The ticking clock above the door, the bronze handle of the door, the silken wrap of Keichi's katanaLithonian's attention drifted from the first of these objects to the last. He felt his breathing slow, as the pattern continued.
The ticking clock above the door, the bronze handle of the door, the silken wrap of Keichi's katanaSafe in Emerald after a dangerous battle with Rim-Thul and his forces, safe after seeing the projected image of Vix-Thur, high general of the Voriphan army and likely defacto leader of those distant isles, cast spells over hundreds of miles, safe after being accused of being puppets of The Night Cloak.
Safe for a night, at least.
The still clock above the door, the steady bronze handle of the door, the blurry silken wrap of Keichi's katana, the darkness of his eyelids slowly progressing downward in a blinkLithonian knew he had entered trance. He felt his inner mind stretching out behind him, even as he maintained vigilance. His inner imagery had been similar since he was a boy- a vast tree, stretching up, leaves representing ideas. Some needed to expand, others to be pruned. And below it all, the root of the tree represented himself. All elves possesed the same heart-memory, a knowledge of elven, some ability with the sword and bow, and a knowledge of some edible plants, five of which had never seen light on Caligo. Like most elves, he was hesitant to plumb those depths, much as one is careful with a sword. You could injure yourself, or the sword. But he was here to review the days lessons. He had seen much, been blessed with knew knowledge, had resisted evil magic, had dodged the attacks of a strange hybrid elemental. He would retrace those steps, pick some out to be thought on in hours when his conscious was mundane, and to choose which details to let slip from memory.
His memories of returning as wind had been recorded, as had his training, the polite sparring, Keichi and Alenka half duelling over and over, mastering a hybrid swordsmanship that they developed as they went along. Those memories he had already pruned, and he forwarded through them, seeing nothing that needed reinforcement or to be mulled over on the morn. He paused at the dinner with Lady Sarah Ann. Rigby had brought up some suspicions about her, and he went back. The leaves representing the details were turning gray, about to be discarded. He focussed, turned them green. She had been nothing but fair to the group, but likely her dreams were selfish- perhaps this would be studyed upon the release of trance.
Further forward he moved, walking the tree branch that represented this chapter in his life. He frowned inwardly at the job he had done with yesterday's events- two enslaved brass dragons and a blue dragon with a pinkish hued electric breath weapon and a penchant for burying his enemies in sand. The experience of being buried alive. He replayed it multiple times, experiencing the fear and resolution, it becoming sharper. Each movement that was successful he focussed on, the flounderings he could see were not helpful. This could be a useful skill, and even if unpleasant, refusing to learn from this is a mistake a child would make. It was hard to trance properly in the extradimensional space that Morgrim created, and while this was likely why, his path clearly involved being away from Caligo bodily at times, and he must simply learn to deal with it. Back to the dragon, he saw the sand, smelled the stench, watched his allies attack, heard the tail end of his prayers to Latukefu, each one triggering a mighty burst of divine magic selected after trance. He remembered the moment when the dragon came back to him, the claw grasping him, but this time not extracted. Rigby had negotiated a ceassation of hostilities, and none too soon. The dragon gave them information on Rim-Thul, on the box that imprisoned the minds of dragons, and the locations. He focussed on the spellcasts, and Lithonian wished, not for the first time, that he could read the intentions of his more exotic enemies a bit easier on their bodies. How did a dragon move before striking? Such tricks were his to discern, and hopefully one day to teach.
The still clock above the door, the slowly moving bronze handle of the door, the blurry silken wrap of Keichi's katanaLithonian paused his activities, the path to his inner mind drawing closed as he rushed back to consciousness. He held his position, his weapon on his lap. The door opened but a crack, and very slowly. Eventually, it open nearly a foot, a wheel of cheese with tiny pixie teeth marks slowly entered, held presumably by tiny invisible fingers. The wheel of cheese, along with Ash's right eyebrow, rose a bit. Another tiny mark was made in the cheese, and the door slowly closed.
Back into trance, Lithonian walked over the events of the day, the battle with Rim-Thul. Very little of this did he choose to prune- if he had every detail of this day for the remainder of his long life, any of it could be important. He saw the two Umbrans, one a wizard, casting fire magic. He was Reltharoof, possessed of some manner of fire artifact. It gave him power of creatures of the fire source, that was certain. He bent the branch softly, to compare the two meetings. One had happened in another of Rim-Thul's hideout's, this one with what appeared to be a permanent portal to the fire source. Near it, Reltharoof possessed great control over a wide variety of fire creatures, some objectively stronger than himself, but most weaker. In the previous day's event, he had but one creature, itself a special kind of elemental that, according to the books he had browsed and stories he had heard, likely did not exist- so presumably a fire elemental warped at it's master's behest. As before, Reltharoof had acted like an impertinent child, believing his fate to be ordained by the fates, or possibly some dark god. Lithonian had been about the only target of the magically modified fire elemental's attacks, and had minimized the effects by circling about a dune. The strange plasmatic tendrils were interesting, and he spent some time focussing on how he had evaded, and at times failed to evade, the attacks. Ultimately, Reltharoof's arrogance led to his demise- the tide of the battle had turned by that point, and he was dangerously close to both the magically sharpened blades of Keichi Gahn and the ustoppable rapier that Alenka wielded with such dexterity, but was also well within range of the most damaging magics that Morgrim and Keichi could bring to bear.
Ventrashaam, one of the Umbran mages who could bind creatures of darkness to his will, give them form. He had heard tales of these creatures- a variety of sizes, some behemoths, some capable magic-users themselves. He was also one of the ones he was fated to fight again, sent from the future to end him and banished by Keichi's reading of the scroll. In this time, he was substantially weaker, and so was his monstrosity. He offerred succor to Rim-Thul, throwing him a glittering potion that would teleport him to the Ebon Citadel. Lithonian stepped ahead a few twigs, to Morgrim pouring through the books in Zem Tower after the party had safely returned, pointing out the sections he had found on it- the Ebon Citadel was the capitol of the Unstarred Subcontinent, a large island east of Verna and west of Greater Umbra- so far north of Voriph that it is in the shadowed realms, where the sun is never seen. Recent histories told tales of this Citadel's gates opening during the war, and vast mindless armies pouring out, marching across the frozen sea to Verna, where they attacked south, part of the spear meant to pierce the heart of Arcata, but the accuracy of that is in doubt, as all four of the Umbran land masses were populated by the same largely hateful zealots. The books also mentioned that a large church dedicated to the Nameless One was located in this citadel. These recorded, Lithonian stepped backwards the few twigs, back to the fight the fight.
The damage done to his summoned minion seemed to blind Ventrashaam, or at least dispel whatever he was using to be able to see clearly in sunlight. The battle lost, Ventrashaam fled by drinking the Greater Teleportation potion. He saw that Protection from Evil offered the same protection from the darkbonded creature as it would from any evil opponent, the mystic wards not flaring as they would should a summoned creature attack. Lithonian knew he would have to fight him again.
Lielia, the disgusting spider-like woman, ran around the corner of the house, eyes ablaze and looking to do mischief. This, here, Lithonian muted. While he should remember her combat abilities, her purpose, and how better to slay such a beast should he encounter one again, the exact observation of her skittering around the house, held partially aloft by her disgusting spider-arms... well, those details are perhaps best left unremembered. He twisted those leaves to gray, and moved on to Rim-Thul himself. A cross between Voriphan and Arcatan blood, his face was clearly exotic, though Lithonian was not yet an expert on the wide varieties of humans. He did not have a great amount of experience, seeing him mostly at a distance, and then later, hunting him down in his own house after his friends had abandoned him. Where did he get such resources? While powerful, his plans of the domination of good dragons, obviously with the cooperation of evil dragons, had all been foiled. The only box not accounted for was copper, and with Rim-Thul dead, it seemed that such an event was unlikely to come to pass... or was it? Lithonian attached that thought to the leaf of Rim-Thul's terrified face, glowing with the emerald green abjuration that would prevent him from fleeing, and marked it for reflection in the morning. A bit of reflection while Rigby discussed eagerly the kind of illusion to leave violating Rim-Thul's corpse, only to find at the last moment his magic denied him- but the permanent illusion of many tiny Rigbys just outside the window remained instead, his power expended defensively during the battle.
And what of Orchid? She mostly reacted in a confused fashion. She clearly thought this group of demonstrably evil humans was somehow enlightened, somehow on the side of justice. Lithonian waved over the brief memories of her, making the leaves a brilliant summer green. While an absolute wreck of a human, he knew he would see her again, likely as a foe.
Stepping forward to the search, he focussed on pieces of it. Incapable of boredom during trance, he committed as much to memory as he could. A bit later, and they arrived safe in Emerald, checked into the library, and also the museum. The recovered artwork
Ebon Citadel before the fourth war has a rightful owner in Monshiro (the capitol of Zeugeria)- the Crystal Memories Preserved As Glass And Pigment, a repository of artwork and cultural center, and they would likely pay dearly for its return, a fact that lightened the hearts of Ash's companions. All these and more he focussed on, over and over again, through many eye blinks, until an hour had past, and Lithonian let himself fly freely from the tree that represents himself, into the light that represents Latekefu's wisdom, his nightly mundane task over and his eternal divine task beginning again, as it did each night.
