Aftermath of the Flame's Rescue

Log Info

• Title: Aftermath of the Flame's Rescue

• Emitter: Ravenstongue

• Characters: Dolan, Ravenstongue, Telamon

• Place: Temple of Eluna

Temple of Eluna, late morning.

Cor'lana looks bleary-eyed as she walks in the foyer of the Temple, her violet eyes tinged red from a lack of sleep. Strangely enough, she's holding Pothy in her arms like how you'd hold a baby or young child, the bird cuddling up to her in a rather close and loving manner--albeit whimpering with noises that sound for all the world like an anxious raven. She even reaches up to scratch his feathers, patting them down like the stroke of a child's hair.

"I know, Pothy," she murmurs quietly and warmly. "You're sweet. It's okay. They're just things. We'll buy new things and we'll get the house fixed up. What matters is that you're safe."

She leans down and kisses his pale-feathered head. "It'll be okay. Things are replaceable. People are not. That includes you."

The message to Dolan had come late, and thus it is just after the conclusion of morning prayers that he strides into the Temple of Eluna nearly at a run, clad in full arms and with a longsword at his hip and a crossbow over his back. The other hip is adorned with a quiver of bolts, and he pauses just inside the door, looking around him swiftly, keenly, and purposefully.

Cor'lana looks up at the sound of Dolan approaching. An expression of relief crosses her face when she sees that it's him, and she lifts up her hand in greeting and to show Dolan that she's okay. No bodily harm has been done to her. She simply just looks... exhausted.

"Brydion, my friend," she says. "A lot happened. Let us find a quiet and private room to speak on this. To assure you right from the start: Telamon and I are okay. No bodily harm has come to either of us."

She gestures for Dolan to follow her, and she finds a room quickly enough in the silence of the Temple. "Let's start with the good news. Telamon and I convinced Micha to turn sides last night. He's taken N'thain out of the Soldier's Defense and into a location--not known to myself or to Telamon--for his safety. Micha has said that he will be reachable by messages left here at the Temple of Eluna, who he worships as a weretiger."

Then Cor'lana fixes Dolan with a small smile. "Finally? He told us everything. The werewolves, their involvement with demons, how. You'll likely want something to write on--I can provide writing utensils if you need them."

It is immediately obvious that the man standing before Cor'lana is the Corona, not the farm kid. A sharp, keen gaze looks her and Pothy in her arms up and down. Pothy isn't screaming at me. That isn't good. This wasn't all good, washes through his mind, quick as a wink. Still, his stare is direct and intent, not a trace of smile. He is all business. "I'll need those, thanks. I didn't take time to do more than arm." Notable for its absence is the cuff he normally wears over his left shoulder.

Once they're in the room, he seats himself and gestures for the writing materials. "I see. The message got through. I'm listening."

Cor'lana brings out a journal from within her bag, followed by a quill and a bottle of ink. As always, she is a prepared poet, but neither she nor Dolan are looking to write poetry for the moment. She takes a seat and continues to comfort Pothy with long strokes of his feathers.

"It was as we suspected," she says. "Marsward was using N'thain as a captive to make Micha do his bidding. He's a witch, Brydion. He has a familiar--a scarab--and if we find it, he's at a severe disadvantage. It gives him his powers, which include flight, invisibility, and all manner of powerful curses and spells. One of which is forcing those who are werecreatures to turn. He'd planted a spell in Micha's head that connected their minds mentally--I suspect the same spell that Telamon and I have--that I had to dispel and break once we arrived here."

She looks at Dolan. "Marsward has been going around to werecreatures that aren't werewolves and killing their leaders, forcing the packs to kneel to him, or convincing them to join. N'thain and Micha are weretigers, which are bigger than werewolves and do not serve the path of evil--but Micha is not much of a fighter nor a mage, so he had no hope of defying Marsward on his own. Marsward had apparently tried to tell Micha that Telamon had hurt N'thain in order to get the message you passed to us, but--our fervor of words, our honesty, and our willingness to bring him to N'thain and reunite them both was what convinced him of good. The vision of Telamon that Micha had seen was granted by a totem that Marsward gave to Micha for one night, and Marsward had told him that it meant that if Micha killed Telamon, he'd get N'thain back." Her eyes are dark and lethal here. "In other words? Marsward is truly manipulative. Which I had known, but he will stop at no lie to keep his servants underneath him."

She sighs. "There's more. And... This concerns the demons and devils. I know you'll want to pay close attention to this."

Dolan wastes no time in reaching for the journal, ink and pen, and takes swift notes. His handwriting is best described as reasonable but not fancy. He listens and writes, his scowl turning the twisted harlequin face into something truly terrifying. "I knew N'thain was a hostage, but I'll enjoy putting this son of a pile of goat runs to the Knight's justice," he mutters, writing furiously. "You'll enjoy knowing that I got to wrap a silver chain around his neck and choke him with it. For a second."

He continues to write, but finally pauses when he has it all down. "So N'thain is safe and Micha is with him. Good. What about the demons and devils?"

"The Charneth Houses are funding the werewolves, and they're summoning the fiends that the werewolves are using for various purposes," Cor'lana says. "Including the use of wish-demons to tempt people into joining the werewolf faction. They've kept the gold that they gain from the brewery entirely clean, but..."

She leans in just a little. "A recent investment from a noble of Selentia--Micha didn't know their name--has given the werewolves a surplus of funds that were being used to trick more people into joining the werewolf faction. They've been offering food, clothes, and jobs through the brewery, and then turning people. Almost every single person they've brought in is a werewolf."

Dolan's head snaps up, and his stare could pin a dragon to a wall. "I know who the noble is," he snarls. "Fuck that. That means the brewery's books should have the evidence I need to take that noble before Selentia's High Tribunal." He wears a feral grin that is anything but humorous or nice. "A thing I've wanted to do for the last twelve years." Your ass is mine, Lady Calogref, the mask of feral wrath reads. "Got you, you scum-sucking bitch. Now I need to get your friend, too, and pin both of your sorry asses in chains."

Cor'lana nods, a similar empathy of wrath in her eyes as she observes him. His rage for this noble is like hers with Marsward's, and indeed, there had been a flicker of a smile when he mentioned choking Marsward with silver. That, she clearly does relish.

"The last item is that Dace Zinskas and Marsward apparently hate each other. They have their own agendas, but Micha doesn't know the particulars of either one. Just that they do not work out of love for each other."

Then she sighs again, petting Pothy's feathers. "The consequences... Marsward knows now that Telamon has Eluna's totem. I revealed it to Micha in order to earn his trust--and Marsward tried to force him to shapeshift. Telamon fed his own blood to the totem--and I fed my blood to his totem--in order to stop him from transforming. We were able to keep him suppressed long enough to bring him to the Temple, where we could then remove the magic Marsward had placed on him."

Cor'lana looks thoroughly exhausted with the last. "Finally--Marsward tried to pursue Micha, Telamon, and I, but when it was apparent that we were going to reach the Temple before he could stop us, he turned and... He attacked our house. Pothy escaped through the front window, and the pixies fled before he could do any harm to them. I expect all of my furniture to be broken."

Pothy's whimpering noises become all the more audible. The poor bird was clearly scared by the whole ordeal. Cor'lana just continues to pet him, putting a kiss into his feathers. "It's okay. You were brave. You were so brave, little brother..."

For a moment, Dolan doesn't answer, his stare abruptly turning away from Lana and going leagues away. The pen is dropped, and he grips the edge of the table with an inky free hand, hard enough to mark him, then leans abruptly into the table. Pain flashes across the open features, but it seems to break the spell, and he is left to breathe hard, but his gaze on Lana is again sane and present. "Sorry," he offers. "Look, don't worry about the furniture. I can help, you know that I'm apprenticing to the Temple's carpenter, right?"

A moment of silence hangs before he continues. "I can help with the furniture. Are you two okay? No wonder you look exhausted, you rpboably belong in a bed."

Footsteps outside, then a knock, before the door opens. It's Telamon, though he's dressed in unusual garb for him -- the deep blue robes of an Elunite initiate, not his usual fashion-plate attire. His expression lightens considerably, seeing Lana and Dolan, despite his own weary face, and he says, "Her light upon your path, you too. No, I'm not taking up a new vocation -- I just needed to get cleaned up and the priest suggested I wear this for a bit."

He walks over to an unoccupied chair, sitting down and slouching a bit. "Lana says you've been brought up to date. I don't exactly have much to add, beyond that Seraquoix also made a bit of a mess in the Chalice meetinghouse, which pissed them off too. Stiger was saying something about 'werewolf fur rugs'. Turow volunteered to check the house along with Daneira -- they've kept an eye on it before, so they know what should be there." He rubs his face. "Seraquoix probably made a hell of a mess though."

Cor'lana looks apologetic for the brief episode that Dolan has. "No, I'm sorry," she says, gently. But she smiles a little as he offers his help. "That would be wonderful if you could. Aside from... feeling like we are now in open war, and I suddenly feel like I have a target painted back, I'm... I'm alright. I'm tired. I haven't slept much. But I don't think we're going back home for a while."

She gives Telamon a wide smile when he comes in, reaching over to take his hand and give it a small squeeze. Pothy acknowledges Telamon with a little croak before he settles back into Cor'lana, snuggling into the crook of her neck. "I'll be wearing something similar soon enough," she says. "I think we'll be investing in some magic to mend and repair our clothes when we are finally home."

"Yeah. It's fine, I did that to myself." The focused wrath that had gripped Dolan before returns. "Tel, the noble funding that brewery is Andie's mother. We're getting Seb out of there and I mean to see to it that both the bitch and Derwes are pinned with consorting with demons. That'll cut that cash flow off. Means we'll need to get all of those innocents out of there and to the Temple for healing, but we can do that. Don't let 'em starve, but we need to cut that industry off. If Zinskas and Seraquoix hate each other -" Clearly, he's thinking a mile a minute, his stare intent. "Probably the only reason they work together is the Red Maw. Go after the portal. Take the Red Maw out and they've got no more reason to work together."

Telamon squeezes Lana's hand, and gently strokes Pothy's feathers. "Probably some repair magic for our furniture as well." His expression brightens suddenly, then he sighs. "Damn. He's probably too smart to start drinking my wine. Watching that fool stagger around inebriated and hallucinating would be worth the price of admission. Ah well..."

He squares his shoulders, turning his gaze back to Dolan. "You'll forgive me if I'm entirely unsurprised by that, Dolan." His voice is icy and controlled, though the ire isn't directed at Dolan. "And I hope it was worth it for her. Because if you don't catch her, I will." He clenches his free hand, as if wringing a neck, before taking a breath again.

"Something I considered, Dolan. The rot's really at the top of the brewery. Why not convert it to something good once we've purged the management? If it comes down to protecting the innocents versus salvaging the business, you know what corner I'd be in. But I'd love to not only take their toy away but put it to better use."

"And considering we've just sparked a war with one of the two generals, I think we'd better take out that portal sooner rather than later." Cor'lana looks at Telamon. "We are definitely not going home for a while. I suppose we'll have to take up residence here, or... if all odds fail, we bunk with Grandfather and Auranar in Quelynos, but I'd like to remain accessible. We have far too much work to do on this plane."

She looks between the two. And she gets a look of realization on her face. A small, devious little smile spreads on her lips. "What if... We set the damn brewery on fire? And we make it look like it was arson on their behalf? It burns to the ground. It puts all of those people out of work for a while, but... It takes the toy out of their hands and forces them to scramble for something else. I don't see any legal way we can take the brewery out of the hands of the higher-ups."

"I've got all the repair magic you need, Tel." A flash of a grin abruptly blooms over Dolan's features. "I was telling Lana I've apprenticed to the Temple carpenter. I'd be pleased to see what can be fixed and what needs replacing. As for Lady Calogref, I've wanted for years justice for what she put Andie through, the selfish and vainglorious heifer. Don't think for one second that you'll need to make good on that." By now, the grin has most thoroughly faded.

He watches the pair pet Pothy, the grin turned upside down. "If we can do that - convert the brewery to an honest business and help those people - I'm all for it. All the better when we turn evil's toys to good. It's the Knight's way. Before any of that's possible-"

Then Lana chimes in. "Let's rid ourselves of the supernatural evil first and see what's left. Some of the managers might not be so willing either." He finally, slowly, leans back in the chair. "A brewery'll explode if you light it on fire, Lana. Might hurt a lot more people than you expect."

Telamon nods in agreement with Dolan. "When you get down to it, alchemy and brewing are cousins. And you remember when I had that small mishap with my alchemy set a couple winters ago?" He glances at Dolan with a rueful grin. "Fortunately, I was wearing protective gear and had an unseen servitor on hand with sand to put the fire out."

"I agree with Dolan, to be honest. The supernatural evils need to be removed first, then the worldly influences. I'd love to come up with a way to set Zinskas and Seraquoix at each other's throats, but right now I can't think of it." He yawns, then shakes his head. "Lana's not the only one in need of a soft bed. Lana, we can go a lot of places in the world and it'll be hell for Seraquoix to track us. Or we can use the mansion, hide in there for a day or so."

Cor'lana nods gently, and then she just looks... exhausted. She pulls her chair closer to Telamon, and then she rests her head on her husband's shoulder. Pothy stays right in place. "You're both right," she says. "I'm not thinking all the way. Let's find a room somewhere in the Temple we can use the mansion and get a night's rest soon. I'm..."

Her eyes flutter shut. "I'm happy," she says, softly. "I could save someone. Two people, in fact. I failed the first time but--maybe it was always intended to be that way, so I could succeed from there. Maybe he knew. Maybe..."

These are the tired, soft mumblings of a woman quickly giving into exhaustion.

"That's the thing about evil, Tel, Lana. They don't need a reason to be at each other's throats. If they don't have a reason not to kill each other, they'll go after each other just to take the power for themselves." Dolan carefully caps the ink vial, and waves a hand over the drying ink of his note-taking to help it dry. "Take away their reason to work together and they'll turn on each other, nothing else required."

He's watching the pair of them, though, and sobers again, changing subject. "You want me to go look? See how bad it is?" he asks gently. "Get what I can? I'd offer to put you two up, but Andie and I really don't have the space. Verna might be willing, with Auranar gone to Quelynos. I suspect she'll appreciate the company. Eiher way, I'll go get what I can."

Suddenly, there's another knock at the door. Telamon stiffens, before rising to his feet. "Wait," he mouths silently, before padding to the door. "Yes?" he says in a slightly altered tone.

"Hanu likes to share his snacks," is said from behind the door, a rather peculiar phrase. But one that Tel recognizes as he opens the door. "Turow!"

Standing in the doorway is a tall, slightly stoop-shouldered man with a long nose and brown hair flecked with gray, dressed in light cotton robes. Riding on his shoulder is a small ferret that sits up and chitters happily at Telamon. "Can't stay long, Tel," Turow explains. "But it's a real mess. Something odd though..."

The other sorcerer proffers a familiar-looking staff to Tel, the bronze head untarnished. "It looked like whoever hit your place used this to break a lot of things -- I had to use magic to clean it off, but the weird part? It's completely undamaged. You'd think the head would've warped or broken off."

Telamon takes the staff, looking bemused. "...Huh." He glances at the others, before looking back. "Thanks, Turow. I owe you one."

Cor'lana lifts her head up from Telamon's shoulder and blinks several times in surprise as the staff's handed off to Telamon. "We need to find out what's going on with that staff," she says, quietly, looking it over.

She looks back to Dolan and smiles gently. "It's okay. The Chalice has it covered--thank you, Turow." Pothy doesn't even look up to look at the ferret that Turow has with him, just soaking in the comfort of Cor'lana's embrace.

"Maybe staying with Verna isn't a bad idea. She needs to know about all of this as well. Multiple people do. You're the first to know, besides us. I trust you to spread this information as needed. We're fighting a war, and we need everyone on the same page now."

Dolan, too, had looked up and listened to the exchange, although he doesn't speak while the other sorcerer is present. When he man leaves, though, he says at once. "It's created by something made by a god," he points out with a crooked ghost of a smile. "I ain't all that shocked."

He turns to look at it, though. "Yeah, I need to bring the sword by and have you look at it when this all gets settled," he goes on. "We need to figure this out. I can surely let everyone know what's going on. I can do that much. Want me to approach Verna, while you two get some sleep?" he offers, standing quietly as if preparing to leave.

Once Turow has departed, Telamon turns to the others, holding the staff. "I guess," he says a bit hesitantly to Dolan. "About the staff, I mean. Definitely let Verna know. We'll sack out here -- the priests offered us the use of one of the initiate rooms. I think they were impressed we'd gotten Micha away from Seraquoix."

"But definitely spread the word, Dolan. And try to approach the city authorities as well. The more pressure we can bring to bear on Seraquoix the better. I want him off guard and trying to react so he can't spend time concocting more schemes."

"Let Verna know, please," Cor'lana requests, resting gently on Telamon's shoulder again. "I'm..."

She yawns. "I'm ready for rest," she says, simply. "I trust you in totality, Brydion. You know that. There are few people I trust as entirely as you to know everything. I know everything you do, you do for the sake of everyone. Including us."

Her eyes flutter shut. It's not very long at all before her breathing becomes the deeper breathing of sleep.

"Thanks." Dolan turns to Telamon, lowering his voice as he moves towards the door. "Knight's justice follow you both. I'll go talk to Verna. Sleep well." That's all he says, with a glance back at Lana, and quietly slips out the door, pulling it to behind him.