A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "Your name has reached my ears, moon child. Is it true you seek an audience with me?"

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "Hmm, perhaps you do not, after all. Was I mistaken?"

You ask with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "M'Lady?"

A chuckle echoes, hollow like reeds in the marsh.

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "You may not know who I am."

You have emoted: Xae pauses her searching, briefly glancing around the room.

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "You may never know who I am, but I know of you."

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "Speak aloud, child. Your voice will traverse the
distance."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Oh, I happened to miss what you said previously. I perhaps seek you out. Will I get an answer if I ask who you are?"

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "Word whispered that you needed something from me, is this still the case?"

You have emoted: Xae traces her fingers along one of the bookcases, pacing about back and forth slowly as she contemplates her answer.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "That it is."

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "I do not treat with many, past lessons have written indelibly. An offering will be required, a gift of faith on your part. I shall send the fire-born to you."

You ask with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Anything in particular? Or will I find out from said fire-born?"

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "I have no need of coin, or jewels, wealth comes and goes like water for us all, but there is merit to be had in something treasured to the person. He may be able to help you further."

Tinker Drucker strides in the from the south.
You have emoted: Xae blinks, then waves.

Tinker Drucker says, "Bloody Gods, she's had me running all over this month."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "And who is it, if I may ask?"

Tinker Drucker lifts a hand in greeting as he mops his brow with a grubby handkerchief.

Tinker Drucker sucks thoughtfully on his teeth.

Tinker Drucker says, "Whoever she wants to be, tell the truth, I'm not sure if I know myself."

You wave your hand dismissively.

You look thoughtful and say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Interesting."

Tinker Drucker says, "But she's straight even for one of her sort, never welches on a bet or bargain."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I don't doubt that. I'm curious about the offering she spoke of. May I have a little insight as to what she seeks, in specific, for my faith?"

Tinker Drucker says, "'You're needed in the library where the tea is sold, over in new Hashan,' is all she told me, but you're the second this month."

Tinker Drucker says, "Last offering was a gift, something of worth to the giver."

You ask with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "The first?"

Tinker Drucker says, "Something that has meaning to your life, these things are more valuable than sovereigns, she says."

Tinker Drucker says, "Perhaps you have something you've made that you're proud of, or a token that carries a treasured memory?"

Xae looks about her person, pondering herself for a few moments. She then reaches for her pack and digs through it.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "A few things, just trying to narrow it."

You take a pendant resembling Lord Hermes' golden caduceus from a bag of stasis.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "A pendant of remembrance I created for the late Lord Hermes, for I was of His Order."

Tinker Drucker says, "That's a pretty piece, for sure."

Tinker Drucker says, "Will you be heartbroken without it, or will you make a gift of it?"

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "A gift of it, though it will ache my heart but slightly."

A dry voice whispers like rushes in your mind, "Hold tight to yourself then, I would not like to lose you now that offering has been promised."

The whistle of wind through dried grasses envelops you as you are summoned away.

A calm circle within the grassy ocean.
The bright sun shines down, blanketing you with its life-giving warmth. Caely sits contented and cross-legged in the grass, idly twisting one of her bracelets.

Caely says, "You bring a rather fetid scent with you, I take it you do not enjoy the warm decay of the southern jungles?"

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I am not fond of it, no."

look caely
A little plump, but dressed to conceal it, Caely has worked to make herself as unremarkable as possible. Her flame-red dreadlocks are pulled tightly back into a ponytail, and her curves are clad in functional clothing. A green tunic matches the mossy colour of her eyes, while plain brown breeches fit into slouching, flat-soled boots. Around her neck and wrists clack numerous charms, eerie shapes in bone, wood, and metal all strung on simple knotted cords.
 Caely is quite powerful.
She weighs about 120 pounds.
You see nothing in it.

Caely says, "Decay will take us all, tall or short, hardy or frail, it is simply life. But you needn't bear the brunt of that which is already dust, and long before your time."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "That it will."

Caely says, "My ears out there shared word of your gift. Shall we dispense with that, and then we can see about the problem?"

You give a pendant resembling Lord Hermes' golden caduceus to Caely.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "A pendant I had made in remembrance of the late Lord Hermes."

Caely twists and turns the caduceus before hanging it by the cord to admire in the evening sunshine.

Caely says, "It's beautiful, Xae, and made by your hand, I will treasure this."

You smile and say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "My first Order, my true Order. And thank you, may it serve you well."

Caely says, "Now sit, tell me of your problems and what you would have me do?"

Caely says, "I have heard whispers, but best to hear from yourself."

You have emoted: Xae ponders a quick moment, collecting her thoughts.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "The choker I bought from Tinker."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "It is a beautiful piece, despite its decay, though is cursed. As is the ring and the music box. I've not heard from the others that were sold."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Tell me, is there a way to rid of said curse? And perhaps the rot?"

Caely says, "Certainly, it is but an echo of power long past. I had a chance to examine the ring some days ago."

Caely says, "Items of personal worth, these bear attachments to the owner, to give them up creates an ache within the breast as I believe you know."

You say in a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "That I do."

Caely says, "Some, if the attachment runs deep enough, will absorb a mite of what goes on around them."

Caely says, "It is not necessarily some malevolent force, or revenge seeking spirit, but a shadow of what has gone before."

Caely says, "If it is similar to the ring, a little of the old magic has bound itself to your choker."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "That makes a lot of sense."

Caely says, "People do love to jump to paranoid conclusions, the 'Teth returning, some enemy God's wrought trick."

Caely says, "Sometimes things are simply unfortunate."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Aye, a lot of people are calling it, and the the people who've purchased the items, 'cursed'."

Caely says, "Takes more than an accidental ghost to trip the likes of me."

Caely says, "I can give you a choice, because of what interest is life without choices?"

Caely says, "The rot you wish to excise is writ in death, it has taken life to bind it so."

Caely says, "If you wish to preserve the vessel, life you must give. Else, I can break both, and you can carry on forwards into the normal decline of your own life without further care."

You have emoted: Xae places her hands behind her, leaning back onto her arms as she looks up towards the sky.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "The vessel, meaning the choker?"

Caely says, "Indeed, child."

Caely smiles gently.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Will it still burden me with its afflictions?"

Caely says, "I will do my utmost to see that it is simply a choker."

You look thoughtful and say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I doubt my life is with the three-hundred thousand I spent on the lovely piece, but a part of me has grown close to it. Merely as it is part of history."

Caely says, "On one hand is an unbinding, where I need the life to counteract the death, it will unwork the old echoes from the piece. The other hand is simply destruction wrought, and the worry gone too."

Caely says, "You came here under an act of faith, Xae, gave a gift to show your intent. I would not take your life without it being given freely now, t'would be against all the rules of hospitality."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I will go with the first option, giving life."

Caely's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.

Caely says, "A brave one as well as generous."

Caely says, "To continue then, we will need certain items. An item to unweave, a salve to clear the senses, and a clump of amar moss."

You nod your head carefully.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Yes ma'am."

Caely says, "Is there anything you wish to ask before I send you back?"

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Any particular item that can be unwoven?"

Caely says, "It is the act of unravelling that is important, any woven cloth will serve."

You smile and say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "As I thought."

You nod your head emphatically.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I won't take long to gather the items, I assure you. As for Tinker?"

Caely says, "I think he's enjoying tea."

Caely says, "He'll wait there, if he knows what is good for him."
Caely says, "Stand my dear, I shall whistle up a wind once more, and see you again soon."

You stand up.

Caely says, "Don't forget the choker itself, we will be needing that."

The whistle of wind through dried grasses envelops you as you are summoned away.
You wave your hand in greeting to Tinker Drucker.

Tinker Drucker says, "Back quick, and all in one piece. That's a good sign, lass."
You have emoted: Xae sighs with relief.

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "That it is."

Tinker Drucker says, "I'll be here, for when you have need."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Quick question."

You say with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "I know there's lumic moss and moss that forestals gather. Is amar moss the same as the latter?"

Tinker Drucker says, "Ohoh, she wants amar moss?"

Tinker Drucker says, "That's scarce been heard of since old Seleucar times."
(moment of talking with Melodie and housemates about where it's at, runs off, gets it, gets everything else)

Tinker Drucker says, "The moss, the choker, the salve, and something to unweave she said?"

You nod your head emphathetically.

(gets portaled)
Caely says, "Wonderful, wonderful. Seat yourself across from me, and we can start."
You sit down.

Caely says, "Place the items between us, the choker, well, it had best stay gracing your neck, removal might prove messy."

(sets down epidermal, amar moss, spool of cloth)

Caely unravels the cloth, knots the mass of threads into a strange, makeshift cup shape and prepares it just so before herself. "Sing with me, entropy-plagued, it'll take us both to accomplish this."

Caely sings, "From squalling birth to screaming death."

You sing with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "From squalling birth to screaming death."

Caely crumbles the moss into the knotted vessel, and pours the epidermal over the top, with a swirl the two mix into a golden liquid.

Caely sings, "Life spans ever inbetween."
You sing with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Life spans ever inbetween."

Caely dips two fingers into the mixture and leans across the grass to daub it thickly across the crumbling lace of your choker.

Caely sings, "Decay's stench, it stifles the breath."
You sing with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Decay's stench, it stifles the breath."

You struggle to catch your breath as you sing along.

Caely sings, "Sickly sweet, we reel at the unseen.
You sing with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Sickly sweet, we reel at the unseen."

Your eyes bulge as your throat constricts, pain arcing through your heaving chest as your lungs futilely work, desperate for breath.

Caely sings, "Breathless lungs, take this ill."
You sing with a faint Tsol'dasi accent, "Breathless lungs, take this ill."

The mixture atop the choker dries solid and tight, entirely cutting off your air. As you clutch at your neck, the world turns to black, conciousness slipping away.

Caely sings, "The choice is ever ours, to make as we will."
You have been slain by Caely.

Caely says, "You may walk the halls, my dear. Our business is concluded."