Echoes of Power, Part VII: Four Visits

With his sanctum opened to the world, the Curator spent the following weeks meeting with the major city-states of Sapience.

Starting first with Duiran, Morvaethe emerged from a magical gateway and began inspecting the ritual altar upon which Raest’s remains had rested for more than a decade after the birth of Dia’ruis, and upon which Holbrook Hought’s blood ran true after being obliterated by Dendaric ritual. Offended by his very presence, the Heartwood council gathered to question his methods and ideology. However, every answer the arcanist supplied only solidified their hatred of everything he stood for – the antithesis to what Dia’ruis was built upon in Her Cycle of Life and Death. Oblivious to this malcontent, the Curator insisted upon learning more about Duiran’s culture, and he showed a keen interest in the date of their next ritual, leading many to conclude that he sought to acquire it like he had Lord Sorrelion’s party barge. Those who attempted to harm the sorcerer were soon deterred by his protective magics, rendering them unpleasant company for the man who claimed his sole interest was preserving beauty and wonder. The wildlings gave Morvaethe nothing but scorn as the conversation continued, driving the scandalised noble to depart in a huff – something that brought the rattled council no small measure of joy.

The following week, the Curator visited the Dragon of the North. Obsessed with the sheer awe emanating from the throne of the Ard-Dhasani, the curious aristocrat peppered the gathering theocrats with questions about its origin, its material, its purpose, and so many other things – one and all related to the modern Spirean lifestyle and ideals. Contrasting Duiran’s methods, the Dragon’s citizens approached Morvaethe with nothing but flattery and easy, superfluous answers that only increased the wizard’s hunger for a more thorough conversation. He pressed them about their plans and possession of two Top Rock Kobolds, making clear his desperation to acquire an acolyte from the mythical Kobold holy site. Though the Theocracy did not outright decline the Curator’s request to hand over either Viceroy Noube or Chief Trinketeer Hoube, who enjoys employment as the esteemed foreperson for the Spirean steelworks, they made clear that they would not do so for free. They remained evasive about why they felt they had yet to reach their pinnacle, leaving the old mage to doubt the soundness of the city’s judgment openly. Convinced he had made headway with the Theocracy, Morvaethe asked the Theocracy to prepare the Kobolds for his next visit and then departed with nary a whisper of a threat.

Days later, the elderly arcanist found his way into the Sanguine Fist’s foundry and, as a disgruntled crowd gathered, marveled at the city’s hilunite crucible. Impressed by the craftsmanship and material, he pressed the imperial leadership to answer his questions regarding their designs. When he heard their arguments against his purpose and methods, he cast myriad aspersions upon the budding empire and insisted again that they were not so different. Once more convinced that he was dealing with hypocrites, he outright dismissed the notion of unnatural methods or a disrespect for free will, and he pushed them again to discuss the matter of their preservation. Convinced that Bloodloch had reached its peak, Morvaethe urged the recently-proclaimed Tyrant Akarn to consider the matter of stoic poses to best convey his empire’s tenacity and brutality, utterly blind to the outrage his attitude had sparked in yet another city-state.

Unconcerned with the poor reception thus far, the Curator made his way to the Hammer’s temple not even a week later. Enthralled by the murals left behind by the late Imago, he barely noticed the crowd of Enorian citizens who soon came to press him on his amoral approach to existence. Though they declared him hollow and vain, Morvaethe refused to yield his enthusiasm to such crass insults and insisted once again upon the matter of heroic poses that would capture the city’s faith and fury, ignoring a single knight’s attempt to bring steely justice upon him. Throughout the ordeal, he elaborated upon the nature of his powers, leading some to believe that thrusting him from the Prime Material might result in divorcing him from the Tree of Stasis. Some adventurers, concerned more with an accumulation of lore than any tactical advantage, pressed the ancient sorcerer for information about his era and origins, prompting him to elaborate on the forces he had toppled to take control of the Tree of Renewal during the Wars of Power, including the defeat of a Djinn pyromancer he now kept as an exhibit in his menagerie. Rebuked and rebuffed by the city of the gold dawn, the Curator departed their company as he had from almost every other nation: empty-handed and irritated with ‘artless ingrates’.

Throughout the next few weeks, ascendants from all city-states began inspecting his sanctum for signs of weakness – though to no avail. The Curator visited a few less populated locales following his four major outings, including the Augerweald Forest, where he claimed he had found a new exhibit to immortalise. This statement enraged a crowd of adventurers who had gathered to stop his work. Unwilling to give primitive, tasteless individuals any more of his time, the mage summoned a tribe of Menedu shades that slaughtered those gathered, allowing the man to depart easily.

Primarily concerned with the sanctity of the woods, Duiran discussed all manner of ominous rituals and spiritual curses, with some beseeching their patrons for aid in these disparate endeavours. This eventually culminated in a chilling, mysterious rite deep within the Tarean mountains. United in purpose, Gyrinno of Nothing, Voidspeaker Morraine, Tulle ‘Driftwood’, Prideleader Sekeres, Lin the Knife, and Jackalmasked Iko assembled before the dark spring of elemental shadow within the foundations of once-Sterion. Through methods largely unknown, the group utilised the Void to transfer some of the spring’s terrible essence to the Ithmias, where it tumbled down upon the Tree of Stasis as a silent, obliterating avalanche. Unable to stop the torrent once it began, three Duirani acted as conduits, their lives given over to see their efforts bloom into something terrible and destructive. Those present on the hilltop found themselves eaten alive by the fundamental force, leaving naught behind but shadow-scoured bones. Still, the landmark resisted all efforts to assail it, its magical nature freezing the element in place as it had the mundane and cosmic fire of prior spells.

In the afternoon of the 11th of Lexadian, Morvaethe’s presence became known to the greater whole of Sapience as a gateway opened to allow the Curator ingress into the Western Ithmia and his wellspring of power, the Tree of Stasis. Already there were a cluster of reverentially-working Duirani councilors, most of whom were tending to a mushroom ring that had been grown from naught some years before, another councilor toiling away at the nearby greenery in communion with the space as her Shamanic grove, and a Spirean Harpy calling upon forces of Chaos that so few have the confidence to do in public. The appearance of the sallow-faced noble aroused immediate suspicion, and the continent flocked in to inquire, inspect, insult, and insist on a cessation of his efforts. With absolute dismissal did he scoff at the benign questions and ridiculing statements, sneering aristocratically at the notion that he had not preserved himself from harm, which many had already found to be true in their attempts to strike out violently at him previously.

As the hilltop grew clustered with the presence of each major city’s representatives and curious onlookers alike, the Council of Duiran silently prepared to attack should any opportunity arise. A voice from Spinesreach piped up at one point, Viceroy Pietre Marcelli suggesting that Morvaethe work his magics to cleanse the landmark from the stains and debris where others had unsuccessfully tried to assail it. Enthusing that an idea worth its words had finally been found, the Curator began to enchant small gusts to disperse the constellar flames and shadowed detritus that had frozen around the massive arboreal titan into dust that dispersed on the winds among the nearby surroundings. A notion was raised meanwhile about the prospect of this particular landmark having other aspects it might take, which the Curator neutrally suggested could be countless depending on who or what was involved in its aspected pact. Lin the Knife, one of many awaiting an opportunity to strike at the antiquarian, took this moment to unleash an annihilating strike that exposed the surroundings to massive amounts of spirit, destroying her link to her grove and the lives of over twenty-five adventurers simultaneously.

The dust settled with two forces remaining upon the hilltop: Morvaethe the Collector and Lin the Knife. Her gambit had done as much as any other attack upon him: nothing. Frustrated by the meddlesome mortals attempting to stymie his efforts, Morvaethe began coalescing azurine threads into something anew, even as Sapience’s warriors dutifully – hurriedly – filtered back in to take stock of the situation. Not accounting for how this new power distribution would change the status quo, the enchantments and preservations that kept him safe flickered into nonexistence, leading to innumerable attacks upon his form from those nearest. Seconds ticked by as he physically began to show signs of pain, but the few moments of opportunity were not enough to entirely cut through his vitality. Like a weaver at the loom, Morvaethe the Curator drew his hands to pull at those countless threads of azurine, working his art into an existential tapestry as he toiled with the Tree of Stasis cosmic wellspring fueling his every arcane manipulation. A shape began to form as the Curator mentally noted he would need a distraction while he worked out a flaw in his plan, a safeguard against further meddling with his magic’s source. Coiling smoke and harsh light twined itself among this power as he finished with a snap of his wrists, the complete form of his replication now visible to all gathered: a lava-wreathed wyrm conjured as a shade of its proper form held away in the Curator’s sanctum. Without so much as even a glance back at any of those nearby, Morvaethe left this new legend-made-shade to safeguard the landmark and departed elsewhere through an arcane gateway.

As the agents of gods and the adherents of bygone lore sought a way to fell the crafty Curator, a man and a beast reached an accord…

~~~~~

Summary: The Curator visited each of Sapience’s four major cities and expressed a desire to preserve them during cultural festivals and rituals, a universally declined offer. Desperate to interfere with his power, several Duirani performed a shadow ritual hoping to destroy Morvaethe’s magic, though their efforts bore little fruit. The Curator made a guardwyrm shade to protect the Tree of Stasis.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 17th of Lexadian, in the year 10 AC.