Behold the Unloved King (Part 8)

Log Info

• Title: Behold the Unloved King (Part 8)

• GM: Whirlpool

• Characters: Aryia, Harkashan, Seldan, Telamon, Verna

• Place: The Unloved King's Palace, Quelynos / The Desolation

The tremoring ceases as you step outside. Where once rain and overcast grey clouds were the dominating feature, now the sun and blue sky. There's even a rainbow.

And birds. Birds are chirping.

But the Unloved King, upon stepping from the doorway. The sunlight hits his face and he looks satisfied, eyes turned towards the sky.

"Ah, a sky so blue. Ne'er did I think I would see the day the clouds parted for one such as me -- but for no man can rain forever fall."

His terrible gaze turns back upon you, and his great frame towers over you. He is legend, and the legend is he.

"Depart this realm, return to the story from which you came and write your new destinies, 'for now I can not see your fate. What terrors awaited you await you no more. New shadows 'ere I see in the corners of your eyes. Do not grieve for what has never been, and break fate's chains."

Telamon has always had a preference for the night sky, but this? This is perfectly acceptable to him. Wonderful, even. His hand in Lana's, as the sun shines down on this place. A new beginning for the King, who in time will shed his sad sobriquet of 'Unloved'. Nothing good gets done easily -- but it's a start, and one step can lead to another.

"It has been an honor, Your Majesty, to help you begin a new chapter in whatever small way we could. There's work to be done, always, but above all else, knowing we have sparked new hope in a soul -- that is a reward greater than any other." He looks to the others. "And unless we have some other pressing business, I believe we have an appointment to keep, friends."

Seldan steps outside, running a hand through military-short, drenched hair and brushing away the rivulets of water from his hand. He stares up at the now-blue sky, and lets out a long, slow breath. "It is given to none of us to decide our fate, but it is given to each of us to decide how we will meet it. In such decisions are tales made, and rewritten. As my companion has said, it has been an honor to be of aid to you."

He lets out another breath, and turns to the others. "It is as the Archmage says. Come, we must away, and complete that which we began."

To say that the visit had been a memorable and strange experience would be underselling the stature and presence of the Unloved King.

Yet Harkashan has remained quiet for the time being. Observing, rather than interfering. And at the word of traveling back once more, he moves into position with the others.

Aryia steps outside after pushing in her chair, a slow sigh of relief escaping her despite the beads of sweat dotting her face. She cranes her neck up, a faint smile cresting her face. Nodding in approval, she turns to end up meeting eyes with the terrible gaze.

A shudder goes through her. What was that about not knowing their fates? She rubs her neck briefly before giving a bow from the waist.

Thankfully her friends were here for this, that could have gone so much worse.

Cor'lana has, at times, found herself spitting in the face of the servants of dark gods and staring down the sneering face of Caracoroth. But right now, she's staring at the terrible gaze of the Unloved King, at the tower that he is, the tower that is he.

She's smiling. At times, she's been told her smile is like sunshine itself.

"I hope for you, o solitary king, that you know now that the sky is capable of sunlight," she says gently. "For you, there is sunlight. Eli, the highest of lights, shines on all."

Cor'lana squeezes Telamon's hand gently, smiling at him before she looks at Seldan. Her smile turns into that expression that's the most horrifying thing. A grin on a faetouched woman. "I don't know," she says. "Once, a long time ago, I read a story as a child. A little girl who got lost here in Quelynos, and to find her way home, she needed to shout that which was hers at the heart of the world itself: 'love'. A word that, in some tongues, sounds similar to 'I'."

She squeezes Telamon's hand again. "She should have been lost forever, but for love, the world, I have found, will move mountains. With that aside... If everyone's ready, I'll get us along our way?"

Verna steps out with the others, both curious and supportive of this intent to change by the King. The alteration of scenery is conspicuous, yet not completely unsurprising given the situation. "Intriguing."

---

A brief stop in Grandfather's Forest with the aid of magic after walking along the branches, sub-branches, or something connected to the World Tree, you are soon back where you started: the wind-swept, dust choked plains of the Desolation. Lightning crackles above. Rain pours.

You're home, all right.

Returning to Ea is almost unpleasant after the success enjoyed and the brief return to Grandfather's Forest. But their task isn't done. And so Lana successfully deposits the party back in the Desolation, just in time for a storm to roll it. Telamon sputters, slammed suddenly by the wall of rain, and opens his haversack to pull out an oilcloth rain-cloak.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say someone wasn't happy with us mucking around and setting things right. Or at least they're throwing a tantrum about it."

Aaaaaand - they had only just dried off, and now are again drenched to the bone, or will be shortly. Seldan lets out a long, slow breath as they reappear in the storm-swept Desolation, a sound that is almost a sigh, and entirely drowned out by thunder.

"The rain will, at the least, control the dust," he murmurs to himself encouragingly. "Let us be off, for soonest begun is soonest done."

With that, he pulls the hood of his own gray traveler's cloak over his head. Its benefit is not absolute in weather like this, but he pulls it around him. "Be there an enemy, or but a spoiled child, let them show themselves," he answers Telamon dismissively. "Like as not, they who put that force in place may not be pleased that it has - hopefully - been undone, but would they make aught of it, let them show themselves."

From dry to wet in under 5 seconds. Harkashan has a rather neutral expression on his face in regards to the sudden weather shift. "Let us hope that isn't it. Because that would suggest someone is aware of our presence." He offers to Telamon, as he adjusts his posture upwards to capture some of the rain and gets near him while he takes out the rain-clock, serving as a tall Sith-makari Umbrella for him for the time being. So that he doesn't end up having to put on something that's already half-soaked by the time it covers him.

"What do we do next?" Harkashan then inquires.

"It could be an ill omen," Verna admits to Telamon upon their rapidly-soddened return to The Desolation. "It may be equally likely that this is nothing more than seasonal weather." Her cloak and hood protect her from the worst of it, at the least. "Not to claim that it is pleasant."

Her hood and attention pan to Cor'lana, The King, and the others at Harkashan's inquiry. "That is a most pertinent question. While I wholly support one's pursuit of their best self, that does not preclude consequences for said actions." Yet she remains unconvinced that the weather is one such consequence. For the moment.

Aryia goes to a knee as they get back to the material realm. Even with the dust choking winds, she plants a hand onto the wet ground, glad she was back on Ea-firma. Even with all the niceities of the fey realm, it was one place she really didn't like to be in.

She coughs out dust, getting a cloth back around her face. Her shoulders rise briefly. "If they are, then please do it now, subterfuge and reading between the lines is getting a bit fatiguing at present."

She rises. "To the tomb, then?" drenched hands flick about. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Cor'lana's faetouched grin dampens rather quickly to... mortalbound frown. Rain's not a welcoming thing on the heels of having set a man free from his forever-depression, but life is not always fair nor kind.

"I rather agree with Seldan and Aryia both." She goes fishing for her earplugs again. "It might be best to... Treat things as though they are as they were? Until otherwise proven. The worst thing would be to be caught off guard."

"Rain," tuts the Unloved King. Wait, he is here, isn't he? Did he just come along? Why yes, of course he did. He was invited.

Still big as legend.

The rain abruptly ends. The clouds part. The sun shines down on him. He wipes away a tear.

"Ah, such beauty in your mortal realms! Such tranquility," he says, as the wind howls around him, "but why does this wind yet scream of a pain ne'erending? A gaping wound upon the flesh of your world, like a thousand voices crying out."

...he smiles, then says, "My mirror is not far, I can sense it -- a weapon I was made to be, an infinite jest."

GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (3)+23: 26

Telamon actually jumps when the Unloved King speaks behind them. He's learned to expect a lot of things, but he did not expect the Unloved King to follow them back. He clenches his jaw, and forces his hands to open again. Taking a deep breath, he says loudly enough to be heard over the wind, "Mortals are prone to folly, Your Majesty, although from what I have been told the Everstorm is where the ancient city of Kulthus once existed, and is now fallen."

He pushes back his hood as the sun comes back again, and he turns to nod at the Unloved King politely. "The echo is not far, yes. Along with the remnant of the celestial, and the weapon used to mute the echo itself." He pauses. "And the remains of two souls who opted to stay, and accept their end there rather than release the echo out into the world."

Harkashan's tail lashes at the ground at the voice that suddenly speaks. He should have noticed it by the shadow that is cast, even beneath such massive clouds. Turning back to look at the enormous thing, then looking down at the tomb, he considers it's going to be pretty hard for the man to follow them down there. After all, that place is hard to squeeze through even for people his size.

"Such had I intended," Seldan nods his agreement in Cor'lana's direction. "And I, at the least, know not if rain be normal for this place, or nay." With this, he looks hopefully at Verna. "Still, it is well, do we seek out the tomb again, and go even as before."

When the Unloved King speaks, he looks up at the great figure. "This wound be an infinite nightmare," he counters, evenly and soberly. "Ware you, for the rewriting of your story but permits it to begin the healing. It is not done, and even still does it threaten. Ours will it be to turn back that weapon, ere it tears apart the fabric of time."

He turns to face the direction of the tomb. "Getting down there was not easy, Your Majesty," he points out. "Have you a smaller form?"

Aryia flinches as she has half an earplug in thus far, completely not expecting the King to have tagged along. And now its not longer raining. Sun is shining. She bobs her head in appreciation. "I agree. It's not done just yet."

Seeing as the others speak of his Majesty not fitting into the previous incursion she punched out, the mute makes a wide circle with her arms. Then makes it larger. And large.

She can always break a bigger hole. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Cor'lana considers the logistics of the Unloved King. Phenomenal melancholic power... Itty-bitty living space? She rubs her chin in thought while she soothes Telamon from his jump with a gentle rub of her hand against his arm. "If His Majesty cannot change his shape... Perhaps I might be able to help?"

She smiles at the Unloved King. "I promise not to present you with a form that will make you any less worthy--for you are as yourself."

Obviously, the break in the weather is an act of intent and will. Verna has no misconceptions of this. She looks between The King, others, and then to Aryia's widening arms, and back. "I am less concerned on the creation of a larger opening and moreso of what action we shall take within. We do not wish it to tear apart the fabric of time, as his majesty noted. Nor can we allow this ... threat to escape, as was previously agreed."

"Hm. A land without a King..."

Oh boy. Someone distract him. Thankfully, Cor'lana is already on it. "Ah! Yes! Let us see..!"

But digging out again is going to take some time, and hopefully, the celestial's words of warning about changing the nature of the tie of the fey-bound King and the reality of the weapon are accurate.

Telamon hurriedly screws his earplugs into his ears, because the last thing he needs is to reach the end of this quest and then get his brains melted by that blasted song. "Your Majesty, we will need to protect ourselves from the weapon in question. Hence the stopping of our ears." He checks his ring, to make sure the stone-shaping spell is still in place. Telamon signs to Aryia, "Crack it back open. I'm hoping His Majesty's presence here is already disrupting the song, but let's not take any chances."

Aryia looks a bit worried as she just barely catches the bit that the Unloved King ponders, but soon her hearing goes to nil as plugs slot in. Spying Telamon's signs, she gives a sharp nod, a happy smile cresting her lips. Exercise! Finally!

She cracks her knuckles and gets to work undoing the work they undid earlier.

"Even so," Seldan nods immediate agreement with Verna, and draws a deep breath, then releases it, and prepares to put his own earplugs back in, stepping aside so that Aryia can get to work.

Earplugs are in place and bound to keep them secure, Reunion remains safely in the bag, and Seldan turns to the others while Aryia works. "If we want to counter the story that is a weapon, we should prepare to tell another one. One of union. Respect. Happiness. Companionship."

Cor'lana plays keep-occupied with the Unloved King. "I have it," she says. "A spell to make you about our size. Although probably close to Telamon and Seldan than myself or Aryia." She laughs. It's almost a nervous laugh. She is, after all, about to cast magic on a fae monarch/weapon.

She then seems to realize the gravity of what she is doing, because she murmurs, "If only you could watch me now, Mother." She takes a breath. She summons up her courage. And Cor'lana... polymorphs the Unloved King.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Polymorph Any Object. Caster Level: 19 DC: 27

Verna ensures that her own ears are plugged as Aryia begins to re-open the re-closed tomb. At Seldan's note, she gestures to, well, most everyone else. "I will defer the writing and/or telling to those far more eloquent with tales. Personally, I would be most content with a story as concise as 'All of existence otherwise remained as it was, and all lived happily ever after.'"

The Unloved King is looking rather pleased with his new size. He was towering, sure, but now he's more modeset. a Modestly Unloved King.

He follows you as you breach the tunnnel. Follows you as you pass the skeletons. Follows you as you reach the entrway to the Angel's domain. You can feel the rhythym of the song that never ended in this place. The Unloved King looks ... uncomfortable.

It is not the same, howeverf. There isn't that ... omnipresent sensation of dread, of power pulling at you. The shades who tried to draw you into dance seem to be no more, or perhaps merely scared away.

The air of the place is definitely different now. Telamon can feel it. Even blindfolded, he follows the path, warmly squeezing his wife's hand again as he perceives... the curious lack of shades, and the terrible dread having fallen into abeyance. He tilts his head slightly, and says aloud, "It's different this time. Not quite as ominous." Still, he shivers. Almost to the end now. Just a few more miles down the road.

Harkashan's senses are not as powerful as some others, but even he can sense a similar thing to what Telamon has discovered so far. Blindfolded, he moves through, trying to rely on his memory of this place to proceed forward.

Again, Seldan will have taken the lead, as he did before. Again, he established the same protocol using tugs on the rope before blinding himself and venturing into the whirlwind. Before he did, though, he had turned to Harkashan and Verna. "Are you prepared to speak with the celestial, as before?" He had waited for answer before venturing in. He, too, had felt the difference, but used the dagger as before to contact the wall, finding his path in such a way. Deafened and blinded, he can neither hear nor see the others, but he pauses at what he hopes is about the same point, and tugs twice on the rope.

Aryia descends into the depths, takes the fore with Seldan once more. Squeezes past the tunnels. The skeletons (quiet moment of silence afforded for them) are moved past. Back into the large entryway once more, where sight needed to taken as well, back to holding on to her friends for guidance. But she found herself not clenching her jaw like before. It didn't feel like it was gnawing at her, trying to worm its way into her skull. Just simply there.

But still, she stops short just as that rope is pulled twice, just like before.

Cor'lana keeps close to Telamon. Her steps carry her hopes, and her hopes are that the Unloved King they have brought with them will uplift the Unloved King that exists here. Hope is the thing that has carried her this far...

"Vaire, Ni'essa, preserve us and keep us," she murmurs in reverence. Unable to hear herself, but she prays anyway.

Hope and faith are rather linked, after all.

Verna affirmed that she was prepared to speak to the celestial remnant, in as much as they communicated with it, before. This time, she expects that the King's presence shall hold more direct impact than any words she might impart, however. The lack of tempting ... things is noted, and makes the presumption that this is due to said King's presence and not simply improved sound- and light-proofing themselves. Upon the signal upon the rope, she also halts.

GAME: Verna casts Speak With Dead. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20

Again, you find yourself once more able to 'see'. The eye is watching you. It stares unblinkingly in your direction.

It awaits your questions, now.

It does, however, seem less ... guarded.

This is just as disturbing as last time, and the only way Telamon can approach this with any kind of calm is to seek refuge in the absurd. At least inwardly. In the meantime, he tilts his head towards the Unloved King. "Your Majesty," he says quietly, "Do you have any thoughts you'd like to share, as we inquire to this angelic spark? Whatever decisions are made here, you are going to be a part of them." Unloved he may be, but Telamon is clearly inclined to solicit his words -- for this may affect him too.

Once Verna can 'see' the celestial again, she establishes a new channel of communication in the same manner that it was done previously. Her articulation is slow and measured to ensure the highest chance of success.

Once Seldan can "see" the celestial, his head lowers, although none can see it. We must mend the crack in time, he thinks to himself, without intentionally "voicing" the thoughts aloud. Perhaps by rewriting the story?

Only then does he "speak", thinking the words in a more conscious fashion. "I would hear the tale of the two by the entrance to this place. Know you their names, and their deeds? For it is now ours to write the tale that shall be, the tale that must replace the one that destroys."

Aryia once again is in that same space as before. The blazing eye watching upon them, thoughts heard and shared between all. "Oh thank f-...," the soft and measured voice dies off before there's a cough.

The silverguard brings his question and idea to bear. The skeletons, right! "Incorporating them is good idea," she opines.

Cor'lana takes a soft breath as the bond is established. It's a little breath. The kind that she's almost aware is a privilege that the skeletons now do not have.

"They deserve to be remembered," she says. "Just as the Unloved King deserves to be loved." Those are her simple words, her little opinion, yet they burn a little bright flame in her chest.

The presence of the Unloved King suffuses the mental link, but Telamon can perceive his friends, and the angelic remnant. He nods mentally to the thought of giving those two lost souls a part in this new story -- after all, they had the courage and gumption to remain behind, to lock away the terrible echo. "Let them be remembered," he agrees. "Perhaps somehow, someway, they can learn that their sacrifice was not in vain."

Here, in this place, you can sense the 'presence' of the King as well.

His mind is so present. Almost overwhelmingly so, much like the Celestial's might once have been. You can feel the echo of its might in turn more keenly now with the 'volume' of the power of the weapon turned down.

Ask your questions, it indicates, or at least seems to. It is receptive and ready.

It does not know the answer to that question, at this time. Seldan's, that is. It seems uncertain -- but one gets the feeling it is more than capable of learning that information when it is restored -- if it is restored.

The unusual presence is enough to give Seldan pause. Make it hard to think. No, he firmly disciplines his mind. Much have we already accomplished. Now we finish the job. Another moment of silence. "What is needed to restore you, and return you to your rightful place, once the tale is rewritten and the song is ended?"

Aryia stiffens as the presence of the King presses into this mindspace. She just stares at the blazing eye, trying very hard to just focus on only that as the overwhelming sensation akin to someone staring at the back of one's head does all it can to pry her attention away.

The skeletons are unknowns, lost to time, it seems. But perhaps that can be fixed. Or mended with prose. There are songs and dirges to unknown heroes after all.

Cor'lana, oddly, pays a bit more attention to the presence of the King within the link compared to the task at hand. Seldan is, after all, busied with the importance of question-asking, but Cor'lana seems to be preparing for the moment that the King might ask a question--and perhaps through everything in flux for it. Her hands are nervous things, fidgeting at her robes.

Verna knew to expect the celestial's connection to her mind. Academically, their prior experience made that of The King also to be expected... yet it is still a startling and powerful thing all the same. She focuses first on the question of and desires for the honored dead, as that is a 'smaller' and more conceivable thing. This shifts to Seldan's inquiry after it is made, as this is the crux of their purpose here, is it not? Verna reserves any follow-on questions pending the results of that.

There is a pause.

A diamond shape forms in the eye of your mind. Chanting sounds. Praise to the Gods.

But then shadows loom around it. Danger. It seems that restoring it is possible, but not without running the risk of drawing unwanted eyes.

A direction. Immediately, Seldan's mind-voice firms, the presence of the no-longer-Unloved King behind him backgrounding in the presence of his immediate focus. "Unwanted eyes. Who watches this place, and why? Who placed the weapon?"

Along with the word weapon, there is an image of the Unloved King, full size, but not mourning or depressed. Instead, firm and strong. His meaning is clear.

Aryia's familiar with that diamond shape and prayer. She's seen it once before. A glance to Verna and Harkashan is stolen. They had some rather powerful priests in their midst. But the pugilist too draws her attention back as there's mention of potential danger. "Makes sense that all the noise and clouding causes any eyes and ears at all blind and deaf to this place," she points out. "Until, that is, until it is rectified."

A sense of fire and burning, the smell of brimstone.

Old enemies aplenty, no doubt.

Cor'lana stiffens at the idea that there are eyes watching. The potential danger. She murmurs, quietly, another small prayer, as though it alone might ward them.

Suddenly she wishes for a candle. Something that burns and sheds light, sheds warmth, a sense that is not muted here between blindness and deafness. Something used for prayer.

Demons. Hardly news. Seldan's mental response to the idea of demons is - surprisingly blasé. Certainly no panic, and even a calm. "What needs to be done to silence the song, once and for all?" I'll get back to demons in a minute.

"Of course they would be concerned," Verna's thoughts are clear on this revelation. So, too, is her sense that this danger is perhaps more motivational than dissuasive of such an act, at least in her own opinion. The next question comes easily, though Seldan is quicker to 'voice' it. Yes, what need be done. Removing a threat and restoring a being of light, both, are a very strong victory.

Harkashan is still chanting in the background, empowering the spell. He too notices the intrusion upon their presence. Something that might observe them in this place. "A magic this great will not be hidden." Harkashan remarks. "Verna will need to lead it, but I can bolster her spell with my own. But we can bring this protector back once more. And this time, it would not stand alone against its enemies if they bared come here." He remarks.

Oh, well, that makes perfect sense. Aryia rubs at her face. That's a good problem to have, fiends having another celestial issue on their plate. Regardless. The thing would have to be silenced or altered before dealing with what comes next can be pondered.

The notion of beating down potential enemies that Hark points out does elicit a pleased mental hum from the vocal-mute.

An image of the hammer raised. A thunder strike.

The question of the Unloved King's presence does still cause the celestial's spirit to hesitate. It is bound by the limits of the spell that speaks with the dead, with its remains, but is not fully dead itself, after all. Should all be well with the strike of the hammer, one's eyes can be unveiled. Strike the hammer.