Quest II. The night the towers cried [open]

[Ma'ii]

A group was starting to form around a tall, green-skinned Akalak, but Ma'ii could not understand most of what was being said. He could make out individual words, but their meaning was lost to him.

Standing up from his crouch, Ma'ii placed his spear in his left hand and turned it so that it pointed blade down. He hoped that the people around him understood that it meant he was not looking to do violence. The pads on his hands allowed him to feel the motion of the beings around him, but with so many of them in such small confines it felt like a constant strong breeze and he could not distinguish any one movement.

He raised his right hand, palm outwards, to catch anyone's attention.

"Peace. No understand. Speak Shiber? Speak Tawna?" he asked in halting Common.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra warily approached the nearest group, one with several humans and a giant of an Akalak among them. Green of all things, a shade of the tall humanoids she had never encountered, rare as they were in Ravok. He was a noisy one, this Akalak, speaking of gods and magic as if they were the most common of things encountered in everyday life. While she knew the divine took note of the activities of mortals, and even walked among them, they were never beings to be spoken of lightly, order one may just draw their attentions to oneself. And that, in her opinion, was never a good thing. She should know, she was marked by perhaps one of the most dangerous among the pantheon. Still, Cassandra maintained her silence and kept her own council. Instead she watched and listened, trying to glean as much information about where they were as she could from the panicked questions and comments whispered among some of the others in the crowd. She found it disconcerting that a number of the peoples around her appeared hardly worried that they stood on a platform not held up by anything and floating in the vast emptiness of space. Had she been alone, she would have screamed in terror at finding herself so far removed from home. She had been in the middle of a rather intimate moment with a man just a few minutes earlier and now she found herself thrust in such a strange and alien place. But the presence of the others had the dark-haired woman clamping down on her fears, though she could still feel the involuntary quivering of her spine - aftereffects from the shock of realizing her situation. Looking to instill some order in the sudden chaos her life had taken, she focused on the words spoken by the others. A certain name had come up several times, one brought up by the Akalak, and Cassandra scanned the faces of the others to find the one who would respond to the mention of the name 'Hadrian'. Her knowledge of reading the body language of people would reveal to her the identity of the person, whether he consciously acknowledged being addressed or not. There were always telltale signs. Her hazel eyes focused on one individual, one she thought familiar and had perhaps served in the Silver Sliver. "Andry...? Andry Ellis?" she mouthed, surprised to find the traveling scholar among the people here. Just the familiar face, even if he was not truly an acquaintance, was enough to relieve a small portion of her fears. The Akalak spoke of him having knowledge about magic, and being a learned man and all, perhaps he could she some light as to what called them to this place. Briefly, Cassandra wondered if Andry ("Or is it really Hadrian?" she wondered in confusion) was a mage himself. Never a trust-worthy bunch, mages. At least that was the general consensus she heard among the common folk when she served drinks at night. But he was a friendly face, and a fellow Zeltivan to boot (and not to mention human!), and this allayed some of her initial misgivings about the man. Cassandra moved to make herself part of the crowd that seemed to flock around him, hoping to integrate herself among them. Before she could get near him however, another stranger approached, this one wielding a spear and dressed in the get up of desert folk. The spear point may be down but Cassandra still felt uneasy about the bared weapon. She halted her stride and moved to change direction, opting to go around the crowd instead when she realized that her original path would have her run across the man, one that she saw had completely coal-black eyes. OOCCassandra's a little racist, after living in Ravok for several seasons. The local's mentality have rubbed off on her.

[Talen Stirling]

When Talen raised his eyes slowly from the tiles, a sudden and rather surprising sight met his eyes. A quite beautiful woman flat on the floor buttoning her shirt and setting her skirt in order. For a moment at least, his mind went elsewhere than it's frail attempts of understanding where he was and just stared instinctively. Then he realised what he was doing, and closed his eyes shut again. It wasn't proper to stare at a lady brought in such a situation against her will, although it was quite tempting. He opened his eyes again, and slowly turned his head around to look at the huge crowd, just as he mentally blocked out what was above him. He was relieved he still carried his sword and shield, the weight of them steadying him mentally against everything he had to take in. Hundreds of all kinds of people and creatures he had never seen before all stranded on some magical island. He took a deep breath and his hand went inside the front of his shirt, where he pulled out his old wooden Symbol of Priskil. The tiny circular vortex felt soft and smooth in his left hand as he looked around to make some sense of it all. Small groups were forming, although a few were walking away from the rest. The woman who had appeared near him approached one of them. The idea of walking didn't come easy to Talen though, he was subconsciously afraid of falling up into the endless sky. Instead, he just lifted his small wooden symbol, kissed it with a short prayer and stood there with a hand on his sword-hilt and the other near his heart. "Priskil give us hope..." It seemed they would need it.

[Cilaes]

A gentle smile crossed the Ethaefal's beautiful face at the Pycon's violent speech, but, worried she may take it as condescending Cilaes was quick to remove the expression from his lips. "I'd rather hope for the best than resign myself to the worst. Besides Miss, the world is hardly destroyed, look just over the edge and I'll believe you'll see it," he gave a soft gesture to the hazy blue globe floating in the darkness before lower his hand to the floor. "If you would like I can offer you a lift, though you don't seem the nervous sort, others here may be, and someone so small could easily be stepped on in the panic. My name is Cilaes, by the way." Whether the Pycon climbed into his palm or not was her own choice and the Ethaefal rose, scooping up the pack he had dropped on arrival. I shall have to take stock of just what exactly I've managed to bring later on... It's a fortunate thing this was beside me. His loose black hair moved freely in the still air of the platform as Cilaes looked about for others. A theological "discussion" was going on a little was from him. Smiling inwardly he thought, No need to destroy the boy's argument just yet. But there was another young man, not far off who seemed to be praying, and he kissed a small wooden totem, who's marks seemed to match many of the cracking emblems on the floor. He approached slowly, the poor man looked rather nervous. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help notice that disc you have around your neck, it seems to match some of the marking on the floor, a good deal more than the symbols I have been able to recognize. Which deity's mark is it of?

[Talen Stirling]

Talen looked up with what must have seemed an intense and also more-or-less terrified stare. He still had his one hand resting on the pommel of his longsword, and his features were blurred by his cotton scarf and the shield on his back. He took a deep breath as he took in the sight of the man before him; an obvious Ethaefal with his unearthly hue and spiraling horns. If he hadn't seen one before he would definetely not have reacted as he did, but the sight of something or someone at least a little familiar made him relax. Even if only a little. He actually even smiled a nervous smile when the Ethaefal spoke, one that held the feeling he suddenly named to the man. "Hope. It is the mark of Priskil." If it was the lady of hope that had brought them here, then he believed he had no reason to feel fear. If it was.

[Riki Stormheart]

Riki did not recognize the man from Riverfall, although he did not spend too much time in the main city. "Hello Kayn… and Hadrian" At the mention of the divine, Riki looked down at his hand where a beautiful opal sigil stood, marking him one of Rak'keli's healers. "Lady Rak'keli, did you bring me here? Are you testing me?" Riki would do next to anything to please his Goddess. He had put himself in harms way more times than he could count to honor his promise to her. To heal anyone and everyone, friend or foe. When another man joined the group and spoke of the Gods not being real, Riki found himself angered. He kept his normal, calm temperament but there was a hint of anger in his peaceful voice. "How can you say that Gods aren't real? Caiyha is everywhere, the winds are Zulrav, Syna gives us heat in the day while Leth provides us with light at night, along with Zintila." His green eyes flicked from the man to Kayn. He was pleased that the Akalak had shared his stance. "There's nothing wrong with not believing in the divine but you should not talk like your opinion is the truth. Especially since most people believe in what you don't." When the Dhani approached, Riki watched her carefully. She did not address him, but the Nilkayn. She claimed that she was marked by the Gods. Riki wasn't the only marked person there, although he hardly expected he would be. He kept quiet at her words though. She did not seem as though she was talking to him so he saw no reason to get involved. In fact, she seemed to be ignoring him completely.

[Kamalia Timandre]

In the Island of Sahova, atop an open surface, the Konti wizard had calmly watched the heavens when lightning bolts showered the skies above the Citadel. She had somehow felt the lights calling to her. It could be the summons of Avalis, it could be something else, but she had this strange inexplicable intuition that something big was about to happen, something world-changing, something that she felt was vital to her battle against Sagallius and his followers. Magic—either arcane or divine—was at work here. It did not matter. It was powerful and grand enough for the world to witness, and despite her outward serenity, Kamalia cringed inwardly. If Gromhir were beside her, he would have already told her she smelled of fear. She wondered if the Konti Seers at Mura had foreseen this event and if they saw answers. She knew that Sahova saw none. The undead did not seem to care, unmoved and unperturbed by the events outside their laboratories.

Then lightning streaked down from the clouds to dance with the sorceress. Kamalia reflexively shot a hand up to shield her eyes as the mingling of fear and defiance gripped her. The moment she removed her hand from her eyes she saw an ocean of stars. She stood upon a disc-shaped, tiled platform that floated among the skygems of Zintila. In the dim starlight, she could make out the symbol of the Voyager carved upon the ancient stone tiles, but what fully arrested her attention was the sight of a giant marble before her. She took a deep breath. Was it Mizahar? Kamalia had studied maps with Satu and Aselia on their way to the mainland continent. She could point out where Syliras and Zeltiva were, and the Konti Isle with its Silver Lake!

Mother Avalis, guide me.

Kamalia suddenly became aware that she was not alone. She hid her face behind the hood of her brocade cloak, ivory velvet, with thick silver embroidery of leaves and vines and flowers along the edges. Her white robe glimmered faintly as she moved in a whisper of silk and the gentle tinkle of silver jewelry. She held a walking staff in one hand, the Pathfinder, it was called, which featured elaborate carvings of four robed figures on its tip that stared off in the four directions.

Kamalia gathered up the skirts of her silken dress with her free hand before walking towards the nearest group. She stood beside a Chaktawe man who wore feathers and held a spear in his left hand. Face still hidden beneath the shadows of her cloak, Kamalia serenely observed their exchange. They were all as confused as she was, all flung onto the stars.

[Ariel]

Ariel was sitting back straight, head held high, on the saddle. Rafael's reins were being held firmly within each of her tiny clay hands. She had finally found her way through the maze that was the inside of Mt. Skyinarta, and was finally looking up, at the outside world- the mountains that stretched out in every direction. The moon finally taking its rightful place in the sky. "My, this really is beautiful," Ariel commented. "No wonder those petching red heads never let us out to enjoy such things. Greedy greedy over-sized petching people," she had growled as she flicked the reins, leading the kitten down the mountain, more than ready for her great escape. More than ready for the next phase of her adventure. That was the last of Ariel's memories before she wound up here. Wherever here was. Surrounded by people far taller and just as confused as she, her kitten still with her; although she had been thrown from the saddle, and was forced to get up, and grab the reins so Rafael would not run away. Ariel could not see anything more than boots, and the ends of staffs. So short was she. Nor could she determine how she had gotten there, or anyone else had. For the terrain in this place was not the same as when she was still on the mountain. Far less of a slope, not as many rocks. So you have either been drugged and brought to this place, or some sort of strange magic is involved in getting us all here... or perhaps everyone in this place was drugged too and brought here. But for some reason that seems to be the least likely option. After all, what could anyone want to do with all of us? The young and the old, the short and the tall, the wise and unwise? Those of all different races, some of which probably don't get along well. Ariel sighed, "it doesn't seem like anyone here is going to bother to look down and notice we exist," she commented to her kitten, who was listening only half-heartedly. "Oh Harameus, please watch over us. End this madness! Or at least tell us where we are... please give us a sign!" Ariel called out into the night. Her voice wavering as her tiny clay eyes grew wider, and all the more fearful. "And if you can't tell us, show us the way to someone who will," she added, as she walked over to Rafael's middle, strung her left foot into the stirrup, and then swung her right leg over, before placing her right foot in the stirrup. She held onto the reins tightly, looking around silently, as her kitten swished its tail back and forth, waiting for a set of instructions it wasn't likely to obey.

[Nil'kayn]

Kayn had nodded reaffirming Riki's words, before Hadrian could speak a woman approached speaking oddly. Kayn nodded "Yes, I do suspect so." Kayn glanced around there small group seemed to be expanding and as each new person joined it. There was suspicion creeping into his mind, he stepped closer to Hadrian. He did not know the man well, but atleast he knew he some. If this became a skyke-storm Kayn would stick with Hadrian. He glanced at the woman, frowning. "I have no gods mark." He did not know exactly what she meant, but he stayed silent. Responding to her question, "Hadrian and I met in Syliras." Kayn saw the man holding the spear, ignoring the strange woman. Reaching behind him he grabbed his spear which was tied to his pack. Mimicking the man's movements to show that he didn't mean him harm. He shook his head slowly hoping the man understood any of his common. "I don't speak Shiber or Twana, but Peace all the same." He glanced around at everyone, Do any of you speak this man's language? Twana or Shiber; I think he said.

[Zlakalia]

Zlakalia almost told him off, her hand reaching for the knife strapped beneath her cloak. His quick smile just barely caught her notice and his offer was almost ludicrous. 'I don' need help! I can-' Zlakalia sighed as she looked back at the storm of people covering this skyward plateau. His kindness may end up being useful, as much as she'd rather stab his hand than accept it. Zlakalia stepped into his hand, reminding herself of her youth when she last did any such thing. She knew she'd be heavy, but this strong being looked like he could handle her weight. His dark hair and green horns were curious; Zlakalia heard they could change color but knew so little else of the Ethaefal. She was already jealous. She was stuck her color, unable to change anything more than her shape. Her politeness locked back in as she spoke, trying to kill off the anger that had flared so brightly, "If not to witness the world's end, what task do you think they bring us, Goat-headed One?" The insult was almost mocking coming from her smooth and subservient tone. "And I am Zlakalia, Cilaes. Charmed, I'm sure." When Cilaes approached Talen, Zlakalia wanted to throw something at the kneeling beggar. He looked pitiful praying to the gods. Hope, he spoke, but no hope did Zlakalia see in his broken eyes. "Hope?" She laughed, a haughty giggle at the thought, "What hope do you think Priskil to bring with naught more than a wooden puppet and some unheard words?"