The Mael-man {open}

[Mael Feu]

"Like a damn delivery boy," those were the mumbled words that came from Mael as he made his way up the hill to the Tel'Ranaemyn Inn.

It had been the better part of a month since he has left that prison behind and he had cleaned up his appearance. Cut the hair and shaved his face and made a few needed adjustments to his calvary jacket. He felt all the better now that he had it back - even more so that the idiots who were in charge of his possessions while he was in jail never realized its value.

When he had first arrived back to the Syndicate he had to undergo all the same bull that anyone who spent too much time out of communication. He personally thought it was useless, he didn’t want to answer any of the questions and they had no proper way of asking. After what he had to go through at the prison the low-grade interrogation given to Syndicate officers was a walk in the park. and soon made his interrogators feel the same way since he gave them nothing to work with.

Mael had been working on personalized adjustments to his attire when a note was passed through the bottom of his room door at the Syndicate dormitory. It was an assignment, and one he wasn't all to pleased about but at the same time had him curious. It wasn't normal to send someone of his ranking out on a transport. Whatever the cargo is, it was enough to get the Syndicates attention and Mael was carrying it on his back in a large black leather trunk with golden etchings on the sides and silver stitches. A thick silver chain was also wrapped around the trunk with a deadbolt spell attached and gathered at the center only to be secured with a heavy lock. The average person wasn't going to get this thing open without a bit of work.

The note he had received instructed him to go down to the docks outside the Rhy’din Marketplace, there he was to pick up the trunk from its caretaker and take it back to the Inn. No mention on what was inside, only that it had to be done.

The collar of his jacket turned up, Mael had gone to the docks in a casual manner, still thinking that him being sent on a delivery was ludicrous but, when he arrived and saw that the caretaker was the captain of a slave ship, his thoughts went in a different direction. Unless he was mistaken, there were not any slaves at the Tel'Ranaemyn. The box didn't have any noticeable breathing holes, but that didn't mean that nothing living was inside.

The trunk was heavy and carrying it over his shoulders was not the easiest task. There were no wheels and he didn't trust - nor accept - the men that he was offered by the caretaker. At the start of his mission it was early afternoon, and by the time he arrived at the steps of the Inn it was evening. He had to take more than one rest to stretch out his and collect his breath and now the stars had already begun taking their places in the night sky.

Opening the door Mael went to the front desk and eased the trunk down on the floor, it landed with a hard *THUNK*. He wasn't going to leave it there, so he rang the bell and waited to see who would come about.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| There were quiet footsteps coming down the hall when the bell was heard. Pause was given upon hearing the soft sound. A moment to wonder if anyone was going to answer the bell. The pause was momentary as it was remembered that others were out and about this day. All had their own things to do, and today, E'Lara's was to watch over things.

A slight waddle to her steps as she adjusted her direction to carry her heft to the front desk. A royal purple dress swayed with her steps. It was simple attire. The dress was one piece of cotton material with seams and sleeves and pockets. There was a waistline in the dress, but the apple shaped woman hadn't bothered with putting elastic in it. Gray hair was twisted in a loose bun atop her head and black flat slippers adorned her feet. They were made for a woman with definitively slimmer feet, and the sides nearly disappeared under the wide sides of the portly woman's feet. The points of her ears gave away her race.

She stepped up to the desk and gave her best polite smile. A look upon who stood there and she knew he had been a guest here before. He wouldn't know her, it was her job to remain invisible unless needed. But the guests were not invisible. "Welcome back to the Tel'Ranaemyn. How can I be of service to you this evening sir?" She smiled again as she opened the ledger. Just in case the young man was checking back in, or maybe needed to know if his old room was still available. The possibilities were endless, and E'Lara wanted to be prepared.

[Mael Feu]

Mael didn't have to wait long for someone to answer the ring, and he watched her even as she approached. It was not someone he remembered to be employed at the Inn, but then again he had been gone for a while. Aside from that, simply because a person stood behind the front desk did not mean they were one of the employed. The people here had a tendency to be helpful.

He gave her a nod followed by a straightforward answer. "I'm looking for someone who can open this trunk." Locked as it was with the interlocking chains, deadbolt lock - not to mention the spell - anyone who could open it would find themselves upon the Syndicates list. If they were not there already.

In case she didn't happen to see the trunk, Mael took a hold on the side handle and pulled the item to the side of the desk. Despite of what he thought was in it, he let the side drop hard to the floor. Perhaps he was hoping whatever was in it would have a reaction and something would happen. But there was nothing. Disappointed, Mael kept his expression passive. "Nicely sealed."

"Perhaps, someone here can open it." Came the suggestion. It could even be herself. That she was portly had nothing to so with her abilities.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| A smile spread across the elderly elf's face. "Well, lets see what we've got here then." She moved with a bit of a wobble as she moved back out from behind the desk. Steps were taken as she moved around to where the truck now lie. She knelt down before the trunk, observing the chains and the lock and how the item was sealed up.

After taking a moment to peruse the whole thing, she reached for the lock, slowly. She could feel that there was something off about the item, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. "This is a mighty lock, isn't it? We have several keys in our lost and found, perhaps one would fit in this." She wanted to get a better look at exactly what type of key would fit into the lock. But she also was a little wary of what exactly might be off about this trunk.

[Rodry Pol]

Rodry had enjoyed a highly eventful couple of days. Feeling greatly improved in comparison to his previous state. The only disturbing thing was the feeling of lost time. The air felt far different than it had when he had been secluded with that healing spring. It had been the warmth of summer creeping into the air and now the hints of autumn could not be ignored. Surprisingly however he was not looking to the winter as a horribly difficult time for himself, he was actually kind of looking forward to the first hints of snow ... it had been some time since he had been able to enjoy it. He had spent his morning at the cafe down the street enjoying a nice breakfast and taking in the glory of the morning.

Even now he was idly chewing on the last of his biscotti, the short chunk protruding from his lips like a stale almond flavored cigar. His free hand was carrying his cup of coffee, one of the few things he had truly missed since he had started to fall ill. While alcohol was also high on his list, he was so far resisting the temptation to imbibe too heavily. He had been legendary for his drinking before. Yet he did not wish to tempt the fates too much. Let his love for the robust caffeine laden drink and sweets habit tread the line.

His other hand held his cane, the fist sized sapphire topper hidden by the grey leather of his kid skin glove. He was dressed comfortably, decently. A long sleeve dress shirt of rich turquoise silk, with a tie of a bright flamboyant red. A well made Persian knot finished off the bright tie, cinched snugly to his collar. As usual his hair was braided down his back, bobbing gently with his strides against the back of his simply grey jacket. The shorter bangs brushing at his cheek bones as he moved, taking in the sights once more as he made his way up to the door of the inn. Even pausing to breathe in the scent of some of the late blooming flowers that filled one of the hanging baskets upon the porch. Savoring their scent.

Imagine his surprise when he walked in to find someone who appeared to be a new arrival, complete with a trunk that was rather ... formidably bound shut! The old mans intense gaze swept passively over the trunk, curious. Yet for the time being he didn't interrupt. Simply stood by the door. Though his presence was likely noted by the rotund elf if not by the fellow she spoke with, at least to his knowledge. It had been a most opportune time for him to wander in, considering he was soon enough to catch the fellows dilemma! Two fingers were rising from the hold on the paper cup, to pluck the remains of his biscotti from between his lips, rude to talk with ones mouth full!

"Locked yourself out of your trunk?"

Considering Mael had been able to pick up and identify the spell upon the trunk easily enough, no doubt he had felt it at the older gentleman's entrance. The subtle way the currents in the magic that hung in the air seemed to draw his way. Rodry looked harmless enough, old and well past ones perceived prime. Even if he was tall and relatively broad of shoulder, he was a good deal lighter than he had been, something that could be picked up easily enough from the faintly lanky look of a man that had likely been an impressive specimen in his youth. His appearance wasn't likely what the Syndicate agent would note however. His sensitivity to magic would let him see the way the old mans body seemed to prey upon the stuff, stealing it from the air, leaving a vacuum in his wake that someone without skill in detecting the currents would hardly notice. Not to even mention the magic that clung to the old man himself. Though it was hard to tell just where it was radiating from considering he seemed to leech it from the very air around him. He might also note that while he carried a cane, he didn't seem to have much need for it. The cadence of his steps was even and the cane only tapped quietly, not the dull thud of it's silver tip sinking the mans weight into it.

The Elf looked familiar, even if he couldn't put a name to her for the life of him. Something about her made him think of fresh towels though he couldn't imagine why. Easy steps carried him closer, taking a small sip from his coffee, the whipped cream trapped between the lid appeasing that troublesome sweet tooth while he eyeballed the chest, watching the elf as she examined the lock upon it.

[Mael Feu]

A key. How pleasingly mundane that the first thing the woman suggested was to look for a key that would do the trick. Closer inspection of the lock showed that it was cast iron and old, rusted in some places and appearing to have melded together without a break between the clamp and base, something that happens with the wear and tear of time. It was the only old looking thing on the chest. The sides and dressing of the chest were not new and had seen better days but, compared to the lock, it was brand new.

"Perhaps a key would fit," Mael replied, somewhat distracted now as the sound of another reached his ears.

It was an Inn, people were sure to come and go - that wasn't a problem and was to be expected. What did strike his attention was the apparent 'old man' that had arrived.

Mael may not be as magically inclined as the newcomer (not saying that he isn't, only not as much), but what attracted his attention was the way the man walked. The cane was clearly a sham - he needed it to walk just as much as Mael needed another assignment. He would be willing to bet that the rest of this guys walk was pretend as well.

With the mans question, Mael nodded and watched the new player in this game. "Things would appear that way," he said slowly. If anyone were to go looking about his person for magical hints it would be directed towards the military jacket he wore. Though that wasn't saying much. He was wearing it.

"It's not often that we see physically old looking men." The wisest thing to do would be to take into consideration Mael's words, especially the last.

Standing amidst the two of them, Mael was the young one in this group, but he never let that put a mark on him. "Care to delve into the chest?"

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| A touch to the lock brought about two discoveries. E'Lara made note of both as she heard the words of the young guest as well the man approaching. Good ears this old elf had. "There is an enchantment of some sort upon this lock. As well it is rusted shut." She had dropped the lock back in place as quickly as she had touched it.

She rose from her position to stand erect once more as she dusted herself off more out of habit than necessity. She moved back to her previous station behind the desk, where she proceeded to procure a box from a low shelf. Placing the box upon the desktop she opened it and began to rummage through.

As she shifted through the various keys, picking ones up that she thought might fit, she addressed the man who had entered. "Welcome back Mister Pol. 'Tis good to see you again. You're room is as you left it, though with clean linens. I change them every other day." She looked up at him with a bright smile.

She said nothing more to the man as she had not been addressed, and besides that, she was hunting for a key. She had set a few keys upon the counter that she thought might work. Though she wasn't sure that she wished to try them herself. Besides, who was to say that she would even posses the physical strength to open the lock amidst all that rust. Might as well be welded shut for how bad off that lock was.

[Rodry Pol]

Imagine Rodry's amusement to see that others were lurking in the entry way of the inn! It seemed that the place was unusually quiet as of late. Not that he was exactly disappointed by the fact, just figured that when he was feeling considerably improved there were few things to keep him busy. So needless to say, he slowed and took a gander. Only to find the Inn's resident Laundry Elf, something brought to mind clean towels when he saw her, and a young fellow inspecting a relatively sturdy looking chest.

His own casual evaluation was given after he had moved in a tad closer. He could practically taste the magic on the younger fellow and the natural bit that came from Elara's frame. Magical races tended to carry it's scent despite the individuals abilities. While he had not inspected the lock overly closely in all honesty it was what interested him least about the chest. The lock had seemed mundane at first check and may be inspected a tad more closely once he had given everything else his cursory glance. The contents of the chest were a mystery indeed, though he could go through a half dozen possibilities at the precautions that were used to keep the chest shut.

For one, there was that silver chain. It wasn't a metal chosen for chain often, least of all because of it's more valuable nature. It was physically fragile in comparison with several other more readily available base metals. His best guess was it had been selected merely for silvers much more tenacious retention of enchantments. While the exact spell upon the chain was not familiar to him, Rodry was seriously old school, it didn't have the hallmarks of a binding spell used to ward the bound contents from the outside world or vice-versa.

His interest also extended to those golden etchings.While he didn't spot any patterns right off-hand that may have been runes or sigils, he had to wonder why someone would bother with a spell upon the chains and not protect the chest itself. It was a classic wizards trick to make a simple and obvious spell that could be removed by anyone with a passing familiarity with enchantments. Which would trip up the foolish into triggering a far more troublesome trap laid beneath the simple spell.

"Thank you, I was wondering who to thank for cleaning up the mess I left ... my apologies. Did my daughter by chance leave word for me?"

Offering a deep nod to Elara. He had not left on the best of terms, had not been in good condition at all. His cough had gotten bad enough that he hadn't even bothered with a kerchief in bed, just coughed into a bucket if it were bad enough to wake him, but otherwise simply muffling it in the sheets and blankets. There were more than a few bloodstains left behind, unfortunately. While he didn't expect that Aurora would have left a note behind with the Tel's staff, it was always worth asking. After all, he had not picked up on her presence near the Inn itself. Coffee was set aside after another quick sip. The biscotti however was lifted for another nibble while he studiously looked over those etchings more closely. Slowly. Even the stitching was carefully studied and inspected. Even kneeling to get a better look at the chest. While he even went so far as to touch the chains and the lock itself, one gloved hand remained upon that cane. While he might not have needed it to walk at this time, it was a comfortingly familiar thing to him. Unless the spell had been bound particularly tight, his touch would siphon that magic off slowly. Stealing it to appease that which fueled his unfortunate illness. Trying to stave it off longer.

"I will take that as a compliment, rather than a sass Young Man. You don't grow old without being wise enough to keep your wits about you, not here in Rhy'Din. I would expect a military man to know that."

While Rodry might be old, he wasn't blind, nor was he senile. Despite some of his eccentric behaviors. His gloved fingers ran along the chain, looking for some sign of weakness in them. HE was a jeweler and had made more than his fair share of chains in his day, so he knew what to look for, the subtle signs of stress. His fingers also moved over the lock. Investigating Elara's claim that there was an enchantment upon it. The rusty old thing should have been in better condition if that was the case, unless it was truly ancient. Magic had a way of preserving things.

Of course, being so close, Rodry's nostrils picked up on something. Something that had him glancing at the chest curiously, tongue briefly slipping over his lips, moistening them as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Gloved fingers drummed quietly on the chests lid a moment, before rising. He had noted a familiar scent upon it, though he had to wonder why Pip would be sending a chest to the Inn with a courier. She had command over forces that should have made it's transport simple. Unless of course there was something inside that couldn't be magically transported?

"Feel free to try the keys. However, considering the locks condition, the chain would likely be easier to break if they don't work. In fact, I just may have tools that could do the job well enough in my rooms."

Assuming Aurora hadn't packed up his things his jewelers tools should have still been there, along with some other things that had been packed, for less delicate jobs. However, he was beckoning for Mael to try the keys. After all, it was 'his' chest. The young fellow had never said anything to deny it!

[Mael Feu]

"Presumably a military man would," Mael stated with a small quip in his tone. He was never to fond of assumptions - even if he used them as the bases of his operandi. He did wear the jacket, but it could have simply been something he picked up off a shopkeeper.

Mael kept a cursory eye on the older man as the lady shuffled through the box of keys that she had pulled out from behind the desk. A curious place to put keys. If this were an ordinary run-of-the-mill place he would have ventured to say that the workers were careless. Keys being left out for anyone to use and access places within the Inn, however the Tel’Ranaemyn was not mundane.

The etching on the chest were a puzzle of their own - and in a language that Mael could not read. During his journey with the trunk, when he had taken moments to pause, he had studied them and tried to make sense of it but had no luck. He discounted it being any basic, or ancient, base language of humans; it wasn’t Elvish either. While magical studies, enchantments, wards, were far from his forté, he did know better than to dabble in magic he didn’t understand. It wasn’t something he needed to be reminded of. However, if someone were to take the time to study it enough and look through any faults in the etchings it would come together as so:

Words themselves had power, and that same set of etchings was imprinted along the edges of the trunk. For it may be that together with whatever spell was on the trunk, would open it.

Mael picked up one of the keys that had been placed upon the counter, idleing himself with it while Mr. Pol, as he had been referred to, messed with the chest. The older man was doing something, Mael could almost sense it. “The lock seems pretty old,” stating the obvious, “You don’t happen to have a hammer back there as well, do you? A few bangs may be all that’s needed to break the locks. Or the chain.” Breaking one rendered the other useless.

The key he had picked up was placed back upon the counter and he momentarily felt the palms of his hands itch. That lock and chain were now standard issue. If not old.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| Any magical ability in E'Lara lay long dormant, so long so that she knew not of it. She knew that her race was special. But she had never attempted to be more than good at her chores. And that was simple manual labor, anyone could do it. It was her ability to easily perform manual labor in a quick fashion with exquisite attention to detail that got her where she was today. Not just the laundry elf, no, E'Lara was a supervisor of several of the invisible employees of the Inn. Not exactly the boss, but she carried enough metaphorical weight to keep them on their toes and getting their work done. And that was more than enough to keep her happy.

E'Lara had a smile for Mr. Pol when he thanked her for simply doing her job. A job she loved. "Think nothing of it. I was simply doing my job. And besides, I have
certainly cleaned up bigger and worse messes in my time." It wasn't often that she interacted with any of the guests at the Inn. She was nearly as invisible as the employees she was charged with supervising. But for some reason, she did not seem to mind interacting with Mr. Pol. In fact, it was a pleasure. Not that she was necessarily sexually attracted to the elderly looking, apparently human, man. But she did find a certain pleasure with being in his presence.

She had dug through all the keys in the lost and found box, keys that had long ago been checked against locks within the Inn just to be on the safe side. There were five that had looked like they could fit the lock. But E'Lara wasn't going to touch that thing again. She might not know what hidden magical ability she might posses, but she knew magic when she felt it. And she wasn't about to intentionally feel it again. It made her skin crawl. Not because it was necessarily evil, wicked, or even dark magic. Just that she was unaccustomed to coming into direct contact with items that contained magic. On people, it didn't bother her. But on objects ...

Luckily for E'Lara, Mr. Pol had given her another task. So as she picked up the key that the young man had already picked up and tossed it back into the box, she smiled again to Mr. Pol. "I'm not exactly sure Mr. Pol. Let me see if I can find anything here for you." She turned to a small stack of papers that was off to the side of the desk. It was a stack of messages, and it was rather short. But she busied herself with checking the recipient's name on each one of the messages as the males worked with the trunk.

It was too bad that the etchings weren't elvish. Had they been, E'Lara could have easily translated them for the young man and Mr. Pol. But she had never seen such lettering before either. So she spoke nothing of it, thinking it perhaps simple scratching of design. But even though E'Lara didn't want to touch the trunk again, she was rather curious to it's contents. So she had plans of sticking around to see the opening of the trunk through to the end. Provided the males did not object that was.

[Rodry Pol]

That tone did tip the old fellow off that his initial assumption was most likely incorrect. Most of those who served in the militant forces he had been familiar with in his years were proud and would often be properly chastised by having their affiliation brought up. On the other hand, the young fellow had seemed as if pointing out his standing hadn't an effect on him. Leaving only a few options. Discharged and bitter, perhaps. Could of course speak of issues with authority considering his tone ...

A conundrum for another time perhaps, at the moment he had the chest taking up far too much of his attention to offer fair judgement of the other males behavior. The etchings had held his interest quite a bit, considering the rather obvious fact that they were not just some fanciful artistry. The lines were deliberate, save for the subtle variations that came with the artisans personal touch. Rodry had an eye for such details. His finger lightly traced the lines, head cocked faintly to study them while he followed their graceful curves and seemingly gibberish sprinkling of additional markings. There was something subtly familiar about the script, though whether it was the feel of his fingers making those subtle markings, or just the sight of the script itself, he couldn't be sure.

Gods, his memory was going even further to rubbish if he wasn't recognizing some magical warning that may have been inscribed. Though it seemed more like a sort of mantra, seeing as how the etching was repeated again and again at regular intervals. With a deliberate hand, it had not simply been the scrawl of someone trying to hastily warn another of possible danger.

"I always like to make my appreciation clear."

Looking up from his crouch to give E'Lara a faint smile. While she might have been 'only' a servant, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that without their work, the inn wouldn't function. Rodry Pol was an amiable fellow, made friends easily and tended to be fiercely loyal. Hence why he was having second thoughts about what to do with the chest!

"It does look quite old. Unfortunately metal is not something that retains it's strength through age and weathering."

At the mention of a hammer he gave a curt nod, though part of him was feeling a little at odds. Should he ensure the delivery of the chest to the proper chambers? The scent he had picked up had been unique to that odd little woman whom he had known since she was but a girl herself. Though the man had never said where he had gotten it. His sense of honor left him wanting to send it on it's way undisturbed, or to at least notify the one whose scent hung upon it.

Then there was the darker part of himself. Hungry for the knowledge of the contents and lusting after the possibility of treasure! Jewels and baubles were his trade, though it wasn't as if any of the pieces in his room had been sold or even hawked since he arrived. Finally his curiosity won out, leaving him moving over to the front desk, to pluck up his cup of coffee. Which he was pulling from pensively.

"Give me a moment to fetch some tools, perhaps I will leave the physical labor to one who has not bones as old as my own."

Offering a brief smile to the two of them, Rodry and his coffee headed down the far hall. Knowing full well it wouldn't take him but a few minutes to gather up a few things that he felt would be needed. Mainly a chisel and a five pound sledge hammer. He brought both of these items back, after only a minute or two of searching. One could only imagine what a supposed jeweler would need with two such inelegant tools ... but Rodry Pol happened to be a bit of a strange bird at the best of times. These he held out to Mael, giving a significant nod towards the lock.

"Let's see what a strapping young Lad such as yourself can do with these. Unless of course you'd rather I do the honors."

Which would be a bit amusing, since Rodry had already plead weakness on his part. A weakness that likely would not have been helped, considering Elara wouldn't find any sign of a note left for the old fellow.

[Mael Feu]

Mael stood idly by while the older man and woman did their talk, he wasn't often one that had a lot to say so there was no need talk. He did, however, pay attention to the conversation. Trifle as it may be. If things were different he may have even liked to sit back and listen to the two of them, or even have a different type of talk, but this was business.

Taking a relaxed stance in the desk, Mael scratched his itchy palm as Pol went to get the tools he had mentioned. In that brief time he posed a question to E'Lara, “Don't suppose you have seen a prudish brown skinned girl here recently, have you.” While she wasn't on his immediate list, finding her was on it and it would save him time if she had been this was recently. Just in case the older lady needed more of a description, Mael pulled out his issued phone and flipped up the top. On the screen if it was the picture he had snapped of De'Ryanna that night he confronted her while leaving the fight club. His elbow on the desk, Mael held the image up for her to see; may even be that Pol heard the conversation or saw the phone since Mael still had it up when he got back with those tools.

Mael flipped his phone down and slipped it into the pocket of his pants while he looked at what he was being offered.

“As I told the lady, I came here looking for someone that could open the trunk,” he explained. “Not some way to open it.” That made all the difference. If he wanted to open it himself then he could have stopped anywhere along the way and done so, but that wasn't the point.

With his left hand he motioned to the trunk and looked at Pol. “Doesn't quite count if I do it.” That could have just been him being a smart-ass, especially with the coy look he had on his face.

“I could always take this elsewhere if none of you are willing.” Mael had sensed a bit of hesitation in the older lady after she had gotten the keys, appeared that now she wasn't to willing to mess with the trunk, but provide the tools. The same went for Pol - he had the tools, spoke of how the current bindings wouldn't be hard to break, yet was not to eager to do it himself.

It may have had something to do with the etchings on the trunk. Then again, neither of them were fools and if time had taught them anything it may have been to not blindly rush into opening strange locked objects.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| Any note that might have been left for Mr. Pol was not upon the desk. That is to say, E'Lara had not found one. Something she would report to Mr. Pol when he returned from his room. She was replacing the last stack of papers in their proper place when the young man asked a question of her.

She looked up at him and smiled. And even before he had his phone open and showing her the picture E'Lara knew of whom he spoke. "Mistress De'Ryanna is away on personal business at the moment." She saw the picture of her on his phone and frowned. "Not exactly the best image she's ever taken, now is it?" She chose to not ask about how or why he had the image. That was between him and De'Ryanna, it was none of E'Lara's business.

Mr. Pol had returned from his room with some tools. E'Lara looked up at him and smiled. "I'm sorry Mr. Pol, but I found no message from your daughter." E'Lara hated being the bearer of bad news. But perhaps he wouldn't have seen it as such. After all, some people take not hearing from their kids as a sign that their kids aren't overly concerned with their actions at that moment. Though, E'Lara had noticed that such thoughts belonged to those with overbearing children who think that they are the parents once the parents were of an advanced age.

The young man was absolutely correct in his assessment of E'Lara. She was not a fool. And she did not wish to touch that trunk again. She was not fond of things that had magic upon them that was not originally theirs. This mostly pertained to inanimate objects, but sometimes beings carried with them magics that weren't theirs as well. And he was also right in that she did not want to rush into opening the trunk.

Before either of them could wield a tool, or even decide whom it was that would do such, E'Lara felt the need to add her input. "Perhaps, gentleman, it would be wise to figure out the markings before opening the chest? I'm sure that there is some way to find a translation if they are words?" E'lara did not want harm to befall any of them once the trunk was opened. And if that magic that she felt was a curse of some sort, it could prove to be very dangerous to them all.

[Rodry Pol]

That was the problem with youth of today, they didn't have the patience or the good sense to just sit back and listen at times. Mael was wise to just take in the two older people in his company while they spoke. One could never know what you could learn from a wise older person! While their talk was nothing of import, small talk and a casual inquiry of whether he had been left anything.

Rodry was not gone too long. Just long enough to get to his desk and that small trunk beneath it that held his less used tools. With age had come a natural urge to become more organized, meaning he had been able to put his fingers upon what he had desired with little wasted time digging for them. He was returning about the time that Elara was passing casual judgement on the image of De'Ryanna. Rodry however was giving the young man's phone a rather curious look. One brow rising higher than the other for several long moments.

Oh yes, Rodry was a Rhy'Dinian native, at least as much as one could be. Believe it or not, Mael was the first to ever produce a Cellphone before the old gentleman, who's brows finally reconciled enough to nestle back together in their proper placement. Funny that he was apparently more out of touch than the rotund elven matron!

"Looking for De'Ryanna?"

Choosing to address what he had heard, rather than what he had seen. Apparently the old fellow wasn't losing his hearing though, since he had picked up on what had been being said, even down the hall!

"Thank you for checking for me, I just didn't see anything left in my room by her, so thought she may have left something up here ..."

Rodry knew that when he did get a hold of her, he would likely be in for a talking to. Despite the fact that she was his daughter, she had a bit of a temper on her that would have been at home with any scolding mother!

Mael's words earned a look, one of mild annoyance really, considering he seemed determined to make a nuisance of himself at every possible opportunity! At his gesture towards the chest, Rodry let the hand holding the tools drop to his side. His shoulders rising briefly with a deep breath which was released in a slow, controlled sigh. One that left the scent of ozone tickling at collective nostrils. The stormy scent an odd one to find inside. If Rodry had never seen a cell phone it was unlikely he had some sort of ozonating apparatus tucked away in one of his pockets!

"Youth today, haven't a lick of work ethic left in them, I swear. The runes are unfamiliar to me, so unless one of you want to consult a library or have an expert on whatever language this might be, I suggest you stand back. You ... Make yourself useful."

Those words coming just a moment before that heavy cane was tossed Maels way. The ebony-wood shaft was straight without sign of defect. A silver pointed cap covered the base and the top was a large silver setting that held a fist sized Sapphire that couldn't possibly be real. However, if the whipper-snapper had the reflex to catch the cane, he'd likely recognize damn near immediately that it was far from any mundane walking stick. Where as Rodry seemed to draw magic in from the air around him, that cane seemed to radiate the stuff. Though the enchantments upon it were old, ancient really. They had an odd sort of slippery feeling to ones senses. As if they were hiding something beneath them.

While Rodry let that distract the youngster, he had moved to one knee and transferred the hammer to his right hand and lined up the left with the chisel with it's broad tip caught against the meeting of locks body and it's arm. Holding the chisel steady he was soon bringing the hammer back. Putting the strength of his arm into the blow along with the hammers weight. Luckily the old fellow was a good shot. Last thing he wanted to do was crush his thumb with the sledgehammer! The enchantment upon the chisel however would do more of the work than Rodry's arm would. Increasing the output from the strike that hit it into the tip. More than physics would normally dictate!

Assuming that the lock was no more magical than it looked now, it wouldn't stand a chance against the magically enhanced blow. Assuming of course that he was successful, Rodry would twist the lock loose of both the chains and the tab it had been hung on to keep the trunk shut. Pushing the chains slowly aside to leave the trunk free.

"I believe, that since I went through the trouble of removing it's bindings, that I will open the chest."

There was excitement in his tone. While some part of him had that scent in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but imagine a chest full of gold coins and gems overflowing from beneath the lid! Blast Rodry Pol and his natural desire for wealth!

[Mael Feu]

How helpful it was for the older lady to give Mael the name of the girl. While he had certainly -almost - assured that he had gathered it before, he had forgotten it. Spending months in a high scrutiny prison can make a person forget things. This is why he didn't give a name when he had presented the picture. E'Lara could have been lying, but being that Pol came right behind and gave the same name, he thought it rather unlikely.

“I am looking for De'Ryanna, yes,” he said rather smoothly and ended it with a sigh. “Some women liked to be chased, don't they?” It was an open ended question not poised to either of them, nor was he really expecting an answer.

Despite the heed of caution that E’Lara gave about the chest, it appeared that Pol was all to eager to get along with it. Mael smiled at the look he received from the older man and, when the cane was tossed his way, there wasn’t so much as a stutter in his reaction response. Make a person think that catching things was second nature to him.

This was something that interested him - not the sapphire, of course, though things of monetary value may make the eyes and tongues of other water, he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t even the magical aspect of that quasi-jewel, he already assumed that the ‘old man visage’ was a scam - look at the way he as going after the chest after all. Mael was interested in the weight of the cane; so he tested its balance. Things like this could be used for more than assisted walking.

The locks on the trunk were broken and the chains moved with ease, they were only simple locks and chains since Rodry worked his skill upon them. Once the trunk was unhindered, there was a very soft underlining tone that began to radiate from the inside. Mael had normal human hearing and therefore he wouldn't hear anything, especially since he was away from it. This, of course, didn't mean that E'Lara with her elven ears, or Pol being right next to it, wouldn't hear it. This sound would be hard to explain, like trying to explain color to a blind person. It was something that spoke to those that could hear it on an subconscious level to bring elation and a righteous feeling. Hope. A numinous touch to the soul that would have been painful for any fashioned in Darkness.

And the trunk had yet to be cracked.

"She does make a good point about the trunk." Mael said, the bulk of his attention still on the cane. "Yet, finding someone who can may take a while." Especially since the hour was late. He doubted many scholars would be open to greeting three strangers and their trunk.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| E'Lara nodded to Mr. Pol when he thanked her for checking for a message for him. Then she grinned and even blushed slightly when the young man mentioned that some women liked to be chased. Under her breath, she uttered her retort. "And some women don't mind giving chase." She looked at Mr. Pol for the briefest of moments as she had whispered the comment.

She watched in silence as Mr. Pol tossed his walking stick to the young man and then went to work on opening the chest. She was leaning over the desk to watch as she had no desire to move closer to the thing. Of course, for anyone who cared to look, she was putting on quite a show of feminine attributes that, had she been younger and gravity had not taken hold, would have been most impressive.

Once the lock was broken apart and the chains fell away, E'Lara began to hear something. She looked up and around the area. She even sat up from her leaning upon the desk to check behind her for the source of the sound. "Do either of you young men hear that sound?" Of course she referred to Mr. Pol as a young man. For all appearances, he was human. Where as E'Lara had lived a very, very, very long time before she had even started to look as old as she did now.

The sound made E'Lara smile. In fact, she was feeling rather euphoric. She wasn't quite sure if it was the sound, or the watching of Mr. Pol as he flexed his muscles in opening that lock of the trunk. Her guess was that it was a combination of the two. After all, watching him swing that hammer had been rather pleasurable. But there was something about that sound. "Dear Eru, Where is that sound coming from? And what is it?" She was a little confused.

[Rodry Pol]

Rodry could only wonder what this fellow was doing looking for De'Ryanna, considering the last time he had seen her she had been lurking out in the forest, he had to wonder! Was she in some sort of trouble? The old fellow held his tongue on Ryanna's whereabouts, however at the idea of De'Ryanna enjoying being chased, he let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"I would counsel you to be careful if you plan on chasing her. She stabbed me for trying to nick a muffin, could only imagine what she would do if someone were pursuing more than just her baked goods."

The hand holding the chisel had briefly moved to his other forearm. As if remembering that dagger sinking into his flesh there. E'Lara's comment however had his eyes shifting back to her, a certain tightness around the corners coming from that comment of hers. De'Ryanna definitely struck him as a predator, not prey. In the simplest terms. Of course, maybe his knowledge of her heritage was part of what had colored his judgement.

Rodry's curiosity had been burning since he had seen the chest and learned that they were looking to get it open. That caution that had held back his own involvement had quickly waned the longer it seemed they were going to have to wait for the contents to be revealed! It had left him taking action when he would have normally counseled caution. Leaving him pounding the chisel home and leaving the lock and the chains coming loose beneath his deft fingers. Hammer and Chisel had been placed near his foot. Out of the way for the time being while he unraveled the chains.

That cane was a good deal heavier than one might have expected, the whole thing was coated in magic, an old enchantment upon it leaving it glowing like a bonfire in the gaze of any who had access to mage-sight. Yet physically, despite the weight it was well balanced. It's fulcrum found about a foot or so below the fat sapphire that would have filled Maels hand. It would make a decent club, but if Mael was searching for some catch that would reveal a hidden blade, or that it was more dangerous physically than what was immediately apparent, the youngster would be disappointed!

No doubt E'Lara had been quite the maiden in her hay day, just as old Rodry had no doubt been quite impressive in his youth. It was sad to imagine how far age had driven both of them. At least in Rodry's case, there was more than a little resentment towards the frailness of his frame.

"Careful with that, while I have another cane, that one happens to be a favorite."

Said as he glanced over his shoulder towards Mael, catching his study of his cane. The slowly building ring of sound had him cocking his head faintly. While Rodry memory might not have been everything it had once been, his hearing was still quite good. He heard the distinct tone and narrowed his eyes at the trunk as if trying to intimidate it into knocking it off! While Rodry was far from a saint, he was fundamentally good. Even the best were driven to measures they would rather have not known, when their life was in danger.

"I hear it, sounds like it's coming from the trunk."

While Rodry had not been in a dour mood, he found himself feeling better. Maybe not physically, considering the fact that he was already greatly improved from where he had been, but the old mans mind was feeling soothed. No painful ache for what had been lost, the underlying anger, resentment and even his need for satisfaction for what had been done was melting away, as if carried on a spring zephyr upon the beach near his home. Rodry's eyes had shut, his head tipping back. As if bathing in the suns soothing glow and letting it warm his old bones. The trunk was leaving him feeling far more like himself. The self that had been lost with the onset of this illness which had left him becoming as he was now. Old, frail, a shell of the man he once had been.

There was peace in his soul once more.

A peace that he had not known in ages, had not known since well before his body had started to betray him.

"Stars above ..."

The words barely breaking a whisper. How could anything dangerous produce such a humbling, wonderful feeling? Those gloved hands were sliding to the lid, catching beneath the lip to force it open, to better hear that soothing, beautiful melody that defied explanation. While Rodry would have normally feared that he was being charmed, this ... this was nothing like that feeling. He didn't feel like a prisoner in his own body, no. He felt free. Free of problems that had felt as if they had been plaguing him as long as he chose to recall!

[Mael Feu]

“I don't hear anything.” Mael said. Older people always heard things, but, she wasn't human. “What does it sound like?” Maybe messing with the trunk had activated a bomb of some sort.

Mael was well aware of De'Ryanna's habits, or so he thought considering where he had first found here, but he nearly scoffed at the mention of handling her buns. He did smile to himself at her stabbing the guy over pastry. Looks like he was in for an interesting time with that one.

For the moment he was going to keep to himself the comments he had about her.

Even though Mael was examining the cane. He wasn't looking for any latches, he was only testing the weight of it to see what other things it could have been used for - from what he found, it could hold its fair amount. Pretty useful if they had needed to lodge the object to use as a brace between closing walls.

Sadly, he did not have Mage-sight so anything he could have found that way was lost to him. It was good for him, personally, that he didn't have such a 'talent' for it may have been harder to hide from those at the Syndicate. The cane still remained to be an object of interest to him and he would have wandered off with it while Pol was busy, if he had been a petty thief. But he wasn't. Mael had taken a step or two forward, getting off of the desk and away from the wiles that E'Lara was tossing at Rodry, and so was about to give the cane back when the old man flung open the trunks lid.

Looks like Rodry Pol's name made its way to Mael's list. He was the one who opened the trunk.

There was no turning back now, and all who were in the vicinity of the chest would fall victim to what was about to happen. That scent that Rodry had picked up on was defiantly coming from inside, though it diluted. Mael, now, could hear the tune that came from within and it caused him to stumble back. That sound was now amplified and although he had fallen back against the desk, he felt no pain. There was only adulation of joy and peace coming from within his spirit.

Next came a boisterous voice, which was neither discernibly male or female, that came from all around and yet nowhere. “Darkness shall give way to it.” Came the proclamation before a vivid white light swelled from the trunk and swallowed the trio.

They ended up in a place that was made up of light. Bright, near blinding, light. No floor, walls, ceiling, sounds, or smells; neither hot or cold it was a void that was made up entirely of the light and the numinous feeling that came with it.

For all reason that Mael could figure out at the moment, he was standing up and able to breathe in this....void. A fact that shouldn't be taken lightly; the cane was also still in his hand as he hadn't given it back yet. He looked around for the other two and, while he felt momentarily speechless, that didn't keep him from thinking that perhaps, just maybe, going the extra mile to get the script translated, may have been a good idea after all.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•| E'Lara couldn't answer the young man when he asked her what the noise sounded like. There were no words to describe it. Not in either language that she spoke. She saw Mr. Pol's look at her and smiled. She wondered to herself if he understood that she was speaking of herself rather than De'Ryanna when she spoke of women who liked to give chase.

One second E'Lara is enjoying the peaceful tranquility of the melodious sounds from the trunk, the next a voice blurts out a warning. "What?!" E'Lara was taken aback by the warning. It had almost made the woman step back. She definitely wished that they had gotten those markings translated before opening the trunk.

Then came the light. Then they were in the light. Well, E'Lara presumed they were in the light. She had been momentarily blinded by the light. When she opened her eyes she looked about for the two young men. She wasn't angry, but she was quite curious and a little worried for their safety. She looked down and saw that there was no apparent floor below them. A look around showed no walls to speak of, no ceiling. "Dear Eru Rodry Pol, what have you gotten us into here?" And where were they?

[Rodry Pol]

Of course Mael hadn't heard anything. Like Rodry had lamented privately in his head, the young seemed to never listen.

A bomb would have been horribly overkill had that been what the chest held. Locks, spells, runes and a bomb? Someone would have to have seriously wanted to have kept this chest open to justify such measures! Especially considering Rodry hadn't picked up on any ticking or anything else that would have set him to unease. While he was often a clean healer, he could swear at times he could still feel that stab wound in his arm. An old mans remembered pains. One could never know when they would crop up.

As for whether Rodry Pol had understood what she had meant, one couldn't say. Rodry certainly didn't look as if he expected E'lara to start chasing anyone! The elven matron was so inconspicuous most of the time it was hard to consider that she kept everything running smoothly! With all the work at the inn, where would poor E'lara find the time to go chasing anyone?

"It's ... almost like a hymm ..."

It was the closest thing that Rodry could think of that had such ... pure notes. That brought people such peace of mind and soul. It felt to him almost as if he had been tucked away in his favorite chair, in his warmest coat and given a nice cup of tea to mull over before a roaring fire. It all felt so very ... comforting. This song. He simply couldn't resist that urge to throw the trunk open!

Which was perhaps a bit of a mistake! A mistake that he couldn't exactly rectify at the moment for it seemed that the blinding light that shot into his eyes blinding him from it's intense radiance. His arms were releasing the lid, past it's tipping point so that it fell completely open, to shield his face with one and grope at his side. Searching for that cane without success, since he had tossed it to Mael rather than setting it nearby! Blast! Even if the scent he had thought he had picked up on before was even more apparent, he couldn't help but feel less comfort! Last time that scent had been coupled with something akin to passage into another place, he had ended up having to deal with a Goblin War Band and a bunch of orphans!

The sudden shift in reality could be nothing but, he hadn't felt pulled or drawn. It was as if when he had shielded his eyes, the world had moved around them, rather than vice-versa. It was a most curious effect and one that had Rodry only slowly uncovering his eyes. His gaze flicking slowly around this new 'place', if it could be called that. Tongue moved to slowly moisten his lips, E'lara's words leaving him turning her way. Those deep blue eyes that had once matched the sapphire had changed, that startling from the sudden flash of light having brought it on. Leaving one the same luminous blue, though there was a vertical slit of darkness that was narrowed down to little more than a hairs breadth, blocking out a good deal of the glaring whiteness. The other was a deep amethyst hue, filled with tiny flecks of red, totally devoid of any pupil. That shift in his gaze seemed to almost be imagined, for after a moment his eyes seemed to be totally normal once more.

"There is no sense in panic ... or in casting blame."

The last added on, just in case. Last thing he wanted was anyone pointing fingers. Rodry held out his hand towards Mael, fingers opening and closing slowly, clearly desiring his cane. Though regardless he was rising slowly from that kneeling position. It was disconcerting to be standing without any floor visible or apparent. His feet scuffed faintly, moving slowly to move in closer to the other two. The judging of distances was damned difficult without scenery. The void of smell and sound was the biggest disturbance to Rodry though.

Assuming that Mael returned his cane to him, the old fellow would lean on that carefully, pushing as if to test the strength in the floor upon which they stood. Though he was already considering what had happened. Trying to discern direction would be useless.

"Either of you feeling up to a bit of scouting about? I didn't see any lingering remnants of a portal or feel a spell in the air ... so I assume that we won't be getting out the same way we got in."

There was amusement in his voice, blasted feeling was still wrapped fully around his heart and leaving him feeling content, despite the serious issue the sudden shift in situation posed! Shoulders rolled slowly, feeling awkward without any way to know where they should be going. Hard to know where to go, if there was nothing to reach.

"Which leaves us with two options. Stand around here and wait to see what happens ... or start walking."

The last said with a nod towards the distance. While splitting up might have been a viable option, he felt it may be smarter for the three of them to stick together. Safety in numbers.

[Epiphany]

As the trio was gathered in the Light, the phrase that they had heard before would softly begin to play over and over again. Darkness shall give way to it. Hard to tell where, exactly, it came from as it didn't change the mechanics of the room. Although, it would be more veracious to say that they heard those words from within themselves and in whatever language that was native to that being. Whatever tongue that was for whichever person, it would translate to that phrase: Darkness shall give way to it.

It was those words that were effectively seeking to burn its way into the hearers soul, seeking to burn out any Darkness that may have resided within. If any member of this motley crew happened to be of the Dark persuasion (demon, devil, vampire, damned soul, ect.), they would start to burn from the inside. It was likely that items that fit into that category could become uncomfortable for the person to handle - those things had no place in the Light.

Who in room had good eyes - and a clear head enough - to be able to catch the faint image that flickered right outside the peripheral vision to the right? If they did, it would be of a female laying on her back. Possibly in the air but, in a room where spacial and relative direction hardly mattered, that point was undetermined currently.

Don't blink, the image may be missed.

[Mael Feu]

“Can't be here.”

The words came out of Mael's mouth without prompt or warning; and he was unsure as to the reason. It's place was causing him to loose his focus - that's what it is - and saying the oddest of things. He aimed to mentally shake it off, but that wasn't the easiest thing to do with that voice speaking to him and the pain he was now feeling.

The burning agitation on Mael's chest was more than a slight annoyance. No fire, smoke, nothing to see, but this pain was hardly imaginary. He could only alike it to being branded from the inside. It was manageable, compared to worser things he's been through, but it did make Mael want to find the source and out an end to it. Mael may be a lot of things, but a masochist isn't one of them. He grit his teeth and furrowed his brows to work out the tension for the pain, then looked around to the others.

E'Lara and Pol had gotten through (hopefully) in one piece, and he wondered if either of them were feeling any ill effects.

Pol was the first to offer up a suggestions about where to go, and since Mael didn't see the potential figure he would not comment to its nature. “Pol makes a valid point.” No harm in giving credit to where it was due.

Mael started walking in the direction that Pol had nodded, but stopped after about two steps. Moving here was a bit if a surreal experience because there was no change in scenery. He thought that he had moved, but there was nothing to judge the distance besides the two others who were with him. At the same time, when he walked there wasn't any pressure below his feet. No force. It was basic science to know that things cannot move if there is nothing to move them.

So, he jumped, but again, there was not much change to speak of, he may as well have squatted in mid air for all the change it made.

Mael sighed as he ran a hand through his air. “There's no force, no resistance. How do you suppose we move?” He posed that question to the two of them. He was open to suggestions. Anything that would get him out of this Light.

[Telguest]

E'Lara

•|•|•|"Nevae que yewl maen nae ta." Those were the words that E'Lara kept hearing. "Nevae que yewl maen nae ta." And it seemed to give her what humans describe as a creepy feeling. She didn't feel any different. She wasn't scared at all. But she was definitely wondering about those words.

Then, on top of everything else, she heard what the young man had said about not being there. Or rather couldn't be there. She was about to question him about it when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Or at least she thought she did. She didn't want to turn and look at it out of fear that it was her imagination getting carried away with her. "Does anyone else see something over there? And for that matter, does anyone else hear that phrase?"

She shrugged and began to try and walk, the same as the young man had done. But just like he had found, there was no resistance to her steps. No force with which to cause momentum. If there was one thing about the human race that E'Lara loved, it was their science. Oh, elves had science, but human science always seemed more fun to her. And one of her favorite things about human science was their laws. The laws of inertia and the laws of gravity being two of her most loved.

With that in mind, she proposed an experiment. She loved experiments. "Well, given there seems to be no floor for us to walk upon ... An object at rest tends to stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force, of which there is none. So theoretically, though our legs move, we remain still. If the laws of inertia do not apply, do the laws of gravity?" And that was when she leaned forward, balancing on one foot.

She looked at the two males and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." And with her arms spread wide and her leg extended out behind her, she closed her eyes and lifted her other leg. Thinking that she was about to belly flop to the floor, she caught her breath.

But she didn't fall. Quite the contrary. She rather floated there, suspended in mid air. Or at least that was how it seemed. She moved her leg back down to try and place it back on the invisible floor. She intended to right herself. But as there had been no floor to walk upon, there was no floor to give her a place to put her foot and stand again. "Um, perhaps a little help if the two of you don't mind? I would rather be upright again."

No inertia, no gravity, that phrase being repeated over and over again, and a possible humanoid shape off in the distance. This was the strangest place E'Lara had ever seen. It was almost like they were on another plane of existence.

[Rodry Pol]

While Rodry didn't exactly know where they were, he couldn't help but be curious. To want to know more about the place. It was a wonderful new experience even if it was more than a little daunting. The very fact that they were here and apparently whole was enough to keep Rodry calm. The intensely good feeling of the place didn't hurt either. It was as if all the comforts of his home, his health, they were all rolled back into him. Making him feel mentally as if this dreadful illness had never been. A wonderful feeling, considering the fact that he had been in such a dark place for so very long.

That voice, his head craned quickly looking around, trying to find where it had come from. That long 'dead' language that rang between his ears was as comforting as a warm cup of tea, but so long lost to him. His children spoke more often and more comfortably in common than the ancient and difficult tongue that their father had been raised with. The guttural, rumbling words leaving him closing his eyes. Releasing a slow sigh. Was this a trap? The sonorous words were indeed foreboding, but surely no one was so cruel as to charm their victims with euphoria before harming them. While he couldn't say that it would be impossible, it seemed unlikely.

"Mobi ui thric whedabra tenpiswo...."

His words whispered, as if to assure and appease the one who's soundless voice resounded in his head. Seeing as how it spoke his tongue, he was running through the thoughts that it brought to his mind. It had to be a trap. This was not the work of his children, that much he was positive of and it had been so long since he had heard that language ... the logical part of his mind was on edge, but he couldn't exactly feel nerves. With such joy filling him, he was unable to truly prepare himself for what he may fear lurked in this formless light.

Rodry nodded faintly at the acquiescence that Mael displayed. Even if when the fellow started walking. Rodry could only stare. Seeing him moving, but without making progress towards him. They were separated by perhaps five or six feet, yet each step and adjustment of the mans legs left him looking as if he were marching in place. The discovery made Rodry frown faintly, despite that euphoric feeling thrumming in his breast. The old man was also glancing towards E'Lara glancing faintly towards his left, since he was facing the other two. The wavering figure seemed to almost flee his field of vision, though perhaps that was just the sudden vertigo that was leaving him feeling more than just a bit lightheaded. E'Lara's question of hearing it had him frowning, just as her noting what he had caught in the edge of his sight before needing to straighten his head.

"You understand it?"

Voice was filled with surprise, yet there was strain there behind his words. As if the old fellow was feeling some sudden discomfort. Rodry was not a dark spirited being, not unless some of his less note-worthy deeds had damned him, but there was certainly a building pressure. An ache in his body that came not from that cleansing internal flame. It felt almost as if he couldn't get enough oxygen, but the loss was so gradual he didn't recognize it for what it was.

The air here was dead of magic.

While this wouldn't have been a problem for most, it was an unfortunate fact that Rodry's body was unable to produce the sustaining magic that he had become so dependent upon pulling from the air around him. A sustaining force that was suddenly left in vacuum now that they were in this light. Perhaps it was that pleasant euphoria that had left him unaware of the fact, that had left him ignorant of his danger.

The old mans shoulders rolled faintly, the jackets snug fit growing uncomfortable. While there was no immediate outward sign of distress, E'Lara and Mael, depending on their attentiveness of the old man, might almost see the subtle gradual shift as his weathered skin started to darken by slow degrees.

"Maybe if you just believe really hard Mael, you could move."

That sarcasm a subconscious reaction to his own pains. Though watching while E'Lara twisted and seemingly got stuck in the air was enough to leave him giving a quiet little laugh. Even if the sound gagged in his throat. The old fellow doubling over as if he had been kicked in the gut. The taut fabric stretching over his broadened shoulders crawling below his shoulder-blades, disturbing the fabric covering his back. Rodry's lips drew back in a sudden hiss of pain, as well as realization.

There was no magic in the air.

"Boy. Give me my cane, quickly."

One of his arms stretching out. Gloved hand splaying it's fingers to grasp for the cane, presuming that Mael wouldn't dally. Of course, the sudden contortion of his fingers within the glove shifting shape before the seams started to pop was damned distracting. The sudden jut of a pointed claw upon each finger shredding the softened leather of those old gloves. His head hanging, while teeth gritted in response to the pain that was rolling in waves across his body. Leaving him curling protectively around his middle.

The distance between the two men was enough that the cane would likely have to be brandished and offered at arms length to pass it, and with Rodry's arm shuddering, swelling. One could only wonder at how well he would be able to grab for it. The sound of rending fabric seemed loud, even over that voice chanting within his skull, the crawling of flesh on his back finally giving way. Bone tearing through flesh and fabric, jutting outwards from his back, flesh and muscle seeming to crawl up the sudden extensions, even while fresh spines of ivory thrust downwards from the joint at the tip. The bones slowly tightening together, stretching apart again leaving behind tautly stretched skin. Bat-like wings forming rapidly, the skin upon the veined membranes slowly tinging from the white of bone to a pale sky blue hue. The bright color seeming to flow gradually over the limbs back towards the old mans back.

It was too late to stop it, to regain his facade of humanity. He could only guide it, to take on that smaller humanoid shape, rather than unleashing his fully fledged body.

Rodry would be snatching for the cane as best he could by now. Torn jacket split farther when his shoulders seemed to jerk outward, as if he were being swollen from the inside outwards. His head thrown back in a scream of pain. The sound broken by a moist crunch as his face seemed to explode outwards, a snout thrusting from his face, even while lower jaw jutted, snapping against the new snout, shifting to fit. Powerful jaws filling with dagger sharp fangs, each more than an inch and a half long. Flesh seemed slower to hide this new growth, forming in slow waves, finally hiding that predatory grin behind naked lips. Skull split, the shattering crack as horns tore through his scalp, jutting backwards and curling upwards faintly at the tips. The onyx of the horns matching the hue of his claws. Those pain-filled eyes opened, revealing those slitted pupils and that mismatched gaze once more, one amethyst oracular and one sapphire glared out of his skull. Rodry had dropped to his hands and knees, not that the shift in position had been something he had noticed during the transformation. The sudden violent jut of a tail and the thickening of his body did more than enough to shred the old mans pants, only tatters of cloth hanging from his form. That darkened flesh forming a slow pattern over it's surface, an almost scale male shape that burst into three-dimensional scales with an almost audible rip. The air stank of blood, of the violence of his transformation. The unique properties of this place leaving the corona of mixed blood floating around him in a thick mist. Red specks overwhelmed by the glinting metallic gold hue that filled the air.

The coloring finally stabilized. Leaving the 'old man' turning a deep shade of sapphire blue, though the color darkened to a near black from his forearms down to his fingertips and from calves to feet. The scales there were whole, but had an almost rotted look to them. Mouth spread wide, panting audibly, forked tongue coated in his own blood and hanging free from between fang-filled jaws.

Mael had been right, Rodry was anything but Human. The lack of ambient magic brushing against his skin through the air had left that enchantment shattering, having noticed too late to start sharing with it the magic that was in his blood. Too late to stop his body from bursting from the cramped human shape.

Only slowly, did he catch his breath. His maw closing slowly, with an audible click. Gritting his teeth at the loss of that human shape. His wings had slowly curled, folding along the length of his back. The 'Draconian' shape he had adopted was large, by human standards, but humanoid. Arms and legs in the right places, but that almost crocodile-esque head and those extra limbs were damned difficult to ignore. He didn't speak, simply stayed where he had fallen. Staring at the backs of his hands where they were spread against the formless ground.

At least neither of these two had ever met the dragon before. Didn't know the truth behind his identity.

[Epiphany]

“Violater!”

What had the trio done now?

“Desecrator! Who dares to mare the sanctity of the Light!” The voice that they had all been hearing, that was calm and soothing, had now become powerful and cold the moment blood was loosed into the 'air'.

The entire tone of the room was shifting; and while the underlying tone of it was welcoming and inviting, there was the overlay of anger. The feeling that they were no longer welcomed and free roaming guest.

That image resting just outside of vision shifted, blinking in and out and shifting in form, though still hard to tell exactly what it was, male or female. Soon, there was another, and another, and another still, this figure continued to multiply itself until there were enough of it to make a wide ring around the group. Were the members of the trio watching these images, the shifting pattern of Light, closely? They took on a different stance whenever they were not being watched. Closer, and closer. The Light was closing in on them.

“The Darkness shall give way to it.”

The chant, the one that was written on the outside if the trunk and that they had been hearing, started up once more.

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