Aether quartz. A stone vital to the Lumineth Realm Lords, cloistering away their emotions, empowering their magic, and indeed, is the secret to their long life.

One of their larger mine workings has all but come to a halt. With the devastation caused by Nagash's skeleton elite, no further military can be spared to investigate.

With the desperate events of your binding behind you, this has been deemed a good first test of the power that is now yours.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:25, Sat 02 Apr 2022.

Beyond the realm gate, the air was bracing, the winds fresh.

Clumps of grass and peaks of heather stretched out across the moor, all sparkling with an early morning frost that seemed to be trying to compete with the sky.

It was hard to believe that today would be a day of troubles, or that even such could exist, but the small banner of warriors and horses approaching you suggested that even perfection could be, imperfect.

Of all the things one might say of travelling by realmgate ‘comfortable’ was an unlikely word to appear with any frequency. Certainly they were a miracle of magic, a thing invaluable to trade and transit alike, but it was every bit a small miracle when one arrived in their destination not feeling at least a little turned inside out - or quite literally so when the malign interfered.

Sebhata wasn’t wholly new to intra-realm travel. Passage to Chamon years past had left her pale, shaky and tasting copper for hours after, and she’d nearly baulked at the eventual return journey on the weight of that memory alone. It was a worry that still ate at her in the now, and indeed a reason she’d been all too eager to believe them based in Aqshy at the time of the binding. Each moment leading up to their transition had set a weight building on her chest. Upon the cusp of the portal it had become truly crushing, and simply putting one foot before the other had seemed a feat worthy of a champion of her stature.

It wasn’t the light that told her they were in Hysh, it was that her lungs no longer felt like pressed bellows.

She blinked her eyes accustomed to the brightness, painful tension ebbing from her limbs but far from leaving them entirely. It was a momentary lapse before her instincts kicked in, and then Sebhata was immediately on high alert. Her hands were at her daggers in an instant as she scanned for threats … and came up empty. She straightened, pried her fingers from her weapons. Breathed.

That tension eased back just a little more. She was herself again, all that weakness buried deep and smothered down in the dark.

“Company comes” Sebhata declared, chin pointed proudly to the welcoming committee. “So try not to embarrass us. We are their saviours after all.”

Grimvine stood a few paces behind Sebhata to the right, drawing deep breaths, but otherwise standing eerily still. Every now and then the Spite-revenant suddenly moved, a bit like undergrowth might move in a forest when a predator was prowling. Grimvine cocked his head slightly to the side, his glowing orange eyes fixed on the arriving group and sharp claws twitching occasionally. He made sure to position himself in such a manner he could step in front of Arthenadon, should the need arise.

Arthenadon... now there was both a miracle and mystery to the Spite-Revenant once known as Durcaeth. As Sylvaneth they were the only ones present, but even they still created a small bud of a Spirit-Song between them, and the sensation currently meant more to Grimvine than anything else. Decades severed from it, not counting the melodies of war... It was wonder Grimvine was standing there at all.

The trip through the Realm Gate had been a tumultuous experience, the powers contained there pushing and pulling his life force. The Binding had protected Grimvine from the worst of it and the humble beginnings of the Spirit-Song between him and the Branchwych had helped to guide him. Still, such a form of travel was not and would never be pleasant.

"Hrrmmmmmmmmm... Are you sure... this is not a trap and treachery...", the spite-revenant asked from the she-aelf, Sebhata, in a tone filled with some kind of longing.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:05, Sat 23 Apr 2022.

Arthenadon did not mind Realm Gate travel.  He was resigned to death, but desirous to do as much good as he could before he did.  So, every threatening twist and uncertain moment of the journey was as much an offer of early release as a flaming axe.

He hummed a peaceful tune with a core of cold steel toward Grimvine.  "Always act as if it is no trap, but be ready for it should things turn sour.  That way, we do not alienate our allies nor give away our readiness to our foes."  He commented quietly.  His first hope was to help the Spite Revenant calm his outward demeanor.  Then perhaps others would treat him with less dread and he could begin to build relations with them.

Jorik stepped out behind the others and took a position on the left flank. The eldritch energy of the gate had made his beard and hair stand up giving him an even more crazy appearance than normal.

His look might say crazy but his eyes said otherwise and he studied the approaching group as a predator would prey.

"Bah trap be damned I'll take the left side and you can pick off the stragglers if you wish....of course thats if they decide to attack first after all we are here t save them so they say"

The sound of metal clad footsteps approached the travelers from the destination side of the gate, with the two step cadence there also came a repeated third sharp rap upon the reinforced ground at the gate.  After only a few moments of that approaching noise the vision cleared (normal after a trip through a realm gate) and a towering figure in brilliant armor of ivory and gold drew close.  The rapping noise came from the staff that he bore and struck the ground with each step.  As he arrived he looked impassively at those gathered (and surprisingly he was eye to eye with many of the towering group).  He kept his peace for a few tense moments as the smell of ozone seemed to waft from him.

"I am Kaltos Stareye." he finally said just as the silence threatened to become awkward, his voice was low and while it did not carry loudly was easily heard by all present.  He gave a brief nod of his head.  "I am a Knight Incantor," he gestured with his right hand carrying the tall enameled staff "bearer of one of the Pillars of Stormkeep." he looked at the group again and arched an eyebrow.  "Are you all arrived?  Were any lost in transition?"

It took a moment for Zakarr to adjust after exiting the realmgate. For whatever reason, the magics inside of the gates always messed with the systems of his aether-rig and it took time for the interference to recede.

Inside the containment of his suit, he can't take in the smells of Hysh and the sounds are dimmed from his helm, but he can easily take in the sights. His presence is quite a stark contrast to the more idyllic hills, a smudged metallic armored duardin in a smoke-spitting rig trundling through with all the grace of a cogfort.

"We're all here, Drongi (Storm-person)!" He barks out through the emitters of his armor. "Gimme a minute to make sure all my gear's in shape. Can't be presentin' myself to the clients in shambles..." He grabs a cloth to try polishing off his armor while running through his diagnostics. Once he's cleaned off, he shoves the cloth into a pocket in his suit and slings his massive hammer above his shoulders.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Sat 23 Apr 2022.

Kaltos pauses a moment as if counting and assessing both what was said and who stands before him.  While his expression was mostly blank, inside his head he experienced something he hadn't felt in a long time.  Uncertainty.  The stars had been a map of destiny for him for centuries now, through multiple reforgings.  Now he stood before his most recent assignment, believing before this moment that he would be guiding them through prescience and foresight.  But he could not divine the future of this binding, nor even what his own presence in it would bring.  Was that why he was here?  Far from bringing comfort, knowledge of the future often brought despair to mortals and false hope at best.  He had long grown accustomed to that fact.  But now...

He tapped his staff once on the ground producing a resonating thump and spoke again, his voice still low but carrying easily over the wind and occasional noise of the Realm Gate.  "I would know your names, Soulbound.  And how this...fortuitous group may be called."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:14, Sun 24 Apr 2022.

From the left came a growl like stone grinding on stone "I am Jorik and in case the hair, size and runes weren't a give away I'm a fyreslayer"

If it was actually possible Jorik crou he'd even lower to the ground his double headed axe held in both hands he looked like he'd just been moulded out of the very ground he was standing on

Grimvine listened intently to the words of Arthenadon, like a hungry creature drinking up. "I hear wisdom in your words, Revered One" the spite-revenant replied in a melodic tone to the branchwych. Grimvine straightened his posture from the usual slight crouch and there were a numerous popping can cracking sounds from his bark, like a beast stretching itself after a long period of slumber. Even when the spite-revenant stood up he was a intimidating sight, but at least he did not look like he was going to pounce on the next victim any second.

When Kaltos addressed them as a group, Grimvine turned his attention to the Stormcast, his glowing orange eyes fixed into him, and head slightly tilted to the left. When Jorik had said his piece and there was a moment of silence, the spite-revenant spoke. "I am Grimvine, once upon a time known as Durcaeth of Ironbark Glade" The affiliation was easy to see for those in the know, for Grimvines bark covered regions shone slightly in the morning light and veins of crystals and minerals ran like numerous scars through it.

Sebhata did her best to remain inconspicuous while the others made themselves known. It was a challenging thing to do when you had upwards of two feet over some of you peers, but it came as naturally as breathing to one of her talents. She observed Kaltos with something dark and heavy behind her eyes, her face shuttered. There was some vague and nameless emotion there: not hate, not anger, not frustration, but … something.

And then it was gone.

She strode past Grimvine, suddenly very loud and present – all confidence. Despite being the shorter of the two Sebhata still managed to look down on Kaltos. She regarded him with disdain that smoothly gave way to amusement, a sharp-toothed smile pulling at her lips. It was theatrical, fake, and yet somehow strangely genuine for it. It rhymed with the truth.

“Kaltos Stareye. All the Stormcast in all the realms and they send you.” She lightly shook her head, a mocking sort of affection to her tone. “Well I suppose this does save me an introduction. We both know quite enough about one another after all. Enough to last a lifetime – or several in your case.”

“Died any deaths since we last met, or are you the same old stoic peacemaker?”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:22, Tue 26 Apr 2022.