Li-Varili's Release (Trimmed)

((Lots of puzzle solving, etc, eventually leading to the compass pointing directly down.))

Her voice silken to the ears, Preceptor Kalas Vexacion, the Iron Maiden of Nil says to Teyitha
Contelli, "What lies beneath this sea?"

Teyitha Contelli says to Vexacion, "Only the ocean floor..."

Dino DiGagio mutters to himself, quickly moving towards his appointed spot, "Better check and make
sure she's ready to sail."

A whirring, clicking cacophony fills the air as the helm is adjusted by some sort of mechanical
contrivance, with the ship responding in turn.

You see Teyitha Contelli shout, "Basin! While the collection and deciphering of this song has been a
long process, it seems we managed to figure it out. For those still seeking an adventure, return to
the Empress' Last Breath."

Teyitha Contelli says to Uzriel, "You literally fled the ship."

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "No I've
come for the adventure part."

Teyitha Contelli says to Uzriel, "We are glad that you didn't throw the papers into the sea. I
imagine the ink would have run."

You see Teyitha Contelli shout, "Last chance, Basin! Treasure awaits us!"

Teyitha Contelli says to Rauye Rhineseer, "Ruby, prepare for underwater travel."

In an instant, the crew of the Empress burst into action. Sails are struck and secured to masts, as
the crew dart about securing cargo to the desk and sealing off the canons. Tarps of unknown material
are pulled out, the crew darting about as they cover crates and other items in the thick material.

The activity begins to die down as the crew shuffle into the depths of the ship, the last individual
sealing the door behind him with a slam.

Still as the sea arround it, the Empress sits upon the water, her doors sealed and cargo secured. A
loud hum errupts from the water as propellers flare to life, the sea suddenly a turbluant mass of
seafoam and waves. The Empress does not move forward, but suddenly begins to sink into the water,
vanishing into the depths as the Inner Sea closes over the deck.

Swiftly descending into the deep ocean, the tallest of her masts dips below the water, the Inner Sea
calm once more as the Empress is lost beneath the water.

Leaving a disturbance of seawater and wildlife in her wake, The Empress' Last Breath glides
gracefully under the water. A series of lamps affixed to her bow lights the way, cutting through the
depths as she moves silently through the sea.

Teyitha Contelli begins to guide the ship, turning the wheel as she looks at the compass carefully.
Soon, she gestures at Rauye, who quickly runs off to throw anchor.

Whispering, Norin Saltfeather exclaims to Gurashi, "Isn't it grand? Hallifax has nothing like this
ship!"

You see Teyitha Contelli yell, "HERE!"

Rauye Rhineseer returns, panting.

Incandescent light from the network of gizmos and gadgets begin to eerily glow azure as energy races
through the ship.

Teyitha Contelli says, "Rauye, I am heading down."

Teyitha Contelli rubs a ring upon her finger, as the tell-tale enchantment of both waterbreathing
and waterwalking washes over her.

Teyitha Contelli says to Rauye Rhineseer, "You are in charge, Quartermaster."

Teyitha Contelli says, "Rest of you, suit up."

An alarming snarl escapes Teyitha Contelli's lips as she charges off to the west in search of
treasure or drink.

((Lots of wandering and combat cut - I missed the initial portion of the discovery, unfortunately.))

The edge of a shadowy cliff-side.
There, a low, blooming sound echoes in the distance: like weight displaced in the waters, air
rushing in to fill the bowl before it is crushed out by the sea. Relentless pressure slams in from
all sides of this perilous trench, throttling any remnants of precious air that would otherwise
remain. Calmly crawling across the seafloor by its many, many legs, a spiny sea cucumber meanders
without a care in the world: undeterred by the dangers of the trench. Relentless pressure slams in
from all sides of this perilous trench, throttling any remnants of precious air that would otherwise
remain. Sea-smoothed basalt stones litter the path underfoot, clattering with unhurried torpor when
disturbed, slowed by the leaden pressure crushing in from all sides. Snarling and slavering, a
massive rose-coloured rage worg with glossy black wings waits here. Gurashi, The Heart's Friend with
a Regal face shifts and blurs, their figure cast into uncertainty by the enveloping Presence that
lingers large, unseen, and heavy about their form. They wield a wooden training katana with both
hands. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the
sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield a lissom blooming blackthorn staff in their
left hand and a putrid thornvine whip in their right hand.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, up,
down, in, and out.

Soriali, the lurking nereid looks exhausted and opens her mouth in an enormous yawn.

Far away from the lagoons of her birth, this lurking nereid looks positively bored with herself for
company. Long, wet ringlets of kelp-like curls frame her pouty face, braided and adorned with the
bones of sea snakes. She glances about her lair with a deep sigh as she blinks her large, black
eyes, her skin shimmering with a glaucous hue in the dim light; though possessed of a humanoid
torso, a piscine tail tapers down from her waist, its scales a silvery-grey that blends in perfectly
with the darkness of her surrounding environs. A necklace of gatorshark's teeth is strung about her
neck with pride, almost a warning for those who would oppose her. When she sings, the gripping
allure of her voice is unmistakeable.
Soriali, the lurking nereid has an air of extreme strength.

Blinking, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "How long has it been since anyone else has come here?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid stretches languidly.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Did those pesky sea creatures give you any trouble?"

Teyitha Contelli grips her cutlass as she narrows her eyes at the nereid.

Soriali, the lurking nereid seems more amused than concerned about the carnage, idly flicking her
tail to and fro. "So!" she says, cheered by the unexpected company. "What brings you to my little
lair?"

Crafted from wood so ancient that it has all but fossilized into a solid black mass, this chair
reeks of blood and radiates an aura of misery. Though seemingly a basic wooden chair upon a cursory
glance, a closer inspection reveals the unfortunate nature of the Seat: along the tops of the
chair's arms are small spikes, varying in length and width, each minute blade serrated along the
edges and still holding bits of desiccated flesh. Straps made from a pliable material, tanned flesh
of some sort of formerly living being, lay open along each arm, their metal buckles dangling
loosely. Similar spikes have been embedded on the front facing legs of the chair, mirrored by
similar straps and buckles for binding limbs against the wood. Deeply rooted in the wood of the seat
of the chair are small hooks of a hardened material, wickedly curved to catch any flesh in their
teeth. The back of this chair consists of evenly spaced posts of metal, framed by the same wood that
the rest of the chair is crafted from. Straps hang from the sides of the back, placed evenly to
allow for firm bindings of the seated victim. The blackened metal posts of the back are textured, a
coarse grit resembling roughened sandpaper. Bits of cloth and flesh stick to each post, their intent
clearly to create painful abrasions against flesh. Affixed to the top of the chair backing is a
metal contraption consisting of a circlet and chin straps, the circlet lined with the same texture
as the metal posts of the backing.
It has the following aliases: seat.


Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says,
"Adventure, plunder, knowledge. Following one's heart's desire."

Soriali, the lurking nereid waves around the gender illusion she had been playing with and smiles.

Chaplain of Truth, Aevumis Luminare, Virtuoso of Light whispers to Teyitha Contelli, "Where is your
compass pointing now?"

Shadows grow longer in anticipation for the return of their dark mistress as Father Sun's chase

Qillilitli's judicious presence permeates the air, supporting the righteous cause of the Grand
Empire of Hallifax.

Rubbing her eyes, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "So many gems spinning around! Do you go around
like this all the time?"

Hand still tight around her cutlass, Teyitha Contelli shakes her head at Aevumis and then turns to
Soriali. "We came here for treasure, my heart's desire, nereid. Why are you here?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Forgive me for being so chatty. It's been ages since anyone alive
fell down here."

Her voice silken to the ears, Preceptor Kalas Vexacion, the Iron Maiden of Nil says to Soriali, the
lurking nereid, "Alive is a subjective term."

Bright and clear, Gurashi, The Heart's Friend asks Soriali, the lurking nereid, "...how did GET
here?"

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "It's
interesting to see other nereids, I've grown quite fond of helping Callysto and her daughters."

Jade Dreamer Luce Shevat says, "There seems to be some sort of worm out there. Quite painful."

You have emoted: Avaris stares at the Seat, the markings within his wings gathering a gradual,
sullen red light as his antennae slowly grow stiff with alarm. "That seat. Tell me, Nereid - Did you
make it?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid swims through the cavern's shadows with a wolfish grin. "Oh the worm!
Isn't he the most miserable little thing? Well. Little being relative," she quips. "Like death,
apparently."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Hmm? This old thing?"

In a clipped, cool voice, Avaris says, "Yes. That."

Teyitha Contelli glances down at the compass, it's arrow dimmed. "What I seek is here... but..." She
frowns, then turns her gaze back to the nereid. To the structure before you, and the figure bound to
it.

Soriali, the lurking nereid propels herself over to the Morokeche Seat and its silent inhabitant,
shrugging. "I didn't put it there," she says. "I'm just keeping watch."

Lord Akyaevin n'Lochli says, "How long have you been keeping watch for?"

"Do you know what it is?" Vexacion wonders to Teyitha Contelli, studying the figure in the distance.
"...the mask is quite interesting."

Glancing towards the figure, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Why
are you keeping watch here all by yourself, mostly."

Teyitha Contelli shakes her head at Vexacion.

Shrugging, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Of course, you could touch the chair if you want. It
doesn't have feelings."

Distantly visible atop the column, an imprisoned, shadowy figure has been painfully latched into the
Morokeche Seat, any defining characteristics of the individual such as gender or race obscured from
perception. Chin straps and a macabre circlet rigidly hold their face in place, never relaxing its
sharp grip for an instant, as a metal bar presses itself into their mouth to render them mute. All
of the victim's limbs have been bound in place by the wicked machinations of this contraption,
piercing through skin to draw blood. Whoever this unfortunate soul might be, they do seem to still
alive, their pulse betrayed by the hollow of their throat as they breathe. The only thing that might
have once identified them are their tattered clothes, but time has shredded them into pathetic rags,
their original material and appearance impossible to discern. Only one item seems unaffected by the
ravages of salt and sea: a peculiar mask upon the prisoner's face.
An imprisoned figure is quite powerful.
She weighs about 312 pounds.
You cannot see what an imprisoned figure is holding.
It has the following aliases: figure.

"Captain," Vexacion encourages Teyitha Contelli, "...what do you know?"

"I know nothing!" Teyitha Contelli exclaims, "I did not know that this was here!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Teyitha Contelli, "This?" She pouts. "I am a thing now?"

Teyitha Contelli narrows her eyes at Soriali, the lurking nereid in an unnerving manner.

Tilting her head a bit, Preceptor Kalas Vexacion, the Iron Maiden of Nil says to Teyitha Contelli,
"You followed the compass here. What were you hoping to find?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Anyway, I don't know anything about an Ilaedron, or a Shalidae,
or any of that."

Soriali, the lurking nereid shrugs helplessly.

Zalan Shevat, Facet of the Collective says, "What caused you to start keeping watch?"

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you ask Soriali, the lurking nereid, "Then what do you
know?"

Teyitha Contelli says to Vexacion, "I came looking for something precious, but not this. I have no
idea who this is or what that is." She gestures at the figure, the seat. "I..."

Teyitha Contelli creases her brow in a frown.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Mm? I was asked to by a very special person, of course."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "A Keeper of Song."

"Drocilla, or Lyreth?" Vexacion wonders to Soriali, the lurking nereid.

You think to yourself: "Drocilla."

Revelling in the knowledge, Soriali, the lurking nereid swims languidly on the currents, humming.
"Ooh, that got your attention!" she says, eyes flashing. "But I am so terribly bored. And you are
all so entertaining. It would be a shame if I told you everything so quickly."

Soriali, the lurking nereid puts her hands on her hips and goes "Hmmm!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims to Teyitha Contelli, "You seem interesting!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Tell me about this compass! What was I supposed to be when you
arrived?"

Teyitha Contelli readies her cutlass. "You were supposed to be my son! Where is he, creature!"

Almost as if caught in a dance in the waters, Soriali, the lurking nereid circles Teyitha Contelli,
enjoying this immensely.

Teyitha Contelli swipes her sword--the blade slowed by the waters, unable to catch up with Soriali's
movements.

The markings in Avaris's wings flare bright crimson, tension layered into his
voice. "Do not listen to this creature, Teyitha. It will lie to you and deceive you - Do not heed
its promises."

"Son? I haven't seen any sons around here." Soriali, the lurking nereid examines her nails,
considering. "Well," she admits, "that I know of. There are a lot of skeletons, you know."

Teyitha Contelli narrows her eyes to thin slits.

Gurashi frowns as they watch Teyitha Contelli, shaking their head. "Please do not listen to her! She
is teasing you - is being mean."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Teyitha Contelli, "Was that rude? Sorry. I might have lost my
manners after so long."

The corners of Soriali, the lurking nereid's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says to
Soriali, the lurking nereid, "Do you happen to know the way to release the grip of this seat?"

Again, Teyitha Contelli swings her sword: missing quite widely. "Where is he! What have you done
with him!"

"Oh," Soriali, the lurking nereid says, her voice becoming flatter at Tridemon's query. "Well, I'm
really not supposed to, you understand. I did make a promise."

Shrugging, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Though who knows, maybe if you touch it again it'll
comply."

Unable to resist the temptation, Vexacion reaches towards the Morokeche Seat. In an instant, her arm
is grabbed by an invisible force, yanking Vexacion forward. Waves of pure and unfiltered agony surge
from the chair, the pain of a millennia embracing her in a dense cloud of black mist. she lets out a
garbled scream, cut short as the mist suddenly dissipates and leaves her in a crumpled heap, her
body ashen and still.

Soriali, the lurking nereid cackles hellishly.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "That was so much fun. Oh my goodness. I'm so glad you are all
here."

Soriali, the lurking nereid giggles happily.

Teyitha Contelli's eyes widen as Vexacion collapses from the power of the Seat.

Jade Dreamer Luce Shevat says, "So, next question, who's bound to it."

Soriali, the lurking nereid winks. "Secret."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Who is bound indeed! Even I don't know that one."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Maybe the son of yours? You said he's here, didn't you?"

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say to Teyitha Contelli, "It is not your son. Do not be
swayed, I beg of you."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Whoever they are, they are so quiet! Never heard a peep from
them. Maybe a moan or two. Who knows really." She waves her hand dismissively. "I guess any company
is better than none."

Iconoclast Eldrac d'Murani, of the Dark Faith says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "I see. Your job
is not to be the guardian of this place...you are the torture. You must have talked this poor
creature into sitting on the chair willingly."

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says to Teyitha
Contelli, "It's not. If they've been bound here for long enough that one of the Keepers of Song
asked for them to be kept, it's absolutely not your son."

Yire, Starleaper Junior says, "Do you know their sex?"

Chaplain of Truth, Aevumis Luminare, Virtuoso of Light says, "May I ask how long you have been in
here with the figure?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Eldrac, "Oh now that's just rude. Is that any way to treat
someone who has information you want?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid crosses her arms on her chest, sticks out her lower lip, and pouts.

A warble in her throat, Teyitha Contelli says, "How do you know though? The compass lead us here...
it was... supposed to..."

Caliph Eritheyl Ryseni, the Dissident says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "Well, what could we do
for you that might tempt you to spill more secrets? We're very persistent and able-bodied folks,
most of us."

Delighted at the challenge, Soriali, the lurking nereid paces the cavern in a slow circle,
considering. "You said you were killing the various creatures here, correct?"

You have emoted: Fingers of all four hands curling into clenched fists of spiked gold, Avaris urges,
"Think, Teyitha. You put your trust in a legend - The compass may be a ploy to free this creature,
or lead the unwary to this nereid."

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says, "We killed a few of the creatures, yes."

Rambling, no longer really listening, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "The sea creatures here are
all so dull, you know. Agonizing to be around them. I can't go anywhere out of this silly maze, even
if I want to, with them about."

Uncertain, shaking her head, Teyitha Contelli exclaims, "But the legend... Ilaedron was a Vernal who
saved those in the past. This compass lead us here for a reason, and the reason is that he is here!"

Teyitha Contelli points her cutlass at the nereid. "She knows where he is," she snarls.

Iconoclast Eldrac d'Murani, of the Dark Faith says to Teyitha Contelli, "Don't be a fool. Legends
are hardly a source of truth."

"So you want us to free you from the maze?" Vexacion wonders to Soriali, the lurking nereid.

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "So you want us to
kill more creatures so you can venture about?"

Airily, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Sadly, I do not. All your tales are barnd new to me,
which I must say is really quite fortunate, because I have been so very bored."

 Avaris extends a hand towards Teyitha Contelli, tension thick in the chorus of his
voice. "Legends can be fabricated! Think - What do nereids do? They seduce others to their doom.
There is nothing here for you."

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims to you, "Not a high opinion of fae, I see!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

The red light in Avaris's wings intensifies briefly, a sanguine flare of suppressed
anger that bathes him in crimson. "Not of the nereid. I know what your kind does, creature."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to you, "Oooh I can play that game, too! Mortals are fickle beings,
love to go to war on each other."

Trembling, Teyitha Contelli shakes her head. "Legends are histories that some people decide aren't
real. Perhaps the Fates sought to lead us here for a reason. Perhaps Kibiro is here."

Soriali, the lurking nereid hums a happy tune.

Accompanied by a rhythmic flapping of gills, Holy Prior Qoivhae Vivalde, the King Consort asks
Teyitha Contelli, "When did you last see your son?"

Dubiously, Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Teyitha Contelli, "Maybe."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "How about this. I don't know for sure what the fate of your son
is, or isn't."

Teyitha Contelli narrows her eyes at Soriali, the lurking nereid in an unnerving manner.

Ignoring the nereid, Avaris turns the fullness of his attention upon Teyitha
Contelli. "That is desperation, and love for what is lost clouding your judgement. This feels too
much like a trap, Teyitha. You are playing into this thing's hands."

Somewhat bemused, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Playing into my hands? I haven't asked for much
really."

Zalan Shevat, Facet of the Collective says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "What is it you want?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid traces a shape in the sandy floor, pouting.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Zalan, "Well, it sort of depends on what you want, doesn't it?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Oh I am free, just, within reason. Not wanting to be worm lunch,
you understand."

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says to
Soriali, the lurking nereid, "What, exactly, was the wording of your promise, anyway?"

Zalan Shevat, Facet of the Collective says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "I would like to know the
name of the entity who sent you here. What price do you ask for that knowledge?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid taps her chin in thought, considering. "Goodness, it was so long ago..."
she sighs. "My most important mission was to remember a song for the Elder."

Teyitha Contelli trembles, unsure of what to say next or what to do.

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says, ".. can
you sing it for us?"

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says, "What song?"

Intrigued by the prospect, but demuring, Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Oh, I really shouldn't.
You see, the song isn't just any little ditty."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "It releases that being right over there, you see."

Soriali, the lurking nereid points accusingly at an imprisoned figure.

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says, "Sounds
like it would be really interesting to hear."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "My, my, aren't we all hasty."

In a soft Rockholmian brogue, Ashnezharr d'Murani, the Clangoru Slavemaster says, "What, praytell,
lady Soriali...would convince you to sing such a song?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Haven't you considered that this being is dangerous? And that is
precisely why they are imprisoned?"

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Was your
task to remember it and keep it, or to sing it at some given time?"

Caliph Eritheyl Ryseni, the Dissident says to Soriali, the lurking nereid, "We're also fairly bored
creatures most of the time, the potential to unleash something sick-nasty and evil is really, really
tempting."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says to Uzriel, "The former, although... I have not spoken to this
individual for some time."

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims to Eritheyl, "There is some relief in not being alone in that
way!"

Accompanied by a rhythmic flapping of gills, Holy Prior Qoivhae Vivalde, the King Consort asks
Soriali, the lurking nereid, "Wasn't this Seat used to torture the Elder gods?"

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says, "Mm. Is
there a reason for them to be in constant, unending torment?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid shrugs her shoulders, casually stating, "I don't know," as a testament
to her cluelessness.

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims, "How about this!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "You all agree to come back sometimes and to clear out this pesky
trench. I'll even throw in some gold for it."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "It is terribly, terribly lonely here, you see."

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says, "If we agree, you'll sing the song for us?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "In return, I will sing the song, because I too am deeply curious
about what will happen. But I don't want to be present for that figure's awakening. This may be my
only chance to attempt it and flee without being bitten by a sea snake."

In a light, sing-song brogue, Freja Ysav'rai, Herald of Sacrifice says, "Oh, so we are the bait."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Well, you are all ever so strong, aren't you?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims, "You beat up those nasty octopi, after all!"

In a growling purr, Flower Fanatic Velcora Lunarose, Queen of the Foxes says to Soriali, the lurking
nereid, "May I make a sketch of you?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims to Velcora, "Please sketch me! Oh how flattering!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid strikes a pose.

Velcora lifts up a wizzer image box and points it at Soriali, the lurking nereid, pulling a lever on
the side of the contraption. It begins to click and whirr, and a bulb rises up from the contraption.
With a bright flash, you find yourself blinded momentarily. As your vision recovers, you notice a
piece of paper floating into Velcora's hands from the machine.

"Thanks!" Velcora says.

Soriali, the lurking nereid giggles happily.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Ah this is such fun. But this is not a very happy song, I am
afraid."

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Are you certain you all want to hear it? And that you promise to
sometimes keep me company?"

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says, "Quite certain, and I promise to return."

Teyitha Contelli mutters and traces a cobalt blue pentagram in the air that remains hovering before
her.

Soriali, the lurking nereid brightens visibly at this, overjoyed beyond measure.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "All right, then. I would like to request silence first, if I
may."

Soriali, the lurking nereid exclaims, "No spinning gems. No behavior from the audience. Most rude to
interrupt a performance, especially for someoen who hasn't had the joy of performing for years!"

Soriali, the lurking nereid puts her hand to her forehead and swoons.

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "Are we all very behaved and quiet?"

Soriali, the lurking nereid says, "No songs during other songs, and all of that?"

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "Get on with it, creature."

Soriali, the lurking nereid touches a finger to her chin, ignoring you. "Then if you're ready," she
says, and immediately her mood shifts to something more serious, more fitting for something of the
caliber that she is about to do.

Soriali, the lurking nereid propels her body towards the Morokeche Seat, brow furrowed as she
considers her actions. "I will sing the notes, then. This song resounds here, trapped within the
trench on loop, echoing of moments that transpired here long ago. When I am done," she finishes,
turning to everyone present, "you are on your own."

Lifting her voice in song, Soriali, the lurking nereid invokes the opening strains of an exquisite
nocturne, the notes falling like the lulling shadows of encroaching night.

The imprisoned figure within the Morokeche Seat writhes and moans in answer, as if the music itself
is a new affliction.

Moments later, the first manacle on the figure's wrist snaps off, and a new consciousness begins to
emerge from the shadows:
At first, you had followed the Goddess to the depths of the trench of your own free will, but at a
certain point that began to change, didn't it? The Enchantress's voice ensnared you with its
alluring beauty, beckoning you lower and lower into the maze of watery darkness. This chasm had been
of your own clandestine making, yet it already had begun to feel strange and unfamiliar as Her song
echoed in the caverns. Some primal fear in you awakened, but you could not heed it. Your throat was
dry, an unheard plea lodged in your throat as you wordlessly followed Drocilla further and further
into the shadows, fearing that She might fulfill Her promise as much as you feared She might break
it...

Soriali twirls within the water as if it is her stage, the mysteries of the twilit hour imbuing her
melody with wonder, awe and majesty, as it quickens with excitement.

Another snap of iron releasing as an ankle is freed, that same consciousness yearning to be heard:
"We must all be masked for the ritual, you understand? So that no others detect Us." You nodded and
took the beautiful mask from Drocilla's hands, its surface glistening even here in the dimmest
reaches of the sea. As you placed it on yourself, you felt strange, as if everything that comprised
your entire existence had been erased from greater perception. "I am ready for the rites," you
whispered, and that is when the chains leapt out from the unseen seat behind you to bind you
helplessly in place. "You are too much of a risk right now, My dear," Drocilla's infuriating words
reach you as you shriek in agony. A trap, a trap, She had never intended to have you share in Her
power... Down here, no one can ever hear you, no matter how loudly you scream...

All at once, the joy that had been inherent in Soriali's voice is no more, replaced with the weight
of responsibility - sacrifice one to protect the all.

Again the snap of unlocking buckles rings throughout the lair, and again, a vision enters your mind
unbidden:
Drocilla apologized and gloated over your capture in equal measure, and with each word uttered in
Her golden tones, your hatred for the Goddess only grew tenfold. "Perhaps you will prefer other
company," the Goddess sighed, and that was the last you saw of your once-friend and confidante. Your
new masked jailor - a Creator, strangely - had a voice you almost recognized. At His fingertips, all
manner of undersea creations burst into existence, each eyeing you uncertainly. "The Lavender Mask
could have asked any of the Coterie's Second Circle to tend to you," He boasted, "but She sent Me!
She finally appreciates My power and discretion." An arrogant Elder, then? You could manipulate
arrogance. After all, Drocilla had more than taught you how...

Aching with beauty, Soriali's song becomes more somber, notes of shame intermingled with loss as she
sings of sorrows cloaked in the shadows of night, and tears shed unseen in the darkness.

A strange sense of unease and anticipation fills you as another shackle is rendered useless, and the
prisoner's story unfolds further:
Your jailor was only too glad to tell you His name is Blooredi, for what threat did you pose? You,
who were trapped undersea in this torturous device - the Morokeche Seat, Blooredi called it - with
no hope of ever escaping? He created mutated sea snakes, monstrous jellyfish, and other absurd
bastardizations of your cousins' undersea creations, while you feigned love and enthusiasm for each.
It was too easy to flatter His ego. Far too few Elders, it seems, had ever cared to try. "When the
war is done, and the Elders understand Our betrayal, I will free you," Blooredi swore. You dared to
believe Him even as He devoured yet another shred of your essence, for what was neither the first
nor the last time...

The pain in Soriali's voice builds to an unbearable fervor, weighing your heart as if the faults
sung in this ballad are your own, so deeply does it penetrate your soul.

Another click. Another snap. There is no stopping this ritual now that it has begun:
Silence. Eons and eons of silence. Where had your jailor gone, and had that cursed Drocilla gone
with Him? You would take even Her mocking, song-like laughter now. Why had They left and abandoned
you? Cold grips you as you watch the strangely glowing eyes of the creations that Blooredi has left
behind to guard you, to watch you, to ensure you do not escape your prison. Not that you could, even
if you tried. And you have tried. All that is left is to simmer in your own hate, like steam rising
from the trench's depths, remembering that you would never forgive Them. The agony and the isolation
breaks you down into the barest remnant of yourself, as you can only barely recall your own name
amidst the memory of hate, unending and relentless hate for those who betrayed you...

How could you understand the choice she had to make, Soriali's voice beseeches you, how could they
understand that cruelty was its own mercy? Apology and lament ring out from her lips, rich with
bitterness.

The sounds of unlatching have become all too familiar now. It cannot take much longer to end, you
are certain:
...Who do you sense, now? Strange. For so long it has only been you here. You stretch your weary
consciousness further, tentatively daring to sense anyone who is not you or these mindless cretins
patrolling your prison. Why is it such a familiar presence? ...No, it can't be. They are dead,
aren't they? You probe further, astonishment giving way to euphoria. What are the odds that you
could be found in this way, and by them, of all beings? For the first time in hundreds of years, you
feel yourself hunger to be known. "Free Me," you beg silently to the nothingness. For you can sense
their desperation, too, as they approach. They want to know you. They want to free you... Let them
come. Let them come.

A final note hangs in the air as Soriali finishes her song, hands pressed to her heart as she weeps
openly, the captivating and entrancing song now at its end. It haunts you, this lingering sound -
this dissonant mix of conviction and contrition as she swims away: "Forgive me. I had no choice."

Finally the circlet that binds the imprisoned figure upon the Morokeche Seat lifts with Soriali's
departure, and for the first time since you have entered, the prisoner moves to take the mask from
their face. Your work here, at last, is done.

Uzriel bows his head towards Li-varili.

Fascinated, Vexacion tilts her head, gazing upon Li-varili with her dark, starry eyes.

With smooth and supple skin the turquoise-green shade of lagoon waters, She is a radiant immortal
and shines with a glaucous lustre, though it is marred by countless scars and wounds that have yet
to heal. Framed by long-lashes, Her vast turquoise eyes churn with emotion, reflecting a haunting
intensity that glints with an almost feral ferocity. Dewdrops sparkle on Her white eyelashes and the
rest of Her sharp facial features, as well as Her wet red lips, their glistening hue the striking
colour of a bromeliad's petals. Torn and bloodied, Her webbed hands grasp at Her sides, clenching as
if unbelieving that She is able to move again once more. Her wild hair tumbles down Her back in a
curtain of damp, unruly red curls resembling tangled fronds of seaweed, kelp and cattail reeds.

She is wearing:
a hideous rag reeking of mildew and decay barely covering Her wounded body.

Li-varili stumbles down from the Morokeche Seat, beaten and bloody.

Eyes wide like a feral animal, Li-varili snarls at your approach as She withdraws to the shadows of
the lair. She opens Her cracked lips to speak, but the sound that comes out is hoarse from disuse
and hardly legible. Again She attempts, and this time only a single word escapes: "Why?"

Chaplain of Truth, Aevumis Luminare, Virtuoso of Light says, "We did not believe that you deserved
to suffer."

"...you do not need to fear us," Vexacion murmurs softly, though her voice dies off there, still
watching Li-varili.

Ocean waves echoing softly behind his voice, Tridemon Regalis, Keeper of Pure Waters says, "Because
eventually, all pain should end, yes."

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "That was
not the question."

Teyitha Contelli watches, stunned, unable to process the turn of events. She looks between the Elder
Goddess, to the assembled mortals, then again to the Goddess.

Raspy, Li-varili, Lady of the Lagoons says to Aevumis, "Don't mock Me, Meridian."

Aevumis blinks.

Zalan Shevat, Facet of the Collective says to Li-varili, "Much time has passed. We are but the
shards of the Elders."

Li-varili staggers forwards, Her expression shifting from fear to wary caution at the countless
voices encroaching in on Her. "Shards. Splintering. I do not..." She coughs, collapsing.

"We will see what She wants, from Her own mouth," Vexacion relays to Luce, before allowing her
attention to return to the Elder Goddess. "Splintering is a method created by Ein and Mugowumpois,
to protect the essence of Elders from being consumed by the Soulless."

Swallowing, Her throat dry, Li-varili struggles to hear what is being said. "The war continues?" She
manages. "The Elders and Soulless still...?"

Stepping forward, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Lady Li-varili.
Why. I know Your question. She felt She had no choice, it brought no pleasure to Her. And I believe,
She intended to bring you back yet the other Elders cast Her into the void."

At Uzriel's approach, Li-varili's go wild as She whispers, "You. You bear Her scent. The
betrayer's."

Shaking his head, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "She was no
betrayer. She did what She had to. She sacrificed much. She looked after your children."

"She lied." Li-varili goes still, immobile with horror. "She has returned, and She left Me here? Not
even that paltry promise. Not even..." Without warning, a terrifying scream rips from the Goddess's
throat as She slams Her fist against the ground, anger melting into sobs.

Vexacion tilts her head, taking another step closer to Li-varili. "It is possible that there is a
reason," she offers softly.

Teyitha Contelli remains quiet, listening, her eyes reddened from the salt of the sea and perhaps
her own tears.

Ashira frowns and sits on the ground, looking to the Goddess. "Is there anything we can do to help
You?"

Li-varili, Lady of the Lagoons snarls, "DONT TOUCH ME!"

Li-varili attempts to raise Herself from the ground, the countless buzzing sound of mortal voices
distressing as She buries Her bloodied fingers in Her hair.

Chaplain of Truth, Aevumis Luminare, Virtuoso of Light says, "We are saying all of these things, and
we haven't asked the important question."

Tears threatening Her eyes, Li-varili, Lady of the Lagoons says, "How long was I gone? Why do you
all look the same? Why am I surrounded by dozens of the same Elders?"

Chaplain of Truth, Aevumis Luminare, Virtuoso of Light says to Li-varili, "What would you like to
happen now?"

Calmly but keeping a respectful distance, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance
says, "Lady Li-varili, She did not lie. If She was not able to return, there was a reason. And your
Children have been kept safe with Her gift."

Initiate Ashira D'Cente, of the Dark Faith says to Aevumis, "I asked a similar question. If there
was anything we could do to help Her. But She is overwhelmed, understandably."

Shrieking, Li-varili throws out a hand towards Uzriel and cries, "LIAR!"

Her expression one of displeasure, Li-varili flicks her fingers, sending a scattering of droplets in
the direction of Uzriel.

Shuddering at the Morokeche Seat, Li-varili, Lady of the Lagoons says, "I can't be here another
moment."

Flipping Her striking red hair, Li-varili turns and dives away beneath a seaweed laden tide.

Teyitha Contelli peers at the compass, its bluish arrow swirling and pointing: upward and to the
northeast.

Teyitha Contelli says, "... I must return to the ship."

An alarming snarl escapes Teyitha Contelli's lips as she charges off to the out in search of
treasure or drink.

((I missed pretty much everything else, but other people will be sure to have logged the stuff in the Fulcrux! Including it here because it is GORGEOUSLY WRITTEN.))

You step into the sanguine pool and approach the curtain of fireweed, gingerly parting a stalk woven
with flame-red blossoms aside. The tangles ensnare your hand and set your skin aflame with numerous
stings but it is too late to withdraw. The curtain is drawing you inwards, consuming you within its
dark and lush depths. Momentary darkness gives way to light as you are cast out into a sultry
lagoon, your body covered in crimson moisture.

The Fulcrux of Li-varili.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. Captivatingly aquamarine shallows rest in
preternatural stillness, secluded amidst this sultry, tropical lagoon. Beneath the water's crystal
surface, visible roots stand unburied and upright, arching into mangroves like cages for the sinuous
shadows intermittently threading between their aquatic bars. These spindly trees both shelter and
protect the intimate space beneath their lushly snarled canopies, their boughs dripping with woven
veils of tender fireweed blossoms, petals wafting a grassy scent into the saltwater air. As the
forest finds purchase on sandy soil about the perimeter, its trunks cluster more thickly together,
forbidding exploration with treacherous footing - and forging a dark, claustrophobic prison out of
its labyrinthine overgrowth. A coarse island shrine rises from the centre of the shallow pool,
bromeliads bursting about it in glorious adoration of the Lady of the Lagoons. Muginn, the ghost-
feathered magpie perches here with a mischievous glint in his eye. Assorted crystals orbiting around
him, Jucco, the golden alicanto, stands here, violet eyes alight with a keen intellect. Magrund, the
brazen taurus paws the ground in agitation, clouds of smog and cinder erupting from his snout with
every snort and grunt. Swinging her cutlass about threateningly, Teyitha "Stormfury" Contelli sneers
and commands total obedience from her crew. A delicate, radiant pink mare ambles about here.
Snarling and slavering, a massive rose-coloured rage worg with glossy black wings waits here.
Resplendent light rays reflecting and refracting from thousands of brilliant facets, a delicate gem
golem glimmers here. A wandering bard amiably pauses here, golden eyes intent upon the surroundings.
Lorina is here, fluid-like motes of effervescent light floating about her form. She wields a crystal-
bladed waraxe of celestial silver with both hands. Li-varili, Lady of the Lagoons floats here upon a
swirl of blue water, Her wild red curls tangled like seaweeds. She wields a dewy half mask scaled in
rippling turquoise in Her left hand.
You see a single exit leading through a tangled curtain of fireweed blossoms.