neither does Alexandria."
"One hundred and forty-four thousand to be precise.", Simony says with a wink. "And yes, there would be many, many notes. I am going to get myself some more notebooks, just in case. And maybe a cold weather swimsuit."
"Oh, would you like to work together on that? I do enjoy researching such things. Books are my thing." She sighs lightly. "And I do feel for his brother. I know on a base level that he is quite possibly the architect of his own misfortune, however, I feel some sympathy for him. If I can feel sympathy for the devil, a mortal is much easier to sympathize with."