"I think it would be attuning to the Weave, Diego. Not necessarily the stablizer."  Iromae looks over at Shenua. "But I still am not sure how do we just do that exactly."  She seems to think it over, "Perhaps some sort of join casting of 'Detect Magic' to try to 'see' what might be behind this?"  She offers a whispered prayer to Deneir to focus her thoughts. (Arcana Check to see if she can figure out something that might accomplish what Shenua is alluding to: 11+4=15)  

At Diego's question, Shenua flushes slightly, her gray skin taking on a purplish tint. She had been hasty in blurting out an idea she hadn't fully thought through.

"Well, I meant the stabilizer. But since the stabilizer is connected to the Weave, we could attune to it directly. Perhaps." She turns to Iromae and adds, "I thought we could use the fork to help with the attuning. But it's true that, in our test with the tapestry, we had our threads—and I think that made the whole process easier..."

The artificer pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully with the tuning fork. When Iromae shares her idea of a joint casting of Detect Magic, Shenua smiles. "That sounds good! Could we do it ritually? I only have one more use of instant spellcasting today, and it might be best to save that. Just in case."

Vorenus is lost in thought, head turning back and forth, listening to the ideas, the story of the instability in the weave.  Silently he pulls out his silver needle, looking down at it, and back up at his friends.  “I had a similar vision.  We were all given instruments to help with the fray in the loom of the weave.  Perhaps there is validity in your words, your general idea.  We just don’t know how to do it!”  He turns his head to Elira and Tavian, quickly saying "You went about this in an odd way.  I don't trust you fully yet either."  He turns his head for a moment, mumbling "But sometimes, I'm not trustworthy either...". Back up to full volume, he says "We will still keep an eye on you, but this is far bigger than all of us.  I don't understand these forces that are trying to get this to unravel, I wish that you could be more specific about that.  It would help to know who and what we are up against."  ((Insight to check, are they holding anything back, lying at all? : 7)

Vorenus turns to Grathna, saying "Are you aware of these concerns that have been raised before?  Were you one of the ones who ignored them?  What is the power source for this portal?  What lies beneath?  Tell us, ye Gods, for the sake of us all, now, out with all of it on the table!"  

To his friends, he says "I need to have a long talk with all of you, over many beers.  Sometime.  No time for it right now.  Some things... we need to discuss.  But I like your idea about using the instruments we have been given, I feel this is no random chance, there is some additional part that we have to play in all of this.  I mean to play mine, as best I can."  Vorenus looks down at his silver needle, holding it closer to the portal, trying to feel, see through his mind's eye what is needed here.  

Elira's gaze softens just a touch at Shenua’s excitement, tempered by doubt. “That’s ... more or less the approach Tavian was trying to suggest. The stabilizer doesn’t just draw from the Weave — it resonates with it. It’s like tuning an instrument. If you align yourselves to its frequency, you might be able to hear the source it’s responding to. Or even redirect it.”

Tavian nods, gently. “But be careful. Tuning yourselves to the stabilizer means threading your souls through the same resonance it’s caught in. If what’s pulling at it is malevolent ...” He trails off.

Grathna throws her hands up. “Okay, okay — let me get this straight. You want to attune your ... magical forks and batons and needles to my bleeding stabilizer while it’s bouncing off the charts like a pixie on fire?!”

Then Vorenus speaks, and the room quiets.

Elira meets his eyes. Her mouth tightens when he says he doesn’t trust them fully. “We didn’t expect you to,” she says plainly. “But we weren’t trying to deceive you. We brought the truth, even if it was ugly.”

Vorenus weighs her words and, as far as he can tell, she's not lying.

Tavian exhales, then gestures toward the stabilizer. “It’s powered by a dimensional core — an arcane matrix buried beneath the Guild, back from when the portal was first established. It’s connected directly to a leyline node — an ancient one, sealed and supposedly inert.”

Elira adds, “But now it’s ... not. We think something has reawakened it. Or reached through it. And it’s responding. We’ve traced the worst instabilities to the core. If you really want to understand what’s going on — what the stabilizer is reacting to — you’ll have to go down there.”

Grathna sighs. “The old subchannel beneath the Foundry. The core chamber was sealed off after the first incident decades ago. You want to go poking that bear? Fine. But I’m not going down there unless the entire bloody Guild council is possessed by ghost weasels or something.”

As she grumbles, Vorenus moves toward the stabilizer, silver needle in hand. As he brings it closer, there's a strange, resonant tug — like a harp string vibrating in a far-off chamber. The needle glows faintly. Not visibly, but in the mind’s eye — his thread tugging toward something beneath, responding to the Weave’s pull like a compass twitching toward true north.

Each of the group’s tools — fork, baton, needle — seems to shimmer faintly now that they are together near the stabilizer.

Each of the tools - fork, baton, needle.  Three glowing tools, yet there were four of them. 'I'd hoped to keep our work quiet, but the others have just laid everything out to these two. To Grathna. And I suppose those clerics at the temple of Oghma had already had a glimpse too.  Was that where we failed the first time? Keeping our findings secret and not getting others involved? I'd thought it was just discretion on our part.'  

Returning her attention from her thoughts and back to the present, Iromae reaches into her pouch where her quill is located.  She actually is apprehensive for a moment. 'I've not touched or mentioned my tool. All it took was the others to start glowing. Perhaps they don't even need me here,' she thought for a moment.  She slips her hand inside to grasp the quill but takes a peek first to see if she sees anything before withdrawing it.

"Oh, yes," Shenua gives Vorenus a wink, her expression playful. "We do have things to discuss." The artificer isn't sure what he is refering to, but she certainly wants to ask him about his sorcery. She immediately glances at Grathna as Vorenus voices aloud what she had thought but hadn't dared to ask, hoping Grathna wasn't one of the people who had dismissed the warnings about the stabilizer.

When the conversation leads to the leyline node underneath the Guild, the tiefling suddenly straightens up, her eyes lighting with curiosity. "Oh! Now that you mention it, I did hear about it once," she says, tapping her crossed arms lightly with the tuning fork. "But I didn't remember about it, and I certainly haven't been there before." Her tail gives an eager flick behind her, betraying just how much the idea excites her. "But what incident are you talking about, Grathna? What happened? Anything we should be worried about?"

Grathna groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as if the memory physically pains her. “You lot just love digging up old messes, don’t you? Alright. Fine.” She plants both hands on her hips and leans forward.

“The incident was called the Foundry Singularity. Decades back. The Guild tried to amplify portal travel — make it faster, more stable, more … scalable. They figured tying the portal’s core to the leyline node below would supercharge the whole system. And it did. For about five hours.”

She lifts a finger. “And then it exploded. Not the kaboom sort — more like it collapsed in on itself. For a moment, reality in the Foundry went … sideways. People said time jumped. Sounds stopped making sense. One apprentice swore she saw a version of herself already dead. Then the core snapped back into our plane, and the whole subchannel was sealed and warded. Nobody’s poked it since.” She pauses. “Until now, apparently.”

Tavian glances toward Shenua, then Iromae. “This core — this node — may have remained dormant all these years. But if your artifacts, your threads, are reacting now … perhaps it’s no longer dormant. Perhaps it never was. It was just … waiting.”

As Grathna finishes, Iromae peeks into her pouch. The soft parchment and ink-stained edges of her quill sit as they always have — silent and unassuming. But in this moment, something is different.

A faint glimmer lingers around the feather’s spine. Subtle — almost imagined. A shimmer that matches the hum she now senses in her fingertips.

And then, just before she grasps it, the quill shifts. Not physically — it remains still — but her awareness of it deepens. She doesn’t see it, exactly, but feels the presence of another glowing thread joining the others, unseen until now. As if the quill has simply chosen this moment to reveal its resonance. A quiet but undeniable pulse in harmony with the others.

Four threads. Four instruments. Four echoes calling out to something below.

Shenua looks at Grathna, wide eyed. That had happened? And she hadn't heard about it before? "Sweet hells, the Guild must have gone to great lengths to keep it hidden", she thinks, and  shakes her head, partly disappointed by that dark stain in the Guild's past, but also aware she's in no position to criticize. Who hadn't made mistakes while experimenting? She certainly had!

"Well," she says after a long pause, pressing the glowing tuning fork in her hand. She tucks a stray lock of turquoise hair behind her pointed ear. "This only means we'll have to be extra careful. But we need to go down there. It's the only way forward right now, and I don't know about you, guys, but I'm definitely not staying put."

As soon as she sees the faint glimmer, Iromae is chiding herself. 'Silly girl! Worrying for no reason.' She feels the hum in her fingers, and the deepening awareness. She grasps the quill, almost without looking now, and pulls it out. "You know, I can feel something, the threads, the ones that connect us," she says as she looks from Shenua to Diego then to Vorenus. "We're on the right path." 

She of course knew nothing of the 'Foundry Singularity' that Grathna mentions. But there was no reason she would have. The leyline node and the past incident certainly seemed like relevant news. "How could you know of this near catastrophic event but say nothing as all these odd things happened?" She isn't really speaking to anyone in particular - though the accusation probably points more towards members of the guild, such as Grathna.  "In any case, I think we should go down there and see what we can do. Let's go." 

Vorenus watches and his eyes go wide as the quill is brought out, he murmurs lowly “Yes… that’s it.”  He turns to hear Grathna’s explanation, nodding.  Then he says in spite of himself, “Maybe… maybe this node just needs a good smack to get it back in line.  Just bang it to get it humming again!”  He looks up and sees the dour look in Grathna’s eyes, “Nope.  Just kidding.  I swear I won’t….”  And he stays silent, then holds his hand up to his chin, thinking like The Thinker.  

He likes Ironmae’s enthusiasm, and he nods vigorously, saying “Right, we must investigate!  I agree.  No other way, really.”  

Grathna rubs a hand down her face and mutters, "You’re all a special kind of mad, you know that?" But there’s no venom behind the words — only a weary kind of respect.

She moves to a control panel near the stabilizer and pulls open a heavy metal plate, revealing a glyph-locked terminal layered in dust and rust. With a few grumbled oaths and some careful toolwork, she pries it open. The hum of latent energy drifts up from within.

“The access shaft behind the Foundry drops straight to the node’s perimeter chamber. But it’s been sealed for decades — and not just with stone. The wards down there are Guild-enforced. I’ll disable them, but once you’re in …” she looks at each of you, “there’s no pulling you back up in a hurry. So if anything goes sideways, you’ll be stuck down there.”

Tavian and Elira exchange a glance. “We’ll stay topside for now,” Tavian offers, “in case the stabilizer flares again. And we’ll monitor the resonance while you’re in the node chamber. If anything changes, we’ll try to stabilize from here.”

As Grathna finishes disabling the last glyph, a low chime echoes from the floor beneath you. A faint circle of runes appears on the tiles near the west wall — hidden until now. The sigils glow faint gold, forming a teleportation lift embedded in the stone.

“It’ll take you straight to the lower conduit,” she explains, standing and stepping back. “Once you’re down there, follow the old leyline conduit until you reach the node housing.”

A faint vibration hums in your fingertips as you approach the circle. The tuning fork, the quill, the baton, the needle — they all resonate in sync. Whatever is beneath this Guild … it’s already aware of your presence.

This place — this moment — feels like the center of something. A knot in the threads of fate that must be untangled. Or severed.

With the vibration at her fingers, Iromae is excited. She makes for the teleportation lift, only holding back as she realizes the others might not have been quite as fast as she was to jump into this. The pause gives her a chance to regard Tavian and Elira. 'If they weren't trustworthy, this might be a great way for them to get at the stabilizer with us out of the way,' she thinks.  But given the situation, it feels right to head below, and she figures they will just have to trust the pair. 

"You're going to stay here then?" she comments to Grathna. "Probably a good idea to have you here in case something needs to be done with the stabilizer."  

Once the group is set, she starts to head down using the lift. Only once they have made it down does she whisper to the others. "Could this thing that is here within the Weave, do you suppose it could be Kalis?"

Shenua taps Grathna on the shoulder, and with an ironic half-smile on her face, she says, "Are you sure you don't want to come? We're going to have all kinds of fun down there!" The tiefling chuckles, then waves goodbye to the half-orc. "Take care of the stabilizer while we're not around. Don't let any more hooded figures come play with it, okay?" She eyes both Tavian and Elira after this, adding, "Just joking! Before heading off to face gods know what."

With that, she follows the others into the lift. To Iromae's question, she shrugs slightly and replies, "I got a feeling it is related to her. But we'll see soon enough."

Before the group can take a single step to start following the old leyline, as instructed by Grathna, Shenua steps in front of Vorenus. "Before we continue  ... we need to talk. You should have told us about your wild sorcery, Vorenus. I can understand you wanting to hide it..." She pauses, her eyes softening. She can't imagine what it's like not to be fully in control of one's own magic — but even so, this needs to be addressed. "...But that needs to stop. At least, with us. Don’t you think?"

Vorenus looks down the stairs, leaning to look around Shenua, looks down at her feet, up to the ceiling, finally meeting her eyes.  *Sigh*   “Ye Gods, I didn’t expect to have to tell you as we are marching to our doom.  Or whatever this is.  Kalis salvation?  Ahhhhh.  Yeah.  I imagined telling you one day over many drinks.”  He stops and scratches his scruffy beard, his arms, cracking his knuckles.  

“So… you finally figured it out?  What was it, that sick guy at the bar?  Didn’t mean to.  Sometimes… things just.. happen.  It has always been this way.”  Vorenus sighs and side steps around Shenua, glad to be on the move again, but he continues talking.  Somehow it's better, if he doesn’t have to look at them, as he’s talking.  He’s gesticulating wildly with his arms as he takes slow steps downward.  

“You see, my father was this wonderful, all-powerful wizard.  Or so they say.  I never met him.  I thought for sure that I had some of his knowledge, his abilities, his mastery of the arcane.  I thought that if I just studied hard enough… it would all come to me, in time.”  A couple of steps in silence.  “But that wasn’t the case.  Scroll writing, potion preparation, spell book transcription.... I couldn't get any of it!  Shenua, and Ironmae too - if it hadn't been for you....". Vorenus trails off, he puts his hand over his mouth, gripped in a fist.  He stops and turns, looking at his friends.  "I would have been kicked out of the Academy.  I have abilities, but I don't know where they come from.  When I relax, breathe deep.. they come.  Or if I'm in a panic, or someone is in danger, I can't explain it!  But if I didn't have all of you..". He stops, looking in the eyes at Diego, Ironmae, Shenua, locking focus and eye contact with each, "I wouldn't have made it."  He turns back around and continues down the stairs.  

"After I graduated... which took no small amount of effort, to get by, to get through..I still thought that it would just come with time.  It hasn't.  I passed myself off to many groups when traveling as Vorenus the Great, the traveling wizard, here to protect you all!"  His voice builds as he sounds more and more grandiose -- flinging his arms upward.  "But really, I was just the cook.  And sometimes, I could pull things out of my ass that would save us.  Magical abilities that could burn down.. armies!"  *sigh*   "So there it is.  Now you hate me.  Shenua, if I didn't look over your shoulder a time or two on tests.. I would be a short order cook or a scrubber of toilets, I don't know.  But I do have a lot of magical power, raw arcane power that will shoot out of my hands.  I do have skill!  It is just that, sometimes, I have trouble controlling it...."  

Vorenus keeps quiet now, slowing his walk down the stairs, afraid to turn back, to look at them.  He feels their stares on his shoulders...   

If it remains quiet, Vorenus oddly starts to sing.  Before that, he says "Diego, I could never figure out your style of magic.  Loved your songs though, but I could never fit the weave of magic in it."  Then he begins - mimicking Diego’s voice, "You... asked me how I knew, rabbit shit was blue.... and to you I said... you have been misled.... rabbit shit is red..... "   (Sung in a crooning voice to the tune of "Smoke Gets in your Eyes.")

Shenua takes a step forward, her tone quiet but insistent. "Of course it's important we speak about it now, Vorenus! You changed your appearance to look like Grathna in the tavern and someone got poisoned because of it. That could've been one of us."

She strides up to him, keeping pace so he can't avoid her gaze. "Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't use your magic again. Just… let us know when you're about to cast your more powerful magic, so we can be prepared."

The tiefling sighs, her turquoise-over-black eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Are you sure your father was a wizard? Maybe he was a Wild Sorcerer like you, and he passed it on. Or maybe your magic came from something else—exposure to raw Fey energy, an ancestor who made a pact with a capricious archfey. Or perhaps there are traces of elemental or djinn blood in your family. There are so many possibilities. Even…" She hesitates. "Well, maybe I'm talking nonsense here—but if there's something wrong with the Weave, what if that's affecting your magic too?"

Her voice softens. She steps closer and reaches out, gently placing her hands on Vorenus' arms. "In any case, Vorenus… I don’t hate you." She smiles slightly, as if trying to reassure him. "And you know, there's a lot of space between 'greatest wizard alive' and 'cook or toilet scrubber'" She draws in a breath, thoughtful now. "I just wish you'd told us sooner. If you had… we could've helped you. We could've studied together, researched, experimented—maybe even found a way to keep your magic from lashing out like it does."

Shenua glances over at Ironmae and Diego, her tail flicking once behind her. "There's nothing stopping us from doing all of that now, of course. It's just... we could have started long ago."

The tiefling sighs, her shoulders sinking as some of the tension eases from her frame. She looks to Ironmae and Diego, quietly searching their faces, wanting to know what they think of all this.

(OOC: @DM, let me know if this is out of line, but would it be possible for us to research ways to help Vorenus manage his Wild Sorcery? Not necessarily right now, just something we could look into along the way)

Iromae heard Shenua of course, but with the suddenness of her words, she couldn't possibly take it all in at first. "What?" she says softly. And at Vorenus' first few words she finds herself nodding. "I'm not sure what we're talking about here Shenua. If something happened between you and Vorenus, maybe the conversation should wait..."  But her voice trailed off as Vorenus continued. 'Shenua figured what out?' she wondered, still not fully up to speed.  

And then Vorenus pushed ahead of the group but kept talking, laying out so much. 'Not a wizard?' she puzzles over as she works through the information she is hearing. Her head is spinning from it. And then there's a tightness in her chest. 'He lied to us for all this time? He struggled with this and wouldn't confide in us?'  She finds herself shaking her head, thinking, 'How could he?'  But her heart was also aching for him, because she knew - or thought she did at least - that when Vorenus was 'The Great' that was something he truly wished for. 

As her mind wandered in thought, she caught the most part of what Vorenus had to say.  'I always knew he tried too hard to present himself as something bigger or better. Always trying to be more. I knew for all his pompous and arrogant posturing he was really just a kind person beneath. But he'd never let that show. Is this why? Some defensive posture since he knew he hadn't mastered wizardry, even though he clearly had all this arcane ability.'  

It wasn't until he started into the silly mocking song that her attention truly snapped back fully to the present. It's a bit too much for her.  She blurts out, "Really? Singing silly songs in the midst of all... this?"  She runs out of steam quickly, her words becoming far quieter. "Were we just convenient folks to help you pass your classes? And you couldn't even trust us as you struggled with this.  We would have helped you!"  There are almost tears in her eyes. 

Fortunately, Shenua steps in with more to say at that point. Her voice so much calmer and focused.  Her responses sensible and supportive.  She knew she had probably spoken too harshly. She closes her eyes, a little ashamed at herself for not being more supportive.  When the tiefling has finished, Iromae opens her eyes to find her looking back at her, silently gauging her reaction.  Her eyes shift to Vorenus. 

"I do not hate you either, Vorenus," she says slowly, echoing her friend's words from moments before. "I... I guess I'm hurt. I've always thought you were wonderful - but just as you. Not as Vorenus the Great.  I hated when you tried to be so pretentious. I knew that wasn't you and really liked the you that I saw that cared for people and was our good friend. But you lied all that time... I just don't understand." 

Vorenus turns, the notes of the distracting silly song floating down the stairs, he shuts his mouth.  Tears form at his eyes and he tries to ignore them, push them down.  “There it is.  The reaction that made me shove it down even more, ignore it, hope that I could move past it and just ….be, rather than seem.  It was my secret to bear.  I could fool the others, but I knew you three would find me out someday.  And here it is, today, of all days.  Older, smarter, more seasoned.  There is no hiding the true Vorenus from you anymore.”  His head droops and he turns, walking further down the steps, full of regret, sorrow, disappointment… in himself.  

Shenua looks at Iromae with surprise. That was definitely not the reaction the artificer expected from the cleric—the Iromae who had always supported Vorenus, especially in the moments when Shenua had been the critic (and often a harsh one at that!). The change in roles catches her off guard, and a bit of disappointment settles in as well when she realizes the idea to search for a solution to Vorenus' predicament has gone unnoticed.

The tiefling crosses her arms and sighs. Well, Iromae is entitled to her own feelings. And despite everything, she is sure they will find a way to help Vorenus. What are scholars for, if not to help improve the world through their research? Gaining knowledge means little if it isn't used to help others—or at least, that's how the artificer sees it. There must be a way, Shenua thinks. She doesn't know what it is yet, but she's certain: one way or another, they'll find it.

With that conviction burning quietly in her chest, Shenua follows after Vorenus. Whatever is troubling the Weave must be the focus now.

Iromae notices Shenua's suprise. As well as the way she crosses her arms and sighs.'Is she upset with me?' she wonders. It does pull her thoughts away a bit from Vorenus for a bit. 'Does Shenua expect me to just ignore this? Just move on?'

And then Vorenus' reaction to her remarks brings her back to him.  He's still walking along, as is Shenua. She follows along as well as she mulls over the Information. Finally she speaks up again. "Why are you so worried about us seeing the true Vorenus? she asks softly. "I always thought I caught glimpses of this 'real Vorenus' behind the act. I liked that person."

There are tears flowing from her eyes now that she subtly tries to wipe away. It seems to her that her friends are continuing on. She realizes there is something to take care of now.  She takes a deep breath. "We should focus on what we're doing here. And talk later over drinks like you said."

It takes some effort, but she tries to calm herself and just continue on.

The teleportation lift activates with a low, resonant hum. The air around you shifts — not with motion, but with intention. As if the Weave itself takes notice.

The circular platform descends slowly at first, then gradually gains speed, the light above dimming behind you as stone walls slip past, carved with ancient warding glyphs — now faded, flickering.

And then … darkness.

But not the absence of light — this darkness has a texture to it, like velvet soaked in static. Your tools glow faintly, threads of silvery light trailing from the fork, baton, quill, and needle, gently floating behind each of you like weightless ribbons.

And you feel it.

That knot in the Weave. A tangle. Beneath the surface of reality, it pulses. Waiting.

The lift slows, and then stops with a deep metallic chime.

The air is heavy, damp, humming with magic.

Before you, a wide corridor stretches out — arched and reinforced with old, cracked sigilstone. Roots cling to the ceiling like veins. The faint scent of ozone hangs in the air, tinged with something older, arcane and wrong.

At the far end, you see a sealed chamber door — circular, sealed by an etched sigil in the shape of a loom.

And as the silence settles, something stirs faintly.

A voice — not in your ears, but your minds. Faint. Not hostile. Not clear.

A whisper, as if through the threads themselves: "Four threads ... returned. The pattern is flawed. The missing strand ... still drifts."