Tolben's expression darkens. Triumph turns to irritation, irritation to outright anger, as the discourse continues. Finally, he breaks his silence.

"Allow me to reword your statement. Your lord has allowed one of his problems to become one of our problems, and used the opportunity to insert a very perceptive spy into our midst. Is that not a fair summary?"

He gives a rather undignified 'hmph' before concluding.

"I have work to do. Have fun, everyone."

He stamps off to go look at the Primordial's castoffs, ill temper rapidly fading as patterns and formulae flow through his mind. Once he has regained his equilibrium, he reaches out through Dharmesh's telepathic link.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"To answer your earlier comment, I never said it's dead." Two formulae flow through the link, the complex mathematics conveying a sense of subtraction. "A small part of it was utterly destroyed - erased from existence, not simply stilled as the rest. That is far more interesting."

---

Dharmesh listened with interest as the message was recited, carefully turning over the various bits of information provided before directing a tendril of his awareness toward the woman."No rest for the mighty, I suppose. Before we continue however, I must ask that you provide a copy of the treaty referenced in this message if it is within your ability to do so, and the oaths made to your Lord, so as to prevent a conflict in any orders that we may deliver unto you. Exact wording, naturally. As for food, that can seen to shortly."
With that message delivered, he returned his focus to Tolben, parsing the formulae the man sent slowly, as not to miss any of the finer details before responding. "Fascinating, to think such a mind could simply be erased. I wonder how it might affect the whole."

Once more, Tolben responds to Dharmesh's telepathy. "I have no idea, but I am eager to find out." The next formula is recognisably a spell, a powerful abjuration, and yet it differs. Factors representing Primordial power have been woven into its construction. "If its being was unharmed when I disjoined its substance, that suggests a dualism more clear-cut than most. If it was harmed, that has interesting implications as well."

He carefully separates out a single grain of mundane sand, and a grain from Small Made Large.

  "Perfect. Courier's just what I need." Shovash leans forward for a half-second, supported by a twelve-meter wingspan suddenly on display, with a posture as though she has something to lean on, it's a bar top, and it's that kind of bar. Folding herself back in, she looks excitedly over her shoulder before coming back to the messenger. "Lately, when I reach that wide, I've been feeling pressure from moving through something that isn't air. I think I'm close to a breakthrough!"

  She stretches again, as though to demonstrate—or test—her point, and waves them back and forth too slowly to make a breeze. And then finally, she finishes her thought, with eyes closed and her attention clearly not all in one place. "Ng Himself, is it? It would be foolish to make an enemy of him, naturally, particularly with the travel I do. Hm. Ah! I've got it!" She brightens quite abruptly, again gleeful without reserve.

  "I would like you to deliver the following message back to your Master. And if the traveling would tire you, I'm sure I can make your journey easy. I want you to tell him..." Shovash forcefully clears her throat and proceeds in the archest tone ever.

  "To the Honored Majordomo of the House of Secrets, a greeting from the Prodigal Daughter Who Returns With Laurels And Thunder. Words cannot express how flattered I am to be someone you turn to, as a peer, to set right what has gone so unfortunately wrong. And I wholeheartedly share your enthusiasm for millennia of effective partnership in the oversight of our respective domains. I am especially pleased to hear that the Eldest are proposing mutual aid and support on the grandest scale.

  "It is a matter for another day, of course; such an involved and demanding bit of law will take extensive negotiation and research to settle on a final draft. In the meantime, I propose a token exchange, to demonstrate our goodwill and establish the faith—he may indeed say—that will be a necessary precondition of said negotiation. In exchange for title and all rights and claim to one day of Ravening Shadows, I will return the rest of the season to his care upon recovering it. I voraciously await his reply." By this point, she is grinning like the coyote who ate the cat who are the canary.

Rowan nods and says, quite calmly, "No need to get short with the messenger. And no, ma'am, don't need travel. That's what magic is for, I can ask my Lord from here with a quick spell."

Assuming no one objects, she settles in, lights some incense, and begins to chant the words of a divination spell. It takes ten minutes before she looks up at Shovash and says, quite simply and in an entirely different voice, "Your offer is accepted, O Prodigal Daughter."

She can feel the bite of the bargain sinking into her, and Rowan shakes her head vigorously. "Well, that's that, then. Can't get you a copy of the contract, but my oaths to my Lord mostly just consist of serving his interests first and foremost, following his decrees and doctrine, and in general being his servant before any other role. It's pretty simple stuff, as fey bargains go."

Damien watches the negotiation between Shovash and Rowan with steadily decreasing interest. Finally, once the whole thing is decided, he shrugs and tells Shovash, "Your agreement, your reward, your problem. Have fun with that," before turning to his best guess of where Ragnar was currently and reaching out his hand, "Hey Rags, mind giving me a hand with something real quick? I'll owe you a favour if it works."

Ragnar turns idly from the emissary, dismissing her existence without another thought. His dislike of the fey is only slightly outstripped by his enmity towards the undead, and those who willingly serve them only a fractional distance further down the scale. Anything is better than having to continue tolerating the presence of the woman, and so he shrugs free of the thorns' grip on him and returns to visibility before taking Damien's offered hand.

  "Hm. That's a pity, but I can't say I'm surprised. the chance to examine a climate-scale weather pattern of, quote, Ravening Shadows, isn't really everyone's hobby." Shovash gives Tolben an I got you grin and flicks her wings back abruptly before folding them. That doesn't stir a breeze, either.

  "I think what my old friend is asking is better answered by your patron's interests in this matter, which are the considerations he'll need to craft his strategy around. After all, it would be tragic if, by some miscommunication and terrible luck, we came to provide what we promised, but the manner of providing spoiled the very reason we were needed. I'm sure we all want to avoid that."

  The Harlot's smile is several stages more predatory now, and still with a coy element suggesting that what it admits to is only a fraction of the truth.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:54, Thu 27 Aug 2020.

Tolben wanders through the ruins, examining the remnants of the Primordial. He does not notice Shovash's antics. He comes upon a glowing figure, which stirs him briefly from his reverie.

"Oh, right, the angel. You are dismissed; I have no further need of you."

He turns aside as the golden light fades, and waves his hand through the air just to watch the patterns that only his eyes see.

The fey emissary snorts a sharp, short laugh. "Ma'am, I work for a fey Eldest," she says dryly to Shovash. "That does not mean I am in his inner circle. If you think he tells me why he sends me to do things, I am dubious as to your understanding of his methods."

Dharmesh wasn't phased by the denial of his request, merely another item on the list of things to do. As the dust compacted back into his flesh and bone, he continued communicating via telepathy, openly looking all around himself to observe the ever shifting patterns.
"Very well, what can you tell us then? How might Ranalc have stolen this season, where might he have put it, and so forth. My time is precious, anything you know that will make this go faster is necessary for us to know."
To Tolben, he sent one last message. "I suspect it will be the former. Small Made Large barely registered your disjunction, at least as far as I was able to process. Aside from that, as you are gathering pieces of the primordial for your own study, would you please collect a grain or two for me as well?"

"Of course."

Tolben flies closer, handing a pair of phials to Dharmesh - a sample of Small Made Large, and one of sand. His next few words carry him half a world away, and he sets foot on the doorstep of Cassie's mansion. After taking several moments to gather himself, he knocks twice.

  There is a barb there, but it's no more than she'd been probing with, so it doesn't really call for a response. Tolben walking out on new research material is far more... notable. Shovash frowns as she watches him fly away, her tail jerking left and right in a motion that doesn't carry more than halfway down its length.

  "He gets what he pays for, and so far that isn't an alliance. Just so we're clear. I'll need to know everything that has come to light about Ranalc since the season was taken—sightings, status of his associates, strange behavior among his worshippers, you get the idea."

"Can't tell you how Ranalc got it, except to say that he exploited a security hole that has since been repaired," Rowan says, her voice deadly serious now. "As for the rest, ma'am, to be honest I personally think my Lord's intention here is just to create a precedent of cooperation. Not an alliance, maybe, but it starts things out on a good footing, it establishes that he's willing to work with you and take you seriously. It's much better business than sending a bandersnatch or something. Anyway. Ranalc hasn't been sighted personally, but his associates are busy little bees, metaphorically speaking of course. They've been very much more active than usual, and all over the place. Worshipers are getting new instructions it seems like, and they're very interested in this planet. Cells have been activated in Nidal, Razmiran, Absalom, and Varisia, that we know of."

She then grins, as though being serious for so many words had taxed her. "Anyway, that's about the gist of it."

  The witch gradually settled to her original size while listening to the Emissary's report, then remained silent to consider her options for a time. The talons on her tail plucked idly at bits of embellishment on the hide gown (yes) while she was distracted. She nodded. "I've been meaning to go squeeze Razmir for a while already, see what leaks out. Hunting fairy cultists isn't a bad excuse to be there, as excuses go."

  "What do you think, Dharmesh?" Shovash called up to where he was hovering nearby, not talking, just staring. "No one else seems to want to go hunting big game. We could grab Aiva and stalk the wilds of Varisia, or oh oh, I've been meaning to get back to that piercer in Nidal for a year now. Maybe three?"

Dharmesh accepted the phials from Tolben with a nod, occupying himself with stowing them while directing a strand of thought Shovash's way. "I think we would be wise to begin our hunt in the first cell known to have become active. As for accompaniment, bringing Aiva along bears the risk that our quarry will die before spilling all of its secrets should she lose herself in the thrill of the hunt, but there are worse options."
With that done, he turned his focus onto Rowan. "I see. Which cells have been active longest and which are the largest?"

"The largest cell, and the one that's been active the longest, is the one in Nidal. Pangolais, specifically." Rowan grins easily, and seems not to be uncomfortable with the telepathic communication. "After that is Razmiran."

  "I appreciate that you have the sense to reply aloud," says Shovash, sounding weary. And to be fair, she has been up for the past day and a bit with the ritual preparations. "I'll arrive in Nidal tonight. After I am here to shepherd the people of Quantium back from beyond. There were a few participants in the ritual I want to know more about."

  She glances between Rowan and Dharmesh a few times, then shrugs and takes a seat in one of the burning benches. Like, still-burning. "But that will be hours, and I plan to spend many of them resting, just as soon as I can leave here. If you two are going to work through the afternoon, I'll send Sting with you so he can catch me up on your findings later."

"I do not object to your Familiar being brought along in your place for the time being." Dharmesh thought, already turning his mind away from the current conversation, creating a list of things to do as he sent Rowan a separate message. "Then that is where we will go first. I have matters to briefly attend, but after that I will join you in Pangolais. Simply name a place to meet and I will be there shortly."

  "I'm so glad to meet with your approval," says the sorceress with a raised eyebrow and a sharp point in her voice. She clearly nurses misgivings, even as she flies up to make the handoff. Smoke streams from her skin until the cloud is as large as Rowan; at that point it shifts to a mostly humanoid shape and drifts away a few feet. The mephit gives her an annoyed glare that she completely ignores, and he doesn't fight when she swaps out the coal in his collar for fresh incense.

  "skKathulss, akoúo! Μείνε μαζί του σήμερα. Παρακολουθήστε προσεκτικά αλλά μείνετε μακριά από το δρόμο του. Θα είναι μια αποστολή βαθμού 4. Με τον κάδο." She speaks to the elemental in a voice the directs at no one else. Even shouting for his attention sounds intimate, like lifelong friends or mates, when the speaker knows exactly how the listener is hearing her. His scowl only becomes more annoyed, but he curls a wisp around Dharmesh's near arm and tells him, as though reciting from a script, "You have my loyal service, until my Mistress recalls me."

  And then Shovash is there, hand on both of them. She shouts something that doesn't sound like language, and the Law of the place frays a bit; the Tapestry becomes felted. And then another mind opens up to Dharmesh, and things go almost back to normal. She drifts back a few meters, watching something, and soon nods. "That should hold for a day, at least, and I won't be that long. Rowan!" She dips and comes up facing the emissary. "If you two make yourselves impossible to find, I'll have to be very, very obvious when I arrive." Her friendly smile is impenetrable, but there are so many threats she could be implying, it's hardly worth speculating precisely which this might be.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Fri 04 Sept 2020.

Rowan shoots an annoyed look at Dharmesh, then says out loud, "He asked me to name a place to meet. I don't know Pangolais very well, but there's a decent inn called Ruined Throat Tavern, on Spearpoint Boulevard. I can meet you there as well, I'll set an alarm around my room to know when you arrive."

The fey emissary then bows to each of the remaining survivors in turn, then turns and walks off, whistling and avoiding the remnants of Small Made Large's manifestation.

As Rowan exited the scene, Dharmesh watched her go for a few moments before returning his attention to Shovash. "You have my word that your Familiar will not come to harm by my hand before you reclaim it."
The message delivered, he focused his mind on his destination and willed himself and his passenger across the world and into his home, where he sought out his simulacrum. "You have a new assignment. You are to continue researching the Primordials to determine which one will be arriving next and how it might be defeated, and once that is completed, you are to seek out any and all information available on contracts between the gods and the fae, prioritizing one between Ng the Hooded or the House of Seasons and Abadar. If possible, you are to obtain copies of the contracts themselves. If you are attacked, you are to do whatever is necessary to ensure your continued existence. Return here once you have learned all you can."

He then took the illusion's hand and with a thought, deposited it in Axis and payed the entry fee to the Library before throwing himself back to the Material, landing in an alley down the street from the specified tavern. Before making his way to the meeting place, he conjured up a bit more power to allow himself to walk unseen and unfelt by the people milling about in the street.

ooc: Teleporting and plane shifting like it's going out of style, burning 2 mp for the plane shift round trip. on arrival in Pangolais, I'm burning two more to cast greater invisibility and make myself incorporeal for five rounds as to enter the tavern (probably) unnoticed.

The simulacrum nods in response to the order, a quick dip of its head and murmured confirmation. After Dharmesh deposits it in the library, he rends space once more to place himself in the alleyway.

Pangolais is a dim city, tucked in under the dense boughs of immense trees, and even at noon it's well known that a vampire can walk through the streets without harm. The shadowy atmosphere gives it a strange, flickering feeling, as though it is only halfway in the Material world. The travelers on the street are relatively sparse, daytime being the quiet period in Pangolais, but there are some. They walk easily despite the darkness, not stumbling or tripping. Occasionally one passes whose eyes are solid black; these are given a wide berth.


At the Ruined Throat, Dharmesh makes his way through the taproom without apparently attracting any notice, simply floating up through the ceiling until he senses the aura of Rowan's blazing magical equipment. The room itself is warded with an alarm and a simple defensive spell that will explode if the door is opened without being disarmed.

  Shovash stays seated in place while her old companions—or the tragic declines that seem to be swallowing them up—vanish into the æther one by one. She sits there until she is the last living soul in Quantium. She sits until the bench burns down so far it threatens to drop her.

  Her expression when she does stand would make loss and sorrow unmistakable, if there were anyone around to see it. But by the time her magic trap expires and she can travel again, sheer exhaustion has overwhelmed any other signal. She sweeps aside the open air like a bead fringe, steps forward, and the world closes behind her.

  An infinite expanse of maybe away, the Matriarch emerges from the wall in the new mothers' chamber in a passable reproduction of the ancestral Home. In an instant, she is swarmed, brought to her knees by a mob of miniature orc-like creatures all screaming some variant of "grandma".  She sweeps them into her arms eight at a time and laughs harder when every single one starts shouting about a different Important Topic. It's not a minute before they have her in tears. The reunion lasts hours before she drops onto the largest pile of hides in the den and passes out surrounded by three generations of descendants.

  Sting has eyes entirely too human for a mephit.

Dharmesh took in the city with fascination as He made His way towards His destination, making a mental note to test how far this ability to perceive the ebb and flow of patterns extended. Was it merely the physical, or would it show Him the composition of individuals as well? What might He see if He looked into a mirror?
He set those thoughts aside however, as He noted the pedestrian warding upon the room itself. Good enough to keep out lesser individuals, but not Him. Never Him. He  allowed the invisibility to fall, revealing His now shimmering form as He strode through the closed door without a second thought spared for the ward, projecting a message to the occupant of the room as He did so. "I have arrived. While we await Shovash, tell me of this cell."