Gray Halls

The plan is thus:

-Get to the Grey Halls.

-Punch a trial in the face.

-Get a soul.

-Get out.

Simple, right? Oh-ho, were it so easy.

A message is sent out to everyone involved. Meet outside the Northern Gates at dusk, where they'd try and planeshift to the Halls themselves after getting some distance away from the city.

Tuning forks acquired from those that had them from Cesran and potentially Ashes. A list of formalities and what not when visiting the Grey Halls. One thing was made clear: getting in was easy. Getting out was up to the Harpist.

So here we are: out on a cold day, the sun dying on its western fall and almost waving goodbye. Aryia is bundled tight and has a scared yet resolved expression on her visage. "You know anything more about this trial, Seyardu?" she asks, trying to eek out any last iota of information before this daunting task. <Handspeech>

GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/religion: (4)+9: 13

Neighsayers arrives carrying the little bard all covered in precious metal and jewels. He has his circlet and piercings and rings and bracelets and elaborate filigree torque. So much so that the gnome looks fit to sink to the bottom of a lake should you throw him in.

The wine-colored coat is big enough to wear over his armor and kit and still keep him warm. It might make him look like a child playing dress-up if it wasn't for the rapier, bow, daggers, and so on. Well... it still might.

"I kissed every Person I could find for luck today," Jinks comments, pausing to lift a bottle and have a drink. "And I've settled my debts -and-" nimble little gnome fingers glitter as he pushes aside a fold in his coat to reveal his old coyote's-head broach, recently re-acquired. "... we've even got Coyote along for the ride."

Seyardu was one of the many who were sent a message, and one who joined the small group outside of the city. The cleric was ready to go, armed, and armored. "Your guess is as good as mine, Aryia, there are not many teachings on challenges from the grey halls I have heard of. I do not even know if they do exist."

"But, I am willing to try. And, it seems Jinks is as well. Between us, I am sure we can manage whatever might be sent our way."

Aryia looks to all of them, a light, yet nervous chuckle escaping the mute at Jinks' preparations. "I hope that Coyote laughs with us instead of at us."

The pugilist nods to both of them. "Yes. What's important is we have conviction. To make a good case to the Harpist. I think we have enough of that just on our own."

From within one of the many pockets on her verdant jacket, the shadow elf pulls out a tuning fork, it's prongs flattened to look like scales, provided by the mystics that were to join them. She holds it out to Seyardu. "I don't know how this shit works, but apparently you need this. I've got the other one to get us back here." At that, she taps at her the pocket just above it, buttoned closed on the flap.

"The paladina may actually be his favorite but I'm sure His grin shapes the right way for me. Plus, we're likely going to vex the absolute shit out of Mulria if we pull this off-- which I can only imagine is something He'd enjoy." The gnome sounds extremely confident. Maybe he even believes his bluster. He kicks a polished boot behind and over the saddle to dismount Enness, falling to the ground with a little 'hup.' A quick detour has the minstrel as some brush to tie off the beast and he pats the pony fondly before returning.

"...I've had a handful of convictions," Jinks grins, a little boozy to help with his nerves. He laughs a little and smooths down his goatee. "Which likely comes as no surprise."

One last, long drink from the bottle and then he offers it up. "Little bit of courage before we go, tallmen?"

"Jinks, I appreciate the offer,but I have never even thought about traveling to another plane under my own power before this, let alone attempted the spell." Seyardu sighs. "I do not need my mind clouded by alcohol to further complicate the process." 

"Yes, you are right Aryia, we have reason to be there, and reason to bring them back."

The cleric takes the tuning forks, and holds them in one hand. "If there are any preparations still to be made, now is the time. Jinks, will I be bringing your mount along? I need to know now, before I cast anything."

Aryia chuffs at Jinks. A hand motioning to say, "I sure fucking hope so, that bitch needs a surprise or two."

She takes the offered bottle, knocks back a hit, then hands it back. She shudders as it hits her stomach. "Thanks."

Her attention turns to Seyardu, and she blows hot air into her thin gloved hands. That drink certainly helped dull the tremors. "None here, no. Let's right a wrong. Ready as I'll ever be."

She focuses on breathing. <Handspeech>

"Enness is staying. If he gets hungry he knows how to get back to the stables." Jinks grins at the pony one last time and chucks the bottle somewhere that'll doubtless make some druid unhappy. "Hopefully we come back before that and I can snooze on the ride back into the city."

"Laughing One's mirth. Lady's inspiration. Goddess Dreaming's wisdom. Angoron's arm. Draco Solis' will. Hunter's eye. Telmentar's compassion." The gnome shifts his stance and sucks at his teeth. "Heavy donations if you lot see us through here..."

A curt nod at Seyardu, "Ready as I'll ever be..."

GAME: Seyardu casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 12 DC: 21

"If he is to stay here, that will be fine. I will let the spell ignore them being here." Seyardu nods to the gnome, as she stows the tuning fork for returning to this plane into her bag, leaving only the other.

"I am sorry Jinks, I must break my promise to stop you from visiting the halls while I am with you." Seyardu states calmly, before breaking into a quiet chuckle at the joke. There was not much left to do at that point. She wasn't entirely sure why she decided to, but she brings the tuning fork up and raps it quickly against one of her horns, sending it into a noise that sounded more like a funeral dirge than any normal ringing. "Celestial mother, sever the veil between realms with your grace and power, and guide me and my companions through the path to the caverns of the death singing dragon." The cleric chants in time with the fork. <draconic.

GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (18)+28: 46
GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Jinks rolls perception: (14)+7: 21

The world fades away around you. You're not sure what you expected, but the gray desert-like expanse that spreads out before you is somehow both it, and not it. You can see figures in the distance. Walking along seemingly without much of a destination in mind. Far, much further in the distance there are shapes. Vaguely building-like in nature, but indistinct.

It takes you a moment of looking around to realize that no figure walking along is alone. Each is being followed by an indistinct... ghostly figure. In fact. So are you. This these figures are some distance behind you at the moment. Robed individuals with wings. Their faces covered by their cowls and their bodies indistinguishable but at least somewhat humanoid in nature.

Aryia is tense as she's listening to the chant that she's finally been able to recognize, hoping that bribe to the gods Jinks gave would give them some inkling of luck. If there was a time for them to listen, it'd be now.

The world starts to fade. She closes her eyes, shaking some. And then...

Desert..? She was expecting marble floors and dull chanting. Not... whatever this is.

The robed individuals are spotted quickly, and she straightens up. It was at this exact moment, Aryia knew, she had crossed a line in her life she'd never come back from. Something you'd only read in a book.

Were those angels? She didn't know, but she straightens her back and folds her hands together. Just focus on breathing. In. O-Out.

Jinks is still laughing when the spell is completed and they're standing on another plane of reality. "I'll let you off the hook this one time..." he smirks, shaking his head and sighing. Tossing back the hood of his coat, he has a long look around at the alien landscape.

"We should've borrowed Cesran's carpet," observes the gnome, looking out at the buildings in the distance. His eyebrows lift even as he squints at the horizon and he wonders if the warm fuzziness is the alcohol settling or a property of the plane.

His chains glitter, dangling between his nose and earlobe as he turns to look up at the pair. "I can make a magic horse for myself and you already run like the wind," he cants his head at Aryia, then tilts his head and rolls his solid-black eyes at Seyardu. "I'm guessing you have some variety of magic prepared to travel quick*hic*ly?"

Seyardu looks to Jinks, and shakes her head. "Most of my magic today is saved for getting us out of here if things go badly, not for ease of travel. And it was enough that Cesran and Ashlee spared these tuning forks to us for the journey."

She does stop to look at the robed people for some moment, before turning back. "So, we have some travel to do, until we can reach some we can speak to about our journey. Unless the ones following us are willing to speak with us, but I am unsure."

The figures following you - and they are following you of that you are fairly certain - don't seem particularly prone to conversation. Or at the very least they don't offer up any.

There's a sniff and a sucking of the teeth in thought. "So I can make this work but..." Jinks narrows his eyes up at Seyardu and counts off his fingers. "One: you have to trust me and, two; you have to let me ride on your shoulders until we get where we're going."

The gnome glances back at the would-be escorts and offers his winningest smile. "Hello lads. Nice weather, eh?"

Aryia sighs heavily. She didn't anticipate having to /walk/ so far. But, she'd rather take Seyardu's precautions instead of dying.

Which, would that be so bad? Pretty much end up right where you're supposed to.

She looks to the figures following them, is about to elbow her companions in the side to get their attention, but Jinks was already on the front foot with that.

"Well, I can trust you, and if I need to carry you where we are going, so be it." Seyardu nods. "Just climb on, and do not use my horns to grip on.

The cleric sighs and takes a knee as she watches the exchange curiously, waiting to see what reaction there might be, if any.

GAME: Jinks casts Shadow Conjuration. Caster Level: 10 DC: 22

The gnome sings a quiet little dirge in his native tongue, raising one hand to wipe at his eye and pull the black from the onyx orb. He flicks it through the Weave and it grows, splattering across the ground like spilt, ethereal ink. It bubbles and stretches, a creature crawling from the pool.

It's a swiftclaw, half-formed and ghostly with the shadow of its form streaming out behind it on winds that aren't felt. Murky and powerful it seems to almost not exist. "A ghost mount for a land of ghosts..." the gnome offers in sing-song, stepping carefully onto the sith-makar's thigh and then getting into place on her shoulders.

"I will move as fast as you can, tallman," he tells Aryia. The gnome weighs very little, all things considered, and makes a point to follow Seyardu's instructions, avoiding her horns.

The immaterial things following you follow you even with your steeds. They don't.... speak to Jinks, but they do nod to him. Well. One of them does. The one following him. So they can hear you. You move quickly. Heading for the only signs of human habitation on this place. And it's much closer than you originally anticipated.

You make your way to one of the buildings and find that it's actually quite small. A group of people huddle inside it. All of them being followed at length by the same figures following you. Their eyes are wide and haunted. Their clothes little more than rags.

Aryia gives a nod back to the immaterial being, her trying to be respectful as she was far out of her comfort zone. Then, they head off.

Her pace is brisk, like a power walk. Yet she didn't push herself to get there faster. Conserving herself, preparing.

Then, they arrive. Huh. Wasn't as bad as she thought.

Her gaze swoops to and fro, taking in everything before she gestures to the group, "... are these.. departed?" she asks. <Handspeech>

GAME: Jinks rolls Knowledge/the Planes: (7)+14: 21

Seyardu blinks when the creature claws its way out of the, underworld? That did not seem right, they were already there. Well, it seemed like it would work well enough, and Seyardu clambers on to the back of the swiftclaw. "Should be alright. You should eat more, and drink less. You barely weigh anything." The sith-makar notes before they are on their way through the desert at a decent pace. A strangely decent pace, as Seyardu dismounts near the building. "Well, there are people here. Or, souls of people? I do not know. But why they are here, and not elsewhere, I do not know either. Perhaps we should help them somehow, before we continue on?"

Jinks is glad he's riding out of Seyardu's line of sight; she can't see the idiot grin he's wearing. It's humorous, really. The dire nature of their mission, where they are in the cosmos, and he's riding on a Hearthguard's shoulders who, in turn, is riding on an illusion conjured from the plane of shadows. The dandy closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the absurdity, and makes a private oath to not tell anyone once they've returned.

No matter how tempting it might be.

"... they're not dead," Jinks realizes now that he's seen the building and the people waiting in it. He tucks his chin and pinches his nose, squinting as he sorts through the fog. "It's like a waystop. They're not petitioners but souls caught in between life and death. We're not in the Grey Halls."

"Are those forks meant to bring us to Aya or to the Halls?" The gnome asks, having taken things for granted thusfar.

The figure following Aryia nods politely to her in turn. A gracious ghost it seems. The people at the house look at you in surprise. They gather outside to stare at your horse and your outlandish clothes. You stand out here. Everyone you see is followed. Trailed by one of the eerie figures that is following you.

If Jinks wasn't going to tell anyone, Aryia sure as heck would. She'd certainly find it hilarious after, well, decompressing from how stressful this all was.

The muse's insight makes the mute quirk a brow at him. "So they're... about to be dead. On the brink of death?" she wonders with her hands, growing slightly unsettled as harrowed eyes lay on them. "... I... don't fucking know, man. Just, 'this goes to Her halls'. I'm not a finger wagger."

Then... insight. She squints at the crowd, her sister on the forefront of her mind as she looks... "Maybe... she's here? Or.. maybe in there? We need to go in there?" <Handspeech>

GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/religion: (11)+9: 20

"The forks are to bring us to the planes the halls are on, I do not know about specific locations." Seyardu replies with a shake of her head. "We are where we need to be, just perhaps not in the correct part of it."

The cleric looks at those that were present, and she does her best to smile. "I sincerely hope that it is not your times to make your stay here, all of you. But if it is, know that the gods will take care of you. No matter what, hope is important, and I wish you all the best."

Then the cleric turns to the figure behind her. "Angel of the death singing dragon, me and my companions require passage to the gray halls. Please guide us there, if you are able."

"We'll figure it out." Jinks offers Aryia with a little shrug. He's still trying to sort things through and apply academic understanding in a practical (if fantastical) setting. The gnome has the Hymn, though, even here and the whispers of scholars, travelers, and adventurers throughout history play at the back of his mind. 

When Seyardu speaks to the guide he turns on her shoulders to look, quirking an eyebrow and waiting for a response.

The figure following Seyard will tilt it's head at her. Or you think that's what its doing. It's hard to tell since its head is covered by its cowl. Still, it does move it's head in a questioning manner and then suddenly it speaks in a very gentle voice which is neither male nor female, but clearly draconic. "You may be led to the Gray Halls; that is My purpose. Yet it is not your Time." <draconic>

The people however, don't seem surprised by the notion that they're between life and death. They're far more interested in staring at your odd clothing. Though they will eventually begin to drift away back into the house. Aya doesn't seem to be present here.

Aryia looks out to all those that Seyardu addresses, her biting her lip and bowing her head some. No Aya here. That's okay. Everything is okay. A glance to Jinks, and a nod of affirmations before she turns around to see the figures speaking to their Althean guide. She had a good crash course in Draconic during her time as an egg-watcher, but some of her deeper understanding helped fill in the blanks.

The mute blinks. "The people here are almost dead, waiting to get in. It's not their time..."

She turns to the intangible figures. And her hands gesture, "I... don't know if you can understand me, but we know it isn't our time. We come to seek a soul whose time should not be now." Hands unsteady at the start, but gaining purpose as they continue. <Handspeech>

Jinks nods in agreement with the pugilist, adding. "We wish to petition the Harpist or one of her agents. We seek a Trial."

Looking between their trio of shadows, the gnome sorts out his and offers, "Some of our times have already come and gone but we don't remember the way. It should be no trouble to take us back..."

"Yes, we are not dead. And your purpose is to guide us to the halls. I understand it is not our time, but we still must go there. A soul is there we seek to return to the living, it is not yet their time."

"Please guide us there, and tell us what must be done to do so. I will speak to any necessary in the process."

Each of the insubstantial creatures is speaking to only one of you. To Aryia, she is given the words of the syl. Jinks, the gnomes. And of course, Seyardu is offered words in draconic. Yet they all speak similar messages. The message? That your request has been acknowledged. The three beings before you reach out a boney finger and draw a line in the air. A doorway resolves from this line. A shimmer that you can see through and yet the figure gestures to this doorway. Three of you. Three figures. Three doors.

Are you about to be separated?

GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (10)+13: 23

Aryia swings her head to both the people beside her. They had to face a Trial. Be it personal, or together. She didn't know what she was getting into here, but whatever it was, they had to have the conviction to see this through to the end, no matter what was thrown at them.

She takes a deep breath In.

And Out.

One hand rests on a shoulder of each person beside her, gives a squeeze, and she strides forward through the doorway. The last step through giving the hint of a run.

Seyardu shrugs back to Aryia. "They seem honest in their intentions, but I do not know where these doors will lead. We will need to trust that is fair, and what we come to seek."

The cleric turns to Jinks. "If we are separated, and it is necessary Jinks, remember, we are not of this plane. A spell that would send a creature away from ea, would send us back to it, here. Should you know any like such."

With that said, and Aryia already stepping through, she too follows through the door opened in front of her.

"... if it was easy..." Anyone would do it, right? Jinks pats Seyardu's shoulder to warn her and then just rolls backwards, tumbling down to the ground and into a crouch. The gnome stands and walks towards his door, lookin between mul'niessa and sith-makar.

"Life has a weird symmetry to it. Verse, chorus, verse... I already had one coda." He smiles wide and laughs. "So... we have our Trial and then..." A deep breath. He still sways, warm in the belly and just the right side of sober for this sort of thing.

The gnome unpins his broach and gives it a little kiss. "I could use a happy-laugh, bud..." and he hops through his door.

To your surprise, the doors all lead to the same place. Which seems nominally to be the inside of a rather homey cottage. The walls are log, and there's a warm fireplace burning. The floor is gray dirt but covered in a large rug of dim colors. There's a woman sitting beside the fire, an old woman with gray hair knitting. She doesn't seem to notice you at first and yet as you gather your wits she motions you to the fire.

Which is when you realize something odd. Some of you have experienced death, or very nearly, and those of you who have will find yourselves at the age you were just before those experiences.

"Come, come, you have not all day." The woman speaks and there's something odd about her voice that you can't quite place. Maybe it's the lack of accent. Maybe its the fact that her voice is so much younger than she is. Whatever it is, it puts you at ease. "You've come for your friend. Someone you care for deeply. I see her in your hearts." She looks up then and her eyes are gray but sharp. Wise.

"You've come for a Trial, and I will give you one. But it's a little unfair to play a game three on one don't you think?" She almost seems to smile here, but her lips don't move. It's as if you sense her smiling more than you see it.

It takes Jinks a moment to open his eyes on the other side of the door-- and even then it's just a peek. By the time the gnome has sorted out the sounds of the hearth he relaxes and takes a moment to re-pin his broach into place. "Was it just me or did you two expect to end up in a dark room with an inscrutable version of yourself staring unblinkingly back at you?" The dandy pauses. "I think mine was nude in my head, too..."

The bard half-turns and lifts the back of his overlarge, wine-colored coat, taking a moment to examine his rump and give it a little squeeze. "You looked a little bigger in my head..."

By the time he's done putting on a show and blathering nonsense he's managed to get his heart to stop hammering and leveled out his breath. He doesn't feel on the verge of panic and the little play has served its purpose.

The gnome pads over, a bit younger around the face with fewer laugh-lines crawling back from the corner of his eyes. Green eyes, in fact, flecked with a golden-yellow. His hair is longer, the tail lower and looser, and a bright red.

Aryia grinds to a halt as the start of her sprint ends on the second step. Her eyes wide as she sweeps her gaze to and fro. There was no fighting, no...

Her head tilts to the side. Was this...?

She blinks, looking down at Jinks and his... green eyes?

She exhales slowly. "Hokhhhha..." That noise came from Aryia. She grabs at her throat, eyes wide. A more... perplexed and slightly shorter elf in the room. Face and body free of the decades of marring. Hair cut shaggy short. "Whhh... hhh...k.."

She shakes her head, a unmarred grey hand gesturing once to aid in surmising her complete confusion. "What." <Handspeech>

Seyardu, somehow, manages to become even smaller for a sith-makar, which is a rather impressive feat. In fact, Jinks may even be a bit more taller than her, now. It only occurs to her when she looks over to the gnome, and then back to the old woman by the fire.

"This would, I am not sure if the trial would be unfair. We do not know what it is, but our desire is just to save our friend." They speak up, just a slight octave higher pitched.

The woman seems... amused by your surprise. But she doesn't smile. She just seems to smile. "Come, join me by the fire. It's warm." Yes it is. It's warmth is enticing. Like all your good memories wrapped up into a sensation of feeling warm and safe by the light. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it would be fair."

She measures you each in turn. Weighing you in a way that makes you feel even younger than your form is now. "If all you want is your friend, should I not get something in return? The joy of a game at least? Or have you something else to offer?"

There's a golem deck in the gnome's hands before the lady is done saying 'at least.' Jinks follows her instructions and finds a seat by the fire, hopping up and kicking his legs childishly in spite of himself. The warmth of the spirits at his core replaced by something else. More pleasant. Familiar even if it was half-forgotten.

"A song? A story? A dance?" The satin cloth whines when he pulls it loose, freeing the cards. He stuffs the cloth into his sleeves even as he begins to make tricks with the deck. "But a game... a game is well and good," the cards are bridged and he shuffles. Rrrrrrrt, they go. Flt-t-t-t-t-t-t, after. "Do you know golem? You might hold the amulet first, lady."

Little gnomish fingers continue to cavort across the cards as he turns to look at Aryia, smiling wide. "Keep trying, Aryia. I'd hear your voice if you can; if you would." Mirthful eyes shift to Seyardu. "We can finally see the world from each other's perspective... even if it's the wrong world."

It helped that whoever this woman was settled her nerves, Aryia doing her best to tear her eyes away from her arms and hands and from... was that... Seyardu? She blinks a few times, rubbing at her eyes before squinting at her.

She's going to borrow a phrase. Coyote laughs.

Not wanting to upset the wise woman, Aryia dips her head and starts to head over to take a seat. "Thhhuuunksuh..." some barely intelligible garbled nonsense comes out from the once-mute's mouth, her rubbing at that spot on her throat. Did it always feel so.. heavy?

She fidgets as she's being weighed, feeling like the warmth of the fire did little to quell the cold of past sins. Their purpose here keeping her mind focused.

She watches the youth-filled Jinks barter and suggest. And she can't help a small flicker pull at her lips upwards. "Hhhhaiii... hai'm... tryi...guh," she attempts, then lightly sighs. Hands replace her spoken gibberish, "I... kind of forgot how to use it."

She turns to, who she presumes to be- "Are you... Vardama?" she asks slowly. "I don't... know what most people trade for these things. But, uh, we can do a game. Though I thought you said we haven't all day." <Handspeech>

The woman looks at Jinks, a soft expression as she sets her knitting aside and shifts the warm blankets on her lap. "A game of golem sounds lovely. Though I have not played in some time." She says this as he shuffles and then turns her kindly gaze on Aryia. "Asking if I am Vardama is horribly rude child. Imagine me asking your finger if it is you! And I said that _you_ do not have all day."

This mild correction given seems to amuse the woman again. You can feel her amusement like a palpable thing. A wave of good humor. It makes you want to smile in the face of her warm hearth. "It is good that you do not wish to impose on too much of my time. After all, mortals do not last long in the Gray Halls. Best get to the game children."

-TBC