Shards Of History

[*Nimiane]

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Russet brows slowly came to crease upon the woman's forehead in thought, emerald hues encircled with weariness weaving between each of those present in the midst of silence. Despite the trustworthy aura of the woman and the smile upon her lips, the leather soles of the bard's boots scuffed the earth with shifted weight. Trust was not a luxury silver-haired femme found any reliance upon in present day; another crutch of the human mind. It sounded morbid, but the truth behind it was a simple thing; the realization and understanding of unsatisfied demand to maintain continuity for a nonexistent eternity.

Leaving it at present locale would mean that message would not be relayed, nor could there be explanation given for events surrounding the star's arrival. Yet, the intention to shard's safe keeping was the very reason for travel itself. Would it truly be safe, here, in this courtyard of the Outer Planes, with naught but painters and gardeners to tend it? A pointless question with no answer.

"One moment, if ya please." murmured Erlhazaran, a faint curl claiming her lips in mild smile. With shard in hand, she moved to take a knee alongside Vherr and set ragged stone upon the ground underfoot. In the process of drawing worn leather satchel from her side and delving within, quiet query was murmured under-breath. "Ya arrite?" Needless to say, Odette knew full well what the fiend's intentions were, coming to such a place, and respected the woman's intention to subject herself to discomfort without interference. "What do ya think about all of this?"

As bleaker searched through the depths of worn and tattered baggage, her voice lifted in address of the woman and her promise. "If I may," she asked, politely, pausing to gesture toward the planetary sculpture and it's moving components. "Might I ask what it is?"

Finally, drawing from within the confines of extra-dimensional bag a small, rounded club from mortar and pestle, she began to ever so gently tap it against the shard. Despite all eyes upon her, the intention was to chip free but a small pebble of it's overall mass; no bigger than a finger nail. Explanation was not given for the action.

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[*WhenWizardsWar]

The three of them smile for a moment and glance at each other before the handsome man on the ladder speaks.

"Oh, this? Its just a cooperative work of art we have been collaborating on for sometime, a very long time at that isn't it beautiful?".

The pale woman sighs as she clearly picks up on her hesitation.

"You come to this place to seek audience with the morning lord or one of his assistants and yet you clearly don't trust three simple people who are working to maintain a work of art and beauty. If you do not trust three simple folks such as us i find it difficult to see how you are able to trust anyone in this place at all". The woman sighs and moves toward the held aloft globe and as she climbs up a ladder opposite the man, they both carefully begin to move and shift various objects swirling its radius.

The woman who is tending the garden looks up at them then to Odette and her companion with a smile, "We are but care takers and grounds keepers, if the lord of this place entrusts us to care for his property, one would think that proof enough to trust us".

She sighs a moment later and goes back to her gardening.

[*Xndar]

Head pounding, muscles trembling, she crouches there and listens to the discussion. She glances up briefly at Odette as the woman leaned down. Her answer is immediate, hissing between clenched teeth come words that are barely audible even as close as they are.

"Jes' give 'em tha bloody thing..."

One part of her reasoned that whatever the end result, getting the artifact far from Sigil and into someone else's hands was enough...it'd be their problem after that point. The other took comfort in the seemingly trustworthy nature of the three, and their apparent power and station within the Morninglord's court.

For once, though, she was relatively at peace with their current course of action. She was gaining useful information that might be bartered later, and also neutralizing a real threat for the time being. The scales were balanced...and besides, it was an unexpected and certainly new experience.

"One way or 'nother, better its here than in tha Cage."

[*Nimiane]

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Admist the sighing, Odette's features were straight, but gentle in their neutrality. "I won't apologize for bein' cautious, ma'am, even if it paints me in a poor light," the bleaker spoke honestly, head bowed in a manner one might attribute to one standing before a figure of nobility. "But I will apologize if it offends you. I have witnessed but a sliver of tha Prince of Madness' taint in times passed, and our enemies are cunning. It leaves this battered mortal soul untrustin' and impure."

Sliding the tool back into the leather confines of her bag, Odette plucked the small crimson chip from ground and grasped the shard in opposite hand as she stood. A small nod was given to Vherr in the process. She had, after all, intended to hand over the stone regardless of hesitation; yet the fiend's opinion was one she valued all the same. The bard stepped forward, slow footsteps taking her toward the sculpture, it's moving pieces, and the heavenly three.

"Take it," she spoke softly, holding out the shard toward them in her right hand.Left hand unfurled to display the tiny piece of rock on the jittery palm of the bleaker. This one, she drew back toward her, emerald hues lifting from crimson pebble to the empyrean features of the pale woman. "I will keep this one and have it fashioned onto ring where we can keep an eye on it." Odette murmured her explanation.

"Given it's size, I expect it will go unnoticed and cause little more than mild irritation to dragon kin; a price that outweighs it's usefulness. I cannae help but feel it's reactions, and tha link to it's larger whole, will serve as a warnin' for things ta come."

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[*WhenWizardsWar]

The three nod in understanding to the womans words and the pale skinned woman takes the shard and looks at it for a moment.

"We give you our word it shall be safe and it shall be returned to its rightful owner" she says softly as she moves to the statue holding aloft the stone prime. She holds out the red shard and as it nears the stone sphere it flashes briefly and begins to assume a progress around the orb almost under its own power.

The three strange figures in the courtyard continue what they were doing when the duo arrived as if nothing more needs to be said.


//if either of you have anything you want to say or do, please do so, so i can make the next post!

[*Nimiane]

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Rightful owner. Rightful owner. The words sparked repetitive echo in the woman's mind, lingering on her lips with query. Not given. Returned. Watching the shard come into orbit around assumed planet, Odette stepped back to drink in the sight with a thoughtful expression; the light caught on pillars, the sway of flora in garden bed and the curious curious contraption at it's center. It was only after several beats of silence that she then voiced her final question. "Who might that be?"

Whether or not she received an answer, the bard would return to the side of her friend and attempt to help the fiend to her feet in preparation to depart; at least as much as human could help an easily displaced creature onto hooves whom towered over she. The minuscule remainder of shard left in bleaker's hand was securely hidden on her person, claimed by one of many pockets on jacket's inner lining.

"Ready ta go?"

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[*WhenWizardsWar]

As Odette and her companion discuss departing, and make ready to leave a sudden sense of something wrong wash's over the female mercenary. A slow glance around the Elysium plane on which this grand courtyard sits, reveals a stillness in the air, the grand ocean nearby ripples with no sound, the trees suddenly seem hesitant to wave in the gentle ever present breeze.

On the horizon, by the eye it must be two, three miles away, the land seems odd, bleak. The landscape slowly turns the color of grey and black and the transformation seems to very very slowly creep its way towards the courtyard.

Odette experiences a familiar pang of recognition as a sense of unspeakable dread fills her soul...

[*Nimiane]

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There it was; the inexplanable, inescapable stench of pass through the bowels of the multiverse. Cynicism awarded further proof, another gods damned joke that bespoke cruel punch line of existence. Why? Because it was all meaningless. Laughable, were circumstances not quite so dire. Or, perhaps, all the more because of it. Two gatecrashers, one suffering from planar effects, led so easily astray... what were the chances?

It wasn't until the radiance of location became threatened with desaturation that Odette came to realize the hollow notes of laughter that sounded in her ears were those that came from her own parted lips. Win, lose; words, phrases. Here they be, there they were. Already striding forward, arm outstretched toward shard and planetary orb, words left bard's feminine maw mechanically. "Vherr. Chin up, bum out," called bleaker as she reached in her attempt to recollect crimson shard; the calmth of tone stark in it's contrast to prior cachinnation. "Wager things are gonna get rough from here..."

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[*WhenWizardsWar]

As she goes to collect the shard from its orbit around the stone sphere, the realization of what she has been looking at all along finally dawns on her. As she gets very close to the stone prime she can now see its faint but finely chiseled features to be that of Toril!. The faint features stick out to those who are close, one can see the continent of Faerun and Karatur, and the western and newly found Maztica, and many interesting orbs swirl around the primes radius including the shard recently placed there. If she peers closer at the shard she can easily make out a change upon its tiny surface. The shard which slowly swirls around the planet now has somehow assumed the shape she glimpsed of it before it plunged into the surface of Illia, and as she watch's it makes a complete pass of Toril before slowly drifting into the "void" away from the prime before fading from view as it heads elsewhere like so many celestial bodies tend to travel.

As the realization sets in, she would find the three strange and powerful figures gone from the courtyard.

One blink,
A second and third blink.

The courtyard is then gone as well as if it was never there, and a voice lingering in the air.

"Go, NOW, unhallowed wings this way come, thy involvement in the fate of things is not yet at an end but flee now before death aloft, your worries are appreciated but such a foul abomination will find no treasure here this day".

[*Nimiane]

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Gone. Gloved fingers curled in their grasp with little more than the chilled air of rapidly dropping temperature and the blanched crawl of fading illusion in hand. Leather creaked with the close of fist, knuckles white within glove's confines, and familiar tremor ever present. Wordlessly, the woman's fist fell limply to curve of her hip wherein she stood for a passing beat of silence; words booming overhead. Thick heels gound into grass as Odette turned from the barren soil courtyard had previously occupied, and strode her return to Vherr's side with naught but acceptance on scarred countenance.

Emerald hues, set deeply in lined kohl and abundant weariness, weaved outward over still oceans to the horizon, tracking the inch by inch crawl of bleak manifestation. The familiar sense of dread was, in some sadistic manner, an old friend. Reminder, reality, ratification; melded together as one, winding and twisted in misplaced beauty of bleaknik poetry.

Slowly, Odette pulled her gaze from linger and spoke simplistically.
"There's nothin' more ta be done here. Let's go..."

Wherever 'here' was, the attempted sense of nearest dormant portal would commence; fingertips physically plucking the instrumental strings of planar reality to gently unravel the corporeal threads of weakened veil. Were one to be met with success, portal might be coaxed to awaken and thus provide their exit with some measure of strain upon the Gatecrasher. Naturally, Odette would hold the portal open for as long as it would take Vherr to make use of method; allowing the silver-haired femme once last glance at encroaching darkness before stepping through herself.

In order to cease being a doubtful case, one has to cease being at all.

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