Shards Of History

[*Brindas]

Odette's gaze pulls up from the group sharply, first darting to the nearby window to peer through the curtain and then to the door as she leapt down from the wooden crates with a slightly alarmed expression. Landing with a thud, she takes a few strained steps forward and frowns briefly as her fingers brush over her belt with a measure of confusion on her freckled features that flicker in shadow with the waning of the candlelight.

"Somethin' ain't right. . ." the bardess voices her concern warily as she attempts to shake it off, moving in a slightly sluggish manner, but with brisk pace to the door. Flinging it open without a second thought, she takes a single step back as her jaw slackens and aquamarine eyes widen in both horror and awe. "Fok-HIT THE DECK!" is all she manages to bellow before the tremors start.

Odette throws herself to the ground in the open doorway with a thump, arms looped over her head to protect it from any falling debris and hoping like mad her companions were doing the same. As the tremors growled their chaotic roar and shook the very foundations of their wooden abode, already Odette's mind was racing ever forward. For better or worse, a disturbance that intense in it's ferocity would be as a beacon to the prime, drawing friend and enemy alike as if they were moths to flame.

A signal for all; for Sammaster, for Scar . . and for Kelth.

Their path had been made clear.

Brindas glanced very, very briefly to the sailor as the quake began. But providing comfort or protection to her was largely un-needed, she could always take care of herself. Instead, the doctor moved to cover Quinn and shield him from anything falling - he was not as confident that Quinn would protect himself and not panic.

He gazed at falling rubble and shifting boards - they seemed rather representative of everything he had done, and tried to do with his life. "Well," he thought. "Time to pick up the pieces once again, then, till something comes along to knock them all over again."

As he continued to shield Quinn, it was not the caring, worried expression he usually wore - it was that of a shell doing his job.

[*DigitalDragoon]

At first appearing perplexed and worried as the magic in the area becomes dampened, Quinn had moved join Odette at the door. "What is it? Are we under assaul-..Oh heavens!" The sight from the open door sends him backpedaling several steps.

The initial rumble of the comet's impact easily knocks the older gentleman off his feet. The good doctor's decision seems for the best as the subsequent tremors appear to send Quinn into a fit of hyperventilation. At least the old mage's initial response was to scramble for shelter along one of the inner walls.

"T-try to f-find somet-t-thing solid to g-get u-under!" Once he and Brindas are comparably safe he looks around, fearing for the others, even as he tries to get his breathing under control.

[*WhenWizardsWar]

In the morning the fortress is abuzz with movement and sound. The excessively long quake had caused considerable damage to the fort which was hastily being repaired. General Scars shouts can be heard echoing from his high observation balcony, commanding the troops to stand ready and alert in case unwanted company should arrive.

The generals iron fortress, high on the mountain peaks affords a great vantage point facing the north and eastern sides of Illia, and all is not well.

A similarly well constructed fortress far to the east, lord Ulniks holding billows trails of smoke just like bastion the heros currently occupy, apparently they have sustained significant damage as well. The general makes a brief visit to the heros company, lending them a spy glass before rushing off to see to other important matters. He instructs them to look towards the mountain to the north.

Illia appears to have been struck a savage blow by the crash of the king killer comet into the fiery mountain to the north. A light ash now falls across the landscape, adding a bleak grey dust to the fear and worry about the crashing comet and immense quake spells for the prime. The most disturbing change discovered in morning is the several mile wide river that seperates Illia from north to south, from the base of the volcano to its southern coast is now empty of blood and body choked water.

A rapid flowing river of the earths molten blood now flows rapidly south, dumping in the vast ocean to the south. If one could see Illia from high above in the sky it might look like a bloody trail seeping down the flesh of the prime world.

It should be understood the volcano hasnt erupted yet, but somewhere near the mountain boils forth enough earths blood to fill the wide river bed almost to the shores with rapid searing magma.

Animals flee their homes, what trees can be seen seem wilted and sad, almost depressed and the feeling of something ominous hangs in the air, almost palpable.

Occasionally Illia groans in pain....

[*Nimiane]

As the tremors subsided, the bardess pulled herself to her feet with the aid of the now-leaning door frame and brushed the splinters from her person carelessly. "Everyone arrite?" she queried with a measure of concern as her gaze flickered over their companions - Vyse, Quinn, Brindas, Greg and the approach of Argent at her side. Following his line of sight outwards, her lips part as if to speak.

Her attention is quickly snapped up by the appearance of Scar, her first instinct after snatching up the spyglass to grasp for any answers he might give in regards to their next move. Alas, the General hurries off to his business before she is able to ask what is needed, leaving her muttering a curse under her breath and lifting the spyglass in a Northerly direction. Odette's brows furrow heavily, gaze pulling along the stream of magma. Slowly she withdraws the instrument from her vision and passes it gently to Argent with a thoughtful click of her tongue. If anyone could understand the workings of nature and life force among them, it would be he.

"What do y'make of this, Argent?"

Already she was growing restless, the desire to leave the confines of the four walls and depart for the crash site nagged at her like a loose thread on silken garb. It could not come to pass without knowing what they would face, however.

[*TheSteamWolf]

The meeting had been interesting to listen to, but Gregory hadnÂ’t felt he had anything to add, and so remained quiet, observing his comrades. HeÂ’d also resolved to try being less vocal for the duration of this little adventure, as anytime he opened his mouth it landed him in an argument with Odette. As far as he knew, his friendship with her was already on shaky ground, if not entirely over; as annoyed as he was with her over the eveningÂ’s kerfuffle, he hoped they would not go their separate ways when and if they returned to Sigil. Instead of listening as closely to what was being said as he knew he ought, he kept replaying the whole incident over in his head, admonishing himself whenever he thought of a way he might have diffused the situation rather than escalating it.

"Somethin' ain't right. . ." Greg looked up at these words, blinking, uncomprehending as he was shaken from his reverie. He watched Odette hit the ground, wondering vaguely if she was having a flashback of some sort. That was when the world exploded around him. Everything slowed to a crawl. The floor beneath him seemed to have turned into a very thick pudding, the way it wobbled and shuddered, feeling less solid for it. His eyes traveled over each Sigilian companion. They all appeared unharmed. His eyes fell on Vyse, sitting near him, then to the disorganized shelf of books, scrolls, random kitchen appliances, and dishes. He had a moment to wonder whoÂ’d decided those things should go on the same shelves before he noticed the entire thing was about to topple onto his ruddy brother.

Without much in the way of conscious thought, Greg was up and off like a shot. He grabbed the chair Vyse occupied and shoved hard, tossing the bard clear just as the heavy oak impacted. His vision exploded with bright spots, then went black. When the tremors subsided, a heavy bookshelf lay nearly flat, with four green-clad unmoving gregoryesque limbs protruding from beneath it.

He made no sound.

[*Lucadia]

The red eyed fey takes the spy glass and lifts it up. His excitement had faded , squinting his eyes and faint tilt to the long ears as he listens with all his senses. A frown begins to form as he searches the distance, the plume of Ash, the rumbling, the metallic taste he got his mouth.

"Oh, giddy E'li, this is ..possibly not good. Is there a record of the mountain having been active last? List of potential hazards .. acid rain? Earthquakes? Fire. Err, just assuming that rock could of shattered the earthen crust surrounding a magma chamber. Ah these chambers weaken with either time or stress, finally releasing the lava contained within.

He puffs his cheeks and lofts both brows, and as if it was a second thought, he says aloud to the others

"Probably, possibly, maybe, I don't so , even if so remotely ..Err well I hope thats not a sleeping super-volcano that can wipe out the planets atmosphere. Now was it directed? Feeling less of a coincidence , as if the cosmos was after us all. Speculation . Merely. Ahem. No. It feels /very/ wrong here. Now."

He tuts, then turns to face all the others, waiting.

[*Nimiane]

Odette shook her head slowly, murmuring softly to the Silvanesti as her gaze drifted over the horizon. "Potential hazards? Dun know anythin' like that, I'm afraid." she admits. "Dinnae have reason to. If anyone knows anythin', it'd be Scar. . ." Trailing off from that thought, the bardess gnaws on her lip introspectively for a moment before adding in a whispered tone; a fleeting, if not grandiose notion. "What if. . . we evacuated t'prime and forced a volcanic eruption t'wipe out t'rest?"

Pulling her gaze back into the interior of their accomodation, her voice raises enough for the rest to hear.

"With or without Scar, we need t'head t'that crash site as soon as possible. Nae doubts that Sammaster is already makin' preparations t'do the same."

The bardess' words come to an abrupt halt as her whirling thoughts register the lack of confirmation from their companions. Her gaze darts briskly, counting the number of bodies present before her aquamarine orbs settle on the cabinet and her frown deepens.

[*DigitalDragoon]

After the aftershocks has subsided, a quick survey of the damage sets the small fellow into a state of alarm. He immediately moves to assist Greg. Trembling hands scrabble over the wood as he seeks enough leverage to try and slide the piece of furniture aside, lacking the physical prowess and size to shift it easily. "C-could someone assist with moving this t-thing!? Brindas, we need to see if he is still b-breathing!"

[*Brindas]

After the aftershocks has subsided, a quick survey of the damage sets the small fellow into a state of alarm. He immediately moves to assist Greg. Trembling hands scrabble over the wood as he seeks enough leverage to try and slide the piece of furniture aside, lacking the physical prowess and size to shift it easily. "C-could someone assist with moving this t-thing!? Brindas, we need to see if he is still b-breathing!"

Brindas swiftly moves over to the man, glancing him over with hawklike eyes. Brindas wastes no time in waiting - he summons an angel to move the clutter from Greg, and looks him over more thoroughly. "Leg is messed up, with a bit of healing magic it should set soon... shattered ocular cavity, as well, but nothing he won't recover from in a few hours, provided it is tended to. I have the supplies needed, luckily, thanks to Scar..."

The doctor begins tending to Gregory with pursed lips.

[*TheSteamWolf]

Dr. Defeign's assessment was entirely accurate. Greg's leg bent at an odd angle and the entire right side of his face now reflected every color of the bruise rainbow, from deep angry red, to yellow, to black, and appeared lumpy and shapeless compared with his usual countenance. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive.