Liquid Dreams

[oneiros]

Leaning on the parapet of the palace wall, Azir closed his eyes and felt the soft light of dawn gently break across the blanket of night, pushing back the darkness with the radiance of the new day. It was in these moments, all so fleeting, that his sense of purpose seemed renewed, was pure and wholesome, a blazing arrow against the injustice and perfidy of those agents arrayed against them.

But in these times, the walls had been tested. Those against which he now leant and those he had built in his heart and mind. The lighthouse of renewed faith, lit by the fiery words of Fox and stoked by the immense actions of Kairos, felt dim. They had been tested sorely, come through it with barely half their population and the clean-up efforts would be long and arduous. Most of his medicaments were in short supply, despite working all hours, and he was hard pressed dealing with the health of those remained, though that was slowly stabilising. Another day or so and he could turn his attentions to other matters.

At the end of the day, there was only so much he could have done. They had little forethought or intelligence of what they were really up against. Their heavenly ally obviously had forces working against them too. Turning to look out over the ravaged city, reconstruction was proceeding slowly. A depleted workforce. Repopulation was a significant issue and mass emancipation might be the quickest way round that. He made a mental note to make inquiries with Kairos.

Stifling a yawn, Azir stood up and stretched as the warmth of the new morn started to seep into aching muscles. It was time to head back to the lab, see to the town's needs for the day, maybe grab a few hours sleep somewhere if no-one needed him for anything. He suddenly remembered the queen remarked about feeling a bit queasy, maybe she needed a check-up soon. Staring across the unfamiliar fields, far removed from the previous forests, he pondered whether he would ever get the chance to start work on his grand scheme, his legacy to Creation's health. But finding a starting point was difficult – where do you realistically begin in trying to cure all of the world's ills? Time and space were what he needed to dedicate proper attention to the project. Both resources were at a premium right now unfortunately.

All the day's considerations tumbled through his mind as he swirled his finger in vague traceries through the dust. He winced as he caught the digit against the edge of a particularly sharp piece of stone, looking down to see a large droplet of blood tumble through the morning light, sparkling like a sanguine shard of garnet. Peering down, his keen eyesight permitted him to see it impact without notice on the helmet of the guard below. Returning his attention to the cut, with barely a thought he staunched the wound and sealed it against infection… and was suddenly struck by inspiration's shovel. A top-down approach was no good here – would only lead to pain. Work his way up to it… start by not letting problems arise… get right to the heart – or the blood – of the matter…

And who better to use as a test sample, than those who were likely to get in trouble… there were still enough troops around. He smiled – the first he had permitted in a long while. A bit of excitement, a new project – to give their men an edge in battle, keep them going for longer. Concepts and techniques, procedures and biological principles all started to flood through his consciousness. To the lab immediately – this needed to be started without delay!

He bounded down the stairs to the parapet in haste rather unseemly for the good doctor. Dashing through the palace he barely registered the unclad musculature of someone rushing past him in the opposite direction, his focus purely on the task to be achieved. The soft soles of his boots slipped on the recently polished floor and he skidded heavily into a wall near the throne room… narrowly avoiding the precious vase precariously positioned on the pedestal nearby.

"Are you okay sir?" came the crisp tone and helping hand of a young guardsman.

"Ow. Yes. Thanks… Sorry, in a bit of a hurry. Idea." The flashes of lightning in his head were itching to be released, an idea whose time has come.

The soldier nodded bemusedly; eccentric lords dashing through the palace seemed to be the order of the morning. "Do you require any further assistance, sir?" noting a slight discomfort from Azir not having let go of his wrist.

"Hmmm?" The doctor stared intently at the flow of blood through the veins, a siren call threading beneath the flesh… "Oh yes, actually I do. Can you spare me a little of your… time?"

The look in his eyes was starting to be a bit disconcerting to the guard. "Er… how much time, sir? I'm still on duty."

Azir waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, just about a pint. And don't worry about anything. Just come this way. You're going to be doing your comrades a great favour," he declared, dragging the hapless guard towards his lab…


[Using Lightning Inspired Construction for the design portion of the battlefield hardiness potion, dice-pool = 7 + any stunt dice from above + 4 auto successes from 2nd Exc.]

[oneiros]

(Posting for BSR)

[Sorry poor roll, though in some ways it'll help : 7 successes (successful 3 dice stunt)]

Azir draws the blood from the poor unfortunate, But there is only so much he can accomplish. And such a limited number of tests he can perform. There are some places he can start a few of the agents he's already developed have the kind of effect that he's looking for on the blood. But he needs more space, more time, and equipment that will give him greater control. There are too many impurities here, and too many distractions. All he has so far is a place to start, but if it continues like this it'll take much too long.

[oneiros]

Sighing, and not for the first time that hour, at the fizzled test, Azir glanced over at the reams of notes and overturned, empty ink pots. Wrinkling his nose, he grimaced at the strong coppery tang of burnt blood that hung in the air and wondered if it would be wise to put up a note warning Fox to stay away from the lab. With a disheartened look, he carefully placed the used alembics and glassware into the sink for later clearance and gathered up the papers. Perhaps some fresh air would grant a better perspective. He was getting nowhere down here.

Head down, deep in thought, he walked past the throne room, not registering the fact that one of the guards was surreptitiously trying to back into a shadowy corner. Distracted and dejected, he wandered through the bustle of the courtyard, oblivious to the activities of the afternoon – much to the chagrin of the horseman who had to pull up sharply…

…as the animal bucked the rider… into a bushel of apples which scattered… one rolling out into the path of the serving boy who tripped… throwing the armful of firewood towards the blacksmith… who fell backwards over his anvil, dropping the newly-forged sword blade into the barrel of water… sending a plume of steam up the dress of the laundry maid walking up the nearby steps… who, in order to preserve her modesty, dropped the basket of washed clothes… onto the head of the guard below… who promptly collapsed, falling down the open cellar steps, landing with a thunderous crash of splintering wood and squawking… as a chicken fluttered up into the air, coming to rest on a soldier's helmet.

Azir blithely walked through this storm and up to his favoured spot on the parapet, pausing only to pick up an apple that had rolled near his foot, cast a quick eye over the scene behind him and shake his head reprovingly. The country had just gone through a turbulent period but that was no reason to let standards fall.

Once ensconced in his preferred niche, he returned to the problems at hand. He idly took a bite out of the tasty apple. Obviously he was not going to get far with the limited resources here. He had an inkling of what to do, the blood was definitely a start but the tools here were not fine enough, not precise enough, not well calibrated enough. It may only be a potion, but there was an art to the crafting process that went beyond simply chucking plants into a pot and boiling.

Setting the notes down, he turned to stare out over the countryside. Was he kidding himself that he could accomplish what he saw in his mind… in his dreams… Azir stiffened as realisation struck like fiery bolt. Of course! His dreams! The ones that had shown him visions of what had passed before, a time long gone. Of the gleaming workshop, a host of Terrestrial assistants and the finest resources a craftsman could want. That was it! He needed to find that place… assuming it still existed, of course. No, it must do. If Fox was right then these must be visions for a reason – sights to spur body and spirit to new heights, to greater glory for the Unconquered Sun. A chance to put Creation right again and end the suffering that abounded.

Grabbing hastily at his notes, flailing in a manner most ungainly to catch the stray ones, he leapt down the stairs once more, this time heading for his rooms. Stuffing papers, clothes and the carefully-wrapped Omniscient Literary Advisor into a satchel, he hastily scribbled a note for his companions and pinned it to his room door. 'Gone to get better tools. Heading east. Back soon, I hope.'

Reason dictated that the best place to start his search would be the strongest tie they had found so far to their previous lives – the manse deep in the forests of the East, near the Elemental Pole. If there were to be clues anywhere, then there they should be. He felt a slight pang at leaving in such a rush but the kingdom was settling down, everyone seemed busy with their own projects and besides, this was for everyone's benefit ultimately. Steeling himself for the long trip ahead, he headed once more to the palace walls, shaping the incantations and occult gestures in his mind and muscles. Unleashing the power that welled within him, a blazing corona of rippling Essence tore through the sky above, calling up the very threads of air and cloud, binding them to his service as a stormwind rider. This was his carriage of choice for the journey towards the edge of Creation and he stepped off the wall into its swirling embrace and sped into twilight, the setting sun dipping into shadow at his back…


[Dunno if you want to put something in here or we cut straight to arrival at the manse ]

[oneiros]

(posting for BSR)

[Feel free to jump forward. Bu I'm giving you another three dice stunt for your awesome narration.]

[oneiros]

[Okay then, moving to the manse. Again apologies for length, have a tendency to be rather prosaic when writing ]

Fragments of history and snippets of memory purported Creation to be larger in times gone past. After yet another day of long travel over trees, forests, woods, copses and even the odd thicket to break up the monotony, he was definitely of the opinion that the world was big enough, thank you very much. With only the swirling currents of air and his own thoughts to keep him company, he briefly recollected the memory of Valion and his antics the first time they were fleeing for their lives.

Myriad settlements and isolated ruins passed below. Maybe one of those was even the village they got chased out of after assaulting the barman and stealing a keg. His lips pursed in consternation. They had moved beyond such reckless displays, hadn’t they? Every so often he would set down away from a village or farmstead and it wasn’t too difficult to get even the most curmudgeonly resident to offer him a bed and meal for the night, well, not with the judicious use of his persuasive skills. And there was often someone who was in need of basic medical attention in return.

It was early afternoon when he felt the familiar tugs on his consciousness that signalled the power of a recognised demesne and he touched down in the small clearing before the rather plain looking building that instinctive memory more than actual recall told him belong to him and his companions, now and in the past. Returning his focus from control of the sorcerous transport to re-attuning himself to the power flows here, he stepped cautiously over the threshold and into the house itself.

The place was exactly as they had last left it over 2 seasons ago. The traps and problems that had beset their Mnemon expedition leader all that time ago appeared dormant as Azir did a cursory check to ensure that nothing untoward had happened or the place had been disturbed. Padding carefully down the stairs, he came once more to the hewn chamber with the spiralling sigil that had proved unduly vexatious and taxing last time. Blaming the rigours of the chase and the surge of confusion from having recently been awakened to the glories of his patron, Azir calmly stepped forward to place his hand firmly upon the vertical piece, making ready to move it into position.

A sudden thought flashed to mind as he did so. What if there were different permutations of arranging this symbol? Could it be manipulated into other patterns and maybe unlock a different pathway through this manse? They had not concerned themselves with any further investigation the last time they came through – simply bypassing the lock was sufficient, enabling them to restore themselves with artefacts of previous association.

Pulling out a quill, a piece of chalk and a few sheets of parchment, Azir set to work. A quick burst of essence into the tracery was coupled with letting it course through his body to his eyes, dropping the veil of mundane sight and allowing him to see the threads of energy that enmeshed this place of power. [Activate AESS] Moving with a celerity born of an intriguing puzzle, he focussed the power of his intellect on this task – moving his fingers in katas of occult linguistics, dredging his stores of ancient lore, scribbling notes, chalking marks. All devoted to determining if there what stood before him was actually a lock to multiple doors.


[Simple/extended Occult OR Lore check? Either way, spending for full allowance on 2nd Exc on rolls. (Per/Int+Lor dp = 8+stunt; Per/Int+Occ = 9+stunt; 8m for +4 auto-succ on either)]

[oneiros]

With a sigh, Azir put down the chalk and the scribbled papers. Nothing. Fruitless. Waste of time. But it had been such a good idea. Ah well, at least it gave him a suggestion to put to Ferric if his plans of manse construction came to pass.

So where to next? The rest of the building was fairly ordinary, so maybe something in the normal chamber beyond the door. Placing his hand on the top marker, he swung the piece into place, thus completing the sigil as they had figured out before and the wall slid open in marked anticlimax.

Picking up his satchel, the frustrated scholar stepped into the corridor beyond and approached the central table as he surveyed the place. It looked like he would have to make a thorough sweep of the area. Closing his eyes, he channelled his essence throughout his body, hoping that if there was anything to be found, mundane or mystical, his newly attenuated senses would hone in on it. Reopening them, irises now sparkling blue and gold, he begins to slowly walk, executing a methodical search pattern as he goes...

[Adding Keen Sight Technique to accompany AESS and using either Perception+Occult or Awareness or Investigation to try and find any clues. If Occ or Awa, will use 2nd Excellency. Additionally would a Lore check allow me to determine likely points to focus search on or improve my chances of finding something, given both the Literary Advisor and general manse construction theories. +Excellency again if necessary]