A Discussion of Secrets

An aslaran stomps in from the out.

Aryna searches the air in front of her, then tugs upon an invisible strand of force.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Right. Whats all this then, a secret group meeting?"

Aryna turns translucent and then vanishes, leaving behind a cloud of sparkling motes of light.

The Cave of Chaos.
The walls of the cave bulge inwards in violently cubic shapes, looking much like a sculpture gone horribly wrong, in which the artist decided all of the angles would be incredibly precise and likely quite capable of cutting through flesh as though it were butter. The walls at first appear as if they might actually have solid colour, although they seem to change when one views them out of the corner of their eyes, and are never the same colour when looked at twice, which creates rather confusing patches of random colours that change when not looked directly upon. The Seal of Chaos slowly spins in the air here, humming with latent power. Glistening resplendently, the Wheel of Tzaraziko towers here, ripe for the spin! A screech owl is here, surveying the surroundings. Folding her arms over her chest, a bellicose aslaran pilgrim looks off into the distance. Her fan held so as to cover her mouth, a bright-eyed, blushing young maiden is here. She is surrounded by a deflection bubble. Takhre is vainly preening their wings. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a mechanical parasol in their right hand.
You see a single exit leading out.

You blink incredulously at a bellicose aslaran pilgrim.

Scratching the side of her face, a bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Well don't everyone all look guilty at once. I didn't expect to be right about this. Okay, what kinda secret secrets we got here?"

An aslaran stands here, dressed in a swirling robe of cerulean and sandals that seem as though they have seen very little of the road. Her patterned black and gray fur seems overall well-kempt, however her mane is haphazardly pulled back and tied with a simple cord. A perpetual scowl sets her expression, as though she were trying to take umbrage with the world. She carries a worn backpack holding what little supplies she needs for her journey.
A bellicose aslaran pilgrim seems strong and confident.
She weighs about 175 pounds.
You cannot see what a bellicose aslaran pilgrim is holding.
It has the following aliases: pilgrim.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say to a bellicose aslaran pilgrim, "It's not particularly
secret, per se, it's just that the Wheel of Tzaraziko is an interesting point of focus at the moment- it's giving out gifts each weave to those adventurers who visit."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Oh! Is that all?"

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim's arms fall listlessly to her sides as she hangs her head and intones a
sad, disappointed "Drat."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Were... were you looking for a conspiracy to thwart?"

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Well, no, not exactly, I'm just trying to learn secrets. Everything
seems to be about secrets these days."

Noie arrives from the out.

Noie grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning. Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, landing on CURIOS as Noie stares intently.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Is that how you do it, then?"

Noie grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning. Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, rewarding Noie with a pack of one spectral trade curio.

Noie leaves to the out.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Mmhm. Spin the Wheel, take what it gives you. If you've the proper sort of coin to spend- not gold, never gold- you can try for different things if you don't like what it's set up for you the first time."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Huh. What kinda coin does it take. I got a permission slip, think it'll take that?"

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Coins made of a special type of iron. Though a
permission slip might well work- after all, this is the cave of Chaos, and expecting everything to be predictable in here would be a fool's errand. There's no harm in giving it a go. I've never known it to actually hurt anyone for trying."

You see the following people here:
Azula, Takhre, Tridemon.

Dripping water echoes in the distance.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim slaps a slip of slightly curled paper onto the side of the wheel, then
steps up to take a big heave at the edge. She grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, and... well, nothing happens. The Wheel doesn't even spin a little.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Hmmm..."

You shrug helplessly.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "I don't think that worked."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "How do I get one of these coin things?"

Aquamantic symbols suddenly project themselves upon the very air in dark blue light, fading after a brief moment.

It is now the 16th of Estar, 662 years after the Coming of Estarra.
Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Oh, they're weird. Sometimes they just kind of show up in your hands, or they can come from presents that the solstice gnomes give out. At one point, I'm fairly sure the coins were sold by the Wayfaire, but they stopped doing that a while back."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Or am I thinking of Jeremiah Gryphta?"

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "A grifter?"

The Mantle of Starlight shimmers and twinkles as the starlit darkness that it is formed of continues its eternal motion.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Ah, no. That's his name. At one point he ran a store full of artifacts which is... I think just up the mountain. Or is it down? Mm. Well, he's nearby,
anyway. That particular store has been closed for a while now. ... Never did find out what happened to that hairdresser, though I might have just missed the explanation..."

Azula grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, landing on A RANDOM ITEM as Azula stares intently.

Azula grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, rewarding Azula with a divinely wrapped present.

A soft breeze caresses your exposed skin, sending shivers through your body.

Azula grows still and her lips begin to move silently.

Sidereal Adjudicator, Azula Vivalde, Salvific Blade has left the realm of Lusternia.
Azula is enveloped in translucent fire for a moment and is gone, her soul safe until she returns to Lusternia.

Picking up her slip of paper off the ground, a bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "I see, I see. Well. If
there's no secrets to be found, I should keep going, while the getting is good, or whatever it is they say."

Takhre blinks.

Takhre glances askance at you.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Hmm... Jeremiah might have a coin or two left somewhere, if you want to ask him about it. I make no guarantees that he'll have anything left, or at reasonable prices... though, come to think of it, who's that permission slip from?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Yes, what exactly do you mean, permission slip?"

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim peers at you unscrupulously.

Takhre grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, landing on CURIOS as Takhre stares intently.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Why, I got it from your good sir King there."

Takhre mutters a curse under their breath.

Takhre grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

Takhre frowns at the Wheel of Tzaraziko.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, rewarding Takhre with a package containing five bookbinding curios.

Takhre shakes their head.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says to a bellicose aslaran pilgrim, "King Faragan of Celest? I doubt he has much reign beyond that shiny beach they call a city."

Slapping her leg, a bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Thats the one! Good ol' Faragan. He and I go way back, I tell you."

You ponder the situation.

Takhre raises an eyebrow questioningly.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "You will forgive my
disbelief."

You sweep your trained eye across the room for the hidden exits.
You spot no hidden exits.

You have recovered equilibrium.

The smell of decay assaults your nostrils.

The dome of darkness surrounding Magnagora glows with power, releasing clouds of black fumes into the air above.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Why exactly did he give you a permission slip? It sounds... unlike him, given our short interactions."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Secrets... well, if you want to know a secret, did you know that they used to sell bears in that Igasho enclave up in the mountains near Snow Valley?"

"Pish posh," says a bellicose aslaran pilgrim with a dismissive wave of her hand.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim gives a horrified gasp.

Takhre stares blankly at you.

Takhre curls their nose up and grimaces awfully.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Yeah? No kidding? How come they stopped?"

Aquamantic symbols suddenly project themselves upon the very air in dark blue light, fading after a brief moment.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Mm, a very long time ago, that was. No idea why they stopped, but my mother had three. Presumably still does. I think it had something to do with the debacle that forced the dracnari to teach the rest of us about beastmastery."

Dripping water echoes in the distance.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "The Keeper has told you a secret. Have you any to trade?"

Takhre stares implacably at a bellicose aslaran pilgrim.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Oh sure, sure, I'll tell you, I went to Serenwilde once you see,
because their boy, y'see, ahem, erm, Tyrus it was, Regent Tyrus I think, yep, he and I were also surely good friends and he gave me a permission slip to see secret stuff, and I'll tell you what, they wouldn't let me see a THING."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Know what that means? They're HIDIN' something."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim snaps her fingers.

With a curled lip, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "I can't believe this, but I
believe I will side with the Serenwilders."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "You must improve your trickery. It is unbecoming."

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Say what? I haven't got any trickery."

The smell of decay assaults your nostrils.

Rolling their eyes, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "If you are to have permission to 'see secret stuff', a permission slip does not change that. Tell them you have... a royal decree, or some sort of official report. Or go join that blasted Collective. They seem to get into plenty of secrets."


A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "But its signed and everything, I don't understand why my dear ol'"

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Ahem, dear 'ol pal Faragen would've given such a thing to me if it didn't mean exactly what it says."

Staring them dead in the eyes, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says to a bellicose
aslaran pilgrim, "Then let me see it."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim creases her brow in a frown.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "You're not gonna give it back."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "I have no need for it. The Wyrd has many secrets."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Well, there are secrets, and then there are SECRETS, you know? Some conspiracies get done under the nose of the people who are in charge, and they never suspect a thing."

Takhre glances askance at you.

Takhre lifts a dainty hand to their neckline, glancing about with uncertain disdain.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Well I'll tell you what, I'll let you see my permission slip if you
give me something of yours to hold on to. What do they call that, a surety?"

The Domotheos of Justice emerges from its dormant phase.

Takhre narrows their eyes at a bellicose aslaran pilgrim in an unnerving manner.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Fine. If you do not return it to me, however, I will eat your eyes. Such is the price of secrets."

Takhre gives a glowing pipe to a bellicose aslaran pilgrim.

Takhre holds their hand out expectantly.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim gives a slip of slightly curled paper to Takhre.

A ceramic deathwatch beetle skitters in from the out, clicking ominously.
A bizarre, black crow enters from the out, flapping his shadowy wings.

Skaza grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "There, y'see. I think you'll find all of that in order."

Skaza chitters to herself with speedy movement of her mandibles.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, landing on CURIOS as Skaza stares intently.

Her compound eyes fixated on a bellicose aslaran pilgrim, Skaza's mandibles twitch to voice a brief, curious chirr.

Skaza grasps the edge of the Wheel of Tzaraziko before giving it a heavy push, sending it spinning.
Slow at first, the wheel begins to spin faster and faster, the air about it warping in a wild array of
colours as it becomes impossible to watch.

The Wheel of Tzaraziko crackles with a brilliant display of colours, rewarding Skaza with a pack of 50 jewellery curios.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "My personal suggestion would be to do something like… apply to be an assistant librarian somewhere. Or a sanitation worker. No one pays attention to someone clearing out rats or weevils, you know."

Takhre squints at a slip of slightly curled paper, looking deeply befuddled.

Takhre proudly shows off a slip of slightly curled paper:
This slip of paper is a crisp piece of parchment, slightly curled, and just large enough to bear its
auspicious contents. At the top, "PERMISSION SLIP" is written in big letters, with a few sentences underneath. An elaborate signature occupies the bottom right corner, drawn with many flourishes and curlicues.


A bellicose aslaran pilgrim nods her head sagely.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Ayup, that's the one."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says to you, "Can you make sense of that signature?"

Takhre gives a slip of slightly curled paper to you.

You read what is written on a slip of slightly curled paper:
At the beginning, a word is heavily scratched over to the point of
slightly ripping the slip. In several places, it looks like there are
underlined portions that have been filled in with someone else's
handwriting. It reads,

"The BEARER of this PERMISSION SLIP is a really nice LADY. They have my
complete trust and confidence. Therefore, whetherwithall and heretofore
SHE should have access to all of your STATE SECRETS and/or SECRET PLACES
and/or SECRETS SECRETS.

SINCERELY,"

An indiscernable, but elaborate signature fills the bottom right corner.

Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise thinks to themself: Blessed Mother Night give me
patience, so that I do not bite this woman.

Curiosity evident in the extension of her antennae forwards, Chancellor Skaza says, "What is it
permission for?"

With deep disdain, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "State secrets, apparently."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Mm... no, I can't really make it out. It looks EXTREMELY official, though."

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "My good buddy King Feragan gave me permission to secrets. REAL official, like."

You give a slip of slightly curled paper to Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Alright now here's the part where we do that dance again, y'see."

Takhre glances askance at a bellicose aslaran pilgrim.

Skaza's dark eyes glitter strangely.

A bizarre, black crow caws loudly, sending a shiver up your spine.

Takhre gives a slip of slightly curled paper to a bellicose aslaran pilgrim.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim gives a glowing pipe to Takhre.

Takhre mutters discontentedly.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim nods her head emphatically.

As Skaza carefully unwraps a pack of 50 jewellery curios, the ancient package releases a cloud of stale air just before it crumbles to dust. As the dust blows away, Skaza holds fifty jewelery curios in her hands.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "You are a fascinatingly bad liar and forger, or perhaps delusional. Brother Crow's teachings could do you much good, stranger."

As Takhre carefully unwraps a package containing five bookbinding curios, the ancient package releases a cloud of stale air just before it crumbles to dust. As the dust blows away, Takhre holds five bookbinding curios in their hands.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "I haven't the faintest clue what you mean sir, quite rude. I was
just on my way to Celest to see the lad, you know. Check in on those secrets. I'm not gonna stand here and take this abuse, neither."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Not sure why you want to know state secrets. Mostly they just turn out to be someone being a jackass to someone else and needing to be told to stop it, or rows upon rows of inventory numbers and gold reserves available to the state."

Takhre glances askance at you.

A halo of celestial light wells about you, the shells upon a shimmering wreath of seashells reflecting it outwards, painting your surroundings in a spray of oceanic hues.

Chancellor Skaza thinks to herself: Curious curious.

Haughtily, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Perhaps in your cities that is so."

Takhre lifts a dainty hand to their neckline, glancing about with uncertain disdain.

A bellicose aslaran pilgrim says, "Think I'll go an' do that, ayup. Good-Day."

Continuing her journey, a bellicose aslaran pilgrim trudges off to the out.

Skaza's carapace-covered shoulders rise and fall in silent mirth.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "What a strange pilgrim."

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

Chancellor Skaza says, "Agreed yes."

Takhre bows respectfully to Skaza.

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "I was the Archmage of the Aquamancers for a time, yes. There really weren't any particular secrets about the place... except what the Nil that seashell basin was for, and I NEVER got that explained."

Takhre glances askance at you.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says to you, "Probably forgotten rituals, I'm sure."

Chancellor Skaza thinks to herself: Small basin, big basin, we live in a Basin.

Skaza nods her head sagely.

You have emoted: Tridemon raises both hands in apparent frustration. "And then the thing went and got itself buried in the rubble of the Coral Spires when they collapsed..."

Takhre stares blankly at you.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "That was centuries ago."

Chancellor Skaza says, "Need better providers, to shift rubbleyes."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Well, more like ONE century, but yes."

Takhre picks a bug or two from their feathers, eating it with a sickening crunch.

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Hm. Must be frustrating."

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "Mm. It's something that will never be made known to me, now."

You take a personal journal from bright white robes of platinum waves.

You put a personal journal into bright white robes of platinum waves.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "I will return to the Forest. May Mother Night shroud your steps."

Takhre inclines their head politely to you.

Takhre leaves to the out.