Keen Eyes of the Blind

[18:41] A sigh of relief, as the creature also yields for the time being. Adar's passive behavior wouldn't quite reach the point of aloofness, instead remaining alert to any particular shifts in it's demeanor that would warrant a swift escape or any particular counter measures. As evidence of the apparent truce, the antique sextant remained posed where it had fallen.

Regardless of such, he'd advance towards the tree itself first. Going as far as to accomplish his initial goal of resting the nude palm of his hand against it's mossy surface, feeling around it. Blind eyes wide shut, meditatively, as he'd allow it to rest on top of it for a solid while.

He could've studied it instead, but the impulse to attempt to communicate with it struck further.

Eventually, with the slow passing of time, he'd turn on his heel to inspect the gnarled roots behind him. A slightly exorbitant look of his pale light-blue, impaired stare would be shot at the scaled vertebrate, so as to ask for permission.

All the while, his bandaged right hand would outstretch downwards to attempt to reveal the source of the peculiar music.

A brow is quirked before the appendage would reach it's destination.

May I?

In case no retaliation would be brought, Adar would rummage his hand in and seek the item out.
(Adar)
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[18:49] It's easier to inspect the foot of the tree when the threat of being bitten, squished, or eaten is less than it was before. There, beneath a layer of moss and encircled by the roots, is a strange circular dais. Under the layer of thin green, at the edge of the platform, one can barely make out a series of intricate runes.

In the very center of the platform is a raised mound that breaks the otherwise flat surface. An old, equally moss-covered hilt protrudes from it.

The serpent's head has, at some point, slithered up quietly behind Adar. Not in retaliation of any sort. It inquisitively peers over his shoulder, watching what he's doing. Occasionally a forked tongue flicks about his noggin.

Adar asks his silent question, and the winged snake's reply is more silence. His rummaging goes unimpeded by the Gatekeeper.

The Navigator's search leads his hand into the deeper recesses created by the tree's roots. They clasp around something cool and metallic that whirs and clicks- the source of the noise.

In his hand is a music box, old and Valmasian in make. Its parts have long since rusted, exposed to the elements, yet somehow it continues to sing its tune without so much as being cranked. A lively yet haunting waltz-like melody native to Britannia.
(Maca)
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[19:11] The runes immediately catch his eye. Feeling around their surface, he'd make an effort to recall logs and scribbles from navigators senior to his craft, who had made discoveries long before him. Reaching into his backpack to retrieve a certain logbook, he'd elegantly and swiftly scribble out the rough structure and inscriptions of the dais to the better of his abilities.

Then, peering at it's entirety with his heightened sixth sense, he'd make a collective guess to it's utility. A ritual throne? An ancient sun-dial? An arcane altar? These runes needed to be translated. He'd certainly try his best to do so from memory.

With the dome-like sense of perception awakened to it's full capacity, the scholar could clearly observe the serpent nearing his rear, deeming it's advance non hostile, and paying no mind to it's set of eyes or idle slithering of it's tongue. All the opposite, in fascination, a bandaged hand would wave over and carefully attempt graze the side of it's mouth in a passive caress before snapping back to it's task at hand.

The incessant clicking and functioning of the music box would be obsessively prodded for an instance. The melody was unnervingly familiar, tracing him as far back as to his upbringing in Dawn. Bleak memories, charmed by the loose bliss of nostalgia.

"What is keeping this working?" He'd carefully rotate it, seeking any sort of link to an outer source of power.

Then, without touching the rotating key that permanently spun without a wind-up, and eventually sharpening his sixth sense further, Adar made the effort to read deeper down into the vibrations of mana within it, as well as the clockwork-like motions that made it play.

A true riddle. Why was this here?
(Adar)
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[19:22] On further inspection, the dais is none of those things. As he feels along the surface, clearing some of the moss, Adar can more readily inspect the runes. Thanks to his unique expertise, the blindfolded magi can shed some light on their meaning where others might not.

These runes are not meant for a throne, or a sun-dial. Nothing of that sort. An arcane altar is the closest of his guesses, as some of the symbols relate directly to the flow of the lifestream and the hereafter.

No, these runes are unique to Wayfinding. To travel of some kind, though exactly where isn't certain.

The serpent doesn't balk at the Navigator's touch, still hovering. Passive yet curious. It wears the shape of a predator, true, but it is every bit a protector of this place for one reason or another.

On closer inspection, thanks to the blind magi's sort of sixth sense, he can feel a dense little kernel of mana within the music box. The source of power he seeks is not without it, but within. An unknown phenomenon of some kind has empowered it to keep churning out its tune far beyond natural means.

And, should he probe even further, the tree itself is obviously a great locus of power, equaling if not rivaling the kind exuded by spire shards themselves.

But just what is it all for?...
(Maca)
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[19:44] Reminiscing upon the training in recognizing glyphs and seals Adar had received from Adonis Lelhua several years prior, the construction in itself slowly eased into sense. A wayfinding beacon of sorts? Possibly. No, not even likely. This had to be a device related to lifestream point-to-point tunneling.

A sigh, as he'd lament not ever completing his training in the craft. To a degree, it would've been impossible to do so. Adonis had gone rogue, and secluded himself into hiding with Nym. Magdalen, after Lea's passing, had disappeared completely.

All he had was a sparse set of tools. Making use of the rune imbued dial would've likely meant a worthless effort.

A small current of magnetic magic makes two of it's retaining screws to spin off their hinges, allowing the cover of the box to come off altogether without stopping it's locomotive-like functioning.

In an attempt to seek out the dense kernel, he'd carefully tinker his way around the mechanisms. It wasn't a total disassembly, preserving such an antiquity seemed important, regardless of it's origin.

Whether retrieving or inspecting the source of power proved fruitful at all bared no relevance in his following suspicion.

"Is this where the peaks of energy came from? This very tree?" He'd breathe in, attempting to attune itself to the sparse readings of mana around him. In response, the vivid glow of the Virtue of Wisdom would flicker and dance to the beat of the arcane's vibrations.

"Or is the tree supposed to be the aftermath?" Something eerie about the atmosphere started to itch within him.
(Adar)
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[19:54] The dial itself is inert. It looks, for all intents and purposes, as if it ought to receive power from somewhere. Which, given the close proximity of the tree, it is strange it isn't powered at all. There is still a great deal hidden under the moss all around. Adar can 'see' impressions of his surroundings; it gives him a unique advantage where others might otherwise have to rely on their eyes in this dim lighting.

Around the edge of the platform somewhere wires run beneath the mossy and undergrowth and...into the tree? Is that possible? Logical? Even probable? The middle of it is still taken up by that great misshapen lump with the hilt of some kind of weapon protruding from it.

The blind magi can feel or sense the mana drawn down from the tree, towards the circle of stone, yet something is blocking the power somewhere along the way. It would require further inspection.

One thing the intrepid navigator will be able to tell for certain, however, is that the ophidian garden and the tree share core parts of their essence. Even all the forest around them seems to have a common signature of divine life energy.

Adar is able to open the little music box with some effort. The mechanisms are small and normally quite delicate, the whole contraption no larger than his palm. One of the center-most gears has become infused with the mana that powers it, energy condensed into it to keep the device running indefinitely.

Meanwhile the serpent has now rested his head on the ground adjacent to Adar. The slits of its eyes rove between him and the platform. Back and forth, to and fro.
(Maca)
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[20:32] Perhaps in a pushy whim upon having come this far, Adar carefully uses his skeletal fingers to remove the enhanced gear from the construction, likely prompting the music box to stop playing.

Then, turning on his heel, having come to the realization of the incomplete sequence at hand, he holds it carefully while regarding the chain of wires laid incomplete spread around the platform. Likely on the right path to figuring out the circuitry.

"A chain circuit. Where should this gear go?"

He'd pace around the area in analytical pondering, so as to figure out the ensemble required to make the platform operational. Could this be a portal to somewhere else? Right here, in the middle of the forest?

Adar's attention bolts from side to side, before settling once more in the lump and hilt.

With no apparent backlash from the construction itself or any of the trinkets obtained, giving it a pull would be worth something, right? Hands wrap themselves along the grip of the protruding hilt, then struggle in an attempt to remove it from the misshapen lump.

Bold, yet the passive demeanor of the serpent had offered as much headroom for experimentation.
(Adar)
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[20:41] The music box grinds to a halt when the mana-charged gear is remove. The last few tines of the mechanism plink, and the waltzing tune that filled the clearing now ends. Eerie silence fills the stillness instead.

The serpent doesn't offer much in the way of intrusion. It's a bystander, a water, though it does shift restlessly as Adar reaches for the hilt, which is small and fits all too easily in one of his slender hands. He pulls free...

A dagger. A sacrificial knife is easily slide from the misshapen lump beneath the moss. Once disturbed the entire pile shifts and the covering crumbles. The unmistakable outline of bones is revealed. Under the lush blanket is not one, but two skeletons embracing one another.

As the veil is pulled back, there's something else past it, towards the back of the platform. A few switches are carved into the metal there.

The watchful guardian moves again, once more alert. It looks to Adar questioningly. Again its eyes dart between him and the platform- more chiefly the freshly revealed switch- with a wordless query.
(Maca)
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[21:00] A heave, followed by a hum, as the obvious smell of dust and bone makes itself present. Corpses, mayhaps long past the phase of rot and degraded into pure calcium and phosphorus. An unfortunate sight to behold, as the deceased twine even in passing. Adar laments their fate, only managing to weave out vague theories on their demise on who they were, though nothing shy of pure speculation.

His face would pivot sideways to connect with the reptile's sight, seemingly puzzled in it's nature.

Without the dreamy music cushioning the soundscape, the ominous feeling had grown twice it's size, eventually droning the ambience into unpredictability. Made all the worse by the unraveling of the sacrificial knife and corpses.

Making haste is his labor, Adar paced towards the switches, making a rough analysis of his options. The dagger is stored away in the holster that would earlier conceal the sextant before continuing with his endeavor.

"This one?" He'd mouth, tracing a direct line between the scaled animal's cold gaze and the prominent lever. With the energy chain seemingly disrupted, would it function at all?

Adar pulls on said contraption.
(Adar)
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[21:08] The bones crumble, the two entwined corpses crumbling into dust that disperses on a sourceless breeze. In place of the music box, for just a moment, there is the sound of a soft sigh.

There's a nod from the serpentine guardian as Adar finally asks him directly a question.

As Adar pulls the lever, the furthest right on a set of three, the mechanism under his feet lurches and hums. What little moss is left can't conceal the obvious blue glow that begins to fill the runes one by one. The hum grows louder, louder still.

The air in front of the tree begins to warp and ripple, as if a child had thrown a stone into a pond. Space shimmers and twists and spreads out from a central pinprick. A small, pale azure dot spreads out like a tongue of flame-

Into a doorway, a portal, suspended right over the center tree's bark. The magi can feel an ethereal pull on his essence, as if it were beckoning to him.

Does he step within?...
(Maca)
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[21:24] The minimal focus of blue glow would soon startle and distort the space around them, effectively morphing into a vortex-like ripple. A gateway of sorts, leading into places unknown had been generated. For a small interval, he hesitates in jumping in. Instead waging his options and the risk.

A look of complicity is thrown towards the scaled guardian in serenity.

"Will you still be here when I return?" An open-ended question, in some regards. Returning felt like a strange concept to grasp around, considering the nature of the warp gate that had recently been generated.

A hand outstretched outwards hopelessly faces the direction from which the navigator had come. Concentratedly, Adar calls upon a magnetic surge of mana, seemingly to no avail. This is outside my gravity range.

Yet, in second nature, resonating with the tree's halo of transmundane properties, the sextant would suddenly fly out from it's resting position and land just within the confines of Adar's grip.

He blinks twice in confoundment, sliding the tool into one of his adjacent pockets all the while. What the hell was that?

Homework for another day.

The Keeper jumps in.
(Adar)