Turn 9
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GM:

There is a large under-grassed area in front you. Bare dirt showing the signs of being trampled by many feet. Nearby trees are sparse, withered and warped unnaturally.

Silver pipe in hand, a thin plume of smoke playing from her sculpted nostrils, Gwen leisurely scans the clearing, her eyes drifting from tree tops, to scrub, working back over the scarred land until her consideration focuses on the earth before her. She begins to move then, stepping carefully, effortlessly over what seems to be a pre-selected area of land. Her gaze follows the tracks left in such abundance, examining, identifying and separating one group from another - one man or beast from its fellow until she has travelled a simple, thorough grid. Once, she pauses by the Black River's point of emergence and crouches for a moment watching the contaminated rush before scowling and stepping away in disgust, an exhalation of limia smoke in her wake. Gwen's search pattern finally concludes some six yards from the three doors set in the rock face. Chewing her lip, the ranger places her hands on her hips and stares at the ground thoughtfully, identifying something of significance in the tracks left by others whilst her eyes drift without comprehension over the symbols engraved above.

The sun beats down on her tall, admirable form with gilded jealously, seeming to want nothing more than to tangle its rays in her ice-pale braids and heat her honey-rich skin. Contemplation of the darkness lying beyond the three doors sits in Gwen's heart like the black promise of a nightmare. She draws a heavy breath and rubs her eyes.

Balron watches with interest, trying to determine what it is that she sees that captivates her so. A step puts him next to her, his gaze tracing her path. G

wen nods at the dwarf and extends a finger idly, tracing an arc of strange, narrow scrapings in the dirt and some lumpish scorings accompanied by scuffed boot marks that could easily be the marks of great hams tossed side by side upon the earth. Her look indicates the tracks are widespread and lead every which-way from all three doors and beyond the very clearing. She doesn't look happy. "Four days old, no more. Were talking - and don't ask me how - orcs, boots - human and otherwise - plus walking skeletons, unshod horses, a few different carts ..." she sniffs and waves a hands. "A few campsites from adventurers and the like, one night stays. As for the beasties, they've used every door and their track-patterns suggest they were involved in search and raiding parties, probably against settlors or caravans, judging by the numbers. Others I would guess, considering by the direction they went, were scroungers or hunters. Looks like the tenant of this here place has a good army of lackeys." She sneers faintly as she looks about her surrounds once again. Some small, poor coins clink in her palm, obviously found in her recent examinations. "Low rent cockroach," murmurs the ranger frostily.

The Black River wells from the ground to one side, like blood seeping from a wound. It could perhaps lead into the dungeon itself, but that would involve swimming underwater for a considerable time. It could be loosely defined as water. More accurately as effluent.

The cliff face bulges forth here. Its weathered face covered in small growths of moss.

There are three doors set into the towering mountain.

Each one is twice as tall as the tallest elf. Their stone faces flush with the surrounding rock.

There is a large symbolic tree carved into the face of each door. Reminiscent of the painting in the tavern. At the base of each door is a different symbol, however…

The left appears to have an ‘a’, the middle a three pronged ‘i’ and the right an upside down ‘u’.

A mist drifts cloyingly around the base of the mountain. A sickly yellow-green in colour.

Kaceubel takes two steps forward before the group going to one knee and bringing his pack around before him. "Before we attempt to enter Sephiroth I have a toast to propose." Kaceubel opens his pack and draws out a small wooden case which he carefully places in front of him, it's centre aligning precisely with the centre of the great [arch, doorway, door whatever].

Gwen turns around, a brow lifting. "A toast, forest-brother? Do you think this is an appropriate moment? I mean - what'll be left to do when we finally get out of here? Dance?" She smiles as the elf's deft hands continue to scamper over his mysterious box and moves over to Balron's side. "You reckon it'll be to your palate, Sir Token Fighter?"

Balron tips his head slightly, gazing up from beneath his bushy eyebrows, considering. After a long look one shoulder rises slowly, light cascading off the silvered steel of his armour. "I'm yet to find one that did, lass. Wines like that are of the air, wind caught in a bottle and infused in a liquid. Fairy things, to bring out the morning and the noon and lift the head. One of my ilk prefers a different kind, of fire and earth, of blood and toil. A drink should be all things that you savour. This is not it."

Gwen smiles, her eyes lit with some new found regard for the usually taciturn dwarf. "Your eloquence does you credit, friend," compliments the half-elf with easy warmth. "Fire, earth, blood and toil. I hear the articulation of a soul wise enough to study itself before it attempts the examination of others. But as for a drink that supplies all we need and savour - well that's a rare thing indeed, Balron, and you know what they say about beggars."

Kaceubel works quickly though without haste. He opens the case and carefully arranges five small crystal goblets in a pentagonal pattern on the inside cover of the case. "I have been saving this for a special occasion, it is the last bottle of my favourite vintage." The mage reverently brings forth a velvet wrapped bottle. "This bottle is older than Kron's wall, originally I had a whole case." Carefully Kaceubel flips away the covering cloth drawing forth a small, plain bottle of golden fluid. "The people who made this saw it as a sacred duty to brew the wine. In fact they had a war over which kind of grapes to use in the process." Carefully he places the bottle exactly between the goblets and sits back on his heels studying the arrangement for flaws.

Gwen chuckles. "I think you forgot the black candles."

"Now if I remember correctly ... " Kaceubel sings quietly in archaic Elvish and sketches the symbols for Life, minor Growth and inverted Decay in air over the bottle. The ornate seal on the bottle glows briefly before silvery light flows around and down the bottle to its base. Spreading from the base to the goblets in five streams. There is a slight flash as lines suddenly connect the goblets and the top pops off the bottle with a sigh. The glow fades leaving the goblets subtly different.

Gwen shifts uncomfortably. Even the small display of magic seems to have her hackles up. She rubs at her left temple and frowns faintly.

Kaceubel leans forward and, picking up the bottle, carefully pours the golden wine equally into the five goblets leaving the bottle empty. Replacing the bottle Kaceubel looks over to Gwen. "Do not worry, the spell is merely a preservative, this wine has no magical side effects it is simply the best you will ever taste. Unless you prefer reds, I know of a bottle or two of similar vintage lying about somewhere." The mage gestures towards the glasses, gather round and propose your toasts, tradition demands that we each toast to something, preferably something positive. We all propose our toasts and then we drink the wine in one shot I shall start." He pauses in thought. "To life and liberty." Kaceubel looks to Nadia expectantly.

The early morning sun gleams off his goblet.

Gwen looks towards the sable-haired human woman, her eyes unreadable, then draws her pipe to her lips, head bowed as she waits.

Balron lifts his glass, gazing deep into the wine. He steps back beside Gwen and joins the mage in watching Nadia.

Between midnight and dawn of the 7th day out of Dereisnospoon Kaceubel wakes Nadia for her watch. Putting a finger to his lips he gestures to the edge of the camp. Stepping carefully the two make their way around the dying fire and out of earshot.

"We should talk I have some concerns. Gwen is damaging her health with her refusal to eat more than rations. This is not something we can afford to allow. Here" Kaceubel produces a small cloth wrapped package and proffers it to Nadia "this waybread will restore her to full health. This journey is just the beginning of our adventure and we should all take care to damage our chances. She will take food better from you than any of us and I do not want her to turn this food away solely because it comes from me and my people."

"We do not have a plan for entering Sephiroth, not do we have any idea what to do when we get there. It is doubtful that we will be able to accomplish our task in less than three days and I worry that we might not have enough food. We will have to camp several times and as a group we have not yet discussed which skills we have and where our skills overlap. I have been around for a long time, mostly I have concentrated on magics but I have managed to gain an understanding of how Clerical magic works and can even duplicate some of the effects."

Kaceubel shifts a little, uncomfortable with a new topic. "I have been watching you for some time now and I am concerned. When was the last time you prayed to the Goddess? We will all be needing to be at our strongest inside Sephiroth and I am worried that our cleric seems to be having doubts."

We, each of us, have a task and a role to fulfill. The avatar, whichever one of us that turns out to be, will ultimately become the focus of our trip. Sephiroth will try its best to destroy the avatar so it is vital that nobody knows who that is. If it knew who to target then it would target all of its attacks at that one and it would succeed. As it stands, with no certainty, the dungeon will try to target us all, giving us all a better chance to survive and succeed."

"What it comes down to is that everybody else may have to be sacrificed to ensure that the avatar gets through and if the avatar dies before he or she succeeds then the rest will die for nothing. I'm telling you this because I have seen you and Gwen becoming very close over the last few days and I felt that you should be warned that acting solely on feelings you have for her could be dangerous. It may be necessary to make sacrifices for what you believe in."

"You might think it strange that an Elf warns you about your beliefs. Beware assumptions, the world believes that elves are just heathens with no belief in gods, heretics that's all we are to most clerics. Elves have been around for far longer than you think. We walked these lands before humans came, I myself have seen the climb of humanity from barbarism to civilisation and back to it's current state. We saw the universe and came to see it without the blinkers of superstition and 'knowledge'. There are primeval forces out there, all around us. Some of them have been given names and personalities by believers, human and others. Elves deal directly with basic concepts, it is more direct and, we believe, more respectful."

Kaceubel shivers a little and draws his cloak around himself. "It is cold, I will leave to your watch." The elf looks around surveying the sleeping adventurers. "I'll leave you with one last question, have you ever asked your goddess about herself or just gone with what you've been taught and 'known'."

Kaceubel walks silently back to his bedroll, climbs in and is soon asleep, snoring softly.

The glyphs inside the circles on the door are in Hebrew (the High Lizardman language). They appear to be the names of the various building owners of the village of Derisnospewn. Which is strange considering that this looks nothing like a map of the village, the buildings being in different locations. Perhaps the words have other meanings, but you are unable to quickly determine what they are.. [see the Sephirothic Tree graphic at the onelist site]

The symbols at the bottom of the door [see appropriate graphic] are the Greek letters Alpha, Psi, Omega. Greek being spoken on a continent other than the Western Shores (so no mortals are likely to know it without extensive sea travels).

As you watch, the symbols on the surface melt and fade away from the doors, leaving behind a simple message written in the common Human tongue:- [if attachement doesn't work, try URL below] http://www.onelist.com/files/dungeonsephiroth/Gates.jpg

Gwen starts, staring like a spooked horse as the glyphs upon the doors. She reads them, blinks, then in a blur, leaps forward, wraps a hand in the hobbit's jerkin about his throat and drags him forward, striking at the centremost door with her shoulder and the entirety of the thief's squirming body. One solid, sickening *thunk* resounds, especially from Ari's head. Gwen's spare hand snakes down and whips the blade of her vicious skinning knife into a deadly hold against the hobbit's carotid and ignoring the voices of those behind her, she leans into the thief's form, fingers white with the force of her hold. "ARImansis!" cries the half-elf with a half-demented, frightenly alien look in her eyes. A trickle of blood etches its way along the blue-steel length of her well-oiled knife. "Now if I believed in coincidence, you hairy sneak-thief, I'd have been played a fool long since!".

The cleric moves in towards the action, her surprise at this sudden violence momentarily apparent upon her features.

Kaceubel speaks, loudly in a tone of authority unheard from him previously "Gwendellheil Bright-Eye of the Lofty Mountains put that thief down this instant." Kaceubel raises his left hand and it starts glowing blue. "We are not going to start off by killing one another if I have to spank each and every one of you."

Nadia is moving easily, apparently completely relaxed, the only sign of any tension the one hand on the still-sheathed sword's hilt. She is just close enough to interfere and moving closer to the doors where the ranger holds Ari. She turns her head quickly as she almost stalks forward. Almost snarling.

Balron turns his dark gaze on the mage, the blue light from Kaceubels hand striking his face and sinking into the blackness beneath his brows. The screams as his Axe springs to guard, his shield dropping smoothly to settle on his left forearm.

Gwen turns her head partially towards the elf, but does not relinquish her hold upon the hobbit. Something in the tilt of her jaw suggests she has just heard more than she can stomach from Kaceubel. Ari, in her grasp is the only one who sees the terrible cold welling in her amethyst eyes as nightmares coil up to take their hold upon her reason. Fury drains her face of all colour.

The mage looks around, a terrible look in his eyes. "We are here to save this world, we all have a place in it." He looks contemptuously at Gwen. "Which some of us seem to have forgotten."

"Forgotten?" the ranger growls, loathing seeping into her tones. "You are so out of touch with reality, _archivist_ that I doubt you even understand what it is the rest of perceive as 'our world'. I, for one, am so soaked in the lies, violence and subterfuge served up by all around me that I am not about to obliviously stroll into the den of a sorcerer with him -" she shakes Ari angrily "- the master of this place, strolling contentedly by my side! I never believed anyone could walk unscathed from this place. How convenient all your companions died. No one to gainsay your bullshit, eh, Arimansis?" Gwen twists her blade, forcing Ari' jaw up, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I think it's time someone here had a closer look at our recalcitrant little friend. Nadia. Think you could detect a "Lord of Death?"

Kaceubels voice softens, compelling attention to his words. "This is a place of evil, another thing some of you may have forgotten. Evil likes to get others to do its dirty work for it. This dungeon will test us in every way and we must stand strong and together. Individually we will fall. One of us is the Avatar, we don't know which one as knowing would only endanger us all. We can not afford to let even one of us fall by the wayside."

Gwen's hand has begun to shake, she looks strung-out, but every accented word from the elf's lips seems to only increase her resolve. "I think we all know what bait dragged your ego-centric hide from its ivory tower, Kaceubel," she snaps fiercely. "Yes, we are all prophesised to enter the Dungeon. Fine. I'll go along with that. But first I want to know if our talented 'guide' has a more intimate association with this place than we realise! A reasonable request, I would have thought, considering his history and name. What do you think, Balron? Nadia? How bout we have a vote?"

Ignoring the platitudes, the cleric slows her steps stopping, just out of arms length of the struggle.

Trying to hold Gwen's eyes with her own, she merely holds out one hand, releasing any touch upon weaponry, turning her back upon everyone else and paying even no attention to the hobbit. Seeing the ranger's eyes, she carefully doesn't flinch, holding her eyes with some difficulty to concern and trust. "Gwen, listen to me," Stepping slowly forward, she places her outstretched hand ever so gently upon the ranger's shoulder, her voice dropping, gentle, "Don't do something you will regret. We will most likely need him, Gwen," gently caressing her name, "and we, I need you."

Gwen shivers at the touch and her eyes turn to Nadia. The half-elf looks distraught. She looks back at Ari with tear-glazed eyes and twists her hold another notch tighter on his jerkin as if she can't make herself let go.

"Yes, we are all prophesised to enter the Dungeon," says the ranger in a hollow tone, answering Kaceubel, reminding herself and all present that she remembers and understands how they're all linked. "Fine. I'll go along with that. But first I want to know if our talented 'guide' has a more intimate association with this place than we realise! A reasonable request, I would have thought, considering his history and name. What do you think, Balron? Nadia? How bout we have a vote?"

Gwen draws a heavy breath. "I don't want any more regrets in my life, which is why this needs to be cleared up now." To Nadia she whispers raggedly, "I will not allow any danger to you slither so close ever again."

"CEASE!" bellows Balron, his basso voice drowning out all sound. Into the ringing silence that follows he speaks, quietly but with sure authority gained by years of command. "The Dwarven realms are not a democracy. There will be no vote. You," he glares at Kaceubel, shifting his grip on his Axe. "Extinguish that hand before I take it to stick on a pole as a torch." He turns to Gwen. "Gwen lass, drop the hobbit and before your shaking hand guts him like a fish. Ari, come here and start talking." He starts to idly spin his axe, reseating his grip every three to four turns. "Know, Ari, that I can throw this faster then you can possibly imagine. You will not run. You will impress me with your memory and recite every detail of your former undertaking." His eyes start to gleam and his bearded face moves into what may be, tentatively, called a smile. "Make me proud, lad." He glances at Nadia. "Would ye mind starting a fire, lass. I think this is going to take some time."

"I shall extinguish this spell when she "nodding to gwen "releases the hobbit and not before." Strain is obvious in his voice as he takes a step back to distance himself from the confrontation.

Gwen stares at Ari as if her very glare can sear his hide from his bones. The trickle of blood on the blade touches her thumb and she abruptly becomes very still. A moment passes in complete silence, the half-elf draws a wavering breath, then withdraws her knife, holding it's bloodied grip in a white hand. Her other hand still ensures Ari has a continuing connection with the central door to the dungeon.

"I don't care how well he remembers his falsehoods, Balron. I want someone to ascertain where the lies end and the truth begins." With a final shove, she steps away, turning her back on Ari, trusting the dwarf to keep and eye on him. She looks to Nadia and her eyes drop, pained, and she begins to clean her skinning knife with automatic discipline.

[Unfortunately he chose a very pivotal moment to quit the PBeM. Until I get another player to do him, I'll be running him as an NPC (Chris, you get dibbs if you want to play him as you have been following the story). Ari will speak soon... Sorry for any inconvenience.]

Ari backs away frightened. Unsure of himself.

Kaceubel closes his hand on the light extinguishing it. Looks pale and sits down rapidly.

He shakes his head muttering to himself again "I hate breaking the rules like that."

Balron leans closer to Kaceubel. "Defy me not, my sorcerous friend, for know this - I never threaten. I say now that I will stand as Gwen's surety, just as I will stand as your's to them. None shall break this circle, for to do so will mean I stand against them and none here could survive that." He stands, turning to each of them. "You shall hear. I stand with all. Those who break faith with one break faith with me. It would not be wise."

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "I can determine falsehood, however it is not definitive, it can be fooled by a sufficiently skilled sorceror. Between us," here indicating Nadia, " we should be able to tell if he tries to foil the divination."

"Ari. Before they enact any spell, speak your peace, knowing you shall repeat it under Truthsight. A truth spoken freely is a bond between the orator and his audience." Balron walks to Gwen, touching her elbow lightly. "Come, lass, sit and hear. It shall come out in time." He indicates a log fallen hear the path, away from the doors.

Gwen looks up numbly, turns cold, suspicious look upon Ari then slides her now clean knife into the sheath beside the much broader and heavier jointing-blade with its sinister bone handle. Her other hip bears her hunting blade and rosewood handled silver dagger. It's now apparent that she knows all too well how to use each tool, not to mention the hatchet hidden in her pack ... or the longsword and bow. Gwen nods and follows Balron's gesture towards the log. She sits down with long-legged grace and jerks irritably at the lacings on her shirt. She looks at Nadia, discovers a rueful smile which turns into a sigh. The half elf scrubs at her eyes, then unstraps her pack and dumping it on the ground, digs out a leather pouch. As she begins to pull off her battered jacket, she scowls at Ari again. "Well, get on with it, 'thief' and make it good."

"Just give me a minute to recover." The elf draws himself into a lotus position clasping his hands together and bowing his head.

Gwen snorts, shakes out her coat and opens the pouch. Inside are steel plates. She begins to insert them one by one into hidden compartments within the leather foresting jacket. Each plate is inscribed with an elvish warding glyph. "I'm sure the skeletons won't come out while we're chatting. Take your time, mage. And Balron," her lovely eyes lift to the dwarf's stern visage, "you may not threaten, but you do intimidate. As long as the job gets done, however ..." she shrugs, and her eyes stray to Nadia. "I'm sorry," she says across the dusty distance between them, her hands remaining busy with her coat, "I guess I learned to voice my suspicions the Brondhiem clansmen way. Not subtle, but always to the point. I don't apologise for my concerns, however. Last thing we need is our enemy walking by our sides in the darkness." Gwen sighs again and her hands rest. "Catch me on a good day, my fond one, and I promise not to do anything overt for at least 12 hours." She smiles turns back to her work.

Nadia says nothing, returns the smile and runs one finger along just below her left eye, as if wiping something clear. She seems mildly amused by something, possibly whatever caused her to earlier murmur, 'faster than he can imagine'. She moves silently over to the log, smirking perhaps the slightest little bit as she passes the contorted and meditating mage. She sits on the ground, groaning exaggeratedly at the pain in her joints, old and tired.

Gwen smiles down, knowing exactly how the cleric feels and touches her dark hair briefly, fondly.

After a moment of shifting, trying to get comfortable, she half lifts herself, moving to the side and leaning her back against the log, rests her side and head against Gwen's leg, pushing a corner of the leather coat out of the way, ignoring the oh-so-dangerous knives sitting just above and behind her, claiming her position and sighing in contentment.

"Nice to know I can be of service," says Gwen with a grin, the brightness returning to her manner at this small but powerful gesture of companionship. She shifts to ensure Nadia is as comfortable as possible and reaches down, passing the human woman her skin of pure water.

After a moment, Nadia looks at Balron, still silent, but obviously prepared to take a lead from the forceful warrior.

By the time all the plates have vanished into the body of her jacket, Kaceubel has completed his meditation and all eyes turn towards Ari. The five goblets sit in stoic abandonment, awaiting this matter to be dealt with.

"I may not have been entirely truthful when I told you guys how I escaped..."

Gwen's eyes harden. "I'm amazed and astonished."

The cleric chuckles.

"I reckon the owner likes visitors, and, and he makes sure one person gets back, just so's he can get more people to come. " "Anyway, you can find your own way I guess - good luck with the doors, took me ages last time." He sidles around you to his pack before picking it up.

Nadia feels Gwen's leg tense. "I have a mind to get properly angry with this manipulative thief," she mutters.

Curling her arm behind the leg against which she is leaning, Nadia taps her hand against the ranger's knee in a slightly admonishing manner. Very quietly, so probably only Gwen can hear it, she murmurs, "Relax love, the anger isn't worth it." Pauses for a beat. "Besides, you're not half as comfortable when you're so tensed up."

"I'll be off if you don't want me - I got other business I can do with safer companions - there's a mountain with a dragon in it, I hear.." He looks at you enquiringly.

Kaceubel speaks his eyes still closed. "Stay right there Ari. If you leave without answering our questions it will go poorly for you."

For once, Gwen seems to approve of Kaceubel's attitude.

Balron rumbling chuckle wanders through Kaceubel's voice. "Ari my lad, don't consider leaving. If you're innocent I want you with me as a valued companion. If not, I want you where I can see you."

The elf stirs and looks over at the goblets. He sighs "no rush, the magic there is a simple preservative." He turns to look at Ari and gives him a long considering look. "

Ari this is how it's going to work." The mage pauses struck by a thought." You know Nadia, this is going to work better if we both do it." He turns back to Ari. "Ok on my end you will be surrounded by a cloud of glowing dust, blue for truth, red for lies. Very simple everyone here should be able to understand how it works. Right. Any questions before we start?"

"Yes." Balron turns from Ari to face his companions. "If Ari is the Power of Sephiroth do you believe your magic can work against him, here, at the very gates of that domain? And another to ponder - if he is behind this does that invalidate his presence in the prophecy? I think not. Nor is he the only one here with secrets." He returns his gaze to Ari. "Come lad, details. What happened, every word, sound deed, smell. It is all important."

"Even if he is the power behind sephiroth we should be able to detect interference. I will taken certain safeguards to ensure that we are not being fooled. To answer your second question I think not. The prophecy is perhaps a little less specific than one would like. It just says we will challenge Sephiroth, who dies, who helps and who betrays remains unclear. Certainly he is not the only one here with secrets, I even have some my self."

"With two of you working on it, the results will be fair," says Gwen resting her hands on Nadia's shoulders, working them unconsciously in what looks to be a superbly talented massage - the kind you just want to line up for.

Not that lining up will get any of them a massage. "Ooooaaooah."

"And if we all come up with a few questions to ask our self-confessed liar, we should get a good feel of whether or not we can trust him. And," Gwen pauses and looks directly at Ari, "Whatever the result, you _will_ be opening the doors for us, and, because the prophecy stipulates it must be so - you will _also_ be coming inside. I'd like to think of this upcoming test of veracity as a form of scouting out the terrain. I suppose it will determine, Ari, whether you come with us hog-tied or upon your own two feet." Gwen considers the Hobbit an moment longer, then leans down, her cheek brushing Nadia's hair. "Will you help, my beloved?"

Smiling slightly, the cleric asks very softly, "Hogtieing the thief, or... Of course." Leaning forward slightly, necessarily breaking the contact, she murmurs some quiet words under her breath and dipping a languid hand into the clear, pure water handed her, flicks a little in the general direction of Ari, making certain only that a little reaches him. Raising her voice to address the hobbit, her voice stern and warning, "This won't hurt _too_ much, Ari." Kind of shrugs in apology and then resumes her quiet murmuring, now adding in a couple of somatic elements to the request. There are no obvious special effects, although perhaps the drops sitting on the hobbits skin, glint oilily for a moment. It only becomes clear that the cleric has finished her task when she has sat back for a couple of moments, wriggling a little to settle herself in the most comfortable positions and wrapping one arm back around the ranger's leg. "Done. I'll know something of his intent as he speaks." Quietly, but clearly.

Kaceubel opens his pack again and rumages through it for a few minutes before triumphantly pulling out another leather wrapped bundle. Untying the leather strap he unfolds it on the ground in front of him. Packed away neatly inside is a full scribe kit complete with many of the raw ingredients used for creating the more interesting inks. Removing a small wooden bowl from his tunic Kaceubel starts flipping through the many pouches, chanting softly the while. After only a few minutes Kaceubel has finished mixing together a variety of powders into a purple dust.

Having finished his preparations Kaceubel turns again to Ari and grins at him. "This will probably tingle a little while the spell settles so stay calm. The rest of you, this will take a lot of concentration so if you could ask the questions I can stay focused and not waste energy."

The mage picks up his bowl and rotates it thrice chanting melodiously in Archaic Tauriqendi. Closing his eye he tosses the dust into the air where it hangs, fluorescing blue. The elf makes a sidehand throwing gesture towards Ari and the glowing cloud darts towards Ari. Ari steps back in fear and squirms as the cloud takes up station about him and gets into his clothes. After a moment the glow settles down to a steady pale blue. Kaceubel speaks quietly from his lotus position, almost absently his eyes still closed. "You may proceed."