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Post by Maestro Buliri on Feb 21, 2015 21:09:10 GMT
It was the early morning hours of day at the Rainbow Tower. The sun was just beginning to glint over the horizon, playing its beautiful light across the shimmering prismatic wall that surrounded the towers. Dew on the grass reflected in little crystalline patterns that magnificent display of color. About the campus, industrious students were already rising and crossing this way and that across the courtyards with books or tools in hand. Staff members were drowsily shuffling toward their offices and classrooms with caffeinated beverages of every description at the ready for another grueling day of instruction.
And then there was the Mad Maestro.
Or rather, what everyone presumed was the crazed gnome. Today, he had taken on the form of a shambling, half-awake troll that dragged its knuckles behind it as it slowly marched forward, stooped and bent and with eyebrows so thick they concealed its eyes and seemed to simply rest at the roof of its over-large nose. It dragged its feet across the ground, one hand lifted to shield the light from its eyes as it grumbled and mumbled about the things it hated most after a night of drinking. The only clue that this beast was the famed lord of illusions was his insistence on carrying those scrolls and wands on his person at all times. Leave it to Buliri to try confusing his students as to his identity.
As the sun began to lift off the horizon, the shuffling brute found its way to where Aebra was said to be meeting them. It looked around grumpily, looking about ready to ring any student's neck who dared ask why he was so disgruntled. The gnome could become a great many things, but the one thing in all creation he absolutely could not become was a morning person. Why, in all the nine hells, did the Abjurer demand such an early meeting? Buliri grumped and glared at the shimmering prismatic wall not far away.
"And what are YOU being so cheerful for?" he snarled at it in defiance of its bright and sparkling colors.
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Feb 24, 2015 14:55:20 GMT
Lord Aebra Cheval was an early riser, up typically before the sun and well through most morning rituals by the time it rose. His strict schedule allowed him to make the most of each day, devoting one hour to getting out of bed, cleaned up and feeding both himself and his Familiar, and then spending the rest of the day on his life's work. Today was like any other, and so when Maestro Buliri came stumbling out into the open pavilion, the Abjurer had already been to work for at least two hours; he waltzed up behind the hulking troll, staff in hand, and regarded the creature with curiosity.
"I wonder," he commented to a serpentine figure creeping up the length of his staff, resting its head on the jeweled crown to inspect their visitor. "do you hope the Wall might respond, Maestro? Ha, and good morning to you. I would say you look well, but if the smell is any indication, you had little sleep last night and mask your presence not for silly jokes but to hide the hangover."
Clapping the troll's thick, heavy skin on the back, Lord Aebra stepped forward and ran a delicate hand down the multicolored wall; it rippled in response, the surrounding colors brightening and solidifying at his touch.
"You made it before Lord Brass, though, so I shall offer that as compliment. Let's get straight to work, shall we? Our job will be to go to the Palace this afternoon, and erect a barrier fit for the Empress. She has insisted we do not duplicate the effects of our Prismatic Wall, as it would take away from the majestic architecture--the Emperor designed it himself, and so we will honor that request.
"The problem I'm faced with now is, do we go strictly with a wall of Force, then? It isn't as powerful as our barrier...and then I think, what about actual walls. If the legend of the Imperial Floating Fortress is true, that will just trap those we are trying to protect.
"Until then, we're going to strengthen these defenses while we think on it."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Feb 25, 2015 5:11:36 GMT
The supposed Troll Maestro grumbled the second Aebra started talking. He stood only a little over the man's height thanks to this disguise, but that did little to improve his disposition. He took the pat on the back but had little pleasantries to spare this morning.
"And what's so good about it?" he mumbled, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun above. "Damn bright out and everyone's so cheery. I'd rather lock myself up all alone today if we didn't have this business to deal with. You can trust that Dukey-boy is off sleeping HIS worries away while I diligently haul my beautiful countenance out here just to satisfy your damn obsession with mornings..." he griped.
Buliri listened to Aebra's outline with only half-interest, his mind more concerned with crawling back to bed at the earliest possible moment. He was trying to conceive ways to make it LOOK like he did more work than he actually did so he could actually skip out as quickly as able. When Aebra mentioned the design of the palace and how a prismatic wall would just RUIN the aesthetic, Buliri had to pause for a hearty rolling of the eyes.
"We couldn't make that palace any uglier if we bombarded it with acid splashes and hired an abstract artist to paint it with mud. We'd be doing it a massive favor if we just erected a massive metal dome over the thing and spared the world the eyesore..." Buliri offered. With a sigh, he continued before Aebra could scold him for his views on following the royalty's orders.
"Bah, but if they MUST choose form over function, then why not just slap up an invisibility spell on whatever we put in place? Maybe have some wards up so that citizens could pass through harmlessly but everything and every ONE else gets a fatal blast of something nasty? That'd keep it good and secure!"
Buliri then stepped forward, pulling his hand from his eyes in order to place his palm against the shimmering wall in front of him, offering up some power to fortify the pieces of magic he was responsible for. At least while they were standing there he could be doing something productive so he didn't feel this was a COMPLETE waste of his time getting up so early after a night of frivolity in town.
"As for the Imperial Flying Fart... Like we couldn't rip through it like crap through toilet paper anyway. C'mon, we're the most powerful magical beings in the whole wide world and that's INCLUDING those laze-about, wishy-washy, neutral-loving slouches over in Namorn. Once the Cannon gets done doing whatever it is he's off doing this week and Caria figures out which way is the exit out of whatever pocket dimension she's flipping around in NOW, we'll literally have every known denomination of magic on hand to combat anything they could throw at us. I think this whole wall nonsense is just paranoia incarnate, if you ask me..."
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Post by Lord Rail on Feb 25, 2015 23:33:56 GMT
"Paranoia Incarnate, I think not," came the voice of exasperation, flying on the winds picked up by the shimmering Wall, floating about the Wizards as they offered their energies; it was from the shadows on the ground made from the ever-moving patterns Lord Rail emerged, seemingly rising from an invisible pool of water.
With his scythe and poise he looked regal, although his expression faded far from that image, taking on the frightened gaze of a madman. He was covered in ashen dust, from bits of the building that had settled against his movements, and it appeared as if he hadn't slept a wink.
But then again no one was sure the man slept, anyway. He had no bedroom accommodations in either his home college or the Rainbow Tower.
He strode forward with hesitation, his deep eyes imploring the others to hear him out. He wasn't even shocked at the Mad Maestro's disguise--he had little time for games right now.
Plucking a vial from his belt, one of the many samples collected at the broken tavern, he presented it like a precious jewel, indicating this was all that remained of their former colleague. Recounting the tale, he couldn't hide the quavering lip or his emotional state, but he cared little to.
"Her room--no, their room...her murderers' room was a mess, just like the bar. It is magic I haven't encountered before, at least not in person, so I won't speculate. But the "M"s...these people were agents of a wicked goddess, and killing Caria can only be a message.
"Their Queen will rise. I haven't spoken to any of the others, I just returned from home to deliver a few vials. I, I really am at quite a loss right now.
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Feb 26, 2015 5:28:32 GMT
"JUMPIN' JACKRABBITS!!!" yowled the Maestro when Rail appeared, nearly jumping out of his false skin when Rail made his sudden and unannounced appearance. The troll spun on the spot, gripping his chest and pointing out a finger. "See? SEE?? THIS is the reason I don't like necromancy!!!" he spat, fuming that once again he found himself snuck up on by the master of death magic himself. He was about to elaborate on a few choice curses he'd picked out just for the scythe-wielding psycho but fell silent as the horrorstricken man explained what had happened.
Buliri was still throughout the horror story, noting the look on the man's face and the quiver in his voice. Was this really so horrifying that the Grand Necromancer himself could be so thoroughly shaken? It really was disconcerting, but still certain elements didn't line up.
"Wait, let's take a few minutes to stop and think here..." Buliri grumbled as he moved between the Abjurer and the Necromancer, his trollish face contorted in thought as he gestured and spoke at once. "What do you mean her SOUL was missing? If someone's DEAD, their essence has to go SOMEWHERE. That's magic 101! You must not have been looking hard enough, maybe got squeamish when you saw the crime scene. Speaking of..."
Buliri looked Rale right in the eyes, a truly BALLSY move considering this was a guy you did NOT want to upset. Not with that scythe in hand, anyway. "What were you even DOING there in the first place??" Buliri demanded bluntly, not exactly sure what on earth would draw the Necromancer to such an isolated and out of the way place. It couldn't have been Caria whom he said "didn't even exist" any more. And how would he even know to look there anyway? It was fishy.
"And these M's? I'm getting sick of hearing about them. Obviously, SOMEONE is trying some kind of fear tactic on us. Trying to psyche us out, make us scared. It ISN'T going to work. What proof do we even have that this Midnight creature even exists, anyway? Have you seen even ONE temple to her, anywhere, ever? No! It's a fairy tale, nothing more."
Buliri crossed his arms in assertion of his point. Still, even he wasn't 100% sure of it. The one thing he did feel sure of though was that this M that kept appearing was getting to be too frequent for his liking...
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Feb 26, 2015 20:03:52 GMT
Aebra took Buliri's side in this line of questioning. Rail was a suspicious character, and now here he was, back from some strange visit, laying claim to a terrible duscovery; it just wasn't right, nor did it even add up. The man rubbed his left temple and sat down on a leisure bench nearby. He wavered focus between the troll and Necromancer, fearing the two would fly into a fit of fisticuffs soon.
"Lord Rail, are you positive this is Caria's blood?" He asked, running the vial about between his fingers a moment. "And that she's truly dead? I hurt for context, my friend, and am as curious as our Illusionist as to what dragged you to such a dump in the first place."
It wasn't that he didn't trust Rail, Aebra found it hard to take anything at face-value, from the Necromancer or anyone else. He didn't want to think his colleagues were capable of betrayal, let alone murder, and so unlike his predecessor allowed for a benefit of the doubt. Rail would explain, before Madame Damara was asked to pry.
"Also, Maestro...I doubt this is a prank."
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Post by Lord Rail on Feb 26, 2015 20:17:34 GMT
"How I wish I were capable of even a practical joke," Rail said honestly, a pain in his voice that begged to remain focused, without quarreling over the significance of a damned letter. Raising the skeletal hand to silence Buliri's next bout of what he presumed would be some form of insult, Rail allowed himself a chance to breathe before coming clean. He couldn't be direct of his...secondary career, but he could admit bits and pieces, see if the conclusion came about on its own.
"Firstly, as I said it was a magic I've never encountered in person...and if that mess was caused by what I think it was, her soul no longer exists...
"As to how I'm positive, without a doubt it was Caria...I am connected, to each and every one of you. I attached life lines to the whole lot so that I might come to the aid of whomever may need me. I felt her life waning...and fled the safety of my tower to witness her situation myself. The scene I happened upon was the only evidence of her destruction. That is all I can say. I couldn't rely on anyone else locating her this time, for fear it would be too late...it turns out my luck is no better."
And just like that, his other presence congratulated him on severing any connections between him and Death, the false story of life lines beginning to weave about and complicate, so he could perpetuate the tale until it was no longer necessary.
"And it isn't a coincidence the "M" appears wherever we turn now. I don't believe Madame Damara's prophecy was any accident at all. My theory is...it was planned, and though I don't know the culprit, I believe Midnight added that part in herself. Creation knows a war is coming...and I found out first casualty.
"I think we should pull Baron Asmodan out of his research...investigating is going to grow much more difficult with the Shadow's agents hot on our tail. We don't need him making any mistakes with the Wizardry if he finds them."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Feb 26, 2015 23:41:15 GMT
"Well, don't I just feel so much more snug and secure knowing that Ghost Hands McGee here is watching over me?" Buliri grumbled sarcastically. He spared a glance over his form, almost as though he thought he could actually SEE the lifeline though he knew better. He looked to Aebra for support on his next point. "I don't recall agreeing to THAT! Do you recall agreeing to it, Lord Aebra? Just handing over our privacy and best secrets to the spookiest member of our entire ensemble? Lord Rail, I am NOT comfortable with that at all..."
The troll huffed and started to fidget about somewhat, his thoughts going back to the tavern last night. Luckily, this man was busy elsewhere with more horrifying issues but what if he hadn't been? Would he have known what the Maestro and Duke were planning? That was not a good thought and he very much hoped that Aebra would take his side on the matter and see to it that these "life lines" were cut immediately.
Now openly pacing as he tried to think, the mad Maestro addressed other concerns. "What kind of magic could possibly destroy a soul utterly? I've certainly never heard of anything capable of that level of destruction. And if we're going to just go and assume some dark goddess older than even our own religions IS involved... so what? Isn't she safely held behind the veil? Isn't there something about Gods and Goddesses being unable to interfere? Any so-called 'followers' of hers are just fanatics and extremists. We can handle that, right?"
Buliri stopped and produced a pipe from his robes. He lit his finger and puffed lightly, setting the opium ablaze and the smoke flowing. He turned and pointed his pipe to Lord Rail as he spoke. "Do you even know where the Cannon is?" he asked, a heavy eyebrow lifted over his shockingly blue troll eyes. "What about you, Lord Aebra? Last I heard, the man was deep undercover, using magic to cover his presence so he could pass invisible to detections even we developed. Where the heck was he last? Hell, for all we know, this M could actually mean MORDOCK, couldn't it?" he said with a slight joke at the end. Yeah right, Mordock... and he was a fluffy kitten.
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Post by Lord Rail on Feb 27, 2015 15:27:51 GMT
Of all the people to complain, the Necromancer would have guessed the Mad Maestro would come last; the "life lines" he fabricated should pose very little worry...
"Maestro," he started, forming the words before they spewed out of their own volition, taking care to say it just right. "They are just life lines, connected so I can feel your life, know you are still alive and well--this isn't a tool for implementing spying divination. I do not have the skills to produce such a thing in the first place, as you know. This wasn't an effort to know how you enjoy your downtime. I simply meant to protect my colleagues where I otherwise failed the last time..."
How shameful, he thought, using Zaestria's death to provoke guilt and reinforce his lie. The Necromancer dropped his head and offered to "sever" the lines, but was cut off as Buliri continued. Unlike the other Mages, Maestro was self-serving for the most part, and would see to his safety above all else. So naturally he'd doubt the coming storm.
"Most certainly, so long as it's just cultists we're up against...but we face difficulties like that constantly in Adel, Maestro. The Syl Cultists there have been at their little rebellion for twelve years. Even without the real Midnight's involvement a new group of fanatics could have far better luck. I favor our odds, of course, but please don't dismiss the potential threat of a true resurrection of the Divine.
"They killed Caria, gentlemen. Caria the Conjurer--Master Summoner and Planestrider. The only known Magician capable of--" was he really about to tell them? "...capable of calling a god or deific spirit to the Material Plane, into a host body or one of their own. Friends, we could be dealing with cultists who have engineered their own Avatar...or worse, a living, breathing Goddess."
He squeezed his dead hand into a fist, dread rising in his chest and a lump growing in his throat; he couldn't tell if he might be sick, or if he was mortified the secret may come out. Regardless, he hoped the others wouldn't pry too deep. Quickly, he caught on to the final topic and held on for dear life.
"I think we should just wait to worry, and retrieve Mordock before it is too late. I doubt he would have ever told me his destination, even if I dared to ask. The man despises me, as you know. And he is of true Mage's blood, like Lord Brass and Lady Tangier...a Sorcerer, proud and arrogant. He won't come back without some hard evidence or a benefit to him, especially if he's too deep undercover. What would you propose?"
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Mar 1, 2015 6:33:38 GMT
Buliri grumbled slightly. He still REALLY disliked the idea of these lifelines, mostly because he didn't want any good pranks ruined should he ever choose to falsify his own death for spits and giggles. Even knowing they weren't useful for spy purposes, he wasn't wild about it. Good thing for him it was merely a cover up for Rail's real work, but he did not know that just yet. He instead listened to what else the Necromancer had to say and cut the other man among them a quick look.
"He raises a valid point..." the Maestro admitted, his mood as ever-changing as his appearance. He hadn't considered the fact that Caria, for as batshit crazy as she had been as of late, was still an immensely powerful woman. To think that ANYONE could just up and kill any of them was a worry unto itself, which was a matter he wanted addressed. "Are we SURE she's dead, though? How do we know that she didn't figure a way to snap your little lifelines herself or someone else figured it out for her? Hell, she plane-skips more often than I do, could that have done it? I'm not entirely convinced she's not wondering Mechanus looking for the time or stumbling around blind in the plane of shadow. I want solid PROOF before I go flying off the handle. I am a master of illusion after all, and know better than to take ANYTHING at face value..."
He eyed Rail when he said that. He still didn't 100% trust the man. He was damn creepy for one.
"And what about Baron poofypants, huh? Isn't he under YOUR orders to look into that waterspout mess, Aebra? Don't you have some kind of super-secret handshake or something to pull him out in case of an emergency? Or maybe HE'S been taken captive by the Wizardry already! Woooo"
Buliri let out a laugh, the first of the day. "Tell me you aren't loving the idea of the cannon blasting a hole clean through the side of their fabled fortress just so he can get here and go on the way he does about gnomes trying to steal his socks!"
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Mar 1, 2015 20:08:23 GMT
"I hardly think it is so simple," intoned the Abjurer, discontent washing over his face like a thin veil, a disconcerting image for the Shield to display. He sighed heavily and adjusted himself on the bench some, before addressing the others with dread in his voice.
"Giving him something to do--it was really his idea, his interest, yes. I sent him to do this research, but i hadn't expected him to conceal his movements from even us. Madame Damara couldn't even locate him, and so I wouldn't quite know where to begin the search. I would have hoped you could find him, Rail...this 'life line' experiment doesn't even work on him?"
His hands came up and covered his face, stress building and sweat forming on his brow.
"Midnight, Imperial Wizards...it's a party of powerful forces. Now all we need is for Lord Biru to come back to life...."
His sarcasm aside, the man was flushed, uncertain his power would hold against the might of a Goddess...he glanced up to Buliri. "Your spies haven't been following Lord Asmodan?"
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Mar 2, 2015 0:03:31 GMT
"A little hard to follow a man who makes himself unseeable even by US..." Buliri grumbled, knowing that his spies had long since lost the trail of the old paranoid jerk. He wasn't sure if he was more upset with them for their failure or with Aebra for knowing he even had spies right now. He'd have to make sure to correct their sloppy work when he returned to his own college tower. Quirking a brow, the Maestro considered the look on Aebra's face.
He had NEVER seen the master of shields so drawn and flushed. Knowing almost nothing of Midnight, the disguised gnome was only just now beginning to see a reason to worry. Usually, this man was the most stoic among them all, showing himself strong and capable at all times. Now? Not so much. This did bode well for Buliri's plans for the future, but it also pointed out the need to carefully watch events beyond their current need for an Archmage.
Buliri turned his large, troll head to consider Rail once again. Necromancer and Abjurer, equally unnerved. It looked like Buliri would have to be the voice of reason in THIS odd assemblage. Lifting his large hands into view, he gestured for them both to settle down.
"Now, now... If the two of you are really so fussed up, why don't we do this? When the Brass Duke gets here, we'll share our concerns with the man and see if he'll consent to putting together some additional forces to keep an eye on things, hm? One or two of his constructs keeping guard over the gates of any palace renders the place nearly unbreakable, as he likes to boast. He could also send a few of his little flying gizmos to scan the air for any sign of our wayward cannon. We also have our darkly-robed friend currently interviewing the shapely sky pirate, do we not? Plus, our dear master diviner is a mere message away, should we have need. Between her, the Duke, and the boy, do we not have this matter covered? We have the potential to have eyes literally everywhere on this planet, so why don't we simply employ our resources wisely?" asked Buliri, demonstrating a level of sense he did not often show.
The truth of the matter was a little darker than that, however. If this suggestion went over well, it put him in a MUCH better position for his network of spies and assassins. Doubtless, when the Duke came by later, he'd immediately pick up on the scheme and act accordingly.
Eyes everywhere. Who wouldn't want a piece of that?
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Post by Lord Rail on Mar 2, 2015 3:29:50 GMT
Lord Rail considered this, and by the look on the Abjurer's face, he was too. For a moment there was clarity in his wisdom, and the Necromancer nearly collapsed in shock. For the first time he smiled, though it was shallow; even he feared his face might crack if he smiled too hard.
"I don't necessarily wish to have a golem keeping my students locked away should the Duke wish to go on a binge or something," he admitted. "He is our ally, but I don't trust his fragile mind so much anymore, like our late friend Caria. It has been six years since...Imogen's passing, and he seems to doze off rather often daydreaming about posdibilities--his sanity is in question. But if I'm outvoted, so be it. I will politely decline his offer. If I must, I shall requisition the Board in reclaiming a surplus of the condemned at Lord Aebra's tower and reanimate them for security."
It wasn't meant to come off as an affront to the Brass Duke, he reassured the troll-gnome with his eyes, the Necromancer just couldn't put full trust in a fellow wizard who once stomped about on villages with his castle. In wartime, all was fair, but there was a mad flair that made even Death's avatar queasy.
"Does he have floating sentries? What if we petition the Namorans for at least a dozen Judgemasters? In combat they are capable of evening the playing field."
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Mar 2, 2015 14:28:53 GMT
"Last I knew, he did," Aebra said at one point, brushing off his forehead with a multicolored kerchief; his features seemed to be returning to normal, colors darkening once more. He listened to the birds in this early morning buzz, and that seemed to calm his nerves the rest of the way. Smiling, he glanced up at the sky and pointed to the Sun.
"Personally--and I know I may receive a great deal of grief for this, but--why not get in contact with Prince Clovis Julian Apollo?"
He knew it was a stretch, an outrageous question even the Duke wouldn't ask normally. Lord Cheval, however, grew desperate. "That racist bastard has some of the most skilled Witch Hunters on the Continent at his beck-and-call...not to mention the boy is half-fey; his interests collide with the Mother of Night, who is most likely working in concert with the Imperial Wizardry. What better place for Her to set up shop than Paradise--Zydrate is a land of decadence and wicked intent, masked beneath their Church of Creation. I know for a fact the boy has made verbal pacts in the night with Kcali, Mistress of Bloodshed, and has offered her idols sanctuary within their temple.
"What I'm trying to say is, we should inform Zydrate. Perhaps if we can coax the young Prince into starting up another Inquisition, secretly on our behalf and showing the Mother of Night just how much of a devil he truly is, perhaps she will flock to and attempt to groom him. This way at least we shall have eyes and a fighting chance against the Imperial Wizards. Nothing is more vile than arcane magic and the 'abominations' who use it to bend the world, as he says. We're enemies to him, but even I think he'd elect to take out the worse of two evils first."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Mar 3, 2015 5:30:52 GMT
Buliri was a little taken aback by his fellow mages. He knew that Rail and Brass weren't always ones to see things completely eye-to-eye, but he never suspected the necromancer of believing the Duke mentally incompetent. That was an eye-opening little statement from HIM. Lord Aebra proved equally shocking with his suggestion to clue in a madman in another country of what was going on. Hell, they didn't have any real information to give just yet, just speculation and hearsay, and let's face facts - Prince Crazy Pants wasn't exactly Avalendor's number one fan.
"That sounds a bit EXTREME, doesn't it?" chuckled the Maestro as he glanced to Rail's face to see what he thought of such a radical idea. "Sure, he's got no love of spellcasters, but that does sort of INCLUDE us, doesn't it? Can we even trust him not to try and kill two birds with one stone should he find some advantage in our freaking out over what could basically prove to be nothing? I think it's wiser that we keep him on the back-burner until we've got some concrete evidence to support our theories, maybe keep that plan as a backup in case we need to try and TRAP a goddess, but we can't have him trying to freak us out if it turns out this all the work of one particularly clever terrorist trying to sow seeds of confusion and doubt. We also have the prophecy to consider as much as I hate to bring it up..."
Buliri looked between them, wondering if they knew to which passage he referred, but eventually said so himself anyway. "Seven will battle across the lands? Seems pretty clear-cut that this thing, whatever it is, is gonna try to sucker us into a conflict so huge it encompasses more than one nation. So, I'll ask again. Are we just playing into our enemies' hands if we go asking for help from all the wrong people?"
The Maestro puffed on his pipe a bit, trying to clear his thoughts a bit. He reflected on his suggestion to get the warforged posted at the doors of each college and how quickly THAT got shut down. "Sweet mother of Creation..." Buliri whispered dramatically after a particularly deep puff, his eyes widening as though he saw something in the smoke (which was bull, but everyone assumed he used the opium to see the future, so why not). He looked to the others and pointed the pipe at them. "What if it's not just one plane we're talking about here? What if we pull in the judgemasters and something goes tits-up in Mechanus? 'Across the lands' might mean THE lands, all of them. Like, the whole shebang."
He realized he may be grasping at straws there, but he REALLY wanted to discourage getting a neutral party involved. He couldn't trust a judgemaster as far as he could throw one while transformed as a two-year-old halfling girl. He wanted eyes he could predict on deck. At least the sky drone suggestion went over well.
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