The Whispering Sea - The Oracle and the Sea
Not-Khazim nods at Andrew's assessment for caution. He tightens his grip on his spear and heads off after the strangely dressed sorcerer and guide. "I might as well help with the lookout. Magic, blood magic, has never really sat well in my stomach." Rael Gol gathers his few belongings and moves after the watch party. "Sure, why not, an extra set of impartial eyes can always help." Andrew makes a definite show for the benefit of Not-Khazim. After a few dozen paces Andrew looks back at the bloodletting practice and nods.
Justin sits back and waits until Not-Khazim is definitely out of range. He begins to roll back the sleeve on his off hand and gets ready. "Whenever you are ready." as he gets in line behind those forming.
After collecting the blood from each of those assembled Angrboda moves into the water and positions herself on the edge of the inner circle of stones. The flowing beautifully alien language of her Melnibonean ancestors is soft. Those standing on the edge of the pool can barely hear the incantation, yet it seems to drown out the whispers, the grinding of the ceiling sky, and all other background noise. Ripples begin to form in the water radiating out from the central pillars to the edge. As if each ripple were to grab a single word and carry it outward, Angrboda's voice gets stronger and stronger completely drowning out the outside world as even the wind subjugates to her spell.
You stand, not realizing how much time has passed, only that more than once you have found your breath caught in your throat as if time had stopped for a few seconds. Angrboda tosses the collected blood into the central circle.
For a brief moment everything holds still, The ripples, the wind, her voice. And then the world comes crashing back in around you. As if to reverse what has happened you feel the wind and air rush back towards the central stone circle. The tiny ripples in the pond freeze, then roll back to where the Melnibonean is standing. While the reverse is nothing other than a slight breeze, the tugging on your soul is as if a hurricane has blasted through.
The world becomes calm again. Once again things come into focus. Standing on the central pillar a form begins to appear. Slowly, it takes the form of a woman, naked, beautiful, but without eyes. Her hair drifts about her as if caught in the lazy currents of a river or pond. Once again the pool begins to ripple as small tremors can be felt coming from below.