The Widening Gyre [CLOSED PROMPT]

[Pharaoh]

"The Widening Gyre"
5 Frost 122

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"Vigil Cetus, Subvigil Finn." Glancing up from her obsidian desk was the Moonborn Sentinel Valæra. In another setting and another costume, she might have been Princess Valæra, daughter to the head of the Silver Sentinel order, princess of the realm and heir presumptive to the role of Princeps Sibylla, currently held by her increasingly controversial mater, Cithæra. But here and now, she was only 'Sentinel Valæra', just as His Lordship of Argenti was merely Sentinel Cetus.

"These are fast moving times, so I shall be duly brief with this briefing. Word has reached the Prætorium of an incident in the mines far to the West of the Umbrium proper. There's been a collapse. Twelve of thirteen of the miners on site were killed. Such things transpire. Were the circumstances more mundane, such a matter would fall neatly under the purview of The Imperialis Vigilia. However..." She sat back and clasped her hands over the silver cinching belt that clung to her torso just below the sternum.

"The collapse itself only killed three of the twelve who died. The other nine were killed by... something else. The sole survivor was wounded and blubbering, unable to offer a coherent account of what happened. A Mesmer calmed him and a Sembler sought to paint a clearer picture than he was able to articulate. While we were not able to ascertain the manner of their deaths, we did discover something of note." She leaned forward, elbows now at the edge of her desk, gloved hands still clasped together.

"The collapse revealed a passage to a hitherto unknown new chamber, which houses a ruin from remote antiquity. Perhaps as old as the relics found in the Sanctine District, perhaps older still..." She turned her pale gaze to Cetus,

"I am certain the import of such a find will not be lost on a Varværyn devout, but I will elaborate for Finn's sake..." And she turned her attention to the now-famous human minstrel whose musical offering had served as overture to the upheaval of modern Solunarian society,

"When Aværys, Deathless Be His Pow'r, was yet a slave in Vastium, He was amongst the miners who discovered what we now call The Temple of Midnight's Mother. In excavating that ruin, He unearthed the very relics that enabled Him and His Sister to ascend in apotheosis..." The irony of relating this legend to one who bore the Mark of its subject was not lost on Valæra in the least,

"There is no telling what treasures may be hidden in that chamber. The Vigilia needs you to scout it out. Discover what slew those miners, whether booby traps or beasts. If it is in your power to resolve the issue yourselves, then do so. If not, then return here with a full report of what to expect that we may send in a team that is better prepared. If you need a Sembler, collect Sentinel Taurus on your way out of the Prætorium. He is a capable Sembler for a Journeyman, but he is all we can afford to part with as we deal with all the upheaval after the events of the Ides of Wither." She unclasped her hands to wave the pair away.

"You are dismissed. Good fortune to you."

[Finn]

In his blacks, Finn was just Subvigil. It had begun as a role to play in order to support Arvælyn and avail himself of the instruction available within the Order, but while his skill with blade and rune, wyvern and language had grown, now Arvælyn was a prince among elves and dragons. The human didn't know if he should have expected things to change, but they hadn't, not so much. He stood there being debriefed by his amatus' half-sister, and here she was only Sentinel Valæra.

She put a name to the symphony that he recognized from the day of the jubilee, but he was quiet as he listened to what was expected of Vigil Cetus and him.

The story of Aværys' discovery of the temple was not unknown to him; he had been studying the Solunarian culture and history since before he arrived, and he had even been called by Varvara from that selfsame shrine. All the same, he quietly listened, and nodded understanding where appropriate. Did his emblem pulse at mention of the Moritasi, or did he simply have an impending headache? Curious.

Finn acknowledged the assignment with the correct words and salute, and turned to go.

Once out of her presence, he turned to confer with his partner.

"Salve, Cetus," he said. "I would rather have a Sembler with us while we go spelunking into danger if it's all the same to you." Finn didn't know the man's abilities, but if the Sentinel suggested a Sembler, it was likely the man wasn't that. The subvigil was confident in his Mesmer and his Traversion, and he was much more skilled with his blade than he had been when he left Kalzasi. But confidence in his abilities was tempered by an awareness of his deficits.

He listened to the man's strange, harmonic symphony, hoping to develop a quick rapport so they would work well together. His temple throbbed once more—not a headache, so he could only hope his emblem wasn't glowing again. Control over the divine magic was spotty as he still didn't quite know how to wield it or what he was now capable of. But he felt the urge to take charge, to have the higher ranked Sentinel fall into line.

Bucking the hierarchy wasn't likely to win him any friends in Solunarium.

[Cetus Argenti]

Cetus stood, at ease, in front of the obsidian desk.

He, like Sentinel Valæra, was dressed in his black uniform, threads of silver glinting here and there. Elsewhere, he’d be Dominus or a Lord or the son of the Consul of the Senatus Minor. He’d matter more - or less - depending who was in the room with him or speaking to him or where he was and why. The Solarium was built and bred for hierarchy, and to live here was to abide by society’s rules.

The Sentinels offered a refuge, of sorts, from all those titles and expectations and -

Bindings.

Gala stirred, somewhere.

“And the Sembler originally contracted,” Cetus said, ignoring his demon, “Were they able to divine anything of note? While I understand they weren’t able to discern the manner of death, was there anything telling? Infernal taint or alchemical -.”

..taint? Crude, Cetus. Influence sounds more dignified.

“- residue or -,” he stopped himself, realizing he might go on forever. “I think, yes. I agree with Subvigil Finn. We’ll ask Sentinel Taurus to provide support for this exploration.”

He felt warmth, suddenly, and the distinct impression of sun-hot sand. Gala. She was in the Luxium. Aways from where he was, now.

I approach. I shall find you before you find the mine.

Cetus - blithely unaware of any magics being cast - offered Finn a quick smile. “Salve, Finn,” and the bard would find Cetus’ symphony a complex duet. Two voices rang, where he might have only expected to hear one. “If you’re ready, we might go?”

[Finn]

After they had collected Taurus, they made their way through the Umbrium toward the mines. Finn would have happily spoken more, but Cetus seemed lost in thought and Taurus taciturn, so he enjoyed the anonymity of his veil and paid attention to their surroundings and the people they met. Ultimately, Cetus' proved the most interesting. It reminded him vaguely of Stefan Dornkirk's, but not quite. Then again, in the company of Zaichaeri potentates, he had been rather too nervous to listen with a discerning "ear." The engineer's song had harmonized with itself, and Cetus' did something similar. For all that Solunarium lionized mages, he didn't know whether it was polite to ask questions about that rare discrepancy in his symphony.

When the Vigil's pace and tempo slowed nearer to the mines and his eyes went wandering, searching for something or someone in particular, Finn wondered at first if the investigation had already begun. But he glanced at Taurus, and then slowed to a stop beside the ranking Sentinel.

"Is aught the matter, Vigil?" he asked, politely using his rank, though he still felt the urge to take control of the situation. It had to be Aværys' influence. He had spoken of glory, and given the dynamic with His Sister, that likely also meant subjugation. That seemed like a dangerous pursuit for a human in Solunarium, however. He would never rise to the top of the Silver Sentinels, nor claim a throne of his own. Some would say as the heir's amatus, he had risen as high as he was like to.

Time would tell.

Taurus didn't seem to know what the play was either, but Finn tried to exude confidence. The Silver Sentinels were supposed to inspire the faith of the people—faith that they would take care of what needed taking care of, anyway.

[Cetus Argenti]

“The matter? No, I - .”

“He searches for me, subvigil.”

A cat as black as night, with eyes as yellow as gold, jumped from a shadow only steps ahead. It smiled, wide and toothy and sly; the mouth stretched in a way a cat’s wouldn’t. It was clear to the Mesmer the two were linked, their song playing against the other.

“Had I known that the paramour of -.”

“Gala, he wears the veil. Who he is without it isn’t a concern or point of conversation.”

The cat rolled her eyes.

“Ah, yes. The bindings of a sentinel’s uniform,” Gala said, smirking now, “Such magic. I might only wish for such power, to strip away the whole of someone’s identity with but a veil of silver and black.”

Cetus sighs. His symphony played loud with the drums of annoyance, the light winds of embarrassment, but there was a clear warmth - and ease - underneath that; he was clearly relieved to be around the cat, regardless of her apparent temperament.

“Sentinel Taurus, you’ll remember Gala,” Cetus said, nodding to the Sembler, who suddenly seemed a bit less confident than he’d been, before, with Gala’s arrival.

“Subvigil Finn, this is Gala, my Aidolon. She has graciously opted to help us with our investigation, today.”

“As I am wont to do,” she says, still smiling. “The mines are very close. Might we hurry?”

[Finn]

"I apologize if I offend," he said, not using title or nomen for his superior officer. His mesmerism reached out to gently soothe the man, as well as his aidolon. Finn didn't like to use it to twist a person's mind, but he did give gentle nudges. "I am a peregrinus and still new with the customs and etiquette here."

As for the Cat, she was clever at obfuscating her thoughts, but he could hear the ancient rhythms, the darker themes. He didn't know much about spirits, but she seemed like someone he wouldn't want to offend either. He bowed to the cat, whether it looked odd or not.

"Ave, Domina Gala."

His father had always said good manners cost a person nothing, and often reaped greater benefits than the meager effort required. Finn nodded; alacrity would help prevent any adventurous archaeologists from getting themselves into trouble down there. So, Cetus was a summoner, Taurus was a sembler, and Finn could get them out of a bind quickly, and quite possibly render any living danger less dangerous with his own magics, runic and divine.

When nobody offered a reason to remain, he moved toward the mines once more. A spirit cat might offer any number of utilities for this mission. But it was surely rude to ask what she was capable of, even as it pertained to their subterranean expedition. As long as the ranking member of their party knew, he supposed all was well.

They passed the remaining time in silence; he supposed the summoner and summoned could communicate telepathically. At least, it seemed as though they were, but he didn't endart his senses into their symphones to eavesdrop. That would be more than rude. For his part, Finn mapped the way down in his mind, the mental cartography necessary for making safe jumps through space with the help of his rune. He would be ready to do his part.

[Finn]

Review

Experience: 10 xp, available for magic.

Injuries: N/A

Loot: N/A

Note: Only gave 10 xp despite moderation because it petered out so quickly. Hopefully when Cetus returns, more adventures can be had. Pharaoh, don't forget your mod XP!