Juive'lin and the Syl'rosyan

[Maddyn]

As Motito’s spell snapped into place to follow the painting, the scenery about the two Elves changed dramatically from the landscape of the Arakmatian Frontier and the prior destination of Enamoria near the Circle by the Dolwoods. Which was quite natural given that they’d travelled hundreds of miles in mere seconds to be somewhere near the south of the Great Mountains just outside Frigid River. One after all tended to notice a difference between a warm climate of outside the Syl’rosyan Valley when juxtapositioned by the chilly climate of the Great Mountains. Between climate, and the fact the Great Mountains could be seen in the distance it was a safe assumption from the surroundings that they were in Lauryl rather than around the Khardran Mountain area.

The air shimmered with a faint purple light that seemed to hang about longer than the arcanic weave had any right to exist, as if some other source was fueling the two Mages Vis to rejuvinate and throw in it’s two crowns for anything cast here. The ground was hard stone and uncarpeted, a balcony facing towards the snow capped mountains in all it’s pristine beauty. An iron guard rail elaborately coiled into patterns that hurt the eye when one focused upon them stood as a guard against high winds from battering someone from this perch. Easily a hundred metres from ground level, and if one glanced upwards they’d discover that this height wasn’t even the half of it. The wall of the building was a simple glass stained window showing a pair of angels standing back to back with a sword thrust downwards and their hands resting atop the pommels.

Not that Motito or Eri’Lariel were exactly alone in these circumstances at the old Mage Guild Building that’d existed outside Frigid River for quite some time. Leaning against the wall was an Elf, a good hundred and sixty centimetres in height and holding onto the painting of Rosencrantz with his right hand. Hair that was wavy, shoulderlength and like spun gold which even for an Elf wasn’t quite right, angular features and brilliant golden eyes of the same hue as his hair. Clothing was impeccable, each piece carefully selected as if the fate of Telath weighed on the Elf’s ability to be properly dressed. A white cotton shirt with a golden vest over the top, and over this a heavy bright red overcoat with gold trim at the wrists, hem and a stylied dragon rampant on the back. Fitting black britches, knee high black leather boots and a rapier upon his left hip.

“You really should ask before stealing something, it’s most irritating having to go to such lengths of retrieval…” the Elf mused, grinning widely. Each of his teeth, while certainly normal almost begged for a closer inspection just to clarify that they weren’t sharp and pointy.

OOC:
Same Timestamp as the other thread, Invite Only.

[Eri'Lariel Gil'dae]

The majestic surroundings or length of arcanic weaves were both lost on Eri'lariel as she moved through the portal, feeling a slight nausea and dizziness that she didn't normally associate with Motito's mode of transportation. She silently cursed her luck that their child would choose now of all times to unsettle her body. Not now, lisse'o', she thought as her hand moved defensively to her belly. She couldn't afford to be ill right here, in the dragon's lair, so to speak - or perhaps worse; dragons could be reasoned with, if her people's history was to be believed. Vampires were another matter altogether.

Eri's hand fell guiltily to her sides with a nervous glance to where her husband was emerging from the glowing portal. Her gaze shifted erratically to the elf handling the painting that had brought them here. Apparently unable to help herself, Eri' stared intently at the man's teeth, wondering if this was perhaps one of Rosencrantz' retainers even as she silently triggered the spell within Motito's ring that would activate the protective shield about her form like second nature. The being before them was somehow dressed too impeccably, too much like Rosencrantz himself had, sending chills of uncertainty through her form with a rustling of her feathers. Could a vampire change their appearance? Was this indeed him in another guise?

It was a worry that she only entertained for a brief moment before his words registered in her tapered ears. 'Stealing something?' Definitely not Rosencrantz. At least, Eri was vain enough to believe that the vampire would at least recognize her - or if not her, then the elementals that he had placed within her.

"Stealing? I'm afraid you have the wrong idea... unless you're the one stealing?" She looked at him in confusion, not quite certain what he was getting at, or why he would so calmly accuse them of theft. Her eyes began scanning the room on some off chance that he was speaking to a third party, as yet unseen. "In which case, I'm certain that we can summon a guard.. or else, you can assure us that you are the proper owner of the painting that you hold." She sounded braver, and much more casual, than she felt, but her husband beside her instilled her with a courage that she otherwise wouldn't feel.


ooc: Thanks Maddy!!

[Motito Gil'dae]

The elflord materialized just an instant before his wife did, viewing the pirstine and grand sights before him. He took in a few sharp breaths, his lungs shocked by the sudden change in temperature and air. Just as his wife came through, he got the strange and distinct feeling of not being alone and turned to face the other person present. Upon doing so, he gazed sternly at the man clutching the painting. He paused for a moment and opened his mouth to speak, but screwed it shut again as his wife piped in. Instead, he continued his 'silent scowl' routine, saying naught and just staring through narrowed slits of eyes.

Of course, the elflord heard her finish her comment, and decided now was an appropriate time to jump in...for as might be obvious to the other man that appeared to try so hard to seem the dashing and noble thief, they were not the owners of the house, as Eri' herself had indirectly declared them as not the proper owners with her approach.

"We're not here as thieves, simply trespassers." He chuckled lightly, as this gentleman looked one who appreciated wit, "But we'll cease being that as soon as we locate the being of whom that portrait in your hand is of." He smiled again, not able to resist, "And trust me, the moment we decide to take something, the item's owner will be informed rather promptly."

Wouldn't mind claiming the building, myself...quite useful, it seems. He hadn't missed the added oomph the building had added towards his spell, a rather handy thing for an Archsorcerer who loved to research arcanic effects.

[Maddyn]

The grin really didn't fade so much as it flickered inbetween words given it really was rather difficult grinning and talking at the same time. "Remarkable Mi'lady, I trust that line would work exceptionally well if you went to someone's Manor, pocketted some silverware and when caught out then question your host as to prove just whom it belongs to." Lord Heron replied in thorough amusement, unable really to resist the point of the matter now that Eri'lariel had so conviently walked right into the opening. One of the many downsides in the Elf's life being that he had to continually strive towards certain mannerisms and ideals lest life itself become rather more uncomfortable and personal that Heron would've enjoyed.

Motito wasn't much better of course, but at least the youth was being a little more polite about their rude entry rather than making unwarrented accusations. "Ah, tresspassers makes everything exceptionally better does it not... though really that isn't much better Dear... seeing as furthering the aforementioned analogy that's one step closer to simple rudeness given thieves don't usually get an invitation and so wouldn't be honoured as guests if caught professing their particular trade." Naturally though Heron had taken to babbling something horrendously, and logic wasn't going to help the Elf apparent anytime this century whilst within this particular guise.

The painting though, that in itself was sufficient enough to distract Lord Heron as he glaned at the work and smiled proudly. "8th Century work, you can tell by the detail on the brush stokes is distinctively post modern and so not to be confused with 9th Century or 10th Century Structualism. Or simply by cheating and removing the frame given it is dated on the back." a flash of a grin as he glanced away from the painting and up at Eri'lariel and Motito. "But regardless, that would be Baron Rosencrantz de Milo, one of the Feudal Lords from around what was once known as Agerburg south of the Pegasi Woods. It really does capture him quite well of course, you can tell the distinctive lineagal traits that seem to be carried through with very little flaw in the green eyes, the high cheekbones and a certain ranginess like their clothes don't quite fit their body properly. Or just underfed."

"Regardless my thieves... seeing as it isn't likely you're going to be very successful in such a criminal matter given you did just waltz right into my home so unconventionally...I think some tea is in order and certainly to get out of the cold... hmm?"

[Motito Gil'dae]

Motito visibly winced as he heard Lord Heron's words. True, he didn't know that was his name just yet, but ah, well. He remained relatively quiet as he stood there, listening to the 'elf's' words, considering them quietly as he stood in slightly uncomfortable silence. He heard Heron speak, and the further he got, the clearer it became that they wouldn't likely be getting in to trouble, so long as they approached this right...

...and if he was offering them tea, he was likely the resident of this location, legal or otherwise. Thus the picture was his. He nodded to Heron's words as he spoke them about the image, and he sighed grimly. Rosencrantz de Milo...that was their man.

"Yea, that's the one we're after. Still alive and kicking he is...err, kicking at least, though alive not so much. More undead, really. Anyway, we're trying to track him down about some elementals he seems to have misplaced." He didn't want to give too much information. Besides, if this one was powerful enough to help and to remove them, he wouldn't need Tito's explaination to see what was going on inside of Eri's body just as he could.

"Kind sir, worry not. We shan't be stealing from you anytime soon, nor tresspassing for too much longer if things work out." He considered though, trying to find out what the man knew, but first, he'd need to stop being rude.

"My apologies for the intrusion, sir. I am Motito Gil'dae of Syl'rosya, and this is my wife Eri'Lariel. We normally don't tresspass like this, but the matter is of considerable urgency to us." He smiled and bowed, his quicksilver eyes apologetic. He was hoping to remain on good terms with this being, for the location upon which he inhabited intrigued the elf...perhaps he'd need to come back and have a talk with this one...

"Tea would be lovely, though, thank you. Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you could tell me over it if you know of anything more of Lord de Milo's...more recent activities?" The Archsorcerer smiled as he escorted his wife inside out of the cold of the balcony since Heron had made it obvious he wasn't going to attack them any time soon, what with offering them tea. "Specifically, where one might find him roaming about these brightenings should one need to discuss something with him?"

[Eri'Lariel Gil'dae]

Feathers bristled an angry agitation at the elf's implications. They hadn't pocketed anything and her pride really couldn't take the insinuation that she had. Her lips pursed together in anticipation of letting out a litany of snide comments in resonse when, blessedly, Motito spoke up in her stead. Her mouth had already gotten her in enough trouble today and they really didn't know who they were dealing with here, or where they even were, for that matter. Perhaps it would be wise if she took a mental step back and forced some patience on herself, despite her relatively tender elfin years. No wonder her mentors were always calling her 'child'. She might be old enough to be wed and bear children, but really, she had a lot to learn - and a bit of growing up to do - before she was a properly wise elf. Thankfully, her husband had a handful of decades on her, and the wisdom that came with it.

Lord Heron's blatherings distracted Eri yet further from the scathing remarks that had long since died on her tongue. His assessment of the painting intrigued her, though not in the way that he might have anticipated. Certainly it seemed that he was a collector and appreciator of art - something that Eri' had seen precious little of, though artists were another matter altogether. The last conversation that she'd had with words such as 'Structualism' or 'post modernism' had been with the one armed Esh'lahier that was responsible for 'painting' her the vibrant reds that she now sported. But still, though one was an artists and the other an art appreciator, it didn't mean that they would actually know one another. Save, perhaps for the uniting factor of Rosencrantz who seemed key to this whole thing.

She eyed the elf surreptitiously as one other thought occurred to her; Lord Heron spoke of how perfect the likeness was as if he had personal knowledge on the matter. The little hairs on the back of her neck rose slightly as she pondered the implications of that. Rambling on about the portrait with such pride as he was, the elfin lord didn't seem to hold any prejudice against the 'Baron de Milo' as Dainli'laen had been. Could he possibly be an ally? Or, more likely, just some innocent, oblivious to their plight who they had happened upon coincidentally, thanks to the misleading portrait, distracting Motito's scrying spell. They were wasting their time here.

Eri' listened without objection, however, as Motito tried to make amends with the witty elf lord, even going so far as to accept tea. She swallowed back an impatient sigh as she moved over beside him, her delicate hand slipping into his as their fingers laced together. She squeezed his hand gently, tugging a little as if to imply her impatience to be off after the real Rosencrantz, rather than delaying their ordeal with this side track. But even through her impatience, Eri' plastered a serene smile on her face that would do even the most stoic of elves proud. She had survived this long with the elementals inside of her, she supposed, what was another hour while they drank tea and corrected their error in tresspassing on this person's property?

She waited until they had moved past being suspicious thief-tresspassers, and on to being 'invited guests' for tea before speaking up again, her lilting, accented tone conversational and friendly. "I must add my own apologies to those of my husband. Please, pardon my rudeness - and thank you - for your offer of tea, I mean.

"I am curious, however, what it is about this 'Baron de Milo' that seems to attract art... aficionados. You're the second that I've come into contact with in regards to Rosencrantz." She paused a long moment, her mind going back to that day when she had been painted, and eventually defended, by the one armed artist. She had no reason to believe that this elf was in any way acquainted with either Dainli'laen, or even Rosencrantz himself. Really, Eri' was of the mind that this was an innocent bystander that they had intruded on by mistake. Eventually, she spoke again, adding almost as an afterthought, "the first was an artist himself, though, and not merely a collector."

[Maddyn]

Motito's words though caused Lord Heron to arch an eyebrow in query at the mention of Elementals before smiling ever so slightly as if talking to a child. "You can't misplace an Elemental, Lord Gil'dae. It's like misplacing your right hand which, while possible... does rend to require someone elses's assisstance with a rather sharp object or to be accident prone in a most disturbing fashion. Regardless, Rosencrantz isn't quite so... able when it comes to dealing with the Icrean or the Lesser so you're likely mistaken..." Heron continued with a slight shrug of his shoulders as he stepped towards the doorway and casually threw both doors open with a gentle push. "Apologies accepted though my thieves, even if a most unconventional sort that you appear to be..."

The room that Heronythys strode into was like a dining room if someone went and completely ignored physics. It was larger on the inside than it was on the outside, which was incidently exceptionally pointless because there was very little in the room anyway. There appeared to be no roof, no walls... just an endless distance between now and then to captivate a rather good impression of infinity but without the usual mathematical equations. Polished wooden floorboards and a crimson carpet lined with gold edging led towards a table that was both immeasurably far away, and in conventional understanding only about five metres away. For Motito, as a Sorceror, it was basically one big headache and to make things worse the weave was completely beyond the ArchSorceror's grasp in relication. At least, the exact replication as there appeared to be something hidden behind the primary weave that was made with a stronger arcana in simple terms than Motito quite possessed.

At the end of the carpet pathway, and continuing at the other end of the obscruction was a mahogany table with four cushioned chairs on either side and silverware containing fine Kemite cups and all the usual elements for the creation of tea. It wasn't very good tea though admittedly, more just something to get oneself by until something more savoury could be obtained.

"Recent in Elvish terms? Let's see.... he destroyed several pricesless treaures in the Barony of de Lyon, arranged the kidnapping of several nobles, engaged in corrupting quite a few Imperial officials which led towards mass exortion and perhaps more importantly several minting plates from Alleria Prime after the very short term reign of Regent Nighthawk. The coins arn't very good mind, but they are valuable all the same as a means of denomination. Art theft... hmm... there's probably mo... oh, arranging the assassination of a Duchess... whether or not the Elf actually will kill the girl is another matter but that's more a curiousity. Involved in the Zerdargia assult so very recently... Hmm... well, no matter. He's busy at any rate. No good being immortal if you're going to sit back and let time pass now is there?" Heronythys queried with a faint smile.

Eri'lariel's question though widened that smile notiably so that yet again it revealed those teeth that really should've been pointed and caused most people to have a double-take just to confirm their bluntness. "Art is the window of the soul, but more importantly it's never quite replicated the same over the decades... you do realise that various Post Modern works in the eighth century are probably worth more now than several entire cities in the Imperium, to the right person of course... why, if I had one of the first pieces of Diana's Forging of the Three Objects of Power I'd be an exceptionally wealthy Elf." Pouring himself some tea as he went before taking teaspoon after teaspoon of cinnamon until it wasn't so much tea as it was a sludge with water in there... somewhere.

"You mentioned an Elemental problem, mind if I ask what the dilema is? They're usually quite friendly Spirits if you don't do something that offends their nature...if you stole something of theirs it might explain you're predicament."

[Motito Gil'dae]

As unguarded as it might make the elflord feel, he dropped out of Evolving Meditation if only because what was before him gave him a headache. Either way it was an impressive display of power. Either a group of Archmagi, or one very powerful, almost supernatural being had to do it. Perhaps an Ancient One, a Demon, or even a Dragon?

Pah. What a silly idea....Dragons. Instead, he thought a group of Archmagi the most likely candidates...as such, what would such a concentration of Archmagi be doing here, then?

As the elflord took a seat and proceeded to sip the so-so tea, he smiled his thanks to the elf across from him as he did so, despite it's complete lack of flavor. Instead he considered Heron's words about de Milo and nodded slowly.

"That's our man, still alive and kicking...well, kicking at least. It might be better to say he's more undead, really...but still kicking." He continued to listen, and heard speak of elementals, frowning as he did. It made him smile somewhat sheepishly.

"Well, not so much a misplacement of elementals, so much as put in...an object of great import and delicacy." He wasn't quite ready to say that object was his wife, because as he had thought before, if this elf really was powerful enough to be of any help, he would see the problem for itself within Eri.

"We wished them removed, but I am hesitant to attempt to do so myself for fear of them growing disturbed and...well, breaking either me or their resting place. Instead I wish to find those experienced with such--powerful elementalists--and seek their help. Preferrably," he began, a concerned look on his face, "I'd like to find the Baron de Milo himself and get him to do it. If he cannot, though--or he cannot be found--then I will seek those that can, Masters and Archmagi of the craft."