Re: Part 57 - Leaving Charyk
"Good morning, Chance. One can always hope." Cyan is a little nervous around the man - he had formed an opinion of her as she was before, not as she is now. It worries her, what he must think, but regardless, she can only do her best.
Tahirah's answer makes sense, and she comes back with a question of her own. Cyan's mouth quirks, and she slowly stands to answer. The bard rubs her forehead, nods, then begins.
"From what I comprehend of the Broken God, it was once a power creature discovered by the Archons, uncountable years ago. Subjectively speaking." In some places in the Myriad Worlds, no doubt that had been yesterday. The thought makes her head hurt. "When they discovered it, it had already been shattered, presumably in some kind of titanic conflict. Pieces of the Broken God were cast through the Myriad Worlds, to fall hither and yon. Many more parts of the body were left at the scene of the...battle? And yes, a being, weakened and crippled from its own conflicts, conflicts long over, had discovered the Broken God, and began to feed upon it."
She turns and looks directly at Trista's chair, where Berd begs to be held. The little dragon ceases his games and hops up to the back of the chair, where he stairs at the group with glittering eyes. Distended stomach aside, his bearing is no longer comical, nor that of an animal or pet. He shifts to get more comfortable, bobs his head like a snake toward Cyan. She gives a slight bow back, then continues.
"The fragments of the Broken God seem to have the capacity to press aside the use of power. It feels like a weight, coming down upon all of those who hold the Greater and lesser forces within themselves, then the ability to call upon such forces is extinguished. This seems to be a natural effect, but with a brief ritual, the piece can be...excited further, and its reach grows greater. The larger the piece, the further its touch. What was done so recently in the Other Charyk, was done with a single drop of blood, still wet after untold aeons."
Cyan lets that sink in before continuing. "The quest encounted in the past a face, perhaps the face of the Broken God. It and it alone held the spirit of the creature - or so I assume. A leather mask made of its skin -" Cyan swallows at the memory "- it spoke of aeons of torment in this terrible form. Its name was Tiphereth. We released it from its agony." She pauses. "And...there was an arm. An arm covered in a pattern similar, I am told, to the Grand Pattern of Amber. That," she says, shame entering her tone, "is in the hands of the Enemy now, I fear."
Tahirah offers further advice regarding dealing with the nobility of Amber. It seems sound enough, though Cyan will leave such things to others. She has no skill or patience with politricks, as she likes to name them. It often frustrates Berd...or it did, before (how easy it is to forget!), but Cyan has never been as subtle as the drake.
"I would be more than pleased to convey a message to Caine from you, Jonnee." Cyan bows. "And for the two of you, as well, my lords. Indeed, if you can describe your Ganelon in great detail to me, I can sketch a design of him, one that may match quite well the sight. Perhaps it is a guise used before by someone the Royalty knows." Her lips quirk, slightly. "Perhaps I might also sketch yourselves, that I may forge a palanquet of each of you in the future...though I suspect I will be kept very busy with the Questors, for a time."
Roman brings up some interesting points about his heritage, and the poor feelings that might occur in Amber...and back at his home. Cyan nods. "I do not think any would like to see you injured, Sir Roman. Perhaps we can agree to keep your identity a secret, though that might prove difficult. I have met Princess Fiona, for example - she has means of ferreting out the truth. But we should certainly do our best. Nobody here, I am certain, would wish to see harm come to you and yours - it would be a cruel thing for you to be punished for assisting in this matter!"