Randy quirks up an eyebrow in surprise.  "Last time I checked I wasn't. My order isn't a militant one and I'm not formally part of any national military."

Dornikal just gives Kreldoran a blank look at his explanation but places his untouched drink back on the tray to inspect the opal.

"What's this? Why would a gem..."

Investigation: 20

"Might be that it doesn't happen, things could have changed since I penned that and the General Buckthorn that was intended was intended for will no longer exist. But I'm certain it's meant for you, rank or not."

He rummages in his robes and pulls out a scrap of parchment.

"I've some inkling what this is referring to, but apparently I thought you needed to be told that you need to find your own balance if you're going to serve multiple masters. Says here 'He will have Balance offered to him, but it must be his choice, and while it may be useful, it will not make the way easier.' The word 'Balance' is capitalized, for whatever that means."

"That garnet's of a size to be worth a fair bit. If you wanted to get the gem out to put it to some purpose other than keeping an old wizard's papers from blowing away, how'd you go about it?"

Dornikal realizes on closer inspection that it is indeed a garnet, and not an opal. No one need know that a follower of Dumathoin made such a mistake.

As Kreldoran expands on his analogy, Ulmwin seems to pause for a long moment, as if considering both thoughts old and new. After a while of this, he finally responds.

"I think... Initially, a part of me did wonder if indeed, the lighthouse keeper sits so high that the people below are but grains of sand, and I think to some extent that may still be true. That it cared to record all that was happening, but not to intervene even if the waves would wash away the beach entirely. But... While the lighthouse keeper sits so high, he does love all the wonderful things from the village below. None make as good a fish pie as the lady, or the treats from the baker cannot be replaced. And while there may be a certain disconnect there between where all these come from, and the 'grains of sand on the beach'... It wouldn't want to do anything to lose any of them, if it could be helped."

"At least they'd make sure the one carrying those gifts up there would be safe, if they could. I would say that such exchanges are... Mostly transactional, but not cold. The lighthouse keeper is merely a hermit. Bad at the conventionals, but not of ill will, merely showing gratitude in a different way. To the courier, the gifts he brings up the mountain are inconsequential, easily acquired. Just how the priceless artifacts that the lighthouse keeper gifts are little to it,  but priceless for the courier. And with how most of those gifts are designed around helping people... It is amicable."

"At the very least, they'd make sure to take care of their courier. They'd hate to have to get a new one- He'd probably bring them the wrong kind of booze," he finishes with a smirk. Still, it's obvious that these words gave him a few things to consider, even if his usual disposition has remained.

"Now... Is there a particular reason you are breaching this topic? Something in particular you'd like to say, or merely wishing to wish caution?"

"Ah, good! That's more hopeful than I feared!"

"As to why now? Apparently I thought now was when it needed to be said.", he waves the scrap of paper again.

"Whether it did or not...needed to be said, that is, I don't know, but I left myself a note to have this chat with you, so I'm listening to myself. I'll be talking with the others in turn as well, it seems your imminent departure prompted the reminders. It... can get a bit confusing at times, keeping myself in the dark, but if I needed to know more to have this conversation, I'm certain I would have made sure that I did... unless the damage to the tower disrupted things... hmm, that's concerning. I'll have to remember to look into that more fully.", he gestures a hand and a mage hand dips a quill and writes a reminder for him.

"From what we've said here, I think the crux of it is that you are a connection to a force that may have the potential to shift the balance before the coming storm... if it cares to do so. More may pivot on this connection you've formed than just the gifts you've received and your ability to use them."

"Drugs?"   Coljin is a bit taken back by the sudden question.  "Ummmm."

"Well, not interested in the kind that make you feel less and move like a zombie.   But I'm guessing you are talking about smoking something that will make me see what you are wanting to show me???         ...   Well.   If it won't make me feel awful for the next few days...and if I won't be craving more afterwards."

"I've got an antidote for the 'feeling awful' bit, but I guarantee that you won't be craving more after.", Kreldoran says with a grimace.

He rustles around producing a few vial and bits of powder that get measured together and mixed in precise amounts as he suggests that the pair of you retired to a couch. "Don't need to be falling out of our chairs."

He selects a greenish blue gem and places it in a device that he has you drag over in front of the couch, a flickering blue-green light dancing across the couch as he has a seat and hands you the beaker. "Just gotta add two drops of this in, then we'll inhale the vapors. Fiona! Give us five minutes and bring us out!"

His owl hoots in acknowledgement. 

He adds two drops from a stoppered bottle and the beaker begins bubbling and misting a purple haze. He takes a deep inhalation and hands it to you. "Set it down on the side table when you're done. Fergus'll see to it."

With a slight bit of concern, Coljin does just a Kreldoran does, mimicking his actions and takes a deep inhale.  He sets the device on the table, and closes his eyes. 

Dornikal coughs and sends a silent prayer for forgiveness to Dumathoin before answering,

"Really there aren't many options. You take a pick and hammer and chip away the stone bit by bit."

(Coljin and Kreldoran's drug trip is AI assisted.)

The light from the gem flickers and swells, and you lose all sense of your body, though you can feel a presence beside you. Somehow you manage to turn, and see a diffuse yellow gloe that you somehow are convinced is Kreldoran. Your perspective swoops upward into the darkened cosmic expanse, underlit by the world below, but you continue up and up, until up becomes meaningless, and there is only forward amidst a tapestry of glittering stars.

The stars and galaxies swirl and from them emerges the stellar embodiment of fury, his form resplendent with the fierce cruelty of a celestial hunter. Malar. His figure is outlined by the brilliance of countless stars, his eyes blaze with an otherworldly fervor. Opposite him, in a display of ethereal grace, dances the constellation of a unicorn, its silhouette shimmering with a luminescent glow. Bathed in the soft light of distant suns, the unicorn moves with an elegance that seems to defy the very laws of the cosmos. Yet, despite its beauty, there is an air of vulnerability about it, as if it senses the impending danger lurking in the celestial realm.

Meanwhile, nearby, the constellation of a bear emerges from the star-studded backdrop, its form imposing and formidable. Each star within its outline seems to pulse with a primal strength, echoing the raw power of the wilderness itself. Yet, unlike Malar's predatory stance, the bear appears calm, almost tranquil, as if it holds within it the wisdom of ages past.

As the cosmic tableau unfolds, a sense of foreboding hangs heavy. The hunt is on, and the balance of the cosmos itself seems to tremble on the precipice of destiny. In this stellar representation, the eternal struggle unfolds with an intensity that transcends mortal comprehension. As Malar, here depicted as a celestial embodiment of primal ferocity, closes in on his quarry, the cosmic dance takes a dramatic turn. With a primal roar that reverberates through the astral planes, he sets his sights first on the unicorn, its radiant form glimmering in the starlight.

With a savage lunge, Malar descends upon the unicorn constellation, his stellar form engulfing the graceful creature in a tempest of celestial fury. Stars flare and streak as the celestial hunter rends the unicorn asunder, his celestial claws tearing through the fabric of space itself. The once-proud constellation shatters, its light fading into the darkness as Malar claims his prize with a triumphant howl that echoes across the cosmos.

But Malar's hunt is far from over. With the taste of victory fresh upon his lips, he turns his attention to the constellation of the bear, its mighty form a testament to the untamed power of the wild.

With a thunderous growl, Malar descends upon the bear, his celestial form clashing with the indomitable strength of the constellation. Stars collide and explode as the two cosmic titans engage in a battle that shakes the very foundations of the universe. Yet, in the end, it is Malar's primal might that prevails. With a final swipe of his celestial claws, he tears the bear constellation asunder, its once-majestic form crumbling into stardust before his relentless onslaught.

And so, amidst the silent expanse of the cosmos, Malar stands victorious, his celestial form bathed in the fading light of his fallen prey. His form shifts and blurs, starry tentacles bursting forth from his chest, everting his innards to spray across the stars, the tentacles writhing and grasping at the myriad stars strewn about, leaving all in their wake pulsing with a sickly deep purple glow. A tentacle lashes for you, and the purple glow is all you see, the light seeping deep into bones you no longer possess.

"Lad? You alright there? Come back to me..."

Your eyes creak open, the fading blue green of the gem projector fading as Kreldoran powers it down, your eyes both crusted and leaking tears as you attempt to adjust to having a mortal frame again.

"Told you that you'd not be craving it. Here, have a sip of this, the worst should pass shortly."

A cool glass is pressed against your lips and the sweet liquid flows across your parched throat and down into your belly, a cool calm radiating out, and after a minute or so, the dizziness and unease fades.

"Not my preferred way of getting the point across, but 'Malar wants to kill your goddess and Balador, but they're a host for something worse' sounds absolutely inane otherwise. Though I suppose we could have tried that first. Ah well, too late for that!" 

"Aye. That'd get there. Taking a sledge and smashing away at the granite would free the gem, but in how many pieces? That particular garnet has a flaw, deep in its center. Can only see it with bright light at the right angle, but I didn't trust my hand enough to chip it free without fracturing it. Of course, which would hold more value, the raw gem with a flaw marring its beauty, or the same gem, cut by a practiced hand to be able to exclude the flaw from the finished product? Would someone looking at that cut gem lament that it wasn't bigger in the same way that someone looking at the flawed gem would think it a shame that it was so notably imperfect?"

Ulmwin chuckles jovially, though does turn a bit more serious for a second.

"Of course, I might be just be too optimistic for my own good again. I do always try to see the best. But, this lighthouse keeper wouldn't be helping me in the way it has been if it truly did not care, of that at least I am pretty certain," he nods. It's obvious that he's taking some of the words of caution to heart, at least. And he also wonders if he should point out that if there really is an issue with the note-taking system, making a note to... Nevermind, it's probably nothing.

"I'm not sure if it would be to such a degree... But, just in case you are right, I will certainly keep it in mind. Thank you, Kreldoran."

Randy looks thoughtful and rubs his scar. "Interesting. Balance is emphasized in a way to suggest the metaphysical meaning.  Suggests that at some point I will be in the position to make choices between the forces of Order and Chaos.  Balance does not favor one over the other, but strives to keep both equal."  He shakes his head in bemusement. "All Mother, what have you gotten me into?" He looks at the sealed envelope. "Tempting, but if prophecy is involved, I'd better wait until either the conditions are met or it becomes obvious that they won't be."  He closes his eyes. "General Buckthorn? Why would....?"  His eyes snap open. "To protect the Gate. Why else?" He grins at Keldoran. "I think things are about to get interesting."

Reminder written, the mage hand blots the ink and lifts the sheet of paper with the note on it, both hand and reminder vanishing.

"You're welcome Ulmwin. One more thing, though it's an observation I'm making based on getting to know you and your companions over the last few weeks. The other three... they can get quite serious, and if this world faces the magnitude of trouble I think it does, there's not a lot of room for frivolity, but don't let them lose sight of the joy that comes from life. Our time here is too short to spend it just trying to preserve it if we lose perspective on why."

((Totally forgot to describe the letter beyond the inscription. The envelope is of heavy parchment, but old, having an almost brittle feel to it, though with the way Kreldoran was smacking it against his palm, it looks to be holding up. The 'General Buckthorn' is faded, and Randy can feel from the thickness of the contents, there is probably no more than a page or two, but a large irregular lump several inches long has the feel of a large key.))

"Perhaps. Though I have the sense that you finding your balance, and being offered Balance may be referring to two separate things. Of course, Order and Chaos may be single word terms that represent a much more complex. We can talk of Life and Death, but how do we classify a fallen tree that provides food for the insects and mushrooms?"

"As far as equal, balance need not be equal in all things. A set of scales in balance with gold on one side and an equal weight of feathers on the other. Equal in weight, but in size? Value?"

"Yuk. I hate the P-word. I'm a wizard of divination, not a hedge witch telling fortunes. The ones that do hold any weight, folks get so twisted up trying to meet the conditions that they end up making a muck of it. If you hold on to that to wait until someone comes along and makes you a bloody General, what if your tent catches fire and it gets burned up before you can read it? I seriously thought of putting it in a new envelope, but I didn't address it to me, so figured I must have had a reason, and perhaps better I don't know what the key goes to."

"Calling them my 'divinations' sounds awful pretentious too, but 'forecasted probable eventualities' is a mouthful. Suffice it to say, previous observations and study led me to certain conclusions that I set aside until certain conditions were met when I was reminded to act on them. I have no recollection of penning that letter, and I'm not in a habit of dating my reminders, I don't need that sort of distraction, but I'd say it's been a good while. Putting 'General' on there may have been a lapse in attention on my part at the time, or it could have seemed a certainty at the time, but have been sidetracked by something seemingly unrelated since then. Or perhaps past Kreldoran knew that the General would give you pause, and thus delay you opening it until the opportune time, whether you've been bestowed the rank or not.", he shrugs. "I try not to second guess myself too often. Not good for the ego."

"Things are always interesting, if you have an inquisitive mind and know where to look. Hmmmm... That would imply more than Dornikal and the gnomes in the ranks, unless 'General' ends up a humorous nickname one of them bestows... Would probably be Ulmwin, if it comes to that... that's not an official divination, by the way, just my supposition in the moment. I'm not sure what allies would be needed for such a showdown if it must exist, but I think gaining support and allies will not go amiss."

Randy gives a nod. "That's always the trouble with divination, whatever form it may take. So many variables can change over time to make the original reading completely off base.  Particularly if the "divine powers" start meddling directly."

"  I will need to take counsel with the leaders of the church in Circle Vale when I get back there.  The order of Obad-Hai isn't militant...at least not in the normal sense." He gestures to himself. "But the Church of the All Mother DID at one point have a Knight's order.  And some remnants still exist today in it's monastic order.  Perhaps it's time to bring back the knights. If that happens, the commander would be the Vicar General."  He gives a wry smile. "I'll have to walk softly until I can sound out the politics. I'd rather not get stoned or burned at the stake as a heretic.  A fate all too common to prophets of the religious variety, I'm afraid. Particularly if the message is unwelcome."

Dornikal winces at the mention of using a sledge.

"I think that misses the point, somewhat. Dumathoin isn't worried about the value of the gems, He seeks to reveal their beauty. I, as his servant, want nothing more than for people to understand and see this beauty."

He shrugs,

"But I understand that sometimes beauty is connected to value. This garnet is beautiful as it is, flawed as Dumathoin created it. It may be that splitting the garnet would increase that beautify, perhaps not. Beauty is, as the elves say, is in the eye of the beholder. Someone might prefer the original, someone might prefer the cut gem. Neither one is wrong, both are appreciating the beauty of Dumathoin's bounty."

He considers Kreldoran,

"What is the garnet standing in for, sir?"

"Indeed! Oh, if you only knew how fiddly divination can be!", he points at the letter in your hands. "There's a chance I penned that letter before you were born, but even if it was only a decade or two ago, if I knew I would some day have the need to hand that letter, knowing what its contents were off to a General Buckthorn? How much time would I spend over the years wondering when they'd arrive, what they'd be like, if the contents would be useful. Compound that by orders of magnitude, and thousands of thousands of past and future memories vying for consideration... there's a good reason that hedge mages that do manage to tap into real divination magics often go mad. Much simpler and safer to let the forecasted eventual probabilities be forgotten until needed... at the very least, it keeps me from mucking up my own forecasts. For example, if I had retained full awareness of that letter when you arrived at my tower, I'd have been wondering if you were the correct Buckthorn, on top of whatever else it says. Might be I'd have hesitated to ask for your assistance in Galistri, and if you hadn't gone there, then Renny would not have planted the beans in the desert, and the nation of dragonborn would not have a source of water and food. Maji would still live, and Zokk would not. I'm not saying the loss of your friend was a good thing, or a needed thing, only that it would be a different thing. I certainly don't claim to have perfect knowledge, and am as fallible as any of us."

"But I'd also caution you against putting all your efforts towards trying to make something happen... or avoiding it, for that matter. A merchant, given the moment and manner of his death... and not saying I'm in the business of such things, this is just a thought exercise... he could spend his fortune attempting to stave it off and prolong his life as much as possible, hiding from the world and in the process turn his existence into a grueling monotony for as long as remains. Or feels invincible in the interim, and spends his coin on wine, revelry and companionship, only to have that very lifestyle be his demise. In both cases they were too fixed on the destination, and let it dictate the roads taken. It's entirely possible that at some point I manage to divine my moment of passing, but what good is that to me? I trust either I have not, or that past Kreldoran, burdened with that knowledge understood that it was not necessary to know... at least not now, and allowed himself-myself to forget. At times I amuse myself with thoughts that some morning I'll awake to a note that says something like, 'You die this afternoon, make sure you don't have crumbs in your beard.'."

"Though, I think your friends might take great exception to you being stoned, staked and burned. If it were not an inane admonishment, I'd tell you to 'not wait too long' to open that letter... Perhaps I'll plumb my past knowledge and see if there are any other events that would indicate the correct timing, if such exists. Otherwise, maybe we should trust that whenever you open it will be the right time?"

Kreldoran considers your words and theology.

"Aye. Not a perfect analogy, as many are not."

When you ask what the garnet is standing in for, his eyes and tone soften. "Your clan, lad."

"You'd caught word of troubles, and they're ongoing, and deep. A flaw, in the core of Greystone. I say that not to cast aspersions, but to just say it plain. I don't know what exactly who or what the rot is, and if I once did, must have felt that information wasn't what would be needed now."

Ulmwin nods and smiles, agreeing with that sentiment wholeheartedly.

"I won't. Can't ever forget there are things worth fighting for, right?" 

Dornikal stiffens.

"No, my clan has some issues but its core is still strong. Maybe too fixed on old glories and what we lost rather than seeking to bring new glory to the clan. It sounded like some sort of twisted magic was involved, and you know better than most that the Greystones aren't wizards, just clerics to the gods of the anvil and stone. None of them would do anything like this. This is something from outside the clan."

He thinks back on the rigidity of the clan that drove him to leave,

"It can't be."