Padisha's Dance (Moore, Tryll; 85 days left)

[Nephrite]

Take 10 for 75, not using Divine Insight / Greater Improvisation.

[Anastasia]

Does that include Tryll aiding?

[Yuthirin]

Taking 10 for 57

Also take it easy, Dune. Gimme a chance to respond. It's not like I'm sitting here and hitting F5 over and over with a post ready to go at all times.

[Nephrite]

I believe that makes it 77, then. Ironic.

[Anastasia]

All good, I just got it out since I knew I was spending 10-20 minutes on n Afina and Jaela combat post, that's all. Good odds I miss your next check that way otherwise. Not trying to be a ball buster, just keep things moving while I manage rooms. <_<

The Padisha looks on at your amphora of Silent Spring water, and in an instant it is in her hands, crossing space without crossing it at all. "We are amused," The Padisha begins, "Had Afina come, we would have given to her with little thought, for she has pleased us. We are in agreement about the trifling nature of devil kind. Yet you come bearing gifts and bearing a scion of the Whirlwind Throne."

"You are too kind, Great Padisha," Prince Westwind bows deeply, "We would do nothing less than honor your kindness."

"In that we are in agreement, cousin of wind," The Padisha says, the waters within the amphora rising up, twisting into various shapes and patterns. They move and change constantly, the Padisha's eye on them. "Yet you are not of concern here. What are you, creature?" Her eyes turn to Tryll, "You do not seem as an aboleth, even a mutated one."

[Nephrite]

Moore smiles a bit and bows his head in recognition. This is Tryll's show, so he lets him speak!

[Yuthirin]

'I am D'ln's-k'r-Tr'll, one of the last surviving members of a race called the irrigo. Our resemblance to aboleths is disturbing, yes, though not intentional. They are no friends of mine. I can explain my origins further, though I would ask your leave to use visual aids if you so desire such an explanation.'

[Anastasia]

"Do so," The Padisha commands, "You have permission."

[Yuthirin]

big post, gonna be a bit

[Anastasia]

Cool, do as you do.

[Yuthirin]

Uses of Control Sound, Ghost Sound, Percussion, Prestidigitation, Dancing Lights, and Silent Image.

'Roughly a million standard years ago, give or take a few hundred thousand years, my people inhabited a Prime mostly composed of water. From hindsight analysis, I've determined that we were on a world with a global ocean with very few land masses above water. Those that were, were volcanically active and bare of life.' A ball of blue appears in the center of the chamber, between the group and the throne. It is covered in swirling white clouds, and turns slowly.

'Our race was created by a three-faceted god we called The Triune. As far as I can tell, it has no relation to the modern usage of the term beyond its divinity. The theme of threes can be seen in our forms,' Tryll's tentacles and tendrils flare, demonstrating their clusters of three, 'as well as was evident in our art and construction. I could spend hours on this topic, but I don't believe you would appreciate me dominating your schedule. Even so, everything is lost. I will be as brief as I can.'

The image zooms in to the ball, quickly becoming an undersea scene of seaweed, artful stone structures, and fish. The large forms of other irrigo drift by on various errands. 'My people were the only intelligent race on our plane. We had no competition for food or resources, and the lack of need for shelter made territory significantly less valuable to anyone but bottom-farmers, miners, and artists seeking media. Many, many irrigo were nomadic by choice, following schools of fish and plankton. Major established cities were rare, though they did exist.'

The image follows a pod of large irrigo as they roam across an endless sea. Occasionally the group will meet other wandering irrigo. The scene ends as they approach a great volcanic spire, thousands of shapes in the distance milling about it.

'This is important, because we were soft. We had no experience with war or violence, and we were only very peripherally aware of other planes. Visitors were excessively rare and brief. Our forms are alarming to most humanoids. Interplanar travel for us was very rare, as we were not amphibious. Nor, rather, were we built for combat. I myself was a file clerk in that particular city. Things were good. We were content.' A tendril gestures to the scene, which changes to a shimmering disc-like portal filled with dark shadows.

'There were many theories about how it happened. Many minds sought to find a way to undo or a reason for it all. I personally think a wizard did it. Whatever happened though, someone managed to open a portal out of our plane and into the foul demesne of an aboleth. Perhaps they were seeking to understand something similar. I don't know. What I DO know is that there was not just one single aboleth, but a whole city full of them. A nation. A world, maybe. Through that portal hundreds of aboleth poured in a mere day, and thousands upon thousands more in the weeks to come.'

The image changes as he speaks, the fishy forms of aboleths darting quickly through the portal in tens, hundreds, then a blur. The scene changes to darkness, and then to one of war. Aboleths sending their slaves against irrigo, enslaved irrigo fighting other irrigo, and everywhere those free irrigo constantly losing ground. Water-logged sounds of battle fill the room, distant-sounding thumps coinciding with explosions and lances of power and magic.

'We'd never contested over territory, and never fought a war in the traditional sense. We were artists, scholars, philosophers, and scientists. While naturally psionic, most of us did not work to develop these abilities into some form of combat. There was nothing to combat. There were so very few among us who could have been counted on as warriors in the traditional sense, that they may as well not have existed at all. We could not hold lines, and could not prevent the tide of evil from overtaking us. We were caught completely unprepared, and lost at every turn.'

The scene of lost battles shifts to scenes of floating cephalopod corpses and the slimy creatures enslaved to aboleths. A second shift to a grotto, a handful of free irrigo clustered together.

'Within two months, nearly the entire world had been overrun. A complete rout. Countless aboleth invaders held our cities, our families, our children. Most of us were only free by pure luck. Fleeing at the right moment, or use of illusions or other magic to avoid capture or destruction. Lost, we prayed to the Triune for salvation, and to our great surprise, we were answered.'

In the darkness of the grotto, three giant eyes appear, glowing with golden light.

'The Triune spoke to us all, all at once. For a brief instant, every irrigo, free or enslaved, was connected. For a brief moment, we were all free, and we saw the Triune's plan. Salvation would come in painless death, the souls of the irrigo instantly separated from their bodies and called to their final resting place. Immediately following, the Triune would visit justice on their oppressors and smite the aboleth armies to less than dust. The vast majority of irrigo agreed immediately and instantly ascended, their bodies slain. Five of us, including myself, resisted the call. I can't tell you why or even how, because I don't truly know. Perhaps I wasn't ready to go yet. Perhaps my resistance was planned. Perhaps all of it was planned.'

'Our bodies and those of our friends fell around us, and only the five of us remained. We knew what was coming, and did our best to mount an escape, but it came on too fast.'

The final scene is a tremendous pillar of golden light rising from the seabed into the sky as the water and earth vaporizes around it. A thin, indescribable noise is in the air for a brief moment before fading.

'This is the last I saw of my home before our desperate directionless Plane Shift threw us in all directions across the Planes. I have since come to believe that it was the Triune physically setting foot upon the plane, and eradicating it entirely. Attempts to return failed utterly, and it appears the Prime is gone, completely erased from Creation.'

'I am one of the very last of my kind. With any luck, I am one of five remaining. I am a creature of pure will. My mind and soul hold each other together, so that I may still continue some semblance of life. My companion, Calleigh,' Calleigh gives the Padisha a very large grin for such a tiny face and wave, 'is both familiar and friend. She keeps me from getting depressed, and makes sure I have a direction to point myself in. Lately, we've aligned with the Aurora and have seen firsthand the atrocities they are willing to commit on Lifasa. And so that brings us before you, asking for a boon.'

[Anastasia]

The Padisha listens to your tale, head resting on her hand, a lazy smile as you weave your story. When it at last hands she slowly claps thrice.

"Thus do Primes fall, as it is the nature of the mortal world to crumble - passing kingdoms and momentary empires that are ultimately dust on the wind, until all passes from that world in the end. Only Water is truly eternal. Your request amuses me, D'ln's-k'r-Tr'll."

You note she speaks your name flawlessly and with a perfect accent, as if it came from a mind or a mouth suited to speaking it.

"I will trade you the waters you seek, in exchange from some of your own body's waters. Your incorporeal nature is of no hindrance to this goal, not to us."

[Yuthirin]

'I agree to this. Actually, the process requires a bit of my own blood, and I've been a bit stumped as to how to acquire it without actively slicing parts of myself off. If you're amenable, I would appreciate learning this technique.'

[Anastasia]

The Padisha merely snaps her fingers - and pain fills you for a moment. Bright red blood flows from your body, gathering together in your amphora, the Silent Spring water flowing out of it and hovering around the Padisha, forming intricate patterns in the air, ever-changing.

You take 100 damage from that.

"I am the Queen of All Waters," The Padisha's tone is lazy, yet your ghostly body aches with pain from the injury. "Do not presume you can match me." Then the amphora splits in two, the second one filled with clear, transparent water. They fly to you, hovering in the air. "You may take them."

[Nephrite]

Well, that's one way of doing it.

"Queen of All Marid, if I might impose a question on you." Moore says, he takes a respectful tone -- then actually shifts his language to High Aquan. "We know that the Emir of All Currents is no friend to devils or devil-kind. Yet, we also know with Hell's own breaking many rules of The Competition lately, that they may find themselves in places one would not suspect, such as these very halls. If the Pearl of the Sea would be so willing as to share what Duke Martinet was asking for from this land, Aurora would appreciate the information."

I think there's a High Aquan, anyway. If not, some fancy-pants version of Aquan would be fine, if such a thing exists, or even a tongue for marid only.