RP:Logs

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

From his dormitory in Xalious, Lanlan prepares a delicate ritual. Restricting the light source to only two candles creates the desired ambience, and with a large eliptic mirror, an eery setting. Before him spread wide on the table is a spell book written in elegant, unreadable calligraphy. But he recites the passage eloquently, as he does, his voice becomes hollow. His own reflection reaches out from the glass and takes him from his wooden chair as if he were light as paper, dragging him into the mirror and leaving a dull looking Lanlan behind in the chair. On his way out of reality, Lanlan blows out the candles and disappears. Then he reappears in Odhranos's dreams, and tries not to notice the setting too much. At this time he's basically at the will of Odhranos and his imagination, and has a message to deliver. For some reason though, he appears as a strange fat caterpillar with a gray elf head. Each of his weird bug feet-hands has a white glove on it, apparently protecting you from the filth of a man-dream. Hopefully it won't be needed. But Odhranos is there of course; he should be at the center of his own dream. And Lanlan approaches him, tapping the ground rhythmically with each of his six true legs. "Odhranos, it is I Lanlan. The Mage's guild is requesting that I investigate a disturbance in Rynvale. In the Fog Forest specifically. Join me when you wake up?" Again, being under the thumb of someone else's mind was dangerous, and so he didn't spare a moment for pleasantries or considerations.

It was the same dream again, it never changed. Odhranos stood in an empty hall, wearing a fur-trimmed jacket and long silk trousers, slightly threadbare. A cold wind blowing through its cavernous interior from the broken glass windows. He gently dropped to his knees and the rusted chains about his ankles and wrists jangled quietly, their chorus sounding like peals of bells in the silence. He used to cry, but the years had hardened his heart and he simply knelt in silence, waiting, waiting for his sentence that would never come. However, this time was different. As the mage knelt, a voice echoed around the hall.Turning to the source of the voice, Odhranos spied a small, white gloved caterpillar, with Lanlan's face projecting rather absurdly from where its head would be. The mage's surprise rang out through the dream-world and the chains evaporated into flaky red dust, while the his tattered clothes, clothes which were once opulent, faded into his usual grey apparel. "I will meet you when I awake, yes." Odhranos spoke slowly, his slumbering consciousness unused to coherent thought in dreams. As the caterpillar turns to leave, the mage stands. "Don't mention this to anyone, please." the mage asks quietly. This dream had certain aspects which he didn't wish to share, which hurt to remember in the light of day.

Was already beginning to turn around, but it wasn't as easy a thing to do when your body was horizontal, "I promise I won't," he says from his spot near the ground. "So meet me at the docks in Cenril, we can discuss things on the way over." Lanlan plops away into nothingness, and moments later wakes back up in his chair in Xalious. For a moment he doesn't move, affirming himself of everything that was real and not. Then, satisfied that his experiment worked, he suddenly stands and readies himself for the journey. In Cenril he waits for Odhranos at the docks as promised, sitting outside in what appears to be a rickety chair and table. Every once in a while a slight breeze whips by and he's forced to wait until it stops to sip his coffee. So annoying. But the ship was ready for them whenever Odhranos got there.

After waking up and shaking his groggy head, Odhranos climbs from his hammock. While packing his things, he takes a moment to stride across to the cliff's edge. Xalious gave a fantastic view across the lowlands of Hollow and Odhranos could see the waters of Cenril harbour glinting on the horizon. Upon arriving in Cenril, the mage strides through the busy cobbled streets. He attracts an odd look or two, the mage is a rather drab and colourless figure in the vivid and varied crowds of the city. He reaches the harbour and paces the boardwalk. Spying the grey elf seated at a table on the dockside, Odhranos walks across. "Apologies for my tardiness, I was camped up in the northern reaches of the Xalious range, its a long trek on foot" the mage explains, remaining standing, more due to the lack of seating than any uncivility.

People pass him and maybe they give him strange looks too, for he's a little out of place, for exactly the opposite reason of Odhranos. His tunic is the darkest shade of purple there is, probably simply black to some people, and with pearl buttons holding it together. And his pants which actually are black, appear to be made of silk. Some people might ask 'who is that?', and Lanlan would simply pretend not to notice. In his imagination this happens quite a bit. Upon seeing Odhranos, he rises from his chair, and instantly directs Odhranos to which boat it is. "Yes, that one." Their room has a table and two chairs as designed by him. In a moment, a gruff, moustached man comes and fills a cup of coffee for Lanlan, and asks if Odhranos wants one too; tells them about supper and when do they want it. "Never," Lanlan replies. After he Odhranos has his turn with him and the sailor leaves, Lanlan pulls a little bag out of his satchel, and plops it on the table. In it was the crystal from the tower in Larket! Oh wait, no it was only a recreation. "Do you recognize this? I'm sure you do. While we at the guild haven't been able to find any traces of the original type of mineral, we've been able to recreate the rune inscription on another...less suitable host. The result is disappointing. You can turn yourself into a ferret if you want."

Odhranos shakes his head to the man; he is more of a tea person, never got a taste for the bitter stimulant. He also shakes his head to supper, having enough supplies in his rucksack to last him, all of which he knew were to his taste, as opposed to whatever would be served up in the dubious kitchens of the ship's mess. After a moments surprise at the unveiling of the crystal, he reaches across the table and lifts the counterfeit. Holding it at eye level, he lets a little magic seep through his fingers and into the crystal. A dull shimmer twists in the depths of the crystal but it is nowhere as vibrant as the glow had been in the original. Glancing around, the mage saw no difference in his appearance, no claws or fur. He turned around and a small fuzzy tail waved at him from his rear. The mage stifled a laugh and gently placed the crystal back on the table. The glow faded and so did the amusingly placed tail. "I'm assuming you've tested all of the other variables, the focusing apparatus and whatnot, so you're certain it has to do with the material?" the mage questioned. "Also, what does this have to do with our current destination?" he inquires, assuming that the death of the foul fowl has resolved the matter.

Lanlan narrowed his eyes, "Of course I'm certain it's the material." Actually, upon just a cursory glance, Lanlan was almost certain he'd never see anything like it. Closer examination revealed its strange property for conducting and holding magic, far more than anything he'd encountered. But it was broken. "But that has nothing to do with today, I just thought you earned yourself a trinket. Put it away you can play with it on your own time." He'd been playing with his, trying to change the creature he kept becoming. And he did...! To a degree. Sometimes he turned into a caterpillar, others a worm, once a small snake. He discovered the theme and abandoned his efforts. "The Mage's Guild was informed of yet another disturbance, this time in the Fog Forest across the sea. Autonomous Golems clear cutting the woods. We're to discover the means by which these golems are animated." He sipped his coffee, slurping it annoyingly to introduce air into each sip and cool it down. "Oh and stop them, I guess. The savage wild-life is being forced into towns...killing people. Whatever. Any other questions?" Asked Lanlan, with a sigh.

Odhranos thinks that perhaps the people being killed was a slightly more concerning issue, but decides not to voice that opinion. "Only one, do we intend to keep all of the golems in one piece? From what I've read, most animated creatures are quite hostile to all but their controller, we may have a fair sight of trouble gaining access to whatever or whoever is controlling them" he states. Odhranos has gotten into the practice of searching the market stalls for books or magic, or magical history. While most he finds are next to useless, he had found one rather interesting book on the creation of simple animates, namely homunculi and familiars. The book touched lightly on the topic of golems, as they were generally higher-order magical animates and generally banned, as in the wrong hands they could wreak much havoc, down to their sheer strength. As is evidently happening in Rynvale.

Lanlan was very nonchalant with his answer, "If it's easier to kill them we probably will. Then their master won't be as formidable, and maybe we'll take him in. Maybe he'll try to fight us too, in which case..." Lanlan drags a finger across his throat ominously. The rest of the ride Lanlan was mostly silent, lazing about in the ship. On occasion he would harass someone for hot coffee, and then read a book, no title on the binding which was leather. Only sometimes did he seem that interested in it. The landing was no less regular, they met with some locals at an inn, he told them in the direction where the most people were allegedly encountering these animated loggers, but not any consistent reports on what they looked like. No victims as a direct result of them, but in a short time, they'd completely flattened a sizeable portion of the terrain. "My name's Lanlan I'm on official guild business," Lanlan saysto a guard at the security checkpoint. He waits for the guy to ask "What-" and then instantly cuts him off. "The Mage's guild of course. I and my lackey here are to investigate the clearing of your... misty jungle? I think it was?" 'That would be the Fog Forest of course', "Oh so you know the one I'm talking about! Good. Arrange an escort to take us." The guard stumbles. He does so eventually, after more verbal battery it becomes easier to simply allow him to be someone else's problem. So someone else takes them to a spot past the wharfs, and toward some very ominous looking hills, "The forest is straight down that path." There's a path that snakes through the hills, leading to a poisonous black-watered river, and then beyond that lies the Fog Forest! "I hate this part," said Lanlan, realizing the probability of encountering danger before even getting to conduct their investigation. "So, it's been a long day. Make a camp here?"

Odhranos pities the poor guard. Granted Lanlan got his answers, and sharpish too, but his methods were... questionably brutal. The mage shakes his head. As they are pointed in the direction of the forest, the mage feels a shadow of unsettledness pass over him. This land does not seem to friendly and this was only the beginning, the lightest edge of the foreboding Fog Forest. As such, he is perfectly content to set up camp. Choosing a small sheltered area behind some tumbledown stones, they begin collecting firewood from the mossy detritus that lies about them. Before long, a small, but warm fire is crackling and both man and elf are sitting against the wind-breaking stones, using two folded hammocks as cushions to protect them from the cold hard ground. As Odhranos warms his hands and sends a little magic into the fire to enhance it, a thought occurs to him. Unsure whether or not to ask, the mage decides to go for it, worst case scenario, not getting an answer. "You seem to be sent on quite a number of quests for the Mage's Guild, what's your position in the guild?" The mage inquires, half from curiosity and half to break the silence. He had notived that Lanlan was sensitive on the subject upon their last meeting, but still couldn't figure out why.

Lanlan is surprisingly efficient at setting up a temporary habitation, but hasn't missed an opportunity to present his disdain for it. Everywhere by sighing repeatedly, or by grabbing each stick of kindling as though it were his worst enemy, and similarly hammering in each pin for his tent. He was sensative about his lowly position in the guild, there seeming to be a discrepancy between his abilities and title. His nostrils flared at the thought. Apprentice. Again, he deflected with deft circumlocution. "I'm one of their most senior operatives for investigating arcane anomalies and magical disturbances." It was the truth, most of the leadership abandoned the guild for personal pursuits. "If you're seeking a recommendation, mine would be very valuable." He would regard Odh's answer carefully and indubitably respond appropriately; then he would rise to a separate endeavor. "In going for a little stroll, but I wouldn't follow me... Not that you could," he said imperiously. Then he went into his tent and say down cross-legged. The angry mumbling of an incantation could be heard emanating from within, and growing, coming in stereo soon enough. A longish ritual. It stopped, and Lanlan emerged through the canvas of his tent without using the doors. "I'm going to see what obstacles if any might imperil us." Then he flew into the fog at the speed of thought. For the time that Lanlan controlled this projection of himself, his senses were bound to it. His body in the tent sits entranced. From far beyond them (but not far enough), there was a snarling and something like a terrible barking.. An instant later, real-Lanlan burst out of his tent, breathing hard with a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "Umm... Have you any.... Weapons of silver? Wolfsbane perhaps?" He was trying to suppress the panic of being virtually killed. "Something has my scent, probably following it back here."

Odhranos considered the elf's statement. He could probably be cheeky and rile the elf up, but truth be told, Odhranos didn't feel like making an enemy of Lanlan, especially given that the elf might have his back in the impending confrontation. After a moment's thought, the mage diplomatically replies, "I have no immediate desire to join the Mage's Guild, but I thank you greatly for the offer, it is very generous of you. I may take you up on your offer someday.". Phew, disaster avoided. Years of being trained as a diplomat finally came in useful, although pandering to an overly proud elf wasn't exactly what it was intended for. After Lanlan haughtily returns to his tent, the mahe breaths a brief sigh of relief. Useful as he was, the elf could be outrageously blunt and unfriendly at times. "He needs a lady to soften his heart", Odhranos murmured to himself, then almost jumped out of his own skin when an ethereal Lanlan stepped through the finely woven canvas wall of the elf's tent. Luckily the elf was distracted by his proud remarks, as Odhranos' face had gone a bright scarlet. As he sailed off on his ghostly way into the darkened forest, the mage let out a suppressed gasp and barely managed to keep his mirth under control. Curious, the mage peeped into the tent. Lanlan was seated cross-legged on a cushion in the tent, eyes closed and silent as a corpse. Sitting back against the stones and idly picked up a few pebbles. Exerting a little energy, the mage practiced a little of his burgeoning terramancy, lifting one, then two then three pebbles, with no little effort, and spinning them slowly around above his palm. He was broken from his focus by a shaking and sweating Lanlan emerging from his tent. "Emm... not on hand, no..." the mage began, then his eyes widened. "Oh god, not a werewolf? I havent seen one, only heard stories." Safe to say these stories hadnt eenb endearing. (Coincidentally, Odhranos had met a werewolf, even sworm an oath of loyalty to one. Unbeknownst to the unfortunate mage though.).

Lanlan considered his options. The place they now stood was similar to the South of them, not a lot of environmental opportunity. But in the other directions..."There's a malodorous river I flew over to the North, but I probably contrast too fiercely with it. That thing will definitely find us." Dammit Lanlan, why do you have to smell so good. "But! West there's a cliff, and I think with some nifty shenanigans we'll be able to push it off." Just before heading that way, he kneels in the dirt near their fire and hurriedly casts a spell. Lanlan and, what appears to be a crude caricature of Odhranos appear sitting on stumps by the fire, like normal travelling buddies would. But Odhranos looks ridiculous, cross-eyed, drooling, doesn't even have a nose. They babble in simlish, and you can tell Lanlan's character still has a biting attitude even in this non-language. "Anything you want to add? Could turn this distraction into a trap." After Odhranos does or doesn't, he begins to make his way West.

Deciding not to comment on Lanlan's flattering caricature of him, Odhranos paused for a moment. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a handful of silver coins. He was dubious as to whether they are pure are not, knowning those Cenril minters, probably not. Nonetheless, it was worth a shot. Stepping closer to the caricatures, he places a silver coin in the mouths of both and slipped one just under the collar of their shirts. If the werewolf blindly tore into these illusions, it might grab or swallow one of the coins, potentially harming it. To be honest, Odhranos wasnt sure it would work at all, but it couldnt hurt to try. Turning to follow Lanlan, he pulled out his knife and began carve at one of the remaining coins as he hurried, turning it into a small pile of silver slivers and shavings. Handing this terribly crude weapon to Lanlan, he explained as they walked. "Silver. Impure, but i dont think impure will mean a whole lot when you throw that handful in it's eyes.". He began to carve up the remaining coins, sacrificing next weeks loaf of bread for this weeks life. Oh well...

The elf pulled out a small piece of cloth to keep the slivers in, "Good. Resourceful for a human." They walked West until the fire was just a flicker on the horizon, and then Lanlan stopped. "I'm going to prepare a ritual here, an illusion. Just remember where the cliff is or you'll fall off too." Lanlan pulled out a leather wallet and unfolded it on the ground, it wasn't -full- of reagents, but there was enough that he could prepare something special if there was enough time. Maybe there was... He pulled out an egg from his provisions and punctured it with the end of his glass wand, putting some kind of kernel in it afterwards and refilling the hole with a strange powder. Then he produced a small vial of an aqueous substance, scraping the top with his finger he got the appropriate amount, and sealed the egg closed with it. He took some of the strange powder and mixed it with water he kept in a skin, and then drank it himself. Suddenly magic seemed more alive in his body and especially his eyes which actually glowed and left a strange trail. His gestures to gather the magic were dramatic and fluid, and it seemed more like a choreographed dance. And really, it almost was. After a flourish with his arms, the egg and everything inside dissolved, and suddenly they were standing in a barn. The front of it kept a pen full of chickens clucking jovially. Behind it was barren land, and still a while before they'd get to the cliff. There was a yelp from where their fire was, and a cloud of sparks bloomed in the night sky for a second. The werewolf probably completely engulfed the coin trying to tear at one of their throats. "Good, I think that saved us some time. Now you get us a little more, I'm going back here." He left the house and started with a separate scheme behind it.

Odhranos nodded, then set to work. He was quite impressed by Lanlan's illusion, safe to say it was of higher quality to the somewhat insulting surrogates left at the camp. He wouldnt dream of voicing this though. Dependable as Lanlan was, he appeared to Odhranos to have an ego to rival a king and a cold aloofness that would make Frostmaw seem toasty warm. It certainly wouldn't do to increase the grey elf's pride further. Keeping his silence, the mage approached one of the illusionary chickens. Judging from the evil glint in the fowl's eye, Lanlan had taken notes during their last encounter. He stood and glanced around at the illusion. A tidy looking place it was. Returning his focus to the task at hand, Odh hunted around his bag for as much silver as he could lay his hands on. Piling it before him, he gathered a handful of stony dirt from the ground. He encased each coin in the stone laden dirt, as he could use his burgeoning terramancy to launch the silver at the werewolf, or at least attempt to.

Lanlan noticed Odhranos prepping something special and left him to it for a time. Meanwhile the simple pattern of wooden planks that comprised the house began to steadily grow into a tunnel that stretched (even the floor) over the cliffs. To ensure its stretching, he weaved a complex ordinance of mana manipulations into the air; and as it grew, so did his somatic flourishes. Soon he was basically doing an interpretive dance about exactly what happens when a tornado tries to beat up a volcanic eruption but the eruption is ready for it and fights back...it was a tiring jig. There was barely a second before Lanlan finished spelling and took a breather, when the wolf-man came roaring through the illusionary-open-door. But even before this, Lanlan shoved Odhranos out of the illusion completely (if he let him), and then magicked himself to appear as just a piece of wall. The wolf ran by, charging down the imaginary hall, until it fell off the actual cliff. "Boom-splat," said Lanlan, imagining the effect of the lycan landing on the rocks below. So satisfied was he, that he immediaely dispelled his illusion. He looked to Odhranos who he was certain would be admiring the simplicity of Lanlan's craft...then the creature climbed back up from 'certain death'. "Oh! Oh quick! Smack it! Hit it!" Shouted Lanlan to his would be admirer. 'Put your money where its mouth is!' is what he would say if he was punny.

Odhranos had just finished up with his little stone-and-silver packed mud globs and was strolling inside to check out what the wayward grey elf was up to when he received an almighty shove to the back. With a cry of indignation, the mage flew almost comically through a wood-panel and landed in a heap of dust on the far side, too close to the cliff edge for comfort. As the werewolf dashed past, Odhranos caught a glimpse of mottled brown fur and slavering yellowed fangs. Safe to say he was glad Lanlan had the sense to push him out of the incensed lycan's path, although his methods could have been a little more refined. Either way, Odhranos' mouth gaped with surprise when said lycan flew headlong out of the illusion and over the cliff. The illusion was dispelled with a wave of the elf's hand, who stood looking very proud of himself, only to have the smile wiped off his face when the now-further-enraged lycan clawed his way back over the cliff. Odhranoa decided to take measures into his own hands. With a pulse of power, the small muddy stone filled globs rose from the ground and circled the grey mage like a hoard of small stone bees. With a wave of his hand, the globs flew at the werewolf and stuck fast, pressing their harmful silver cores into the unfortunate creatures fur, causing it to scream and quail, flailing around in the throes of its argentum-induced agony

The missiles Odhranos prepared slammed into the beast and settled in its fur, causing it to recoil and lose its footing. With a howl, it fell off the cliff and presumably died. Maybe not, but it will have surely discovered that these two weren't worth the trouble. "Well, let's go," says Lanlan, very eager to put the situation behind them. Following the reports, they head into the fog forest. "Keep your eyes open for any strange beasts, or magic of any form, actually." As will he of course. His eyebrows twitch now and again, sensitive to ambient mana being pulled away or altered drastically. But only as long as he maintains his focus, and for a medium distance. As they proceed, the fog thickens, and they naturally have to move slower so they have a chance to see the emerging forms in front of them. Sometimes Lanlan would stop and stare at the fog. Every movement caused the white mist to swirl and swim in patterns almost hypnotic. Definitely the most intriguing factor of this forest. He wondered if the drow with their infrared vision would be able to spot the heat of things in here, or would the cool fog fool them too. It was very quiet whenever they didn't talk, but that didn't spur him to do so. It was a little strange to be without the sounds of civilization. Nothing but the sounds of their footfalls, shifting foliage, and the occassional knock on wood. It was slight and perfectly rhythmic, like a leaking faucet in the dead of night. Lanlan had experience travelling in forests, but this fog changed things. He couldn't keep trac of any landmarks because they vanished from sight after moving 12 feet ouf of the way! "Try to isolate that tapping noise if you can..." Lanlan had a suspicion, but he would wait for Odhranos to confirm it before moving towards it. Also, as of yet there was no magic to detect, except maybe the slightest alteration from the locaion from the tapping, but that was too far for Lanlan.

Odhranos was surprised his plan had worked, he had expected more of a fight from the lycan, or at least a headache from his use of terramancy. Then again, it was a very small feat of magic, not far removed from simply throwing a lump of dirt with ones hand, so perhaps that was why he hadn't received one of the head-splitting migraines he was usually treated to after attempting to use the ancient earth magic. Then again, maybe he was getting stronger, who knew? In any case, the mage didn't have time to ponder, as Lankan set off at a blistering pace into the fog-wreathed trees of the forest. The mage closed his eyes as he entered the fog and instead used his augmented magic sight to see around himself. He could sense the energy in tree trunks, thin gold traceries of light that curled up from the roots and spiralled up towards the damp leaves above. Upon hearing the knocking noise, the mage extended his area of sense out, like a cone of light before him. He could see nothing obvious, thanks in no small part to the glaring incandescense that was Lanlan, his strong magic signal shining like a beacon to any that might be interested in the dark gloomy woods. But wait! A slight movement to the left! The mage waved silently to the grey elf, signalling he had found something. Trekking through the forest, he could sense something... indistinct up ahead. A few moments later, the fog parted and the mage's jaw dropped at the sight that welcomed him. "That's... That's a.." the mage stammered in awe, unable to form a valid sentence.

Lanlan was more surprised his plan didn't work. He consoled himself thusly; it had worked, mostly, but the desperation induced by starvation hadn't diminished the lycan quite as much as he'd thought. Something he'd keep in mind. There was something Lanlan noticed, that had to be addressed immediately at this early stage in their investigation. "Odhranos, that was a far shabbier effort than I expected from you. If that cretin hadn't been completely emaciated, it would've come back and ripped you promptly to shreds." Kill with gusto. Anyway, back to the future, they were coming into a fogless area, following the tapping, and Odhranos' magic tracking. "That's a man made of trees, cutting down a tree," said Lanlan, without quite fully believing it. It was true though, his legs were logs; firewood wedges cut into a shin and thigh, hinged together. Similar were his arms, which ended in a palm and two opposing fingers. There was no effort to make this artistic, and where shortcuts could be taken, they were. No place was stripped of bark, even on its face, where two glowing half-circles were embedded directly into the rough skin to serve as eyes apparently. In its hand was an axe, wooden handle with a nob at the bottom so it wouldn't slide out of the loggers claw. It continued swinging in perfect rhythm at the tall oak, possibly having not noticed them, but more likely not able to care. It smacked its bretherin in the exact same spot each time, making for a rather efficient cut. In a moment, the tree began to crackle at its new seam, and it fell in a neutral spot between all three. The leaves provided a voice for the felled oak, shaking out its death rattles before becomining completely silent. Lanlan waited another moment to see what it would do. The logger adjusted its position, and began cutting again. Lanlan almost fell asleep standing up, he noticed, until another logger emerged from the fog to assist the first one. It was basically the exact same, except on its head there was the start of a branch that hadn't apparently impeded on its function enough to be smoothed down. It showed its back to the mages, and revealed the source of its power: carved runic lettering that glowed purple with every effort these things took. They both had the exact same symbols on their backs. Lanlan finished watching silently apparently, and approached. "You two are offending the controlling interest of this forest, and now you have to stop and come with us." No response. Were they ignoring him, or simply impassioned. Lanlan sauntered over and put a hand on its shoulder hinge, "Come--" the thing instantly whirled around and chopped at Lanlan without warning, not even breaking its rhythm to do so. Lanlan hopped back surprised, puzzled, as the creature went back to chopping its segment. Annoyed, he kicked the logger in the torso and it fell to lifeless pieces. The first logger left his axe embedded in the wood, and knelt behind the second, putting it back together in seconds and helping it stand up. They both resume cutting.

Odhranos decided to take a more... observant approach. Watching as Lanlan just dodged the whistling axe, he concluded (terribly astutely) that the loggers weren't innately hostile, simply reacting to something impeding their work. Far more interesting was how the loggers seemed to repair themselves, one falls and the other rebuilds it. Striding forward, the mage stooped and picked up a fist sized stone in either hand. Standing equidistant between the two loggers, he held the stones out, facing the turned backs of the wodden constructs. With a loud "pok!", the stones flew from the mages palm and struck the loggers in the centre of their glowing runic backs. Both loggers fell to the ground in pieces with rather musical clunks and clatters. "Well...that was too easy- " the mage began, only to be silenced as two more blocky figures emerged from the mists. As before, they set about repairing their downed allies, but the difference was that when rebuilt, one of the loggers turned and faced the two men, its eyes phasing from a vibrant lilac to a malevolent scarlet. "That can't be good" Odh muttered, only to narrowly dodge an axe blade moment later. Ducking behind a tree, he paused, then peeped out. The logger's eyes remained red, then, having lost sight of its obstructor, they returned to their original bluish tint and it returned to hacking at the trees. Emerging from begund the trunk, Odhranos straightened his robes and addressed Lanlan in a low tone; "Clearly downing them does no help, we cant knock them out quick enough and we dont even know how many more are out there. If even a single one remains standing, we'd be wasting our time" he concluded. Closing his eyes, he extended his magic sight and studied the constructs. The purple energy was stretching throughout their bodies like ethereal marionette strings, and it all linked back to the runes between their shoulder blades and lower back. Curiously, another line of energy stretched fainly from these runes and off into the depths of the forest. Presumably leading to the power source or controller of the loggers. "Follow me." The mage intoned, then set off, eyes closed into the fog.

Lanlan happily watches Odhranos almost get pummeled by these mostly passive loggers, and easily stays out of harms way. "It might be good," says Lanlan dryly as Odhranos scurries behind a tree. The upset lumberjack wedges his axe in a tree giving Lanlan a chance to observe him more closely. "Crude," he says, "But it's the same inscription on the backs of all." Lanlan would have preferred to linger a bit longer and analyze the other various features comprising these things, but he couldn't let Odhranos make the discovery by himself, so followed his a slight head shaking. At the efficiency to which Odhranos catches the trail, Lanlan says, "Why bother even opening your eyes at all? They hold you back." While they walk, Lanlan keeps his eyes peeled for anomalies, and almost trips on a stump. In a more steps the fog is much thinner, and for a large radius they can see: the forest here has been all but reduced to a plains. The tapping sound all but vanished, along with the whistle of birds, the croaking of treefrogs... Only ominous silence. "If you ever wondered what the death of an ecosystem sounded like. In the distance, the wizards see a seemingly endless parade of wooden lumberjacks, all being funneled into large wooden perimeter. They had to be exiting through a different way however, because there would be no containing the vast amount of logs being channeled into that fence. When you get closer, you see a constant plume of black smoke billowing out of the middle of the carpenters' village. Perhaps the result of an enormous forge or stove...

Opened his eyes for a moment and glanced across at Lanlan. Silver light, akin to the shine of polished stone in moonlight shone from his eyes, which had lost all feature of iris and pupil, instead were a flat featureless silver. "This is why. It's terribly conspicuous and also it drains my energy staying in this plane of vision, so I only tend to use it when I have to." he answered plainly, then closed his eyes, cutting off the unsettling silver light and forged on ahead. When they reached the cleared ground, the mage reopened his eyes, returned to their regular form, slate-grey irises shining ever so slightly. "Whatever is controlling these things is bound to be inside that fence. But we can't risk just walking in in plain sight" Odh grimaced, mpre talking to himself more than anyone. Turning to the grey-elf, he addressed him; "I'm assuming I neednt insult your skill to ask if you can disguise is enough to get inside?" He grinned slightly, half sarcastic, but half sincere, he did accept the elf's abilities as impressive.

Lanlan hardly thought it necessary to disguise them, the logs were so nice! But if Odhranos didn't realize that, then even a wimpy disguise would impress him. Still, he doesn't skimp. First he works on Odhranos, 'painting' him in layers of illusion to sell the disguise, beginning with a template of their general shape, then slathering on the look of a wood's grain and bark. That's the essence of it, then he dabs on the details: eyes, stray branch, and the exact replica of the runes onto his back. He does the same for himself, holding a silver hand mirror to all his features and getting them just right. The next thing he does, is gift each of them with imaginary logs to carry over their shoulders just like the other loggers do. "We'll be fine," Lanlan says confidently, and slips anonymously into the conga line that proceeds into the village. Inside, they see what can only be described as a factory. Lumberjacks drop off logs to other people made of wood. They cut it into appropriate shapes while someone else attaches limbs to hinges to bodies. Another one wields a chisel and chips the crude lettering into each logs back. They don't come to life, but they do look the part. They're callously lobbed into carts and shoved off into an enormous tent. Meanwhile, the lumberjacks exit through the other side. Lanlan drops off his imaginary log in a pile. "The perpetrator must be under that tent." Lanlan whispers.

Odhranos acknowledged Lanlan's whisper with a stiff nod (wooden, you might say). Turning, he strode towards one of the carts and began to push it in through the entrance of the tent. Inside, he was greeted by an extraordinary sight. The mounds of wooden parts lay about, but more intriguingly, in the centre of the room stood a tall, hooded figure. Hands outstretched, the figure was gesturing as if conducting an orchestra, and in time with their gestures, the various components of the loggers levitated from the piles and assembled a new logger, albiet devoid of movement and the purple light in it's etched runes. Glancing towards the ceiling, Odh almost felt like laughing and rolling his eyes. Hovering about 6 meters off the ground, under the apex of the tent, floated a crystal. A very specific crystal to be exact, the exact same type the unfortunate pair had encountered in Larket's forest. The only obvious difference being that this crystal emanated a vibrant purple aura. When the logger was assembled, the crystal pulsed and a bright line of light briefly connected to the logger, causing the runes to burst into purple brilliance. The line of light faded and the now-activated logger was placed on its feet, upon which it marched out the far side of the tent. Closing his eyes, the mage studied the crystal. Exactly as he expected, hundreds of faint lines of energy extended out from the crystal, moving slightly and the mage would bet that the movement would match up to the movement of the loggers. This was no doubt the source of the logger's control. Odh sighed, he had had far too much trouble with these damn crystals.

Lanlan remembered the crystal too, and he was less surpriesed to see it than she should've been, having spotted the signs. "Now where's our friend the raven? Oh. There." This was surprising. On the ground in a bloody heap was a robed man, clearly dead. Over him stood one of the loggers, it pulled a spear from the wizard's corpse and looked toward Lanlan and Odhranos. Its countenance bore no expression, yet when Lanlan became inclined to go meet it, it shuffled out of the tent. From behind and in front and indeed! all around them, log people poured into the tent brandishing axes and spears. The logs lumbered toward them with axes raised to cut, but Lanlan had an out. He lept up into the air and activated his magic drow insignia. It held the power of all those possessed by nobles, and held him above the fray and out of danger. He levitated higher than any log could reach, "I suggest you leave Odhranos." No pun intended.

Odhranos was enraptured by the slowly pulsating crystal, he only noticed the dead wizard when the streams of energy emerging from the crystal began converging around them.. "What..?" The mage exclaimed then he glanced around alarmedly. The man's death should have ceased logger's up, as their controlling force was shut off, but the wizard was lying crumpled on the floor with his blood spreading across the floor before them, killed by what Odhranos has assumed was one of his own lackeys. "Something isn't right, there must be another person controlling them. It would appear our old friend was simply a pawn himself." The mage called up to Lanlan where he floated above him. The mage glanced at the loggers and grimaced. "We have to find some way of disabling the crystal."

Lanlan listfully levitates to the ceiling, following a salvo of firebolts right through the top of the roof. Here he sees the entirety of their situation. The rhythmic marching of a platoon of log golems descending on their position, and the one that rejects the hive. He watches as it cuts through the horde frantically, an evident effort to escape. "Yes," says Lanlan, regarding what Odhranos says about another manipulator, "if you widen your interpretation of 'person' to include sentient golems!" As he says, the one oak-skinned assassin raises his spear saturated in blood. The crystal reverberates with it, and the mild pulsing of the grand crystal is enhanced, and so is the noisy percussion of hundreds of footfalls. The army would be upon Odhranos in seconds. Since it would behoove the gray elf to be allied with an accomplished terramancer, he decides to help, regardless of whether or not Odhranos actually needs it. "Fear not my friend, I won't let the horde have you." He descended down just enough, strewing about various pieces of magical energy and activating them all at once. Numerous fortifications appeared around Odhranos apparently protecting him, and trapping him if he didn't realize they were illusions. On one side there was a bubbling moat of lava, on another a wall of spinning swords, and on the last, two giant spike-covered rolling pins going against each other; a giant wood-chipper. Yes, all illusions, but it did much to slow the mindless things down and bottleneck them towards a simple position in front of Odhranos. "I've done all I can for you," said Lanlan, "Now it's your turn to do...whatever it is you do!" Truly he was excited to see exactly what this was.

Odhranos glanced up at the grey elf. The mage grimaced, he abhored violence, but in situations like this, words weren't going to be enough. The mage silently saluted lanlan then turned his attentions to the loggers. His eyes closed for a moment, then as the loggers began to step through the bottleneck and approach the mage, mindless murder in there glowing eyes. The mage's own eyes flashed open and an unholy silver incandescence blazed out from the mage's eyes, which were now a flat silver sheen, no iris or pupil visible, just flat argentum glowed from the mage's eyesockets. With an angry roar, the ground split at the mage's feet and he rose on an angular pillar of stone. Spreading his arms wide, he cast his silver gaze down at the loggers. "You may be children of the trees, but nothing, even the mightiest oak, can withstand the power of the earth!" he roared, then clenched his fists, bringing them together infront of him. With a shrieking scream, the ground at the loggers feet erupted, stone flanges and blades tearing out of the ground, shredding the loggers in the bottleneck to spinning wooden chips. Anything that came near the whirring mass of stone was left intact, simply torn to shreds in an instant. The mage gritted his teeth and opened his hands, splaying them wide. The blades of granite and slate tore themselves free from the ground and spun like infernal saw-blades, moving in a wave of devastating destruction, bringing the formidable host of loggers to their knees then ground them to dust. In a matter of moments, the last logger threw its hands up and disintegrated beneath the stone blades, which then sank to the ground. On his pillar of stone, the mage swayed, blood running in gouts from his nose, his head wracked with pain. A moment later, he leaned back and as if in slow motion, began to fall towards the torn and riven ground below.

With sheer and evident delight, Lanlan appraised every whirl of the earthen death-machine as it chopped. "Complete control!" The unnatural combat between two different artificial constructs of nature's elements absolutely thrilled him. "People who borrow power from Gods or gently coax it out of nature...fools! This is the power you achieve when your will is strong enough!" He wanted to move closer to even closer analyze the destruction, but the mulch that splintered from the unfeeling horde was a veritable wall against him. When all was said and done, and nothing but chips and sawdust remained, Lanlan descended from his lofty position to congratulate Odhranos. "What a unique catastrophe you've created!" He knelt down to grab a fistful of their remains, no trace of what they could've been. Then he discarded them with disdain. "I would've liked to keep one intact...but still." He looked over to his companion; flat on his back, passed out from the exertion. "Oh well," he says in regards to him. Then he happily saunters over to the corpse of the golems' creator, that wizard they met some time ago in the Eternal forest. "Whatever ambition you had centered around these cheap soldiers...is dead, along with you. Imagine! Murdered by your own brainchild!" He stooped, patting his gloved hands over the leaking corpse, searching for something in particular. He doesn't find it evidently. Standing up with a huff, he stomps back over to Odhranos. "Oh aren't you awake yet? That little termite infested cretin made off with Xelios's spellbook. He must have!" If the gray clothed mage still doesn't wake up, Lanlan pulls the cork out of a water skin and squishes droplet after droplet onto his face until he wakes up. "We have to find that log...but I suppose it's my turn again." Lanlan takes point, stepping unceremoniously into the corpses of their adversaries and out the tent flap towards the way the sentient golem escaped. Clear of the debris, he covers one eye and slowly chants a spell. The covered peeper appears sans cranium, instead with 4 dragonfly wings. It flutters and zips ahead of them expertly dodging flora and searching for the thief. A few minutes pass and nary a word from Lanlan, it takes such concentration to focus on two different locations at once, but he won't be outdone! He's determined to locate this burglar, if only to impress Odhranos. If he weren't so rushed, perhaps he might have found various signs of the clumsy creature's trail; trampled branches, chopped sticks, clear trails to one as detail oriented as himself. But he overlooked them all, frantically zigzagging through walls of brush. At length he did find them, and hovered above and out of sight. "He's this way," says Lanlan, as he begins to lead. Hardly taking into account the giant crystal they were leaving behind, and the value it held in it's prism.

Odhranos would have been impressed by Lanlan's bravery in hunting down the fleeing logger. Unfortunately he wasn't exactly in any state to be impressed, being concussed. Again. As the ceiling swam blearily before his eyes, he focused on the bright spot of violet light by the roof, the crystal. The mage closed his eyes and gradually feeling returned to his limbs. Standing on unsteady feet, the mage used a little amount of power to raise another pillar of stone under his feet, making him rise up until he was parallel with the crystal. He examined it, it seemed to be the same crystalline structure as the one in the Enchanted Forest, only it was almost ten times the size, about the size of a beachball and had a hundred times the amount of runes glowing and pulsating on its surface. No wonder, the enchantment it powered was a lot more intricate than the illusion, it had to actually power and co-ordinate hundreds of wooden golems at once. Studying the runes, the mage did his best to translate, using the minimal knowledge in runic theory he had picked up in libraries across the land. "Bond" ... "control".... "master". He finished the last one, pointing at two large runes at the upper point of the geometrically perfect crystal. One rune blazed with magenta incandescence, while the other was dim. The mage ran his hand over the engraved rune and a spark of purple static jumped to his hand, shocking his arm. "What the-...?" The mage murmured, then his eyes widened as a pressure began to creep in on the corners of his mind. The rune began glowing in light and the mage glanced down to the floor, spying the fallen corpse of Xelion. "The master rune, it must have shut down when he died, releasing his control..." Realisation dawned on the mage. "Now it has bonded with me!" He exclaimed and a flood of images filled his mind. He clamped his hands over his head as his mind was overcome with information. A thousand images of the forest and area around them overlayed themselves infront of his vision. "I...I have bonded with the crystal... I can control them!" The mage exclaimed through gritted teeth.

Lanlan loses his focus for just a moment and his spell flickers, almost failing completely. "What do you mean you 'bonded' with it? Explain." Odhranos must have learned more about the rystal than Lanlan anticipated. Startling, but an advantageous development in the current circumstances. He'd be concerned about separate implications later. He returned to searching, until he came upon a shuffling rally of the goelms. " found the rest of them, including the wizened one." Lanlan spotted the leader and eyed him intently, and the blood dripping spear it waved around. In a moment, Lanlan saw truth. The 'spear' wasn't a spear, it was a staff, straight as an arrow and capped with the prismatic purple gem. That explains how it got control of them in the first place. At least part of why. Now the crowd began to turn on itself. No doubt due to the double commanders they followed. Logs and branches and golems fell to pieces before Lanlan's eyes, but it was a slow game. They were slow creatures! More often than not, they'd collide into each other after attempting to kill each other the exact same way. It was boring to watch. But then Odhranos' forces started to become visibly slack, probably because of the far distance away relative to the other log-lord. There was one thing Lanlan suspected might help, he filled out his illusion with a body, not his own, the dead mage's. Lanlan had an excellent talent for mimicry, even without magic. But that's just trivia, he totally uses magic right now and speaks in Xelios' voice. "You crudely-hewn dry-rotted chunk of charcoal!" The lead-log immediately finds his 'nemesis' and lumbers towards Lanlan's illusion. "So what you're going to kill me again?" Says Lanlan contemptuously as the axe comes down upon the illusion, it disappears into nothing. "Oh, I guess you missed." The illusion appeared before it once more, and started walking back towards the two mages. Meanwhile, Odhranos was free to chop up the remainder of his forces without his full attention.

Odhranos placed both hands on the crystal. "I placed my hand on it and the control rune ignited; after Xelion's death, it must have sought out a new controller to fill the vacancy. Closing his eyes, the mage concentrated hard and he could feel the ranks of loggers jumping to his command. In a few short moments, the mage had half the loggers waging war against the rest. Looking through their eyes, the mage could see that none of the loggers were attacking the lead, apparently there was some loophole in the system that afforded a controller protection from the regular loggers; that would explain why the leader had to kill Xelion himself. The mage decided to go for a bold tactic. Relinquishing control of almost all of the loggers, turning the tide of battle as the remainder were subsumed under the main logger's control. Focusing all of his will intently on one logger, he pushed will all his control against the protection. Slowly and reluctantly, the logger raised its arms, it's purple glow shimmering and turning to the mage's iconic silver. With a whistling arc, the axe came down upon the crystal staff, shattering the head into infinitesimal little shards, shattering the logger's control as well.

As expected, the last and most dangerous lumberjack joins the union, and Odhranos presumptively gains control of them all soon after. Since there's no other purpose for it, Lanlan disperses his illusion and returns to Odhranos, the birch battalion far off into the woods, but probably coming behind. "That must be the cheapest way to build an army there ever was," said he with a hint of diabolic punnicism. "Now, as per procedure, all these things must be brought to the guild for the greater good of sentient life and magic study." In a little while, the significantly smaller army of log people shows up at the gate of the wood-walled tent-city. Lanlan isolates the one that found intelligence mysteriously and eyes him. 'Was there anything going on in there?' He wondered to himself. But he doubted it would show either way, being of wood and having painted on features. The other thing he had though, was a book, fastened to his actual body by a long conical screw and a leather strap. He pulled it free and glanced at it. "It's in some kind of code...probably one of his own devising. The mage's I mean, not this thing." He slips it into a satchel that was probably designed to hold such things, so perfectly did it sit in there. "I'll get this ciphered, I'll bet you'll continue your study on those purple gems won't you? And another thing. How is it controlling 50 people at once? Draining?" Worth knowing for diabolical reasons.

Odhranos had slowly sank on his stone pillar to the ground, until he was seated crosslegged on the wood-shaving strewn ground, the large clear crystal ensconsed in his lap, its purple vibrance now fading and it's colour returned to its natural clear state. Glancing up at Lanlan, he grimaced. "It's not easy, I can tell you that. Imagine trying to tie a knot with one hand while the other writes an essay, except scaled up fifty times. My head aches." He groaned, rubbing his temples ruefully. Tinkling his fingers on the crystal before him, he got to his feet, hefting the football sized crystal in his arms. "I'll bring this back to Xalious, I was able to track the crystal's source somewhat with the previous sample, this large a crystal should make it easy work using a signature tracer." The mage's expression brightened, he was looking forward to perhaps tracking down the origin of these troublingly powerful crystals and understanding their secrets. "Now that everything is wrapped up here, should we inform the local authorities or simply leave it a mystery? Might save some awkward questions." The mage got to his feet, swaddling the crystal in his robes and making for the door.

Lanlan stared furtively at him. "I could probably do that if I wanted." Lanlan will surely be seeing Odhranos in Xalious after he makes a crucial stop. "We'll tell them in a letter. One that informs we handle nothing of repairs, rebuilding, or replanting." Lanlan snoops about looking for anything else worth taking, and comes again upon the corpse of Xelion. "Maybe you should bury him," says Lanlan to Odhranos. Either way, Lanlan presses his hands together. "Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." He looks at Odhranos one last time. "That's all I know. So I'll see you in Xalious!" With that final sentiment, he departs.