Trumpet of Frost [Ziruna Uletl] (IC)

[Avalon®]

"Worshippers of frost. Worshippers of thunder."
"Followers of the mountain that tears the sky asunder."

- Ren Graystone, Wandering Poet 2nd class of the Church of Song

"Hear ye all who are Worthy! Lord Ga'rok the Alabaster King who sits on the Throne of Flowing Waters, Emperor of the Thousand Kingdoms, Master of the Ten Thousand Schools, First among the Worthy, Datu of the Numbered Myria, the Unscarred; by writ of thy scars of rank, orders you to report to the nearest of his client-kingdoms for duty!"

The Trumpet of Frost has arisen and its hordes are on the move. It marches for our lands although we know not where it will strike. It brings with it the deathly cold of its hate; a blizzard that brings entire landmasses to the test.

All have been summoned: the Troubadour-Knights of the Church of Song, the Brotherhood of the Many-as-One, the Loremasters of the Ivory Tower and the Flesh-born Clay of the Inverted Mountain. All who are able must stand against this threat once more.



As you crossed the border into Linnea, you were handed a dried flower bud with instructions to place it in a glass of water and make your way to the capitol of Arivega, colloquially known as the Three Spires.


"You are cordially invited to the Palace of the Mothers for a celebration held in your honor."

The bloom pulsed in bright iridescent hues with the time and date of the event.

The city of Three Spires is thus named for the three towers of ancient stone and steel polished to a mirror sheen some thirty-three thousand feet in height. It is said that these three were built by the Alabaster King's own two hands in some long forgotten age. The Founding Mothers of Linnea added their own touches with the addition of seamless bands of stained glass wrapping around each spire in the form of a triple helix.

From the tip of the spires to the base and the surrounding manicured gardens as far as the eye can see, everything is awash in festive colors. Crowds of people, mostly Linnean Adastras, milled about as various enticing scents and sounds fill the air.

It is three hours before the celebration begins. Perhaps it is enough time to do a little exploring first.

[Genth]

The Skyreme, its large square sails showing the golden crest of Emesh, moored itself upon one of the outer platforms of Arivega, the four rows of Oarwings slowly beating to keep it aloft. Emesh had sent s full ship of heroes, the kilometer-long vessel groaning with riches, weapons, and eager warriors of the Worthy. But the first to step out onto Arivegan soil was the greatest amongst the Old City's nobility, the Prince himself, Mus-Mahhu. Dressed in a long skirt of gold scales and adorned with a feathery cloak of many vibrant shades, the Prince of Emesh held in his left hand the Gidru of his station, a short scepter of onyx and gold. Circling him in a slow orbit is a beautiful glass vessel, round but faceted, in which lies his dried flower-bud, floating in pure springwater.

Mus-Mahhu smiles and bows his head to the officials who came to meet him and the other Emeshi warriors, exchanging pleasantries and offering amphorae of wine as a gift to his gracious hosts. Soon enough however the Prince has taken flight, heading down the spire towards the upper gardens, keen to take in a close view of the grand city. He alights upon a garden platform raised perhaps half a kilometer above ground level, and begins to wander through the crowds, smiling, laughing, and looking for others of his scar-rank.

[5ColouredWalker]

While there's few worthy relatively speaking, Mass teleportation is common enough that there's often zones, assigned times, and other such paperwork to ensure things go smoothly.

It is thus how Hessl arrives in Arivega. With no pomp or circumstance, there's the brief explosion of displaced air as one of the area's marked for large vehicle transport, normally used for transporting the few bulk products that get teleported, Hessl appears. A colossus of Feytouched Flesh reforged into gilded mithril than forged again into the dreamspun essence of fiends, a Ta-Uhan made into a strange mockery of a hydra, resting upon a truly massive Palanquin, all held up by what at a glance might seem to be ghostly Ta-Uhan as translucent as the ghostly limbs that adorn his own body.

He however, is barely paying attention as his Palanquin rises. Communication methods magical and technological grab most of his attention, though two heads still keep a vigilant watch.





Weaving around lesser worthy with grace as he flies Hessl heads towards the tower that was handling the administration of the defence against the Trumpet. Spotting The Skyreme causes Hessl to slow slightly. Within a moment his Palanquin is filled with minor fiends, his steel legion, each setting off in their own direction to scout the area while one proceeds to the officials in Hessl's place.

Hessl meanwhile shifts his form, going from a monster that would tug at the 'Kill the beast' stories within Mus-Mahhu to a much smaller size. His large truck of a palanquin becomes little more than a magic carpet that he rests on while various items make their way into a pocket dimension, with Hessl appearing more the size of a large dog thank a monster of minor legend as he reaches the upper gardens.
However while much of his attention is with meeting a worthy he'd consider worthy of the title, eyes still scan for ghosts as his mind reads the thoughts Mus-Mahhu leaves in his wake.

[Nightraiderx]

Blood Raven had nodded to the orders thinking about how much fun it would be to fell such a great beast.
He had no transportation so he simply used his feet to travel wherever he needed since he felt no such fatigue.
And so Blood Raven simply decided to borrow all the way there, treating it as a test of endurance and routine excercise.

He swims through the dirt gracefully, Despite the appearance of his bulky black armor.
He decided to take a detour deep underground to get the cleanest most natural filtrated water he could muster
And had basically dug up into the street, the clean glass with the seed intact as the dirt and rubble slid off his armor.
"Ah! truly a nice day for a dirt swim! ha haha!" -sighs- "seems I am not as late as I thought I would be." taking notice
as several surprised and horrified party preparers were in shock that a worthy would just erupt from the ground like that.

[Doxkid]

Seru's arrival is almost immediate; the strange insectoid being peels himself from the flesh of Adrasta and then slips through their suit and into the world. Those around the Adrasta don't seem to notice the seven-foot-tall green being's strange ability, or even the space he takes up within the crowd, but Seru's eyes land on each being for a few seconds.

In another time all of these filthy creatures would be part of him. He would gorge himself on their flesh and souls and no one would even care. They would become like unto him, approaching perfection in spirit and form.

If only he were a bit stronger back then, maybe all of these creatures around him would already be part of him... No. There's no point in being a sore loser; isn't he here to be assigned creatures he can archive and consume indiscriminately?

Seru does not part from the festival immediately. Enticed by the smell of living flesh after so many centuries of solitude, he wanders the festival. Even if he's not allowed to taste the population no one would fault him for looking just a little, right?

[boj0]

A glint of reddish gold flutters high in air, a shape rapidly approaching the city proper. Swallowtail-3, the prototype swordsman, flew across the sky like a crimson rocket, three times faster than any bird.

The spires of Arivega were legendary, even the ancient Calambron who had seem much was awed at their size and brilliance.
{i still think they're compensating for something}, Metalmark, the Ghost in the Machine, digital engram locked inside Swallowtail's mind, and his greatest failure. Still, her sense of humor never waived after the multiple centuries. [i think they just enjoy tall spires], the swordsman reacts. While he could recite almost any public record about their construction, he simply didn't feel the need to engage with his partner's immaturity.

He dropped his altitude to swiftly and gracefully land amongst the throngs of people walking the main gates, while a Worthy of his stature was more than expected to make an entrance with enough pomp and theater to inspire the Church of Song for months, he preferred the dust covered roads. Those not Worthy or simply far below him in Rank still made an effort to part ways for him, much to his chagrin. Although, part of that might simply have been the cloud of orichalcum dust that shimmered around him, able to tear apart any would be assailant in moments. A command runs, and they fall back into place, drawn back into the seams of his armor. As soon as that finishes, he already knows Metalmark's next question. [yes, fine, a small bit of 'pizzazz'], and he can practically feel her jump for joy in his head.

Swallowtail-3 activated hard light generators and Metalmark-9 was able to materialize next to him, manifesting as a Calambron with an elaborate headdress that acted as both decoration and as a facsimile of what sensor equipment she would have with a physical body; her form was to be starmetal instead of the translucent light it was currently, but it would do. Swallowtail had his micro drones take the form of fluttering insects to proceed them, blanketing the two in flakes of light.

While he tried to stay humble, there was no denying the incredible workmanship that went into his frame, even as old as he was, the orichalcum and adamantine of his body made him out to be the pinnacle of the old Adastran styles, while his clothing wasn't as fanciful as others, the deep blacks and exuberant yellows of his sashs played a wonderful contrast to the sky-kissed teal of his robes. Even in its sheath, his sword radiated power and craftsmanship only adding to the immense presence the Calambron disliked protruding. With a soft sigh, he proceeds into the city.

[5ColouredWalker]

Seru does not part from the festival immediately. Enticed by the smell of living flesh after so many centuries of solitude, he wanders the festival. Even if he's not allowed to taste the population no one would fault him for looking just a little, right?

And among said population, summoned creatures roam, fluttering too and fro on various errands, Quite possibly beneath notice as they're barely even the illusion of a being, more a temporarily corporeal memory.
Or at least, it would be notice if on, a Devil in shining plate, didn't pause at noticing Seru, and provide a wave.
A moment later there is a second next to him, and the first fades from existence, as many summons do. But the second begins walking towards Seru with purpose.



"Ah! truly a nice day for a dirt swim! ha haha!" -sighs- "seems I am not as late as I thought I would be." taking notice
as several surprised and horrified party preparers were in shock that a worthy would just erupt from the ground like that.

Among said crowd in the gardens, in Hessl, however his attention doesn't turn to Blood Raven. After all, he's too far away compared to the spirit he's telepathically linked to.
Instead, a Fiend in Shining plate glides from the 'flying' paths through the garden, down to a closer ground level and moving towards the front of the crowd.

"I welcome you, Blood Raven, in the name of Hessl. I can attest that you are indeed, not late."
And with that sentence said, another appears, turned side on to best fit in the shifting crowd, before turning to face the Calambron through the shimmering of the disappearing fiend.

[Genth]

"Rejoice, friends, for such a gathering of the surely means that Linnea will be well protected gainst this malicious blizzard." Mus-Mahhu was saying to a small group of concerned though wealthy Adastra, a shimmering goblet of mead held delicately in one hand. To those sweeping up surface thoughts, the Prince's mind was almost archaic, layers upon layers of stories and beliefs, that it is almost impossible to draw a singular line. Still, his mind is certainly full of memories of previous battles against the Trumpet, and of the camaraderie between warriors such events garner.

He let's out a laugh, shaking his head slightly at the question from one of his small audience. "Oh my no, I do not think the Overlord of Overlords will deign to come and deal with this - even the Trumpet is, to him, a trifling matter. No, this is a story for the Worthy in their Multitude, each a hero worth a hundred thousand, gathered as a horde here for glorious purpose."

[Nightraiderx]

Among said crowd in the gardens, in Hessl, however his attention doesn't turn to Blood Raven. After all, he's too far away compared to the spirit he's telepathically linked to.
Instead, a Fiend in Shining plate glides from the 'flying' paths through the garden, down to a closer ground level and moving towards the front of the crowd.

"I welcome you, Blood Raven, in the name of Hessl. I can attest that you are indeed, not late."
And with that sentence said, another appears, turned side on to best fit in the shifting crowd, before turning to face the Calambron through the shimmering of the disappearing fiend.

"Oh hello th- wait a minute" Blood Raven grunts annoyingly as the fiend he was talking to shimmers into nothingness. "Are you going to be disappearing and replacing eachother all the time? Doesn't that get annoying!?" Blood Raven blood boils just thinking about it, fleeting life should only be fleeting by the hands of combat! Not this silly display of sending these messengers back and forth like a ping pong ball.

[Triskavanski]

Lazily drifting through shadow and shade was a particular cat with quite a grin on his face. Letting out a soft yawn, he drifted around through the streets of the town never letting on up his stealth unless he wanted for a moment. He wasn't quite one to care for trifling matters of politics and honor, but the situation caught his attention.With so many worthy people, who's to say is truthfully worthy at all? Alas, after all, so many of them could destroy mountains with not but a flick of a finger, but for Chereth? Those kinds of feats where far beyond him, rather he much rather prefer to stay out of direct conflict when he could.

[NineOfSpades]

Stepping off the train, Vivian Toussaint adjusted her coat and breathed in the city air. The journey overland had taken longer, but she was glad for it. The summons to war had come to her, calling the able bodied to rise in defense of Linnea. In truth, while she was no field mouse, Vivian held no illusions of her own strength. There was little she could do to stop the hordes Ziruna which approached, and already she suspected the gathering warriors had strength enough that her absence from the battle lines wouldn't be noticed.

She had considered, briefly, not coming at all.

The Emphemeral, now solid, made her journey through the city. Such walks were... difficult. Wherever her eyes fell, she saw with such a sharp clarity that it boardered on a physical pain. In every spared glance, in every momentary twitch, she read a lifetime of truths. And Vivian took it all in, whether she wished it or not.

When the call to assembly had gone out, Vivian had considered declining, but could not bring herself to do so. Because, somewhere in the world, a name had been spoken. A name which must never, ever, be said. A name which has now called forth a walking calamity, a doom which approached on frozen winds.

If the name had been spoken, then it would follow that there was a speaker. And if they were not stopped, then there could be no victory here. Ziruna could be called forth, again and again, until it buried the world in ice and death. The speaker needed to be found.

Vivian was on the case.

==================================================

Arriving at the location of the meeting, Vivian had not used the flower given to her, though she kept it close at hand in case it proved useful. A healthy degree of paranoia served her well in most instances, afterall. Besides, with such an amassing of Worthy, whose scars placed them close to the thousand strongest beings in creation, it was a trivial matter to simply follow others.

The first trail she had arrived on belonged to a Calambron warrior, and in a short amount of time she'd traced it to it's owner, and the hard light construct which accompanied them. Walking with smooth steps, Vivian fell in beside the swordsman with an easy, open expression, inclining her head in a motion of respectful greeting "Salutations to you. Would it be terribly impolite of me to impose upon your walk with my company? It would appear we are headed in the same direction unless I am mistaken"

[boj0]

Swallowtail's head looks to the side, and without missing a step extendeds his hand out to the road and nods his head in agreement; "You would be correct to assume we are headed to the same location, and your company would not intrude at all, in fact it may even aid in my companion and I not sticking out like a Thundercharger amongst cattle. I am Swallowtail-3 and my compatriot is Metalmark-9, may I ask for your name?"

[NineOfSpades]

The scarlet haired woman gave a nod, and bowed slightly "It is a pleasure, Swallowtail, Metalmark" she inclined to each in turn "My name is Vivian Toussaint, it is a pleasure".

Waking along the roadway, Vivian passively noted the streets around them "The city is surprisingly lively, given the circumstances. I do wonder if that comes from confidence in the success of the champions coming to their aid."

[D&DPrinceTandem]

A Scurry of squirrels speed about the festival actives, enough to be noticed, but not enough negative effect revelers. The follow no specific course of action. Under close inspection it can be noticed that have two too many legs and three too many eyes and a horn adorning there head. Truly strange beasts, but causing no harm or disturbance to the civilized folk, for their sights are set on a parliament above.
Circling on high, a flight of birds to be in complete chaos, seemingly unable to find an order or direction; or maybe searching for something among the crowds. A strangeness can be noticed though, they seem to each only possess one wing - which surprisingly isn't effecting there flight in the slightest- and there movements seem to disregard each other, passing through one another instead of colliding. It can be noticed that they seem unfocused towards the civilized folk or there activities, they have more pressing matters to attend to, an infestation of tree rats with too many features.

Meanwhile, Thaumiel sits in a damp room -uncomfortable to most, mortal and worthy alike-, in a building comprised of her own flesh and essence. She watches through a thousand eyes dispersed throughout the worlds that are, the realm that isn't, and the holes that should have never been, though a particular location is her focus of the hour, The time is near she thinks to herself. A waiting servant, a humanoid shaped owl like creature dressed in the finest azure cloak known to be, notices a change in the slightest features on the fungal patterns of his lady's cap.
"I beg you my lady, please let me go in your st-" he begins before he is interrupted.
"Not today Yethel; It has been long since I have walked the Prime World, I fear I may be falling to the Eternal Slumber." she emits. A wave of energy surges throughout the room, as well as the Realm for that matter. She stands, something she hasn't done in decades. The Owl steps back. She morphs, something she hasn't done in centuries. The Owl's jaw opens in awe. And then, an event takes place that hasn't happened in this realm for countless eons. She vanishes.


In a sudden rush of movement and momentum the scurry converges upon a particular fountain preparing to mount an assault on the areal hunters. In an act of strange, synchronized chaos the Parliament above spots their prey and converges in a funneled dive. The Squirrels pile upon one another, eager to seek their enemies is mortal combat. and as the avians and rodents are about to meet in glorious warfare they are all consumed in a conspicuous aura of prismatic hues of purples, blues and greens, and fractal areas that shouldn't fit in the space it occupies. From this presence emerges a creature, a Female approximately 9 feet tall of slender build. She dons what seems to be a stiff wide brim hat composed of fungal matter, umbonate in cap shape with a curtain of deep purple gills that obscure the woman's facial features, though Iridescent eyes that seem simultaneously both red and gold shine through the curtain. A long burgundy drape of seemingly damp hair covers her shoulders and mid-way down her back. She adorns herself in a form fitting dress of Deep Blues and Soft Greens. Fine tendrils seek the ground as she steps out of the portal and onto the ledge of the fountain. She scans the area as she clutches a clear octahedron containing a dried flower bud that seems to attempt to bloom as her eyes pass over it, a flourish and it vanishes. For the first time in a long time, she intakes a breath of air not cultivated to her will, a challenge, she notes to herself. To onlookers the oddity of a Adastra without a suit is concerning but easily pushed aside by noting what guests where to be expected this day, acceptations to the norm.

As she scans the masses, she passively floats higher to get a better view, maggots would provide more sustenance then these so-called worthy., she thinks passively. Lesser worthy she adds as she notices a few peculiarities amongst the crowd.

[drack]

At home.
Just as Celic was beginning to contemplate his recently rather sedentary lifestyle his assistant had presented him with a work request. It was an odd sort of thing, officially his organization still existed and he'd still help out with things if asked. he even still had a mailbox in the courts of Fleshborn clay, but that was the thing. They didn't ask. Many mailboxes in the area were left to rust through and have their buildings collapse before others would dare to reuse the plot, especially in the inner region near to the inverse mountain where a residence itself could be an ancient worthy who only meant to nap a few centuries but accidentally let an eon or two slip by. Nevertheless he'd received a request, the first in over a century, in his mailbox, which had been retrieved and delivered by his assistant. Perhaps... could it be that he was getting old or thinking himself retired? Why did a request for action surprise him? He almost wanted to do it just to prove to himself that he wasn't some old fossil crawling out of the grave, which upon further consideration, perhaps he was...

Unfurling the leather scroll, the skin of which he was having trouble placing the origin of, Celic read it. "Trumpet of frost? Isn't that above my league, or have I already grown this far?" Nevertheless he cautiously accepted. He was worthy after all, not some mortal. If he failed death could only be a minor setback, and perhaps he could experience something new again.

__________________________________________________ _______________________

On the path to the arranged celebrations.
In the City of three spires a Gate opened after only enough pause for a bath and wardrobe change. Albeit the letter had likely sat in his mailbox for a span, but he couldn't be late could he? Beyond the gate a small one family house with a first floor office comes into view. A half dozen ravens squalk uneasily, taking flight through the gate into the skies as the smooth wooden door opens. A man appearing perhaps forty years old with neatly trimmed hair and a simple but colorful suit exited it flanked by two amorphous blobs of shadow and tentacles to act as personal attendants. His suit was black with shades of blue and purple playing across his tie and vest to paint his faintly purple, giving way to a light purple dress shirt. Together they blended into a mellow flow of colors like a sunset haloed in color as it fades from the sky. In his hand lies a clipboard and pen, and on his nose rest a simple gold framed pair of spectacles. For their part the amorphous blobs of darkness are decorated with a slash of red. While they blink from time o time belying their true nature, they instead act as bow ties and cloth highlights.

The two servants bow deeply as they cross the Gate as if to introduce their master, and with a peaceful smile Celic walks quietly towards the meeting place, leaving the Gate to close behind him.

__________________________________________________ _______________________

Where birds and squirrels fight; off to explore.
As the Gate snaps shut across the city another one opens where avians and rodents recently fought. Before this gate the same simple building appears, and from it a seemingly identical Celic walks out alone, allowing the second Gate to snap shut behind him, but as soon as he stops a half dozen shadows and as many rats disperse into the surroundings. Disregarding the scurrying rodents, Celic turns to his old acquaintance. While he was never tall, he seemed exceedingly short beside the woman, being less then two thirds her height, but beside her deep blues and soft greens his vibrant purple and blue with subtle violet and black made it seem as if they were each as light to the other's dark as dark to the other's light. An unintended but perhaps not unexpected harmony in wardrobe choice. "Taking personal action? How rare." He said, but somehow he made it sound like a complement. "It seems we still have some time, should we explore what secrets this city holds and take in the sights?" With practiced ease he offered his arm to her, but the action lacked intimacy, adhering strictly to etiquette as if it were a demonstration in a book rather then an offer of attention from a man to a woman.

[5ColouredWalker]

Hessl and Mus in the Gardens

[COLOR="#FFD700"]"No, this is a story for the Worthy in their Multitude, each a hero worth a hundred thousand, gathered as a horde here for glorious purpose."

"Why Mus-Mahhu, do you seek to become a multitude? Not even I reach so broadly!"
A happy, joyful voice reaches Mus's voice. Hessl, long since having abandoned feigned rest as he explores, instead dances, intricate hand motions with meanings in sign languages lost and common, mundane and arcane, light steps upon the cushion like tiny palanquin carried by a spectral Ta-Uhan in the clothes of Bellicose master, not that Hessl's blade-work could ever match the Hero of Dreams. Even his enterouge is almost a weak mockery, a handful of Hessl's steel legion, a army of fiends long left behind but who's spirits he mirrors for his magics.


"But truly, it's great to see you once more. It will be a joy to fight by your side."
Dead eyes of the spectral servant don't quite carry the smile in it's voice, but it's easily seen in the eyes of Hessl.


Then, as commotions occur caused by the steadily increasing amount of odd squirrels aggressively hunting owls, all such mutated animals within a fith of a mile just, disappear.
Bad misread on my part, max range is actually 405ft


A Devil and Blood Raven in the Gardens

"Oh hello th- wait a minute" Blood Raven grunts annoyingly as the fiend he was talking to shimmers into nothingness. "Are you going to be disappearing and replacing each-other all the time? Doesn't that get annoying!?"
The devil looks confused for just a moment before smiling.
"Not in the slightest, for I'm not real, just a mirror of a dream of bloody service, a figment of smoke existing for but a moment. I exist but to serve, if my service is to travel and speak in preparation of the shed, then it's my ephemeral joy."

It then tilts it's head the barest degree.

"Or simply, I exist about a minute and my mind is empty. I do what I'm told. But Hessl dances not far if my existence is an insult, and I would be happy to lead on, he'd even be happy to introduce you to another Worthy or studies the blade as you do."


The Arival of Thaumiel and the Irritation of Hessl


As she scans the masses, she passively floats higher to get a better view, maggots would provide more sustenance then these so-called worthy., she thinks passively. Lesser worthy she adds as she notices a few peculiarities amongst the crowd.

Speaking of Peculiarities, shadows of worthy, summoned fiends flit around, eyes of another...
Another from which a wave of death emanates out. Squirrels and Owls one moment start fighting, and one moment die in a wave of heat and pain. No obvious cause, just a slight delay as the wave ripples out as they disappear, with no repeats as they start to fill the void.

[BelGareth]

úlfheðnar of the Lost, opened one eye, disturbing his peace, and week long meditation. But it wasn't out of surprise, or unawareness, quite the opposite, he sensed something, it was as if the world ached under a terrible presence, something he knew, would take the most powerful of the Worthy just to defeat. His skin began to ache, the scars long ago having healed, but the ache they caused was a permanent reminder, one he decided to redo revise with his powers, they were a reminder, one he was proud of, and proud to bear.

Blinking both eyes, he awoke fully, taking his time. Stretching one limb, and then another, until he was standing. He could hear the other Gorgonid's scurrying about, their champion had awoken, and early. There was a tinge of fear to their thoughts, and he had to concentrate on it so he could focus on the fear, the terror, and the mortal dread. He knew why, he understood it more than any, they feared he had lost control, and rightly so, he had done so in the past. But that was another time, long ago, his protections were still in place.

He focused for a few minutes, and curious, peaked into his other personality, and was met with a wall of pure rage, anger, and havoc. He quickly withdrew, not willing to let the bonds slip and allow his caged beast loose. It would not do, and he had been bound by an oath to his people, never again.

Knowing where he would be summoned, he began packing, but then realized, rather sheepishly, there was not much to pack, he simply needed his gear, and that was it, his armor was already donned, and the only thing left was his weapon. But he would need to cast several spells first.

The simple hut swirled with energy as he summoned the epic powers to enhance his strength, his durability and to protect him. The powers were close to consuming the village, but he was always in control, and never once let anything slip, pure control, his life long journey into the gestalt consciousness that he was now, nothing but control, and.....uncontrol. But that was for another time, perhaps soon?

Having prepared, he walked out of the hut, with his great weapon on his back, a herculean feat in and of itself, but a simple one for úlfheðnar, Exalted aspect of the Earth, and one of the Worthy.

He decided to walk, it would ground him, and allow him to meditate as he did so. No one should be confused enough to accost him, and if they did, then....he would deal with them.

His walk to Linnea was an uneventful one, to his chagrin, if he was being honest, a small event would have provided a distraction, but the peace he had experienced along the way was priceless, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Control.

As he crossed into Linnea, he was handed a dried flower bud with instructions to place in a glass of water, he nodded to the one who presented the bud to him, and moved on, thinking of the bud, and the flower within, and the life it had lived until this point. Finding a nearby inn, he stepped inside, where everyone instantly stopped what they were doing, it was not every day a Worthy entered such an establishment. He simply ignored them, moved to the bar and asked for a glass of water, of which the bar keep stumbled, and then ran to go get one, coming back a moment later with an intricately crafted crystal decanter, and a pitcher of ice cold water.

úlfheðnar smiled at the act, it was quite obvious, and he genuinely nodded his admiration to the barkeep, he didn't abuse his rank often, but he liked to observe the lesser folk when they tried to appease a worthy. He poured the water, and watched as the bud bloomed, pushing as it did so, with bright iridescent hues that filled the whole tavern, everyone seemed to stop and regard this magical missive, and only úlfheðnar could really read the contents, he understood right away, and nodded to the barkeep, leaving a single gold coin to the man, a blessing in and of itself.

Now he would have to travel to the capitol of Arivega, to the city of Three-spires, and suffer through the pomp and whimsy that was sure to follow such an invitation and event.

Smiling at it all, he began his long journey, enjoying the simpleness of walking, the dirt, and dust, and even the deference shown him. Few Worthy traveled with the lesser ranked, and fewer still did so without randomly killing people who looked at them wrong. It was an interesting dichotomy, one which úlfheðnar wanted to observe directly.

It did not take a worthy long, even one who decided to walk. He reached the city gates, and was let in without question, a large space around him having formed from other pilgrims, travelers and merchants. A few worthy were now easy to see, flying, gliding, flashing from point to point like a bolt of lightning, or simply vanishing through solid objects, moving in a straight line, ignoring whatever they moved through. All seemed interesting to úlfheðnar, as he kept on walking .

[boj0]

Swallowtail-3 nods along with Vivian's assessment of the scene, "The Sublime Beast has been halted many times before, I'm sure their confidence isn't unwarranted; however from available records, the returns and attacks seem to have become more frequent. Perhaps such a...colorful collection of defenders could finally solve such a problem. We do have the great Vivian Toussaint on the case, after all." As if to punctuate his words, a parade of Worthy in all of their theater and pomp walk past them.

[Genth]

The Prince turns to face the strange, long-changed Ta-Uhan, his golden skirt glittering like stars as he moves, and grins broadly, raising his goblet to the air and sweeping his Gidru to one side as he approaches the other Worthy. "Dancer! It is a great day to clap eyes upon you once more, my Comrade!" he exclaims, walking over. "Such a skilled wielder of energies as yourself will be a blessed addition to the forces here to oppose our brogdinagian foe!".

Pausing for a moment, Mus-Mahhu snaps his fingers "I cannot permit such an occasion to go past without a gift, old friend." he decides, and lifts his Gidru to the air, turning it over and concentrating for a moment. Before him, shimmering light flows and twines around itself, flickering before settling into the shape of an oddly graceful mace. As the light fades, the weapon is revealed, gold-trimmed adamantine in the shape of a mace with six facets to the head, each depicting a roaring serpent, the eyes gleaming with precious stones.

Mus smiles as he offers the expertly-made weapon to Hessl, a beautiful piece even if non-magical. "A token of my respect for you, Hessl, Dancer in the Circle, my old friend and true Worthy."

Using Create with Mythical Materials, Create Materials, Fabricate to craft a gold, adamantine and gemstone mace.

Craft (Weapons) [roll0]

[D&DPrinceTandem]

As the Squirrels and Owls Vaporize the strange mutations on each seem to remain, eyes hover in space and spectral wings dance without a body. Thought they shortly melding into the clothes of the woman, like ink into water. Those features not within the immediate vicinity seem to blink out of reality as if they where never their. "Ah yes, 'The world that is' is as welcoming as it has ever been. Good to know somethings never change." Her blood boiling red eyes setting in the direction of a particular Winged-Hydra creature. "There Inability to evolve beyond the mortalities and codes they lie to themselves with does perplex me though.." Thaumiel contemplates if she could remove such inhibitions with surgery or psychic re-organizing.

Thaumiel takes note of a familiar voice, smiling as the veil concealing her face part like curtains to each side of the cap. A smooth smile appears on what can only be described as an alien beauty's face. "Greeting Celic," she says as she descends to his level, simultaneously shrinking her form to be equal to his, "It has been far too long since you have visited Eden my friend. I take it I am here on the same summons as yourself." she takes his arm as her feet connect with the stony floor. Her eyes flash the area, settling on select individuals within the crowd, obviously some kind of worthy in one way or another, and obvious of relative the same rank as herself. "Yes, I can already tell that this city hold a great many secrets and.. peculiarities. I would not be apposed to taking in the sights and adventure with you my friend."

[drack]

Celic, Thaumiel, Úlfheðnar, in the quiet park

Celic lets out a soft and wistful sigh, disregarding the gore around them which his rats were already beginning to clean up of their own volition. "Truly time has been slipping past more and more easily these days. I think... perhaps I fear it. Becoming lost in my own dream only to forget the world. Would I ever awaken? Is that what death is for our kind?" Celic shakes his head with a faint smile. "Well even should I be gone someday, you are welcome to visit any time." As if catching sight of something Celic turns his head and begins walking Thaumiel through a nearby ally leading back to the main streets with a slow and measured pace as he talks. "As you have guessed, I'm here to stretch my limbs and try to shake away some sleep with this event, in fact it seems many of our peers have come." Reaching thestreet he turns as if he'd already known the man was there and calls out "Úlfheðnar! It's been a while, but seems we still have some hours left, care to explore the city with us?" He hadn't seen the man since they'd met on the battlefield, and frankly he wasn't sure the man would remember him or anything else about that day considering how lost he was in fury, but Celic made a point to remember competent coworkers from the office as it were.

[Triskavanski]

Still floating about on high, invisible and in the shadows, the cat Drua-daa shook his his head clicking his tongue. He constantly sought to keep out of people's vision, just enough to avoid being spotted by most things. "tsktsktsk. Always going about and making a mess of their own. Gathering are always so tiring. "

[Nightraiderx]

A Devil and Blood Raven in the Gardens

The devil looks confused for just a moment before smiling.
"Not in the slightest, for I'm not real, just a mirror of a dream of bloody service, a figment of smoke existing for but a moment. I exist but to serve, if my service is to travel and speak in preparation of the shed, then it's my ephemeral joy."

It then tilts it's head the barest degree.

"Or simply, I exist about a minute and my mind is empty. I do what I'm told. But Hessl dances not far if my existence is an insult, and I would be happy to lead on, he'd even be happy to introduce you to another Worthy or studies the blade as you do."


"That's a strange and convenient way of existing, Devil." Blood Raven will ponder for a second and then stop thinking, "Alright! lead me to your creator, then" Blood Raven would follow the Fiend back to where Hessl and Mus who were speaking. Albeit his lumbering body, he was able to move decently through the crowd, as people quickly stepped aside to make way for him. He really didn't think much about it. He had seen dozens upon dozens of people that their blood didn't excite him anymore. He would hunt for exquisite blood, thinking about how much the trumpet could bleed and if he drained it how many towns could he flood it in gore. He'd look to the left and then the right to both in kind and then ask,
"So which one of you is the creator of this Devil figment thingy?"

[5ColouredWalker]

Hessl, Mus-Mahhu, Thaumiel and Blood Raven


"A token of my respect for you, Hessl, Dancer in the Circle, my old friend and true Worthy."

Using Create with Mythical Materials, Create Materials, Fabricate to craft a gold, adamantine and gemstone mace.

Craft (Weapons) [roll0]

Eyes turn on him and a voice comes from the air, but the face Mus looks at never wavers while his other 4 spread far as he seemingly steps off the pillow holding him, smoothly and with barely a shift expands to his true size, whereupon one of his hands reaches around his back, and draws something that never was, those behind him like the many eyes see a mace being drawn from magic.

"Truly a fine gift from a fine leader, I had almost forgotten your generosity, and would offer one in return for your own collection. May it's blessings serve you well to reap glory to come!"

And thus he brings his own mace around to trade, a Beauty of Serren wood, the wood indented slightly with words of friendship and a mural of herorism, topped with a head of Frystaline Crystal, through which golden Auroram seemingly grows out of the wood to anchor it, a weapon echoing dreams of the divine, and radiating soft enchantments.


True Creation for a Masterwork Serren/Frystaline Mace (5305, made 26525 from spell to deduct from inventory. Plus another 50 for item alteration. Counts as ghost touch and good.)

Skill roll for Craftsmanship: [roll0]+53 [Raw Int, Competence items, and misc bonuses.]

Also comes with a permanent Greater Magic Weapon, using Item Alteration to make it a +5 Morale Bonus, and Greater Weapon Augmentation for the Flaming Burst property, and Energy Alteration to change the energy type to Divine (So dealing 1d6 divine damage, and crits doing extra divine damage. I considered force but Serren should be fine.).

If hit by a Dispel effect that beats CL 30, the Mace will transition to just being a Masterwork Serren/Frystaline Mace. Note only the haft counts as Ghost Touch, and only the head Good. Theoretically I should pay for the Auroram and it should allow the mace to reatach the head if it's pulled off or perhaps for it to be used as a Serren/Auroram mace but eh.


Trading weapons, Hessl smiles happily.


Thought they shortly melding into the clothes of the woman, like ink into water. Those features not within the immediate vicinity seem to blink out of reality as if they where never their. "Ah yes, 'The world that is' is as welcoming as it has ever been. Good to know somethings never change."

While Hessl speaks his 4 heads sight on Thaumiel, soon only 2 pay attention while 2 more return to Mys-Mahhu, meanwhile the few devil's in the way move aside.
"Thaumiel, if it was you I would have constrained myself to bless you with the entrance you desired! You have my humblest appologies for my rudeness. I was merely trying to keep this party friendly, surely you've not rested so long to forget how we prefer to rest?"

But while when head speaks, another head thinks, loudly, telepathically touching Thaumiel's mind, just enough that she can tell it's there, gently enough to easily be ignored should she leave her mental defenses raised.
'That you don't think I've done such to myself is amusing. Have you forgotten the look of hardened dreamflesh in realspace as well? I change my mind to suit he times and change my flesh to suit the goals, thinking about me like I'm constrained to my birthform is just... I would have thought it beneath you.'



"So which one of you is the creator of this Devil figment thingy?"

The devil, it's duty done bows, extending a hand towards the devil before being diplaced with a careless Wave from Hessl and the tell tail ffooo suck of teleportation, and one of the heads facing Thaumiel turns further still to face towards Blood Rave, appearing almost to bow as the fiend's ranked up behind him move once again out of the way.


"I believe the Dancer in the Circle here is the one you are looking for. Tell me your name, follower of the Bellicose path!"
"If I could have the pleasure, this is Blood Raven, who may indeed be here to be part of the, shaking up! I do believe he's recently shed quite a few scars."

With that Hessl holds two of his corporeal hands, a sharpened claw digging slightly into his flesh, and releasing a single drop of blood, which then floats towards Blood Raven telekinetically. Unspoken movements directed towards Blood Raven and Blood Raven alone tell the tale of it's worth, a gift, an apology, a tool, in recompense for frustration offered.


Taking 10 on Bluff to send a message to send a secret message to Blood Raven, Sense Motive 129 is needed to intercept.
Invocation allows me to soundlessly and wordlessly use Diplomacy, which I use to get my point accross. No roll due to player to player, but would take 10 for 156 to 'Apologise for my accidental rudeness. Here's a gift I think worthy.'

[Genth]

Accepting the mace with a light flicker of his telekinesis to lift it, Mus-Mahhu examines the gift with a careful eye, the smile on his features clearly delighted. "Fine craftsmanship as always, my friend." he says, placing it reverently within his extradimensional storage.

"So, the Winter that Walks has returned once again, and the cycle slips back." the prince observes, taking another drink of his mead as he talks to Hessl. "Perhaps this time will see a new hero show themselves - our ranks are due a shake up, heh." he remarks, chuckling to himself.

When the hulking construct of Blood Raven approaches, the Ephermeral's curiosity is piqued, head tilting to observe the newcomer. "I believe the Dancer in the Circle here is the one you are looking for. Tell me your name, follower of the Bellicose path!"

[NineOfSpades]

Swallowtail-3 nods along with Vivian's assessment of the scene, "The Sublime Beast has been halted many times before, I'm sure their confidence isn't unwarranted; however from available records, the returns and attacks seem to have become more frequent. Perhaps such a...colorful collection of defenders could finally solve such a problem. We do have the great Vivian Toussaint on the case, after all." As if to punctuate his words, a parade of Worthy in all of their theater and pomp walk past them.

Vivians expression at the compliment was a polite, but perhaps shallow smile. "You are far to kind in your assessment, I would hate it should I fail to rise to meet such praise". Vivian knew full well her abilities, and had plenty of confidence that she could indeed locate the person or persons responsible. One advantage of confidence was that there was little need to boast. Taking the words in stride, she returned the gesture "But alas, I suspect the people of this fair city will be far more grateful for having your swordarm in their defense than the work of my little gray cells, as they well should be."

A tract of her thoughts was here, enjoying the walk with the swordmaster, while another thread of her mind was listening to the conversation taking place between Thaumiel, the necromancer Celic, and Úlfheðnar, their presence standing out starkly to her. Vivian had little joy in her heart for some of the soldiers called for this battle, finding their tools and talents distasteful. An alliance of convienance might be needed, truely every hand that offered aid would be valued in this endevor, but that didn't mean she had to like it, nor did it mean she could trust blindly. Keeping tabs was just a matter of prudence.

"It would seem the champions are assembling already." She commented to Swallowtail and Metalmark, inclining her head in the direction of the amassing warriors and worthy. "Would you care to go make introductions? I must admit, such gatherings are often merely a stage for the egos, but it would probably be best all the same that each in turn has a chance to take measure of their counterparts, no?"


Celic and Úlfheðnar are [Scouted]. Swallowtail and Metalmark are now [Suspects]

[boj0]

Swallowtail wasn't one for posturing over ego, but he couldn't deny the curiosity he had to compare his strength to fellow Worthy. "Indeed, at the very least it is the polite thing to do. Hopefully calmer heads can make sure our fellows don't become too eager to prematurely celebrate."

As they approach a gathering of Worthy, Swallowtail could almost taste the wisps of power in the air, which in itself was an accomplishment since he often chose not to taste things. Metalmark disabled the projectors and reintegrated with his combat analysis systems; a slight change in the tempo of his steps, the hint of a shift in weight, a tilt of the head and position of his arms; hardly anything changed, but to an observant student of the Sublime Way, Swallowtail had effectively gone from walking like a common vagabond to prowling like the jade tigers of the Four Hundred Mountains of Iron. He wasn't one for walking the warpath right out the gate, but to attend any gathering of Worthy without being prepared was beyond foolish.

Swallowtail is currently in all Iron Heart stances as well as Thicket of Blades

[Doxkid]

Or at least, it would be notice if on, a Devil in shining plate, didn't pause at noticing Seru, and provide a wave.
A moment later there is a second next to him, and the first fades from existence, as many summons do. But the second begins walking towards Seru with purpose.


"...A product of that spell-thrall's mischief? I suppose you are making sure that nothing happens to the lesser beings while we await our orders, hm? I see quite a few others doing the same." Back when he was known as the Scar-Eater Seru created more than enough trouble to warrant surveillance for the rest of eternity; it is neither surprising nor unexpected that any gathering that is to include him will require a few Scarred to work security around him.

"Do not worry. I am a changed Star-Blood; better in too many ways to list in full. I will not take action unprovoked. But...perhaps it would be best to remind others of what I am and who I once was...before any mistakes are made." The gardens are so alive Seru would be remiss to stand still chatting with coworkers all day. There will be time for that later.

A drop of blood rolls down Seru's finger, flicked into the air behind him as he alters his path and walks in a slightly different direction. Midair it stretches into a crude imitation of his body, which is then quickly filled with magic and venom and hunger and the light of the stars; as one Seru takes a step away a newly formed Seru approaches the summoned being. "Is there anything else your need of me? Perhaps you creator would like a word?"

[5ColouredWalker]

The Enlargening Gathering



"So which one of you is the creator of this Devil figment thingy?"


When the hulking construct of Blood Raven approaches, the Ephermeral's curiosity is piqued, head tilting to observe the newcomer. "I believe the Dancer in the Circle here is the one you are looking for. Tell me your name, follower of the Bellicose path!"


"If I could have the pleasure, this is Blood Raven, who may indeed be here to be part of the, shaking up! I do believe he's recently shed quite a few scars."

With that Hessl holds two of his corporeal hands, a sharpened claw digging slightly into his flesh, and releasing a single drop of blood, which then floats towards Blood Raven telekinetically. Unspoken movements directed towards Blood Raven and Blood Raven alone tell the tale of it's worth, a gift, an apology, a tool, in recompense for frustration offered.


Taking 10 on Bluff to send a message to send a secret message to Blood Raven, Sense Motive 129 is needed to intercept.
Invocation allows me to soundlessly and wordlessly use Diplomacy, which I use to get my point accross. No roll due to player to player, but would take 10 for 156 to 'Apologise for my accidental rudeness. Here's a gift I think worthy.'



As Vivian and Swallowtail-3 Approach, they are noticed among Hessl's many eyes around the room. Feeling the area to be a touch crowded, he decides to clear the area of fiends, the few making up his standing retiune turning to face the appropriate worthy, and bowing their heads before vanishing, the faint sound to teleportation revealing the means of their dismissal. Now, he stands almost entirely alone, two spectral and nobly dressed Ta-Uhan remain to mark safe summoning spots for the remaining summons he feels he need, as is not too much time two will be all the fiends around the party.

Hessl however does not introduce Vivian and Swalowtail by name, while he recognises them and they approach, that's far from his place.

A Devil and A Seru
"You recognise me a conjuring? Your eyes truly are sharp. I approach on the behalf of Hessl with greetings and welcome, though should you wish to mingle without meeting that's more than fine by his estimation. Though there is a gathering knot of worthy among our esteemed calibre, I would be happy to lead you if you wish?"

[Nightraiderx]

"If I could have the pleasure, this is Blood Raven, who may indeed be here to be part of the, shaking up! I do believe he's recently shed quite a few scars."

"Yes I have, this is quite the fun game,these scars of Worthy!" He would show off some of the battle scars that tore into his black armor.


"I believe the Dancer in the Circle here is the one you are looking for. Tell me your name, follower of the Bellicose path!"

"As he has mentioned before I am Blood Raven war machine #55457535453! I saw your flying castle thing! it was quite cool! What is your names?"
Blood Raven asked innocently as he registered the blood from Hessl and making sure he would not forget his "smell".

[Genth]

"As he has mentioned before I am Blood Raven war machine #55457535453! I saw your flying castle thing! it was quite cool! What is your names?"
Blood Raven asked innocently as he registered the blood from Hessl and making sure he would not forget his "smell".

Mus-Mahhu smiles broadly, and makes a sweeping gesture outward, his golden skirt glittering as it shifts with his movement. "I am satisfied by meeting you, War Machine Blood Raven. You are permitted to know that you are in the presence of the Hero-Prince of Emesh, the Old City of Dreams. I am the son of Usum-Gallu, the Great King of Emesh. I am the vanquisher of the Bull of Salt and the lover of the Prideful Star In-En-Nah. I am the Keeper of the Ossified Armory, and the savior of the Peaceful Child. I am Mus-Mahhu, and I bid you greetings." the prince replies, his form seeming to shimmer slightly at the mention of his names and deeds, his feathered tail whipping through the air. "I will not request that you bow, friend, in respect of your scars." he adds, with a slightly haughty, but genuine warmth.

"You are here to do battle with the Trumpet then, Blood Raven?" he asks, tapping his goblet to refill it with mead. "May your weapons bite deeply, and your foes blood run freely"

[Zarthrax]

The hulking mass of soulsteel shudders and thuds into the city, wisps of shadows streaming in his wake, the thick and heavy chain weaved into his armor clanking loudly with every step.


After being delivered the bud and informed of its requirements, he shakes his head and returns it.

"Celebration is inefficient. Cultists must be found. Trumpet must be ceased."

Dimming his eyes slightly, Unit 17 listens to the will of the laws, reaching out to find those whose transgressions deserve its touch...

Flawless Enforcer Favored Transgressions are set to 'Worship the Trumpet of Frost' and "Recite the name of the Trumpet of Frost",
Whenever a forbidden action is taken within 1 mile of the flawless enforcer, he or she instantly learns which action occurred, what direction it occurred in, the distance away it occurred, and the name and appearance of the transgressor (if any) at the moment of the crime. A flawless enforcer can identify any creature who has performed at least one prohibited action within the past 24 hours by sight so long as they are within 60 feet of him or her.

[D&DPrinceTandem]

Thaumiel, Celic, and Úlfheðnar
"Death for our kind..." Thaumiel eyes dilate, deep in thought, her focus on the path forward. "I do not believe the worldly's idea of death could equate to the Eternal slumber my friend. True death for them is it.. over.. silence... the Eternal slumber is...stillness. a petrification of psyche for us. I too have felt the draw of it over the ages. My last escape was amongst the longest yet, The Repressed one seems to call to me from beyond." she shuddered and laughs nervously at the title. Looking to Celic, smiles somberly, "Your Dreamscapes are always therapeutic Celic; you still have the creativity of youth my friend."

Thaumiel recognizes the name of Úlfheðnar from Yethel speaking of him, and a few detail come to mind "Úlfheðnar.." she ponders quietly, "An unparalleled warrior by trust accounts." The Gorgonid's essence resonates in Thaumiel's sense, "Your connection to the Akasha is similar to my chosen, no wonder Yethel spoke so highly"

Thaumiel & Hessl
"Perhaps you have warped your own mind too much worldly Dancer. My kind do not forget. Need I remind you of when we pulled you from the jaws of the Dreaming One?" Thaumiel returns, a jesting tone in her thought "My desires are not of the concern of Worldly Hessl, do not hassle yourself to attempt to appease them. Such attempts will only leave you disappointed and empty-handed... speaking of hands, I do applaud you in your continual evolution, its a beautiful art that seems to be dying out in these realms. Though if you seek a helping hand, do not hesitate to reach out," an empathic feeling of alliance and respect accompanies the thought-borne dialog.

[Kaouse]

Sheng Lau Mane had been in Linnea for several hours prior to receiving the call. Indeed, he was already a part of the festivities. All who attained the minimum rank of Chef de Partie from the Great Culinary School of Borakshun were sent advanced invitations so that they might man a booth and help cater the event. Sheng Lau Mane, on the other hand, was no specialized Chef de Partie. No, Sheng Lau Mane had attained the prestigious rank of Sou Chef. While a Chef de Partie may be master of one area of cooking, whether that be meats, or sauce, or vegetables or pastries, as a Sou Chef, Sheng Lau Mane was well versed in all cooking disciplines.

It was his philosophy, however, to cook and eat only what he encountered. In doing so, each meal would tell a story of life and death. As a result, every meal he made would be different, with different ingredients based upon the various locales he visited and the various monsters he ran into. At the end of every battle, he would harvest the flesh of the creatures he fought. At the end of every quest, he would throw a banquet. The extra time for this invitation, was thus spent on an extra long quest through various regions, culminating in a melange of hydra eggs and wyrm tail meat, garnished with sautéed and assassinated assassin vine. The sauce was made from an Ambrosia of life mixed with the ectoplasm of a banshee for that extra bit of discordant, yet succulent flavor.

As always, his meals were a hit with the general public. In no small part because he never charged anything for his meals. All were welcome to come and enjoy. None received special privilege. None were turned away. All who came were fed, and with but a single meal all left fully satisfied for at least a day. Many often found themselves healed of most ailments they may have suffered prior to ingesting the cuisine. So clean was this arrangement, that it didn't take him long to find people willing to take over the duties of serving the food and cleaning up after everyone. It was remarkaly easy to get people to help once they were fully satiated.

It took some time, but eventually, when his booth ran smoothly without need of his input, he left them, quickly and quietly without notice. Afterall, he had a meeting to get to. Afterall, he was one of the Worthy. And if he wanted to protect the people who enjoyed his food, Sheng Lau Mane needed to report for duty.

[boj0]

As he approaches the gathering of Worthy, Swallowtail raises a hand in greeting and bows in the way customary to the lands he was in. "Hail and good fortune, fellows! I am Swallowtail-3, swordsman and Worthy, answering the call to action against a Sublime Beast, however seeing some of the noteworthy amongst us; I almost dare to feel confident."

He lazily sets his hand onto the hilt of his blade, he vaguely recognized a few of those there, perhaps not by association, but recollection of Worthy deeds. Blood Raven he knew of, simply due to Swallowtail's interest in Calambron Worthy after the rebellion; Mus-Mahhu, Warrior-Prince was well known by deed; the polite gentleman seemed out of place, but his comfort in the situation and ease of conversion with the warped Ohong
Thaumiel said otherwise, the Dancer Hessl was not one he'd expect to see, but the Alabaster King's summons were not to be taken lightly.

[Doxkid]

A Devil and A Seru
"You recognise me a conjuring? Your eyes truly are sharp. I approach on the behalf of Hessl with greetings and welcome, though should you wish to mingle without meeting that's more than fine by his estimation. Though there is a gathering knot of worthy among our esteemed calibre, I would be happy to lead you if you wish?"

"The more Scarred Ones in a single group, the more troublesome the situation becomes. As such, please lead the way! Perhaps I'll get to eat one or two before the Trumpet arrives?"
________
Seru's main body travels through the garden at an languid pace, truly enjoying the sights and sounds and flavors of the garden party as he makes his way toward where it transitions into a festival of the 'common folk'. There is no rush for him to arrive there any time soon so he can take his sweet time dispersing an avatar here and and avatar there, spreading in an uneven wave across the gathering. Many of his avatars immediately vanish the moment they are created with the remaining group making themselves known to the local Worthy for small talk.

[Genth]

With the approach of two more Worthy, one of whom he did in fact recognize, Mus lets out a laugh and an incline of his head. "Hail, Swallowtail-3, may your deeds against the Calamity be written against your name in the Church's Song." he says first to the Calambron, golden skirt glittering as he moves forwards a few steps, holding his hands out to his sides in a gesture of peace. Of course, it was only a gesture, the Prince's way of fighting was well known and did not require his hands. But made in good health and happy disposition, the worthy was clearly pleased to see so many gather near him. That was until he turned to Vivian.

A stormy look came over his face, and he spoke in low, growling tones."And Vivian. I have not forgotten what you have done, woman. That relic rightly belongs to Emesh, and your thievery stains your hands! Such a stain demands response!" He alowed a few more seconds, before his face splits and he starts to laugh, bending over before walking over to the detective, arms outstreched to offer a hug. "HA, I had you going there for a moment, my friend, did I not!?" (he did not.) "I do still want that back though, you can say it belongs in a museum all you like, but just because I'm incredibly old doesn't mean my stuff isn't still mine!"

[NineOfSpades]

Vivian sensed the game that the illuminated prince was playing, and was contented enough to play along with the bit, letting him enjoy the moment before the assemblage of other worthy. It cost her nothing, afterall, and bringing a smile to a friends face was certainly worth that much. "Had you maintained the ruse but a single moment longer, I would have smashed my own totem and fled to the softlands rather than risk facing your wrath" she responded, amusmenet playing across her voice like windchimes in the breeze. She clasped a hand on the shoulder of the prince, an affectionate gesture, though perhaps also a comical one, as Mus-Mahhu towered a full foot taller than she did, and was built with considerably more musculature, making Vivian seem positively childsized by comparison. "It is truely good to see you my friend". She ment it, to.

The shift in topic to the matter of the relics was met with a dismissive wave from Vivian "It would seem that I must once again beg both your forgivness and patience in this matter. Perhaps you coud find it acceptable to allow the current caretakers to safeguard your 'stuff' for a small time longer?".

Turning to the others in the group, Vivians face lit up a little "Ah but I am being rude, am I not? Please accept my many apologies, I have failed to make proper introductions." She gave a slight motion of her head that could, if you had saint like generosity, be called a bow "Vivian Toussaint, it is a pleasure"

[drack]

Thaumiel, Celic, and Úlfheðnar
"Death for our kind..." Thaumiel eyes dilate, deep in thought, her focus on the path forward. "I do not believe the worldly's idea of death could equate to the Eternal slumber my friend. True death for them is it.. over.. silence... the Eternal slumber is...stillness. a petrification of psyche for us. I too have felt the draw of it over the ages. My last escape was amongst the longest yet, The Repressed one seems to call to me from beyond." she shuddered and laughs nervously at the title. Looking to Celic, smiles somberly, "Your Dreamscapes are always therapeutic Celic; you still have the creativity of youth my friend."

Thaumiel recognizes the name of Úlfheðnar from Yethel speaking of him, and a few detail come to mind "Úlfheðnar.." she ponders quietly, "An unparalleled warrior by trust accounts." The Gorgonid's essence resonates in Thaumiel's sense, "Your connection to the Akasha is similar to my chosen, no wonder Yethel spoke so highly"

Waving his hand casually one of the shadows approaches. "Thaylic, what do you think of this view on unworthy death?", Celic's calm smile however tells that he already knows the answer. At first Thaylic looks hesitant to speak openly with his social betters, but noting the calm atmosphere he opens up in a matter of seconds. Well, it's not exactly stillness, silent, or eternal, but I guess it could be considered perfect after a sort. I suppose in life I wasn't really that smart, so dying really opened up my eyes to the world around me. It's... nice. Nodding faintly Celic adds "When the unworthy die they aren't gone, just waiting, waiting to be woken up again, much like our sleep. You speculate on the unending eternal nature of unworthy death when woke, but is it not the same for us? Would it not be the same were you not called upon? Perhaps of greater interest would be the nature of worthy death. It is said that a fraction of the mind is lost on every death, but where do those fractions go? Likewise after enough deaths one tends to stay down, does that mean all of their mind, or perhaps their soul, is gone? In that case we can only ask, but where to?" Thaylic, unsure if his part in the conversation is done, melts into Celic's shadow so as not to unnecessarily distract.

As for the mention of his well connectedness, Celic merely shakes his head in the way he always would when dismissing credit as just part of what comes with age and the wandering his legions tend to do. It's one of the great things about chatting with old friends, that even small gestures can communicate entire sub-conversations on their own and simply be understood without having to be explained.

[5ColouredWalker]

Hessl's Summon and Seru

"Hessl's always up to trade a limb or two if you'd like to start early. Unfortuneately I'm of not much substance for sustenance."
And with that, the plated devil begins leading too the gathering group of Worthy in the Garden.



The Knot of Worthy


Thaumiel & Hessl
"Perhaps you have warped your own mind too much worldly Dancer. My kind do not forget. Need I remind you of when we pulled you from the jaws of the Dreaming One?" Thaumiel returns, a jesting tone in her thought "My desires are not of the concern of Worldly Hessl, do not hassle yourself to attempt to appease them. Such attempts will only leave you disappointed and empty-handed... speaking of hands, I do applaud you in your continual evolution, its a beautiful art that seems to be dying out in these realms. Though if you seek a helping hand, do not hesitate to reach out," an empathic feeling of alliance and respect accompanies the thought-borne dialog.

For this Hessl' offers a pause, before dipping his Thaumiel facing head in a rare-among-worthy sign of acknowledgement.
"To be fair, I had made it most of the way myself, but yours was the final hand that let me walk outside the Green on my own, just as mine were the ones I let shatter giving you the time to wake."

Hessl's next words are purely mental, as he spares his breath more for the other worthy.
"I'm grateful for the offer, and would be happy to reciprocate with a far more fare one. Though perhaps we would be best to discuss after all the pomp and pageantry unless it's your preference."

I'm happy to discuss gift trading OOC and handle it 'off screen' or handle IC on if you prefer.





Thaumiel said otherwise, the Dancer Hessl was not one he'd expect to see, but the Alabaster King's summons were not to be taken lightly.


"Vivian Toussaint, it is a pleasure"

"And this, is Seru! Once more from his cage to make this a joy!"

With this two of Hessl's heads bow towards the Approaching Seru, lead by a rapidly vanishing Devil who's existence soon ceases. Hessl, having been largly holding another conversation however never stopped paying attention. Vivian herself would almost certainly note the twitch that accompanies some Worthy liable to soon end up on her bad side from Hessl, though coming before she'd introduced herself shows unusual knowledge.

"With all us here I start to share Swallowtail's confidence. Why were they any more of us I might boast that not a flake of the beast's snow will touch the city. And with Vivian on the case, we might be able to force the beast far further than most attempts if we can't finalise it's demise ourselves."

[Thokk_Smash]

Days ago...

A slumbering, hulking monstrosity of a wolf rests among a den of yuan-ti and snake-people. Though asleep his body twitches and quivers like mad, as if to remain fully motionless were a death sentence. What are his dreams of? None can say.

Without warning the beast's eyes shoot open and his nostrils flare. The scars lining his body stretch as he shoots to his feet and even further, into the air. Though his movement is intense, none of the creatures around him so much as stir. "I have been summoned, it seems. Until we next meet, my beauties," he thinks in his mind to them, before dashing through the pit entrance at mach speed.

The wolf, Gott, meets leader of the Snake Sanctuary, the Reptilian Repository, the five-headed hydra Thessalia. She had heard the call as well, though her destination was tens of thousands of miles distant from his own journey's end. The siblings-in-arms exchange brief words of encouragement and until-we-meet-again's, with Gott nuzzling each head in turn. They both know the danger the Trumpet poses, and are only too-aware of their own limits.

For a full day and night Gott sprints towards Linnea. He could easily have teleported, but he had enough time to travel by foot--especially at his pace. Upon approaching the border he slows and receives the flower bud with a severe nod of thanks. Once it is in a glass of water he once again sprints at mach 2 towards Arivega.

Though the truly powerful within the Three Spires would spot him easily, Gott mingles among the crowds by passing through the spaces between spaces, uncaring of passing through the creatures within the crowd. The colors and shining banners draw his attention, as they were meant to, and he simply enjoys the time he has before being thrust into another fight for his life, and the lives of others.

[Nightraiderx]

"You are here to do battle with the Trumpet then, Blood Raven?" he asks, tapping his goblet to refill it with mead. "May your weapons bite deeply, and your foes blood run freely"

"Why yes, I heard the Trumpet was a mighty foe! I aim to test my limits against such a creature, have you fought it before?"
"I do aim to taste and test the blood of this beast should I be able to absorb some of it I believe I might have a breakthrough of my combat prowess!"
Raven will drum on his chest plate, a habit he observed from many military mobs to show bravery and yearning for battle.



As he approaches the gathering of Worthy, Swallowtail raises a hand in greeting and bows in the way customary to the lands he was in. "Hail and good fortune, fellows! I am Swallowtail-3, swordsman and Worthy, answering the call to action against a Sublime Beast, however seeing some of the noteworthy amongst us; I almost dare to feel confident."

He lazily sets his hand onto the hilt of his blade, he vaguely recognized a few of those there, perhaps not by association, but recollection of Worthy deeds. Blood Raven he knew of, simply due to Swallowtail's interest in Calambron Worthy after the rebellion; Mus-Mahhu, Warrior-Prince was well known by deed; the polite gentleman seemed out of place, but his comfort in the situation and ease of conversion with the warped Ohong
Thaumiel said otherwise, the Dancer Hessl was not one he'd expect to see, but the Alabaster King's summons were not to be taken lightly.

"Ah Swallowtail-3, so that's what your name was! You had refused to give it to me before when we had dueled, but I have become much stronger since then.
After this Trumpet issue is dealt with I request we duel again hahaha!"



Turning to the others in the group, Vivians face lit up a little "Ah but I am being rude, am I not? Please accept my many apologies, I have failed to make proper introductions." She gave a slight motion of her head that could, if you had saint like generosity, be called a bow "Vivian Toussaint, it is a pleasure"

"And I am Blood Raven, massacre of the battlefield. I hope you can keep up with the tumultuous din that will be upon us soon."

[Triskavanski]

Growing bored with just being an observer in the shadows, the cat fades into the darkness for a moment before fading back into existance again, this time closer to the rest of the group. Still maintaining its stealth, and avoiding the shiniest of the people, "Ah, so many people here already and yet a purpose nary not but one? There are those who be amongst you the angst is just delightfully palatable and others a smidgeon of arrogance. Me, Myself, I fall partially so into the latter, though for far different reasons than the others. "

[Genth]

"Ah, but we do have purpose!" The Prince replies, unperturbed by the shadowy emergence. "The battle begins anon, and thus in the moment present we sup together and talk about glory to come."

Mus-Mahhu takes another generous swig from his mead-cup, his gestures broad and grandiose. "Name thyself, creature of the shadows, so we may know your deeds and sing of them in the days to come!"

[Triskavanski]

"Ah myself, never a name I would call me but myself. Though there are those who would call me, Chereth." The cat replies before hovering again midair and drifting along wrapped in faint shadows.

[D&DPrinceTandem]

On the topic of death and worthy unlife
Thaumiel ponders for but a moment "I do suppose you would know more on the topic of death, given I have only ever lived. Although I still hold that for us, its a tad different." Thaumiel concludes, "as for the losing of the mind.. I would be lead to believe that what is being lost is fractions of the ego. The mind is an ever evolving organ my friend, if the ego fails to protect the mind, the id will consume the ego, resulting in a worthy devoid of self and reason as we see. At least that is my analysis on the subject."

The Knot of Worthy

Thaumiel gives a mental nod to Hessl "It is decided then, just call my name when you wish to speak again. I will hear."
OOC is fine, Pm me on discord abt it whenever

[Triskavanski]

The cat looks around humming as he rubs his chin with a paw. "You know, I truely thought something was about to happen there. Something grand and unexpected.And yet here we are, feels far too long. " glancing to his wrist "Perhaps I set my wrist to the wrong time?"