Livetweets of Exandria Unlimited: Calamity, Episode 1

Welcome to tonight's #ExUCalamity... Where we begin to explore the end of the world as some people knew it!

Marisha is unprepared for this quick opening from Brennan. There's merch! Beauty of the Wildes collection! Watercolor t-shirt! Bucket hat! Henley!

Brennan will elaborate a little bit. CALAMITY. This is not going to be a fun one: grief, betrayal, and coming of a new age. PREQUEL.

Welcome Lou Wilson and Luis Carazo to the table! Hug the table, it's very welcoming.

This takes place prior to the Vestiges of Divergence, prior to the Divine Gate, and prior to the name Tal’Dorei. Welcome to Gwessar. Come with us... if you dare. No, really, only if you dare.

Zerxus Ilerez

Everything feels slow. There's movement and heat, but the only noise you can hear is breath. Yours, but also a strangers, like someone else is using your body to breathe.

Zerxus Ilerez (he/him, played by Luis). His mouth is filled with blood. Paladin, six feet tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, dark wavy hair, medium tan brown skin, amber eyes that are troubled.

Zerxus has been in combat before. He just received a massive blow to the head. Not lethal, but something is wrong. Not even just the situation, which is almost a place of comfort. Something is wrong in the spirit.

Zerxus sees shapes swim into focus. His legs move in slow motion. Ahead, a building comes into focus. The white marble of the city is a hellscape. A burst of energy...

The energy blast moves quickly in a 20 ft radius... then moves at the same slow speed as Zerxus as it throws him, slowly blasting him through space. Zerxus twists, looking for someone, anyone he knows.

Two more explosions start so fast... then slow again. Zerxus watches moments in time, disconnected.

Someone he knows. Down a street, perhaps one he walked when he first came here.

There should be a statue. Instead, there is open space. Zerxus sees a boy, 5yo, a red shock of hair. He sits with his feet dangling in the opening, fishing rod in hand, sinking into the blackness of the void.

Zerxus needs to get to the boy. He tries to use what he can to twist, guide his body. He feels his feet twist. He hears a call: "To arms! Avalir, rise!"

The glass goes away. Zerxus moves under his own body, catching his breath and memory again. He can walk freely through the plaza again, still looking at the child.

Chaos has seemed to stopped, seemingly left behind, the city still in this place, subsided momentarily.

Blood still drips from Zerxus' hands. He keeps his eyes on his son. "Elias, come here!" Elias insists he's fishing, he's not sure what he's trying to catch.

Zerxus looks into the darkness Elias is fishing in. He expects to see darkness... but instead sees stars, stars he recognizes. He feels and hears whispers. Laughter. Perception check: 13

(Note: This is NOT ExU: Party Time. And yes, even 5 minutes in, it's too late to change it.)

Zerxus feels a reassuring presence behind him. A griffon formed of starlight and pure magic nuzzles against his armor. Zerxus leans back into him, touching his beak. He turns into a puddle, in a cat-like way.

Elias looks up, wondering if Zerxus is listening for something.
Zerxus hears something in draconic, which he doesn't speak. Something something Ghor Dranas...

Elias thinks his dad sounds crazy. He puts his fishing pole in between the griffon's talons as his dad moves his hair from his eyes. "I'm just glad you're safe." "Of course I'm safe. You'd never let anything happen to me!"

Zerxus repeats "Ghor Dranas" into the pool. Elias holds his arm. "Dad. You know I won't look like this when you get home." "I know."
"Dad." "No, just let me have this."
Elias thinks he caught something!

A body the size of a body crashes into the city. A massive red form writhes in pain. A flood of sanguine fluid comes from the mouth. A horned figure looks at Zerxus, something older than the world looking at him. "I'm sorry," they say.

"My child, I fear I'm too late." The figure opens his hand. It's the size of a marketplace. There is a small tree in it, ghostly light projected from the palm of this red-horned giant.

Zerxus asks what this means. "You must look. He is coming." Behind him... Zerxus now describes what his husband looked like. Evandrin was 5'10, half elven.

Evandrin's hair sweeps behind him as his petals touch the sapling. He clutches his side. Zerxus knows this is a memory, but he wants to see his face, it has been so long. Evandrin looks up to see someone else.

Evandrin's image is shattered in a burst of light. Another figure, tall as a mountain. A gleaming, golden figure places their foot on the throat of the horned figure, who cries out. Zerxus stands in this figure's palm.

The face of the figure above Zerxus is no face. The pitiless, featureless glare of the sun itself. It turns down to looks at Zerxus. "Turn your eyes from this sinner. He is beyond redemption."
The horned figure tell Zerxus that's it's all right. Just ask yourself... who did they betray?

Zerxus holds up his hand: "STOP." The light of the sun is briefly adjured. The horned figure notes that no mortal can do what Zerxus has just done, his life saved.

If Zerxus can see the stars when he looks down, what does he see when he looks up? Zerxus, curled in this figure's palm, approaches and leans on a finger, holding on. He looks up. He sees the ground, fast approaching.
And with that, Zerxus wakes up.

Zerxus checks his mouth. No blood, but he's covered in sweat. But the light is coming in beautifully? Yeah, he doesn't even notice that. This isn't the first time he's had a dream like this. He tries to write it down.

"Ghor Dranas." Zerxus writes this down. Now, with all that, describe the room! He dwells in the tower, which also has accommodations for his griffon. Not fancy. Bed, couch, chair, fireplace for contemplation.

The room has a giant window so Tempus, the griffon, can fly in. Zerxus approaches the balcony of the Tower of the First Knight.

Loquatius Seelie

Here in the bustling city of Avalir, the City of Crowns, this griffon is but one of amazing things that fill the sight out the window. BEHOLD THE AGE OF ARCANUM.

What could anyone disdain here in these bustling city streets, its sheer amazing technology and magic achievement? The massive carrowhulk, an automaton with benches on its back to transport wizard, lumbers through the city.

Huge screens alight around the city, showing a face. At the top of the city, in a grand waterfall. Any waterfall in a city is remarkable; Avalir flies above the skies, so marvel at the wonder of the magecraft of the Por’co Falls.

The falls reflect the face of Sam's character: Loquatius Seelie, a changling (he/him). At rest, pale skin, white eyes with dark shading around them, white hair in an upshock, little veins marbleization tendrils of black that move and shift constantly.

As Loquatius begins his broadcast for the day, his appearance shifts, his face as golden as his jacket, his hair as purple as the lining of his jacket. His wand looks like a microphone, which he speaks into to speak to Avalir.

Arcane confetti blasts into the air to herald the morning announcements as he appears on all the crystal columns of the city. A spinning logo of the Herald’s Tome.

And we begin the broadcast after a countdown and adequate makeup. Loquatius is here to announce the news. First, the Eve of the Replenishment is tonight! Sponsored by Orison’s Odd-Tack.

Loquatius uses their changeling nature to make it look like the camera shifted to another character as he reads the ad copy as a red tiefling.

He morphs back to himself to announce tonight's Parade of Beasts.
Loquatius Seelie ends the broadcast, "Seelie you later!" The people love the news.

Loquatius is standing on a solid ruby platform carved with glyphs and runes that allow him to broadcast. He speaks with his producer. He needs his ratings!

The Herald's Tome has a print edition, as well as the broadcast. Arcane quills fill pages. Diviners are fact checking. An entire map of Exandria. Bards in a research library. Aria, Loq's assistant, walks and talks.

Loq discusses the upcoming interviews, the elections he has influenced, and the upcoming events in the city. He has no time for autographs, but he can pose for one autograph!

The biggest thing on the to-do list is the Feast of Imyr. Loq would prefer a private vehicle to public transportation. He makes sure he's all buttoned up before taking one last look at Excelsior Plaza, and all he's achieved.

Loq looks around. All the mortals here are involved in artificery, bardic work, magecraft. Automatons are building. A child asks her mother what weather is. #ExUSpoilers

The porter opens a door for Loq. As he walks through, there are some questions as he moves through this place. He arrives in Gallamor.

The crystal columns in Evenloft that cannot be reached. Loq has hours to kill, and goes to talk to the Architect Arcane about it... His ex-wife.

Laerryn Coramar-Seelie

Deep within the Meridian Labyrinth, deep within Avalir, a powerful wizard is at work. Laerryn Coramar-Seelie (Aabria, she/her) is a tall, lanky, dark-skinned elf.

Laerryn's clothing is all gold and highly ornate, it seems to glow with the light of the sun. Purple cape thrown over her shoulder. Tossing a screwdrier that turns into a different tool each time it hits the air.

Very pretty and angular, Laerryn's eyes glow with gold energy that is her magic and it radiates off of her. She answers another sending, focused solely on the operation of this city.

Laerryn looks at the engine before her. Even with her perfectionist eye, she is finding it hard to find anything that warrants enormous redrafting. It's been a moment since her fixes have felt redundant.

Laerryn's mind drifts toward the batteries, where the replenishment will be made. Reading her instruments, the eldritch batteries hum with power. She is storing as much the city is capable of holding. Not fully satisfying...

A bracelet around her wrist pings. A ring of masks glow. The face of Guildmaster Akami Rowe. No time for small talk, what's going on? Akami gives the report: no bad weather, on schedule for arrival shortly after 1 AM.

Laerryn asks that everyone on the ground is ready for this maneuver. There are some youths who like to climb the walls, but they'll see them coming. They will move or don't.

An automaton approaches. Should the veil of secrecy be enforced? Of course. "It's me, it's me! Sorry!" An old man with arcane tools, Chief Artificer Calum Staffwright, had just come from the Grand Geometer.

The report says that they are above specifications by 0.5. Laerryn will have other orders for Calum, but she needs to go now, oh god.

Laerryn doesn't have time for pleasantries, but here, have a pleasantry, what else needs to be said? She'll have a month of not having to fly this thing. Yeah, it'll be... great...

Laerryn hangs up, and sprints to her quarters to check her calculations. She's up in Gallamor. Arcana 27: Celestial solstices are a fact of life in Exandria.

Every 20-30 years, a celestial solstice makes the veil between realms very thin. Every 120 years, there's an Apogee Solstice, where everything aligns. The veil is so thin, INCREDIBLE magic can be achieved.

The Grand Geometer specifically reads leylines. Some celestial apogees are powerful enough to shift leylines, reshape the magical arteries of the world.

Reading the ancient lore of Avalir, Laerryn could build the Great Geometer. Avalir travels along Exandria's leylines. She was able to determine that anything over 0.025 would indicate shifting. She's reading 0.5.

Laerryn is actively weeping. She has been working toward this so long. Everything she has sacrificed, and now she has so little time to take advantage of this tremendous moment. In a city of wizards, Laerryn is often the most cerebral in the room.

A knocker interrupts Laerryn's elation: "You ex-husband is at the door!"
"My darling!"
"Hi, Quay." "You're home in the middle of the day."

"Quay" (Loq) says that when they separated, they would try to stay friends, and now she's not talking to him when he needs her.

Quay notes that Laerryn is not replying to his messages. "The ones sent by Aria?" Well, she is young and attractive. Laerryn growls that he has her full attention. "Well, that would be a first." She is just interrupted from firebolting him from a call from the city.

Cathmoíra has been sighted, a ring of a city with a giant three-mile ring in the middle of Avalir to fit in. Families that have been apart for seven years, the time it takes for the cities to pass each other, can now send their spell kites up.

Flowers and baked goods and kites are in the air. One kite come for Quay. Laerryn immediately goes back to taking her calls.

Quay says that the last time they landed cities... that's when they got married. Maybe they can be okay again.
Laerryn says she doesn't hate Quay. She will be on her best behavior. He promises he will to. They'll get back to work.

Nydas Okiro

So very many kites approach Excelsior Plaza, but not to Herald's Tome. No, to the Vault of the Golden Scythe!

In the vault, countless automaton, wheelbarrows filled with diamonds, a bridled unicorn, and in the center of this controlled chaos, Nydas Okiro (Lou, he/him) stands.

Nydas is kind of a stocky dude, right around 5’10”. Long dreads cuffed with gold that lay on his shoulder. Wearing red coat with golden pin with the signature of the Scythe, cape draped along his back.

He wears one of those funny, Renaissance merchant floppy caps to one side. Long scar from his pirate days over his right eye. Three Xs tattooed over his left eye. Beard ends in a golden ring. Eyes are hazel flecked with literal gold.

Nydas sees barrels moves into carrowhulks that he built. A statue of a roaring dragon waits at the entrance.

Chief Bookkeeper Alessander Kyrus addresses his sire. 100 wands is already exceeding the budget. Nydas tells him that it's the REPLENISHMENT. They are a symbol of the riches of their city!

Alessander grumbles about conjuring something from nothing. They are merchants, not mages! Chief Arithmetician Daenyria steps in, helping to point out wands that they are owed from another source for the events.

Feromyne, a walking and talking sphinx, understands that they were invited for the Parade of Beasts, even though they can talk. They were asked to roar, but they offer to also speak. The Scythe has saved their maze, and feels they owe the guild much.

Feromyne offered to provide a boon, and was instead invited to appear in a parade. Yeah, guess that's easier.

Nydas walks forward as Captain Badran Esparad greets the Dragon of Avalir himself. He presents him, the founder of the Sorcerers' University, to a number of sorcerous youths, who all together thank him (using a script).

Nydas interrupts the display, telling them that it's fantastic. They will all be fantastic at tonight's event. A child asks him if he's part dragon too. Only a little bit: he breathes a little smoke out of his nose as a dragon sorcerer. The kids all exclaim.

The children are excited for the fireworks. Esparad was told to forestall a payment, is that true? Only until they're back in the air, at the end of the Replenishment. Nydas says they need to keep this one on hold.

Nydas knows kites are coming, and looks for the one from his brother. Sure enough, it's just outside his office window. Eaedalus Okiro's handwriting, and a beautiful loaf of bread from his wife, Irmé. "Even dragons have to land. There will be a table set for you."

Nydas eats the bread, the only meal he sees himself eating today. He's interrupted after the first bite. Magister Milus Phren is here to speak with him.

History 17: Magister Phren is a nobody to Nydas. He asks Alessander for an interruption in the next 30 seconds. The Magister comes in, apologizing to bother him on such a busy day.

Phren has heard of movement in the upper echelons, and would like to be a welcome hand to those in need. He owes some favors to those higher up.

Phren heard that in the Replenishment, there might be a surplus of ether this year. (With 17 history, Nydas realizes this guy is speaking far out of his station, far too comfortably.)

Alessander interrupts the conversation to tell Nydas that the sphinx is pitching alts to his roar. Right, they really must get this right.
Alessander, wtf? Is he actually pitching alts? No, the sphinx is sulking in a corner. That's more of a problem!

Cerrit “Pinch” Agrupnin

We move from the Golden Scythe to a place that require button presses, far from the scariest cold open in the whole of Exandria.

We go past Excelsior Plaza, all the way to Cloudstone. Deeper, massive marble building. A massive pupil overhead. No robes here; weaponry is carried here. Magic does not echo here. This is a place of sharp clarity.

Guardian of the Seventh, Senior Sightwarden of the Eyes of Avalir Cerrit Agrupnin (Travis, he/him) walks down the hall. Cloak and hood pulled up over feathered head, six and half-foot tall eisfuura, very white feathering that falls into brown tips, dark beak, slightly gray slightly blue eyes, proud strong shoulders. Strong wings tucked back and folded beneath cloak, badge of some sort hidden on his person, arms tucked in tight to hide his double holstered handaxes, wraps on his wrists, taloned fingers and feet.

Cerrit walks into a collection of artifacts, magical items, ruined items, all floating in this pure-white marble room.

A burly half-orc with hair pulled back in a ponytail asks Pinch how he is. Cerrit ("Pinch") says he's good, Orwyn.

They're ready for the demonstration. Cerrit says make the eggheads wait, do things on your own time. Orwyn reports about their time over Vasselheim. Archmage Vespin Chloras has gone missing.

The people in Vasselheim were worried about heresy against the gods, and asked Avalir to check the city to see if he escaped to them. Not that they would have extricated him if they did find him.

Rumor was that Chloras was trying to replicate the Matron's ritual. Another one of "those." They were going to dismiss this, but that opened up all this magical brick-a-brack, which was going to get melted down.

Orwyn asks Costello where they got all this. A member of the Ring of Silver said it needed to be save, of academic importance.
Okay, boys, light it up.

In the Center of Hall of Eyes. Using pure transmutation, the Sanctum of Vespin Chloras is recreated, NOT via illusion. Cerrit's eyes open wide, feathers up full crest. Orwyn is familiar with his investigation methods.

Investigation 31: Cerrit looks around. The chamber shifts. A series of controls opens around him. He sees glyphs, one that allows the sanctum to move through time. This take the memories of the objects in the space to recreate the scene.

The scene doesn't record the movements of living creatures, but any unliving, inanimate objects, the scene is recreated perfectly from their memory.

Orwyn thinks they all would have known if a new god was made. Think this guy actually succeeded? They would know if there was a new god of jerkin' off, right?

Cerrit continues his investigation. Celestial glyphs. Infernal glyphs. Something on the floor is badly rusted or corroded, foot and a half long. He examines it: something disenchanted, and formerly much larger.

Cerrit sees a little glyph hover next to him, a symbol of the Librarium Incantatum. This item wasn't broken; it was rusted away. As a fragment, it seems like part of a bow, part of a weapon.

The investigation glyph zooms into the disenchanted piece. Most disenchantments are targeted, a pattern that starts at a center and moves outward. Already, they're talking 9th level magic, rare stuff even now.

This item doesn't have the regular patterns of disenchantment. Everything here has the same grain. Some energy came into a space, exploded and moved outwards, and indiscriminately disenchanted a magical object. Along with everything else.

Patia Por'co

We transition to the heights, to the very top, the summit of Avalir. We see the Archsept, home of the halls of the Septarion, the home of the most powerful wizards of the city.

A statue of Imyr the Bold stands, with a miniature model of the city floating above his hand. His great magic lifted the city from its terrestrial restrains. Imyr Por’co, the first of the Septarions.

At the foot of the statue, a middle-aged (though you can’t tell) elven woman (Marisha, she/her) with clear ivory skin, silvery white hair that almost reflects the sky around her. She wears a long collared breasted coat over top that stretches down like a gown that is emerald green that has its own silken sheen to it, teal blue-indigo-name your color dress, sun ray-like fascinator in her hair made of gold with pieces of hair through it.

Around her neck is a rigid golden ring that has tiny brumesone crystals in it that rotates and spins around her at all times. A glowing orb that is her focus also hovers, celestial or planetary in nature. Impeccable makeup.
Patia Por'co looks up at the statue. "Happy Replenishing, grandfather."

Keeper of Scrolls, Archmage of the Librarium Incantatum Patia Por’co is welcome here, though not all Keeper of Scrolls has been, historically.

Patia sees the gleaming visage of Eldamir the Wise, one of the true seven. She has all of the cool. She does not show it on her face, but she is wondering what he is doing here. Very slight tilt of an eyebrow.

Eldamir has sat on the council since the beginning of Avalir. It's rare to see an ancient elf, but wearing a shimmering golden cloak that shimmers in geometric shapes that appear and fade away, he leans on a wooden staff he's wielded for centuries.

Eldamir tells the Keeper it's a pleasure to meet her face to face. He was told that the record has been set, that the Librarium Incantatum has bested the previous record for knowledge gained in a single venture!

Not only had she rested the recorded, but she defeated the previous record that she had set herself.

Eldamir begins a tangent about Imyr, telling Patia a bunch of things that she knows that the audience didn't know about how Avalir was set into the sky.

All that Eldamir wanted to say to Patia was... Oh, the statue, that reminds him about Imyr's amazing feat of putting the city into the sky! Patia insists that she has all day to hear all this again, of course.

How does the day strike Patia? Quite the question, but they will always be, first and foremost. That is her destiny.
Eldamir: "We live in an age where we may write our own destiny."

Loras, Eldamir's apprentice, says that Volucia, the other apprentice to Eldamir, has announced her intention to retire, opening up a seat in the inner circle of archmages. She will retire to Marquet.
Patia doesn't know the point of being a large fish in a small puddle. "That's because you're a shark."

Loras says that Aeor may be preparing an attack on Lathras, a dry run of sorts. If Patia has something up her sleeve, now might be the time to use it.
Loras says that this information should only be shared at Patia's discretion. She'll keep it with her other secrets.

Loras says that artifacts from Vasselheim seem to have made their way into the city, into the possession of Sightwarden Cerrit Agrupnin. He explains that the items may have been used to recreate the Matron's ritual. Patia rolls her eyes.

Patia feels like divinity is such a hollow title, especially considering the power available to themselves as mortals. Loras raises an eyebrow; he admires her, for lack of a better word, team spirit.

Eldarin is concerned about wielding of dangerous magics. Anything you learn from the Sightwardens should not be reported to the usual channels; report directly to Loras.

The day moves on. This would be a good point to take a break!

Mid-Break: Feast of Imyr at the Palazzo Por’co

"Sam just said taint. Hi folks, welcome back."

The day has passed, the last day before Avalir lands, releasing its store of ether back into the continent.

Avalir is now close enough to Cathmoíra to hear the choirs singing below. The distant but palpable songs of welcoming, a return home.

Sun sets. Shadows grow long. The Parade of Beasts begins. It's weird to throw a party before a month of partying, but LET'S PARTY NOW!

Harbors with docked skyships with brumestone. Excelsior plaza decked in light. People will party all night, until dawn. Carrowhulks with cots and beds will ferry people home to sleep it off.

Some parties aren't just for play, but for the upper class.

Patia's ancestral home, a palace for wizards. Moments before, she was prancing around, barking at servants, turning to Melindra to make sure the gift baskets are ready with the 200 wands from Nydas.

The entire Octothurge will be in attendance, as will the Court of Owls, and a number of other governing bodies.

A champion of the divine, a steward from the Ring of Silver, is coming. He's bringing a wolf, a terrestrial creature.

Patia saunters to the grand double doors. It's her family home, but it belongs to the magocracy. It's the same cream-colored marble as the rest of the district with crystalline windows.

In the east, the first stars are visible. The sun is just below the mountains to the west, the sky pink and fading to dark.

Important figures are announced as the filter into the Palazzo Por'co. The players are asked to describe their entrance into the party.

Cerrit flies into the party, clocking what's happening. He lands far from the entrance, tucking his wings in and putting up his hood. He doesn't go straight in, and keeps an eye on who is going in with whom.

Cerrit enters without fanfare. Patia catches his eye, acknowledging his entrance.

Before Quay arrives, one of their pneumatic tubes that arcanely appears to deliver the papers appears in front of the person in charge of announcing entrances. Quay pretends he has to "endure" the paparazzi as he walks up.

Herald Loquatius Seelie, Voice of the Council, Scribe of Crowns, is announced, and bombarded by fans. Really, it's too much. (He loves it. He'll stay there at the entrance hall until he's rescued.)

Patia lets Quay endure the crowds before rescuing him right before he gets annoyed. She'll take him and his plus one to the back. He forgets her name. Bolo, he thinks, friend of a friend. Gorgeous.

Bolo eventually wants to be reporter. She's got bright future. This your house? Loq asks Bolo to get drinks. "In Aeor, sometimes it's illegal to ask these questions."

Loq asks Patia about the usual group. Cerrit is making his usual rounds, and the rest are on the way.

Nydas has brought one of the rarest trees in existence, carried by hundreds of scarecrow automata (hodmedods).

Patia approaches Nydas, who presents the gift. He always brings the best treasures. Nothing else will do for the best people.

Patia lifts the tree, making it a centerpiece of the party.

Nydas insight: 24. He clocks a bunch of wizards that are EXTREMELY jealous of this gift. Theirs don't hold a candle to the tree.

Loq notices that business is booming for the Golden Scythe. Maybe they can work out a deal. Patia sends them to the table in the back to continue their conversation as Laerryn approaches.

Laerryn wears a dress that appears to be liquid, molten gold. Other than that, she was too excited to adorn herself. She has a wizard fidget-spinner in her hand as she mumbles to herself. Here to appear, then ready to go back to work.

As she is being announced, Laerryn casts Haste on herself to get to the bottom of the stairs as quickly as possible. The pre-recorded announcement speeds to match her rush.

Laerryn grabs a couple glasses, and gives one to Patia. She has something incredible. Later. Bye! Haste continues as she moves away.

Zerxus was not planning on showing up. This is his first time as First Knight. He was dreading a public thing, but he comes anyway.

Zerxus flies on Tempus, using that as an excuse to stay out, but decides against it. The griffon lands in a smooth motion, allowing Zerxus to land while Tempus continues scouting.

Zerxus marches in as he is announced. He freezes, terrified by the attention. Did he land in Cathmoíra? No, he didn't want to be seen. But he did see a small feast being held.

Nydas received a larger missive from his SIL than his brother sent. At the end of her letter, she said that Romar and Ramira are fine. Elias is well, but his mood has not been bright. Give Zerxus her apologies; Elias is at a tender age.

As Zerxus enters, Cerrit enters. He slips a gold piece to the announcer to keep his name to himself. He pulls Zerxus aside; he has something he needs to run by him. Zerxus is ready to do this now, but Cerrit has another lead to follow.

Meeting of the Six Who Get S*** Done

Patia escorts Zerxus to the fabled table, hidden away in an open archway, a private area with charcuterie. The ivy rustles as the guests approach, hiding any spoken words emanating here with sounds of ivy.

As the guests sit at the table, they all look out, protected in ivy silence, with all the power of Avalir at their disposal. All the people who control the city, and here are the six people who get s*** done in it.

Cerrit chases down Loq's plus one. Bolo is having difficulty asking for drinks from an automaton, which does not understand her request. Cerrit introduces himself; he knows everyone in this gin joint, but not her. Bolo from Aeor. She needs the drinks.

Bolo can't get the bag to give her the drinks. Cerrit admits he hates when they do that. "Can you destroy?" ...He'll be back.

Cerrit asks Loq who tf he came with. Laerryn echoes Cerrit's question. Cerrit says that Bolo threatened the help. Loq says this will be a fun night, she was just arm candy.

Before they begin sharing news, a toast to Zerxus, for his first night here. He would like to toast those who are not with them here, especially Evandrin.

Zerxus cuts through the pleasantries, he almost didn't come. He had a nightmare of sorts. Could be nerves from reuniting with his son, reuniting the city. But he needs to tell them about it.

In the dream, there was a fight between the gods. The father of the dawn seemed to be extinguishing one of the betrayers. Does this mean anything to anyone?

Patia says that dreams are interpretive. Zerxus says that one of the gods was begging for his help, the betrayer. They're not HERE though, Laerryn points out. Cerrit asks for a description: horned.

Zerxus recalls the face of the betrayer. He can't recall clearly, but he does remember "Ghor Dranas." Laerryn and Nydas speak draconic: The gathering of shadows.
On its own, The Gathering of Shadows doesn't mean anything right now. History, Arcana, or Insight to the listeners.

Arcana: Ghor Dranas literally means Gathering of Shadows, but words have connotations. Dragons aren't scared of much; those words have an intense connotation, something that scares even dragons.

History: The name Ghor Dranas comes from a specific place in history, from The Schism, the founding of Toramunda before wizards turned the mountain into a city and flew away with it. The Betrayer Gods made a threat during the Schism. Ghor Dranas is attributed to the Lord of the Hells, a specific phrasing during his defeat. "Put me where you will, I will gather my shadows to me."

Insight: Cerrit notes that Zerxus barely could stomach walking into a room for attention. The fact that he's sharing this dream with his colleagues, there's 20 before this that he didn't mention.

Zerxus doesn't know what it means. Normally taking to the skies clears his head, but this didn't go away. And he saw his son, 5yo. He's not; he'll be 14 in a month and a half. And he doesn't know what he will look like, since he hasn’t seen him since the last Replenishment.

There's other matters, but Zerxus wanted to gather thoughts. Patia recognizes the phrasing, as she explains the Lord of the Hell's declaration. Patia notes that this is the second time Vasselheim has come up in conversation today. She heard rumor that there are artifacts stowed away here. Cerrit said that someone from the Ring of Silver was asking about them.

Loras, who is from the Ring of Gold, was also talking about the artifacts. Patia notes that word travels fast through the rings.

Cerrit notes that copycats aren't unusual, but some things just didn't add up. Usually if it's a failure, people aren't interested. Where there's success, or a remnant, that draws people. If the Ring of Silver is interested...

Laerryn wonders how they would know about this if nothing happened. There must be something, right? Show her! Cerrit presents the rusted bow.

Laerryn inspects the bow as Patia asks Nydas to look at it, as well. It's heavy to the touch, and feels extraordinarily mundane. Zerxus casts Divine Sense.
As Laerryn inspects the bow, Loq rubs her shoulder to inspire her. Her perfume kicks up, smelling a little like their wedding. Arcana 29.

Both Nydas and Laerryn inspect the bow. Zerxus cracks it as he utters his Divine Sense. For something this mundane, it's nonmagical, a rusted scrap of metal. A POWERFUL divine energy, Celestial in nature, sparks from it.

Nydas takes master tools, hitting the bow with a tuning fork. It makes a weird note. The right noise, but wrong tenor. The fragment was at one time 12 feet tall when whole. The bow is made of gold, but not of Exandrian metal. This is from the heavens themselves, the bow of a Solar.

Nydas hits the bow with the tuning forking... and then keeps banging it again and again, periodically, for the next minute, incredulous. Cerrit eventually snaps him out of it. Nydas explains its origins with awe.

Cerrit shares how it was dispelled. Laerryn puts together the pieces before her. She imagine the full bow. At its center, it must have been shattered. Mage's Disjunction? She looks for spell residue.

The bow of a Solar could not be dispelled by a mortal. And this was no spell. Something deeper, older, and more profound than a spell happened to this bow. Nothing Vespin Chloras could have done could have done this. Who or what actually did this?

The mere presence of the entity that shattered a weapon of one the heaven's mightiest warriors... Laerryn decides this could be used for planar travel, even devoid of magic. With this piece, she has the last thing she needs; she can't help but smile.

Purvon Suul

At the front of the palace, the champion of the Matron of Ravens is announced: Purvon Suul. A young man with long dark hair, light brown skin, a severe, grave expression on his face, terrestial mud on his black leather boots. He carries a stoic countenance of a ranger. He wears no armor here.
A hush goes over the gala as, in the Age of Arcanum, a champion of the gods walks in. How quaint. And he has a wolf with him.

Zerxus is asked to speak with the champion of the Raven Queen. Meanwhile, Avalir's champion does not require any deific entities. He'll make sure he's aware of his presence.

Nydas insists the hodmedods clean the man's boots, this is this Palazzo Por’co. Purvon resists, and Galdric wonders if he should bite them off.

The group continues discussion. The talk turns about how it's weird how the Hall of Prophecy is closed. There is no precedent for this, and none of them were informed in advanced.

Zerxus asks the group to keep an eye on this Purvon. Magister Hollow, Dean of the College of Necromancy, was the one to have invited him in.

Purvon announces he has come to speak on matter divine to the Septarion. There is a ruffle of polite laughter and derision. He understands that a number of artifacts may have been brought here to the city.
Zerxus strokes his beard at the braid as he addresses Purvon, and suggests to escort him away from this audience.

Magister Micah Cormorant, Speaker of the Fourth, thinks its telling that Zerxus is a wielder of divine magic with no devotion to any divine entity, opposed to Purvon’s source. Zerxus watches Purvon as Cormarant says this. Insight 17. Purvon is deeply uncomfortable, and doesn't wish to be here. There's some polite laughter at the observation that Avalir's champion needs no patron.

Dean Hollow comments on how the greatest achievement of the age would be erased. Purvon does not wish to continue this conversation, but Laerryn says this is the only conversation he will get. Pipe up.

He begins to leave the room as Hollow continues to address him. Is the Matron of Ravens one of us? Purvon stops. She was. It was their world. He leaves.
Nydas starts an applause, which the room joins. Patia sends Purvon a message that if he wishes to hear more, go to the room with the vines. He does not respond.

Looking Into Leads

Laerryn tells Nydas she needs four automatons in the Heart right now. She has what she needs, and time is of the essence. Nydas grabs a hodmedod, and writes a note to Alessander as Laerryn takes off to the Heart.

Cerrit approaches Hollow. "Well done. You represent the city well." He does find it weird she is interested in anyone replicating what the matron did; no one is close to such a feat, right? Insight 23.
Hollow looks at Cerrit. She's sure she doesn't have the faintest idea. The ring on Cerrit's hand pulses. “Fair, very fair. Enjoy the evening.” He notes she's a member of the ring of silver, based on her silver neckwear.

Nydas pulls Patia to the dance floor. He's usually visited by people of influence, but he was visited today by a Magister Milus Phren. Does she recognize this name?
Milus Phren is not in Patia's circles, and she knows everyone. Nydas spins her away, where she walks away, PISSED. He heads back to the vault to get four more automatons.

Nydas writes Zerxus a message that he would like to talk before the city lands, but catches him before he leaves. He thanks Zerxus for his forthrightness this evening, and tells him he deserves the position as First Knight.

Loq and Zerxus rush after Purvon.

Patia found out about a breach of her circle. She casts Detect Thoughts, bouncing around to the thoughts of the guest at the party. Investigation with adv: 12.
Patia moves through the party, trying to determine who talked when they shouldn't have. She hears a voice, like someone whispering to themselves in their own mind. It's quiet. She looks in her periphery.

Patia sees a wobbling hobmedod that has stopped serving drinks. The tray lists to one side. Automata aren't sentient.
"...Ghor Dranas." The automaton dissipates, turning into a pile of clothing soaked in fallen champagne. Cerrit quickly grabs the parts of the construct and takes it out of the room.

We cut to Loq and Zerxus, who are following Champion Purvon Suul, who only turns around when addressed by Zerxus as “Champion.” The wolf growls a little bit. Loq says they came to apologize for the other guests in there. With advantage, persuasion 29. Purvon looks at him. "I fear you make your home in a nest of vipers, gentlemen."

Zerxus says that this is not his home. They are approaching it, and he is ready to have a different conversation, if he's willing. Purvon urges him to speak his mind.

Purvon says that very recently, he learned that his mistress feels a concern. Something is moving on the face of Exandria, something that eludes even her sight. The Matron's council brought Purvon to Vasselheim, but his search came short at the sanctum of Vespin Chloras. He was already missing by the time Purvon arrived.

Loq asks Purvon about the rite that Vespin Chloras attempted. Purvon’s eyes go wide; he did not know this. Loq realizes he spoke too soon, and casts Gift of Gab to take it back. The conversation continues with this knowledge struck from Purvon’s memory.

Purvon finds that the mages here have little to offer, but Loq says that the manner of seeking help can change what he finds. Purvon thinks some answers may have come aboard Avalir when it was at Vasselheim. What he can say in this moment... It is the belief of the Matron that something reckless may have been attempted.

Many have tried to recreate the Ascension, foolishly, and it has ended poorly for them all. He believes that the Archmage Chloras tried something wholly different, much riskier and foolhardy. The God of Death that ruled over the domain, whose name the Matron sundered and removed... What complaint could he offer for his own demise that would not be hypocrisy? The god of death, dying.

The Matron has already conferred with each and every one of the Prime Deities. None of them felt an attempt on their domains, and yet a ripple was felt. If divinity was sought, there are precious few options left outside of the established Prime Deities. He hopes he hasn't shared this wisdom foolishly.

Zerxus asks Purvon to state, clearly and not in riddles, what he think happened. Vespin is a better mage than previous attempters, and did not try to remove an established deity. But we don't know what he actually tried to do.

Loq asks if Purvon would offer an exclusive interview.
"Good luck in your nest of vipers."
"Free advice, change your first name."
"It's normal where I come from!"

With Purvon gone with a raven feather left behind, Loq and Zerxus discuss the implications of Chloras attempting to unseat or release a betrayer god.

Cerrit uses his Eye for Detail and his Unerring Eye, his crest feathering out as he looks at the fallen fallen hodmedod he's laid out on the floor. Investigation 31. He realizes he's not alone in this room.

The problem with invisibility is that light is important. No matter how cloaked, you can't make your whole self invisible, and the pupil has to remain visible so it can receive light. Cerrit can see a pair of pupils behind him; they always move in two. He looks up in a mirror in the chamber. Smaller than grains of sand, he sees two pupils.

Cerrit brings his eyes down from the mirror, and resumes investigation. He also subtly draws his hawks from beneath his wings. With a 21 stealth to disguise his movements before his attack, he rolls 25 to hit the invisible figure. That will be rolled with Sneak Attack for 25 damage.

Cerrit whips around, tossing the axe just below where the eyes are. He already knows where the neck is. The blood is the first visible thing, and the body falls dead before the spell ends.

Once appeared, a mortal man with chunks of skin carved off a shaved head. Lips carved off the face. Wearing rags. Covered in infernal runes. Stitched together with orange irises and bloodshot eyes staring out of a dead face.

Behind himself, Cerrit hears coming from the mirror, "You will never reach the Wildmother's embrace in time. Are you looking for something?"

On the other side of the mirror, the mutilated face of Vespin Chloras, swimming in mist and fog, shrieks and moves toward Cerrit quickly. He disappears as the glass shatters. Cerrit stares at his own reflection in the cracked mirror... as we end the night.

We gotta end with Is It Thursday Yet? Good night!

Livetweets of Exandria Unlimited: Calamity, Episode 1 — CritRoleStats (2024)