Ravik's vision of Sardior, full

Ravik touches the ruby. You feel slight vertigo, and looking around, it feels as though the temple stretches. The floor tiles remain, replicating themselves instead of warping, which only makes the shift more confusing to your brain. The space grows further, more distant, and soon BugSaw, Zazzkrak and Trick are but dots of color in a horizon that must be tens of kilometers apart.

The tiles then begin breaking off, floating up and down to reveal a silver, starry void below you. It begins seeping out, covering the room and leaving you in a floating island of rock comprised on the ground beneath your feet, and the piece of wall holding the ruby you touched.

Though you might let go, the vision does not change.

His mind running through possibilities, the silvery surroundings remind him of some depictions of the Astral Plane. This could be some form of recorded vision, physical transportation, or... mental trap.

Ravik gasps as the temple stretches and stretches and then begins to fall apart around him. He tries to keep his eyes on BugSaw and Trick, but they both disappear so fast.

Once he his feet are a bit more steady under him, he looks down on his hand, touching the jewel on a suddenly fragmented wall. Would the wall disappear if he takes his hand off it? It could just be a switch for this... vision? Because it must be a vision. It has to be. He can't just have traveled merely by touching an embedded jewel.

But his disbelief is flimsy.

"Hello?" He says, eyeing the small piece of floor left for him to stand on.

Though the wide open space should mean otherwise, Ravik hears an echo of his words. Moreso in mind than body.

As he looks down, a small stone platform materializes in the void ahead of him. Then another. Then another. Like a garden path of stone islets embedded in grass, it stretches forward into the unknown.

Ravik looks at the ruby and his hand and then the platforms. Steps.

Is this the astral sea? he thinks looking around a last time before taking his hand off the ruby. Or a god's lair? he shakes his head. This is insanity. That's what it is.

He steps down on the first platform, slowly, testing its ability to carry his weight.

The platform is pulled down an inch by his weight, but remains stable.

"Alright." He says. To himself or maybe to someone unseen.

Careful at first, not quite trusting that he won't fall off, but then faster and faster, he follows the path the platforms provides.

Ravik continues walking for a while, heading into the unknown. The platforms stretch on into what seems like infinity, but after a few minutes, a structure rises on the horizon. A large tower, at least sixty feet tall, floats in the empty space. It appears to be made of the same stone as the tiles in the room you left, alternating between white and red. The tower looks less like it was intended to end at its base, and more like this was ripped from a taller structure, its bottom extending into uneven bricks.

The platforms lead to what might have been a window, but is fitted with an ornate metal door. Intricate flourishes of silver filigree are interspersed with gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, amethysts, emeralds, quartzes and topazes.

A knocker rests at the very center, designed like a dragon biting a ring of solid gold.

Ravik stops on one of the last platforms and takes in the tower, looking at its ragged bottom and wonder if it too is whole somewhere else or if it is truly floating here like a mirage.

Only one way to find out, really. He steps to the door and briefly examines the gems, considering if they would transport him somewhere else. Instead he grabs hold of the knocker and taps it against the door twice.

Once Ravik taps the second time, he hears a soft click, and the door swings back a few inches. Warm light bleeds through the small opening, inviting you in.

By the merciful ruby light, what are you doing Ravik? He thinks to himself as he with very little hesitation steps over the threshold into the warm interior. But he trusted the platforms and the floor disappearing under him. He might as well trust the whole thing. If he fails and dies, or whatever the consequences of this adventure is, he's at least done it fully.

As Ravik pushes the door and enters, he is met with an interesting sight. The room appears larger than the tower's outside, and the room your find yourself in is square rather than circular. At the far end, a large fireplace with a white marble mantelpiece crackles, throwing its warm light into the room, which adds a degree of coziness. The rest of the room is a little... confusing. It appears to be some cross between a personal library, shelves of books that rise up to the 10ft ceiling, and what appears to be a work table covered in small tools, crystals of various shapes, sizes, and levels of polish, and magical objects that Ravik has seen in visits to artificer workshops.

Your attention is pulled back to the fireplace. Where there was nothing a moment ago, now two red plush chairs are turned towards the flame, their backs turned to you but slightly angled to the side. Enough that you can see one is empty, while the other is occupied by a figure in the process of knitting. Their form is mostly obscured by the angle, but you guess, by the red tail dangling from the chair's side and clawed hands doing their work, that this is a red dragonborn.
Ravik [18] | Dragon — 20-Mar-25 6:51 PM
"Ehm... hello?" Ravik says, eyes trailing over everything in the room, eyebrows traveling further and further up his forehead. The yarn. The deep red armchairs. The Dragonborn. Knitting!

He shakes his head and sits down in the not-offered-offered chair.

"Where am I?"

Sitting at the chair, you look down at the rug beneath your feet. Its pattern is extremely intricate, and with each step it looks like it changes a little bit, stopping if you stand still. It feels like rotating a gemstone and seeing its interior differently from each facet.

On the chair, you turn to face the stranger. They appear to be a young red dragonborn with a rather long, almost serpentine neck, their scales gleaming like extremely well-polished ceramic, or glass. Many whiskers fall gently from his snout, and a few horns that match the scales save for being a few degrees lighter erupt from their head alongside twin frills of purple and wine hues, not unlike a fish's dorsal fins. The dragonborn wears glasses made of gold and decorated with a few rubies, and wears robes that can only be described as lavish.

The fabric is tinted in a vibrant red, and it glitters in a way that reminds Ravik of his gemstone-infused inks. Silver and gold filigrees run throughout the robe's surface, reinforcing their worth. Overall, the attire's level of opulence vaguely reminds Ravik of some higher-ranking wizards and clerics from the church, especially paired with a few bracelets and rings of various metal that the man is wearing, all adorned with at least one of the varieties of gemstone Ravik saw at the door.

Stuck by two knitting needles of a dark black metal is a scarf. It is the most intricate piece of woven work you have likely ever seen. The threads weave onto each other in ways that appear pointless for the sake of extravagance, to the point where the thing should be so wound-up and stiff it could be a poor weapon. Still, the fabric flows down to the ground, bobbing slightly with each new movement of the needles.

He finally pauses, looking at Ravik with a soft smile. A voice you know far too well replies.

"You, child, have wandered into more than your superiors could have predicted. Would you care for some tea?"

Ravik freezes. The voice. The voice of....

"Sardior. Father of Gems."

Ravik slides from his chair and prostrate himself on the shifting rug in from of his Ruby Lord.

"And I done so willingly, my lord."

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
The dragonborn perks up slightly, a smirk on his scaled face. He sets his knitting gear and scarf aside on the air next to his chair, where a wooden table decorated with silver lining suddenly materializes, as if it had always been there. He places a hand on Ravik's head, and gives it a soft tap. The voice comes out with a hint of playfulness and some cold.

Ravik:
Ravik tries to hold it in, he really really does, but the Lords tap on his head sends a shudder through his body. He takes a second to compose himself, then gets to his feet.

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you."

Then he sits back down. In his chest his heart seems determined to rip a hole in his rib cage.

He takes a deep breath and slips on the soldier.

"Father. We have indeed encountered things that are far beyond what I was led to believe it would be. I have many, many questions. But I don't think you called me here for that?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
With a wave of a hand, another table materializes between the two chairs, holding an extremely intricate tea set. Some sort of magic circle is carved onto the side of the teapot itself, and as Sardior's claw touches it, ruby magic fills the circle's channels. Soft vapor begins rising from the pot's spout, and he pours liquid that appears to have an oil or rainbow-like sheen to it on two extravagant teacups. He offers one to Ravik, and sets the pot back down before taking his cup and sipping.

"You are sorely mistaken. I saw an opportunity to converse, and took it. Speak your mind, child, and I will speak of what can be spoken of."

Ravik:
Ravik takes a sip of the tea and considers how best to put words to the many loose threads.

He lands on what is freshest in his mind.

"There was once an eighth god, father?

Sardior, the Wise Mister:

The tea tastes like home. Like the smell of fresh ink on another's skin, of meats roasting on an open fire, like the warm embrace of a mother.

Sardior takes another sip of tea, looking at Ravik with a somewhat tired expression.

"What do you think of that? Do you believe it to be truth, or some mortals' attempt at valuing their belief?"

Ravik:
A cavalcade of memories surges through Ravik as he takes the first sip and tears of joy well to his eyes. Tears of longing.

He closes his eyes and allows himself a few seconds of his father's laugh and his mother's storytelling before he forces himself back to the present.

"I know what I have been taught, my lord. But, knowledge can be suppressed and hidden. It is not what I believe and far from what I want to believe.

Do people wish to will something into existence? Of course. And we've seen what is done with false gods.

But... I sit in your presence. Travelled from what may have been a temple in your name. And there is iconography suggesting an eigth god. And it would hold no credence in my mind if not for the magic that seek to hide it."

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"You show that you are more than your blade, Ravik. This is how one who follows me must be- one must question what is posed as truth to pierce the veil. I am not at liberty to lay the pages open today- speaking as we are right now might already put me in trouble with my kin- but I can say you are onto something."

Though he begins with passion to say the least, the God's voice holds a tone of sadness near the end.

Ravik:
Ravik takes in the praise with a nod. He is not sure how to process it, but it would also seem foolish to object to your god.

"Far be it for me to get you in trouble my lord. Then maybe you can answer this. Why now? Why are all these forces moving now? The cult of the wandering Shard. The gnolls. The Deepest Shadows. The Kuo Toa. The Scorched. The names we don't know yet?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"They move now because they always have. The efforts of chaos are nigh endless, and those who believe they understand more than they know have always been plenty in this world- you are living an unfortunate moment of many."

He sips his tea, and looks at the bookcases for a longing moment.

"The cult has put its efforts into growing for many years now, and absorbed parts of other wholes with sweetened promises and half-truths. Do not trust authority alone."

Ravik:
Ravik glances at Sardior and wondering what he is really saying.
"My lord. Are you suggesting I cannot fully trust the Disciples?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"Every chicken lays a bad egg from time to time. You can trust most high up. But there are groups aside from the Disciples that put their authority to bad use."

Ravik:
Ravik thinks on this and sips some more tea.

"The dragon carvings in this temple, my lord. They are of you. But. There is one other. A creature of maybe the sea?"

Thoughts are forming as he speaks. "The godhater we just encountered. The Kuo-Toa. Connected via malachite. And the sea."

The question is not fully formed. But he hopes it's meaning is implicit.

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"Gaia claims the rivers, and fishermen pray to her for good catches."

Sardior sips his tea, eyes closed shut. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Today, there is no god of the sea."

Ravik:
But there were once. The message is implicit.

He nods. Drinks. Savors. Thinks.

"I apologize if I overstep my lord. You seem seem, tired and sad. Is your life in danger? Are we too late?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"This is not your fault, child. You have done my work tonight, in saving that child, and Tural deserves his shard back, even if the key was lost. I am merely... Not the best to exchange this information."

He swirls the tea, and the liquid rises in the form of a whale. The creature swims through the air, circling their seats.

"Please, relay all we talk about to your allies, and none else. They deserve to know."

Ravik:
"I will my lord. And we will get the shard."he says. Watching the whale made of steam. I am sorry. he wants to say, but he doesn't.

"Do you have patience for a couple more questions, my lord?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"I am the god of secrets, child. Seeking answers is one of my passions- please, do go on."

Ravik:
"I have so many." Ravik laughs a little. "I hardly know what direction to ask."

He sips a little.

"Two. How do we get the shard out of the boy, and how do we get it back to Tural? He has not been seen in centuries."

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"The shard's extraction is not so easy. It is not often that a mortal so young attunes to an object such as that, immaterial as it can be. The ritual aimed to forcefully sever the connection- you may need to converse with the child. Explain how to work the process. Or hand him to the Disciples' care, if all else fails. He holds a target in his soul, for better or worse."

The liquid whale shifts in form, taking on that of a soaring dragon.

"Tural is here and as active as ever. In the Material, I mean. Move for Nayora, and look for Liviina Akra. She may be able to give you a lead, at the very least."

Ravik:
"Liviina Akra." Ravik repeats. "I will find her."

The silence stretch for a bit as Ravik watches the steam dragon soar. "We saw a dragon in Embauba forest. It had merged with a demon prince. Zuggtmoy we've learned. And my companion has dreamt of Yeenoghu. Are they too aiming for chaos and destruction? The godhater showed me a vision of every god dead and ruin laid upon Ytesh, if not the whole world."

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
Sardior's claw touches the tea dragon, and from it pulls a strand of liquid. He begins drawing in the air, symbols that resemble draconic somewhat. Just looking at them, you get an inherent understanding that they represent Yeenoghu and Zuggtmoy.

"Our cousins are corrupted by their jealousy and regret. After their seclusion, they seek to destroy- some for the very sake of the act, others in hope to build with the ruins left behind. When you see the work of fiends, seek to topple it, for they will not hesitate to bring you down. This... God-hater is something else entirely."

Ravik:
He is not surprised by Sardior's vehemence against the demon princes. And the answer was much as he expected. But the part about the God-hater surprises him a bit. "What is it then?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"You know of the Astral Sea- a space formed out of the very consciousness of every living being. A space linked to thought, to desires, to dreams, which houses passages to the other Planes. The Far Realm is the corner where nightmares take root. It is the very antithesis to reality itself. It is formed out of fears both real and imagined, of ambitions tarnished by harsh truths. You can see it at night- a darker spot, surrounded by a golden halo."

Sardior has been calm, if tired during this interactions. As soon as he begins talking about the Far Realm, his speech gains speed, his jaw tenses, and it feels like he's holding back from crunching the teacup in his hands.

"Aberrations are just that. Aberrations. Beings that should not exist, who should not have the privilege of stepping into reality. Fear them. Hate them. As long as you fight to drive them off, you will do the honorable work."

Ravik:
"So... in a way they are connected to the chaos that the cults are trying to sow." Ravik comments after he has given the words some thought. "As if these aberrations are thought up... no, dreamt up by them. And the malachite? is it a conduit for this?"

He thinks about the malachite infested egg roosting in the bag of holding. Would it hatch and become one such aberration.

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"Malachite is... Curious. You have witnessed pieces of the Wandering Shard. Those are touched by the Beyond, warped by her leftover dominion. It is dangerous in the wrong hands, and disastrous in the right ones. Some Aberrations may be directly tied to Malachite, but not all, and their danger lies both in their nature as well as their age."

The god adjusts himself in his seat, looking straight into Ravik's eyes.

"For as long as there have been creatures, they have dreamt. There are presences as old as creation itself in that dark hole."

Ravik:
"How do they get here?" Ravik ask, a little cowed to look his god in the eye.

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"They find ways. Some hitch a ride with the Shard's pieces as they break off. Others are brought here by foolish mortals. But most simply... Appear, defying my domain over space, as though a portal were always there. I theorize they rely on mortals' mental states to do the latter, but... I'm unsure."

Sardior sets his teacup down, and Ravik hears a bell ringing. The god takes a deep breath before standing up.

"I'm afraid we have reached our limit. You have time for one last question, child- choose wisely."

Ravik:
There are so many questions. But it is one he didn't expect that slip out through his lips as he too get up.

"My lord. I will serve you to the day that I die. But, I need to know. Am I to serve the secrets or the knowledge? What do you expect from me?"

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
Sardior turns towards Ravik, and truly looks at him. The God's neck cranes softly as he looks at the fireplace, flames reflecting on his ruby eyes.

"We carry the knowledge so that not all suffer from understanding it. We deliver what is needed and teach what is desired, so that all grow together as one. But you know some things are simply not meant to be spread. Would you have every sorcerer know how to summon Gnolls? Would you teach every wizard how to feed off of other souls, or how to foster a Kuo-Toa community to create godlings? Would you teach your people whether gods can die...? As the ones who know the most, it eventually falls into our burdens to understand how, where, and when to best teach, and when to accept we must learn."

Ravik:
Ravik places his hand on his heart and bows his head. "And so it shall be, Father."

He looks up again. "I will carry the knowledge and keep the secret."

"I hope to see you again one day. May light follow your steps."

Sardior, the Wise Mister:
"May the fog of your future clear up, and the ruby light illuminate your road."

The God moves towards the work table, and sits there. Ravik feels himself moving, space warping as it had before to push him outside of the tower. The further you go, the larger the tower is, and you suddenly find yourself next to the piece of wall, floor, and ruby.