Spare Change

Moirean

So, looks like Slyphe is back!....and He has some housecleaning to do.

Moi still has her amulet from when she was in His order. Like, it can't even be taken off, so her connection to Him has always still been there, even after she was cast out of the Order after He went full-lifer. He finally remembered. >_>

I quite like this incarnation of Slyphe - He's definitely not NICE.

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A frigid, sea-scented gale sweeps its way through the conclave that stirs up some of the numerous papers placed upon the desks nearby.

The Conclave of Seers. (Spinesreach.)

A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. The magnificent Conclave of Seers spreads out within this opulent space. This circular chamber is ringed by magnificent columns that reach up to the dome of the Central Spire. The room is split into four quadrants, and curved desks come concentrically off from the center of the room. Each quadrant is used by one of the four Conclaves, while in the very center of the circle, a number of desks are used by the Ard-Dhasani and his staff. Near the center of the room a magnificent podium stands, on which many empassioned orations have been given. There are 4 ebony wooden chairs here. A black marble pedestal has been knocked over, cracking the bowl that once rested upon it. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard here. A Sciomancer of the Spires stands here, his hands resting on a black voidstaff. Sealed with a lion-shaped lock, a box for suggestions sits here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Tiny flames circling its form, a miniature fire elemental spins slowly here.

You see exits leading north (open pine door), east (closed pine door), south (open pine door), and west (closed pine door).

You have emoted: Moirean frowns in consternation, slamming her hands down on the ruffled paperwork. "On no you DON'T," she scowls at the stray sheafs. "I've got plenty enough of a mess on my hands-" her gaze shoots south, eyes narrowed in disgust, before turning back down to the misbehaving parchment. "Not in the mood AT ALL to deal with my projects getting rumpled, no I am NOT."

In a grumpy command, you say to a Spirean Sciomancer, "Close some windows or something. There's a BREEZE." She scowls. "A STINKY BREEZE."

"You've got something that belongs to Me," a seething voice hisses within your ear. For a moment you're almost -certain- the weight of a hand can be felt upon your shoulder, but in the next moment it's gone.

A Spirean Sciomancer stares back at Moirean and blinks once. "We live in the Tundra, Miss Seirath," he points out. "Open windows...."

You have emoted: Moirean immediately begins to ignore the mage's mumbled protests and begins to whip her head around, her hand lifting to tug at a coral-covered pendant. "I sure DO, Oh Stagnant One," she hisses at empty air.

You focus your essence into your bond with the Maelstrom, seeking guidance.

You reach out and touch a coral-covered pendant.

You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Raised sandbank at a seething geyser. (lost) (The Slyphian Grotto.)

This perch is the highest within this beautiful grotto, leaving the brilliant sapphire waters clearly visible in a gently rippling circle of softly lapping waves. Little here remains of the illusion of normalcy; this stretch of land is a V-shaped expanse of pale white sand, the pristine surface devoid of moisture or any marks of passage. Overhead, the stalactites cluster thickly, knife-edged serrations shimmering with a venerable hum of echoing power, casting cascades of tinted light akin to springtime dawn spun through priceless gems. Standing solitary amid the broad swath of snow-hued grains, a quiescent geyser sends questing coils of seething mist high into the air; these fade swiftly out to the north, veiling the unforgiving stone in whorls of tenebrous fog. A shimmering ball of energy hovers here above a multi-colored coral pedestal ornamented with seashells. An abstract coral sculpture of a swirling maelstrom stands here. Covered by an ever-shifting veil of seawater, a large throne resembling a rising torrent of water sits here.

You see exits leading northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest.

"Familiar?" comes the voice again, almost taunting this time in nature as it echoes off of the cavernous walls.

You have emoted: Moirean snorts at the touch, doing her best to keep any vital, real link, whatever little that remains and feeds the pendant, closed off. Her eyes close and don't open again until she senses the familiar lurch of Divine moment.

The placid waters around you are stirred into action by some unseen force. In but a few moments they resemble the roiling, churning waves of an ocean in the midst of a storm.

A chuckle fills the air that seems to by some means resonate from every direction at once. "You used to love it here," comes the voice again.

You have emoted: Moirean is quiet as her eyes focus and she realizes where she is. For a moment, her harsh demeanor drops, and she takes a step forwards, feet sinking into the sand as she lets out a quiet, almost unnoticeable exhale. Her fingers spread, hands slowly drifting forwards as if to cup the misty air, and her eyes close again. Her expression tightens, sharpens, and her voice grows cold.

Cuttingly, you say, "It made a very pretty place for a wedding. Granted, You then cast out both the married couple AND the priest who oversaw it."

A single drop of water falls from one of the stalactites above, landing in the very center of the blue-hued throne before you with an audible 'drip'. This first drop is followed by another, and yet another before the slow dripping gradually evolves into what seems like a near-downpour. As the water continues pouring upon the throne; however, it seems to by some odd means bend and contort as if hitting some unseen object with a vaguely human-like figure.

His form rippling into visibility, sat casually within the throne, Slyphe says, "Tsk tsk, making Me to seem like the bad guy here."

You have emoted: Moirean dryly concedes, "The throne is a nice addition." She pauses, and then replies, "But no, no, You are not the bad guy. You made that abundantly clear when You let that bitch the dreamer tell You what to do with Your order, and You cast us, all of us, Your Champion, Your highest priests, Your avatar, all out because...."

With a humourless smirk, you say, "Because we were the bad guys."

"Even the most progressive of change sometimes requires just a nudge," Slyphe idly comments, His gaze never once leaving your form. "Take you, for example," the God pensively offers before rising from His throne to begin circling you slowly. "You, certainly do great things on your own, but you thrive, you -feed- off of the reactions of those you lead," He states, almost pensively.

With an almost careless wave of His hand, Slyphe says, "I imagine all it'd take is, oh, perhaps a few instigators spouting rumors to set you on a track to be doing your absolute best you can to lead."

You have emoted: Moirean flatly returns, "The entire point of leading is to work for those You oversee." There's a distinctly accusatory expression in her stare, though a slight downturn in the set of her eyes hints at a wounded, hurt feeling lingering beneath the challenge.

"And I," Slyphe smoothly transitions, His hands gesturing towards His tall frame. "Lead those that can truly appreciate My ways and teachings." In a blink, the God's frame seems to suddenly melt into hundreds of small motes of water that collapse, surge towards you, then solidify once more into His form only inches away. A chill breeze pushes outwards from His body, especially noticeable in such close proximity.

His hand extending to lightly grasp at the amulet around you's neck, Slyphe says, "Truly a shame you choose to surround yourselves among those who don't, and cannot appreciate them."

You have emoted: Moirean stubbornly lifts her chin, daring to stare directly up at You. Her jaw is set in a tense line and she stiffly retorts, "Once, You believed in achieving change on a vast scale. Then, You balked." Her chin lifts even higher and she squares her shoulders. "You tossed us aside because Enorian and Duiran were set in their ways, and You feared the conflict. YOU ran from the change."

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes close and she grunts, "Criticize me, mock me, taunt me, but don't accuse me of being false to Your ways. I led Your damn order until You backed down from the change You had wrought."

Slyphe's hand in one swift motion transitions from the pendant to your throat, His cold fingers curling slowly around your neck as the Divinity offers an almost saddened shake of His head. "So much ego she forgets she speaks to a God," the Deity murmurs. His head leans in even closer to your own, His lips directly beside your ears. "I've -embraced- change," He whispers in a near hiss. "You are the one that thrives on dependency."

His voice nearly sibilant in nature, Slyphe asks, "Can you thrive without the souls you siphon from others? Can you -live- without the essence you leech from those of the living that embrace the gift of life they've been given?"

You have emoted: Moirean lets out a squawk as You seize her, the noise strangled and choked - but distinctly a laugh, bitter as the ocean and cold as ice. There's a hint of hysteria in what sound escapes through the grip, and she gasps out, "Never...forget....You...God. MY God." Her body is still. There is no struggling. A pause. A sigh. "Once."

Slyphe's fingers slide from your neck to clench tightly upon the amulet wrapped just below where His hand just was. "Once," he echoes with a sneer. With a mighty jerk of His arm, He rips the piece of jewelry off. "But never again," He finishes as His fingers curl inwards upon the amulet, concealing it from sight. His palm clenches, and a crunching noise fills the air as he grinds the amulet to dust within His hands.

An ominous whirlpool conjures itself into existence that soon after begins to evaporate away in a hiss of steam. As the steam gradually fades, you can see that a coral-covered pendant has vanished.

You have emoted: Moirean remains still, unmoving and silent as You rip the pendant from her. Her eyes squeeze shut as You begin to destroy it, severing what little link remains, and a pained expression finally twists her features.

You suddenly feel a tugging from a starstone engagement ring wreathed in roses, as its paired item pulls towards it.

The vague image of an invigorating hardy entwined grisly necklace of fanged skulls appears in the air, before a ghostly apparition appears in a flash of magic.

Toz gives you a peck on the cheek.

As the pendant is quickly ripped away from you, a lurching, almost nauseous feeling overcomes your form. Images flash rapidly, almost violently through your mind: memories of time spent within this very grotto, sermons held to aspiring Congregants at the peaks of precarious cliffs. The last image to burst through your mind is the disappointed visage of Benedicto that remains eerily for a few long moments.

"Leave," is the simple command issued forth from Slyphe as His gaze sweeps both you and Toz. "Neither of you have any business here any more."

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes remain shut and she has absolutely no reaction to Toz's appearance, if she even notices him at all - she is lost to some internal chaos, and all that escapes her lips is a soft whimper.

Toz sees: Through the link, you can catch glimpses of what she is experiencing: memories from her past, resurfacing like some monster from the ocean's depths, to circle through her mind in a vicious reminder of what she has lost.

Toz's attention remains on you. His head inclines slightly, and he's still for a time before reaching out to rest a hand on you shoulder, shaking slightly. "Come, Commander. We should go- I doubt He wants to recall what He lost," he says, a touch pointedly.

His gaze leveling upon Toz, Slyphe says, "All progress comes with a cost, mortal."

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes are still closed and her head shakes as she leans wearily against Toz, still visibly reeling.

Icily, Slyphe says to Toz, "You needn't be the Sovereign to understand when the benefits outweigh the costs."

Flatly, Toz says to Slyphe, "You are the one who stepped back. I would hesitate to call any retreat 'progress'. Perhaps a flinch."

Slyphe's arms cross over His chest as an amused snort escapes His frame. "How adorable," He comments, His gaze flicking from Toz to you then back. The God allows a few, almost tense moments of silence to fill the air before waving a finger in a vague swirling motion. As if in response to the action, the waters that surround the sand bank begin to sinuously begin circling around the small landform, the waters edges almost hungrily encroaching upon the sand. "I'm not a fan of repeating Myself; however."

Stated as if not there's not truly an option present, Slyphe says, "It is time for you both to leave."

Toz shakes his head at Slyphe, "Neither am I. Though I have little doubt You have somehow missed my thoughts on the matter, loud and numerous as they have been." He glances to you then, refusing to even glance towards the waters as he asks, "Are you ready to go, Commander? There is some work for us to tend to."

You have emoted: Moirean manages to break out of the circling memories - or at least partially escape - enough to give Toz a tense, silent nod.

Toz says, "Voltda."

You follow Toz to the ether.

Within the Death Caves. (The Death Caves.)

Magical darkness enshrouds this area.