A neverending field

[Anastasia]

Progress bustles about the Cauldron.

You take in a deep breath as you watch those loyal to you work. You fly high above in draconic form as the sun caresses your scales. You are above the great super-volcano that forms the core of the Cauldron. Before you realms continue to spread and grow, all that come together towards the center. Forests and plains, sea and islands, towers and rainbow bridges. All is radiant and alive, a new vitality to your realm as it settles into Bytopia. A new vitality that matches your vigor, your hope and all of your energies.

That is not all. You see so much, you hear more. Your city and all around it are alive to you as if you were right there. Subjects of all kinds, from mortal to utterly eternal, work away at your will and the will of your friends. Your aspects and portfolio swirl within you at the same time, as you feel hope and righteousness in tandem with the ethereal movements of time and and the ever-fire of flames. Heat burns within you as you lose yourself in those sensations, of great infernos and the clash of wars, from the holy to the dread and profane. All of them filter through your mind like an eternal array of flashes of knowledge.

"Godsrush. That's the name that's stuck." Donald's voice, casual as can be, as he's simply besides you in the air. "In case you haven't heard, Seira. Also, Seira, that's Joyn. Joyn, that's Seira." Donald's words are casual as he stands on thin air, his gaze on your draconic form without a hint of fear at all. All as you can virtually taste the winter that swirls around Annerose, as she murmurs prayers to you amid a blizzard-wrath that harms her nor Helena besides her. The man next to Donald also hovers in air, though he bobs while Donald stand stone still, as if gravity is no concern to him. He wears a heavy cloak and hood, a slight man even with that.

"So," Donald says as you have to resist a shiver with practice, as you see a great charge of demonic rabble, lead by a screaming balor, into the lines of the dead. The Blood War blossoms in your mind, another encounter in the fury of the Hells Beneath. At the same time you can taste the fresh breads, fruits, skewers, spices and so much for sale below, where food both ready and portable is sold. "Since I can't do spymaster anymore, I asked around and one of Sanzha's is a good fit for it."

Joyn comes forth and sketches a bow to you, and after a breath, "My Great Lady," he says, "I am honored to meet someone of your august and divine presence, and I thank you for the honor you have bestowed on me with this opportunity. How rare and valuable is it to be directly taken in such a manner and given this chance? It is the stuff of legends?"

Prayers.

One of your stumbles and falls, his party overwhelmed by ogres and wolves. His last prayer is a bare whisper to you as his throat is torn away by an enraged wolf, yet his hope never buckles, even now. Another prays to you as he takes golden marks to your temple in Balmuria, offerings devoted to the spread of your faith. This one is a stout, strong warrior who bears your sigil on his armor, one of your dragonfire knights. Another, praise as a newborn child is born healthy, a follower devoutly giving thanks to your mercies.

"See, he gets it," Donald waves it off, "Figured you should meet him first hand, so he knows what he's getting into. Fearless, this one," he jerks a thumb at him, "Probably the vampire blood in him or something."

Worry not, my love, I checked him for the taint of undeath. He is a fully alive creature, his biology is merely altered by a brush with the dead. He is actually hardier than most mortals as a result of his blood.

A cough at that from Joyn before, "If you are not already aware, My Great Lady, my mother was bitten by a vampire whilst she carried me and taken to the brink of death. I am not one of the cursed dead, nor have I ever been. My heart beats as strongly as any other's."

As you can feel the hope of a nation that resists invaders, as they resist the hobgoblin empire that threatens them, as a few voices there call your name for benedictions, a world away and trapped in a struggle for life and death? "Yeah, yeah." Donald waves it off, "Anyway, I have a good feeling about him. What do you think, Seira?"

Just a little shorter than the others, but you can see the appeal here since you're getting an important part right out of the way.

[Corwin]

"We're not in the habit of doubting each other," Seira tells Donald, taking her humanoid form so as to not frighten Joyn.

Whereas before, she would try to handle direct interventions herself, she has been trying to delegate such things to a dedicated spellcasting avatar specializing in support. She has the utmost trust in Annerose's efforts, and while she'd keep an eye out in case of Auril's dirty tricks there is no need to do anything but assure her that her efforts are important and just. The rest of those praying to her, too, get this subtle feeling that their prayers have been heard. Yet one in particular requires a more direct touch, and so said avatar brushes her will against the dying follower to restore enough vitality and give him a fighting chance. She's always against such pointless death, but in that particular situation there is also the man's friends and companions to worry about, and so his throat is repaired and his strength bolstered with knowledge that he is not alone. And then, she can focus on the Prime undergoing a massive war against hobgoblins. It bears a more careful study to properly tailor the amount of aid she should send.

"Hello," Seira greets Joyn, asking him curiously, "How did you come to follow Sanzha, if you don't mind me asking?"

[Anastasia]

Joyn pulls back his hood. His face is drawn, as if starved, and is white as snow. His hair is likewise snow white, and his eyes are two great blocks of white, as if blind, yet his eyes move to follow you.

"My mother survived because of her noble blood and more importantly, her noble coffers to hire the best healing Waukeen had to offer," Joyn explains, "I have always understood the value of nobility and of money since then, but Waukeen's service was never quite right. No, I was unattached for a time, but I came on a copy of the Sa'Zahsim."

"So you get money is a means and not an end?" Donald banters, "It's a tool, not the entire purpose."

> roll 1d100 low is good
<Penuche> Kotono invokes Penuche's magic: < 98 > [d100=98]

Meanwhile amid the swirl of knowledge and visions, you see your faithful's throat heal. Balym rises a moment and rejoins the fight - but it is a doomed venture. An ogre's club slams into his head and bone and brain exit the other side, his death instantaneous. In fact, the blow was strong, stronger than any other the ogre did. You sense it, a hand guiding it, the same brush as your intervention.

A feeling, a flicker. An image of a black furred hand with bloodied claws. A sensation of bloodlust and fury, like a copper-hot taste over your tongue. Malar has intervened as you did.

Death comes to Balym, the hunt is complete. Take your mortal's soul and interfere no more in this matter, the battle is decided.

[Corwin]

It's not an act beyond the pale, like Shar's efforts tend to be. At the same time, it infuriates Seira that Malar dares to escalate so much while preaching to her about interference. Thus, she tempers herself as she safeguards Balym's soul, and by the time that's been handled she keeps an eye on the battle. As her faithful fell, she would safeguard those he fought for. Should she spot a hint of Malar's influence in the attackers, she will smite them down directly.

"I can certainly understand your original dilemma," Seira agrees. "After all, I've followed Waukeen for a long while. At the same time, while we remain the best of friends, my place is not in Brightwater. Welcome, Joyn."

[Anastasia]

The battle is doomed against Balym and his friends now. Yet you see Malar take no further action, no further intervention. It's simply a doomed struggle as the ogres and wolves triumph this day. You feel Malar's presence, his eyes on this battle, but nothing further comes from this clash. You feel the fallen heroes pass into Uatu's realm, the mists there envelop them, protect them and allow them to begin their journey into eternity.

A moment, two other presences. The presence of cool steel and the pressure of a steady gaze - Helm. The eye of a wary judge, a wise warrior - Kelemvor. Neither makes any more to acknowledge the other, merely a glance on the battlefield before both are gone.

Joyn bows again, "Thank you, My Great Lady. I will serve to the utmost to ensure this honor receives every bit of diligence it deserves."

[Corwin]

"I'm glad to hear it. There's a lot of work to be done!" Glancing over at Donald, she muses, "I'm thinking we'll look into the Mercane situation first?"

[Anastasia]

"Yeah, you got something in mind there?" Donald asks, "Joyn needs to be caught up on that, too."

"Please, by all means," Joyn invites, "The mercane were mentioned, but I have not heard details yet."

As you stand in the air, amid all the bustle? You hear Balym once more. He walks the Well of Souls now, his final trip begun. A dreaming prayer, an echo and yet heartfelt. "Thank you, my lady." Four simple words, but each is spoken from the heart, simple gratitude and emotion within them. "What will become of me?"

[Corwin]

"While we'll show you the full details properly once you get settled in, but at the core of the matter our second-hand knowledge that highly-placed devils secretly took control over the reigning faction of the Consortium," Seira tells Joyn, having made certain they have their privacy. "Waukeen won't act on this publicly without solid proof, however, and we lack that at present. I'm hoping you can shake something loose, with the commercial base of a growing planar trading hub like the Cauldron backing you. I trust that you realize the dangers of this, especially in concert with devil overtures to Acheron and Fire?"

With a mental greeting to Uatu and the pair of deities watching his realm, Seira's avatar projects itself astrally to walk alongside Balym. "A shame that that the outcome of that battle did not change, but you fought bravely," she muses. "As for your fate, I tend to be on the liberal sides where deities are concerned. It's up to you if you would like to be reincarnated or pick up the good fight at the Cauldron. Like any heaven we do have quite a few regular jobs as well, if you'd like to actually rest for now. It's perfectly fine." This usually happens in a more intuitive fashion once her faithfuls's souls arrive to her properly, but there's no reason she can't chat about their options normally once in a while. "I do tend to have people keep their memories as their sense of self was certainly righteous and proper if they reach me, but a clean slate is possible for those who have romanticised notions of celestial promotion."

[Anastasia]

To this Joyn bows his head to you, "A difficult situation, My Great Lady. I understand the Cauldron also grows and prospers as a hub, and rises by the day. Surely some information will come, but devils can be discreet foes. What kind of devils have interfered? Does a particular devil claim this coup?"

"Yeah, well, it's a bit complicated," Donald says, but lets you go on.

Meanwhile, in the mists, you can feel eyes on your avatar. Eyes of defenders and guardians, yet not one moves against you. Balym walks, mostly asleep, yet you feel unspoken happiness from him. It is as fresh as the morning sunshine and as pure as a puppy's affection for her mother. Unfiltered and only leavened by relief. Eventually he murmurs to you, "Was...was I worth it?"

One guardian's eyes catch yours. Deep in the mists and mostly hidden even to you, but Pollyanna meets your gaze and nods, a faraway greeting.

[Corwin]

Seira raises a finger. "First, the previous head of the Consortium met an untimly and final end." Another finger rises to join it, as she continues. "Alicia and I were approached by the new leader simultaneously, to discuss cooperation. Third, despite the flashy way that happened, we received no further communication from the Mercane, and my own inquiries as delivered by Sanzha in person were ignored. All these circumstances were already unlikely to occur, but an erstwhile member of the Consortium revealed to me that Eligaas, one of Bel's trusted lieutenants, is very high in the new management's structure. There are contracts in play that keep a lot of information secret, like a poor man's anathemic knowledge, and he was lucky enough to escape them due to being low enough on the totem pole officially to not matter. Waukeen and I believe that while the devils don't hold a majority of influential mercane, they do control the strongest faction and the others are cooperating or biding their time. Naturally, should this fact be proven, perhaps by having samples of those contracts, or further information discovered, we could act in the open."

Please find the time for a visit, Seira speaks for Pollyanna's ears alone, even as she returns the nod. Amaryl, Elle and Donald would love to see you again.

"Yes," she answeres Balym without hesitation. "You've worked to make a difference in the world. How could I do anything but support you in turn?"

[Anastasia]

A deeper bow, "Then I'll have to get started so as not to let you down, My Great Lady." Joyn concurs, "I only need a few day's time to put my affairs in order."

"Your affairs?" Donald smiles, "What are they named?"

Meanwhile Balym walks with you, that sense of happiness stronger now. A simple contentment as he goes, down each step shrouded in mists, others glimpsed on their own walk, shrouded as well.

Pollyanna raises her hand in greeting and acknowledgement, and whispered to you on the misty winds, 'We will when duty permits.'

[Corwin]

"It's alright if you want to bring your family here," Seira offers. "As for the task itself, ask Donald to put you in contact with friendly mercane if you think it'll help. Waukeen has decent contacts there, and she's shared a few with us."

Seira pats Balym's shoulder comfortingly, and takes her leave. He can consider his next life during his travels.

As for Pollyanna, Seira hopes said duty permits it soon.

[Anastasia]

"It will be done," Joyn bows and Donald takes him off.

Once that's done you turn your attention back - only to get a faceful of Amaryl's ranges, as she pulls you into a hug and her chest. "Seira," she calls happily. "There you are!"

[Corwin]

"There I am!" Seira cheerfully responds, hands going around her wife's waist.

[Anastasia]

"Isn't it wonderful?" Amaryl asks, as if you can see with your face so occupied. "The Cauldron's grown so much and it's still growing." Her voice is light, "I've had such joy as I shape entire towns and regions to my will. To make an entire world, to guide it when it needs to be guided and to let nature grow where it must. Plus the gnomes! We've had a few look in already, they make such wonderful guests. They're such kind people without the corruption of the God-King."

A prayer. Amid the eternal burn of the flames one walks. Abagail passes through the infernos of Fire, her stride unbowed and unbroken. A simple, reflexive murmuring to you. Not a single speck of fire burns her as she passes through a field ablaze now and forever, her step sure and gaze ahead. "Seira, wish me luck."