"It is known as the Heart of Cinders. I have heard that It has Elemental powers unrivalled. And If my house gets this stone, we will cement our name in history. The Darkwhisper house plans on using the Heart of Cinders to close the Portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire. This should end the drought that plagues the southern regions. We will become gods"

Nothing suggests that he is hiding anything. 

Veylin turns to address Sylwen his expression souring ever so slightly. 

"Why so many questions dear? Of course, this isn't just a petty bauble. This is a contest of powers you can't fathom. So no, this is not a simple game. This is DragonChess played with more people and more pieces. The outcome determines who becomes a god in the eyes of people like you." 

I heard the word ‘gemstone’ and my mind is already racing on what we can do with I once we get it… I respond with: “What does this gemstone do?”

Jasmine goes quiet, listening to what was being said for a bit carefully. She then finally speaks though now there is a noticeable shift in her speech. Her "S's" are more drawn out, sounding more like the hiss of a snake. She might not have liked their gracious quest-giver's tone. "So that isssss it. You need us to hunt down this artifact of godlike elemental power so you may stop a drought to the south and be ssssseen as gods? Pardon my curiossssity but do you know what this... Ashen Pack wishes to do with it should the Heart of Cinders fall to their handsss? On that topic, why issss it that you cannot quite go seek out an artifact as powerful as this yourself?"

Veylin takes an almost shocked step back. 

"you think that I, me... go in there?" I point at one of the walls, but little does he know it's not the right direction of where Emberhold is. "Are you crazy?" 

He holds up a finger and takes a few seconds to breathe. "As for the Ashen Pack," more collected he returns to his usual grace. "They are thieves trying to take the Heart to instil fear and chaos into the lives of everyone around them. Their leader, a fire giant named Brimskarda, wishes to use it to make a Warhammer of unparalleled power. If she infuses giant's runes with elemental magic, bad things will happen. Very bad things.

 That is why each house has made a pact with Brimskarda held by Maruts.

If Brimskarda holds the Heart of Cinders before one of the house heads, the houses will do nothing to try to stop Brimskarda from forging her Warhammer. If a house head holds the Heart of Cinders before Brimskarda, Brimskarda will not seek to gain the Heart of Cinders for 500 years.

Do I look less like a power-hungry prick now?"

Sylwen listens, hands folded loosely in front of her, head slightly tilted as if Veylin’s words were a particularly curious melody she was trying to place. Her mismatched eyes flicker with something unreadable—not quite amusement, not quite concern.

"Oh, but power-hungry pricks never think they’re power-hungry pricks," she muses airily, offering him an almost sympathetic smile. "It’s the tragedy of it, really. The best ones always think they’re doing the right thing."

She turns away from Veylin as if losing interest, meandering a few paces toward the fireplace, her fingers trailing absentmindedly along the back of a chair. The light catches in her silver-streaked hair as she speaks again, her tone as weightless.

"But I do see now—this isn’t about fortune or glory, not really. It’s about a bargain already made, a game already set in motion." She exhales softly. "Brimskarda gets the Heart, and she reforges war. You get it first, and war is postponed for a time—a long time, but not forever. A stalemate written in stone, just waiting to be broken."

She finally turns back to Veylin, her expression unreadable, though something about her gaze seems to cut through the candlelight.

"So that’s what we’re doing, then. Holding the line for a future we won’t live to see."

There’s no weight in her voice, no overt seriousness—just a quiet acceptance, as if she were talking about the weather or the way the stars moved. And yet, despite the nonchalance, there’s an undeniable depth to her words.

"Well," she says at last, offering an easy shrug. "I suppose I can’t say no to that."

I was multitasking when posting my last post so I forgot to mention a thing. 

Post #25 edit: I forgot to mention that the pact is held by Maruts. 

"Well, nothing assuages my doubts over megalomaniacal ambition quite like a plan to ascend to godhood." Alisande says with sunny facetiousness, before clearing her throat.

"But I suppose I don't really care about the squabbles between noble houses and fire giants. I'm more interested in the substantial chunk of change on offer. 10,000 is nothing to be sniffed at, so I suppose you can count me in." Alisande says, rolling a coin over the back of her knuckles and then snatching it into the palm of her hand. "I'll bring you your Heart of Cinders."

"I do have some questions though. Who or what is Maruts? Does it ensure this compact between Brimskarda and the Houses is binding? Where did the Heart of Cinders originate from to possess such potential? How is it used to unlock all the powers that you're talking about - ascensions and forging warmhammers of immense might? Do you already know or is that something you'll learn from the gemstone? Any ideas where the Heart of Cinders might be located within the Emberhold?"

Rolling in app: 
Arcane check: Does Alisande recognise the Heart of Cinders, and what does she know about its properties beyond what Veylin has said? 15
History check: What does Alisande know about the Darkwhispers, the noble Houses, Maruts and Brimskarda? What have they done to one another and society at large? Does any side seem worse than the other? 6

Jasmine sighs and then says, "Yes... let us get on with it. Where is the Heart of Cinders in Emberhold?"

Ashli also says: “Yes! Where is the heart?”

History check on Maruts: 17
Does Alisande recognise the Heart of Cinders: 17

I roll an Arcana check to see if I can tell what it does, 13

Casted wish to fall asleep over the weekend. When I have a little more time, you guys will have my full attention, but right now I’m in class. It’ll be about an hour before my next response. Sorry for making you guys wait. 

Veylin ponders the questions for a moment. "A Marut, also known as an inevitable, is a construct designed to enforce the terms of agreements etched onto golden disks in the Hall of Concordance in Sigil, an embassy of law, dedicated to the signing and enforcing contracts. They are the enforcers of these contracts, ensuring the terms are upheld. However, they only resort to lethal force if a contract explicitly allows it, if the contract is fully broken, or if they are attacked. 

The Heart of Cinders was a gift from Surtur, the giant god of the fire giants. It is believed that this stone originated as a piece of his skin, which was cut off by his brother, Thrym. Surtur later gave the stone to his children. Aside from the research being conducted here at Emberhold, there is not much known about this stone. It was recently discovered in the ruins of a giant's settlement, and attempts to experiment with it have not ended well for those involved. Nevertheless, we plan to continue the research after acquiring it, building upon the findings of others.

I am not certain of its location, but I can speculate that it lies deep within the keep. The damage to the walls seems to have started from a depth that caused much of the castle to collapse. With any luck, the path to the stone will be clear. May the gods bless you with light on your journey."

I turn to the group, “So… where do we go?”

He points to a door. The door leading to the ruined bridge is a scorched relic of the past, half-consumed by the elemental inferno that once ravaged the structure beyond. It is a massive thing, once reinforced with thick iron bands, now twisted and warped by intense heat. The wood, originally sturdy oak, is cracked and brittle, its surface blackened and flaking like old parchment. Charred handprints mar the centre, seared into the grain—silent echoes of those who either tried to flee or fought to contain the destruction. It slowly creaks open. Beyond, a bridge, once a proud arch of sturdy stone and enchanted wood, now stands as a charred and crumbling ruin.  

"May the gods bless you with light on your journey." 

Jasmine takes a few steps towards bridge before turning back to the rest of the party. She says, "I shall be in the front. Follow me so I can protect us with my shield." She then continues walking towards the bridge. 

((Jasmine has the highest HP and AC I believe))

Sylwen does not move at first. Her gaze lingers on the charred handprints, her expression momentarily distant, like a dreamer half-awake.

“They were still reaching, even as the fire consumed them,” she murmurs, tracing the air just above one of the blackened imprints. “I wonder if they knew, in that final moment, whether they reached for salvation… or for something else entirely.”

She exhales softly, then steps forward with languid grace, as if the weight of the scene had never quite settled on her in the first place.

At Jasmine’s words, she tilts her head slightly, a small, knowing smile flickering across her lips. “Shields in front, shadows at their heels. That does seem the sensible way of things.”

With a flourish of her fingers, the faintest shimmer of arcane energy ripples across her form—a small, subtle charm against whatever might linger ahead.

She falls in step behind Jasmine, her posture relaxed, but her gaze ever-watchful. “Lead on, then. Let us see what the embers have left behind.”

Upon receipt of Veylin's dismissal and benediction, Alisande finds herself mulling over the lore surrounding the artifact their patron seeks. If its power is truly that tremendous, why surrender it all? Who knows what dark ends they'll end up using the Heart of Cinders for? The Houses and Brimskarda may have come to an agreement... but I haven't been bound by any 'Marut'. 

Alisande falls in behind Jasmine. She looks mildly amused by the suggestion that she might be in need of 'protection' but she seems content to let the oddly sibilant warrior serve as her shield. As they pass through the great seared door, the paladin takes note of the ominous handprints and feels the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. Yet she is undeterred, despite her rising sense of caution. 

She pokes at a stone with the butt of her polearm. "Watch your footing as we cross. This bridge, such that it is, doesn't look particularly steady."

Sylwen lingers just a moment longer, her gaze drifting over the blackened handprints on the ruined door. Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, as if resisting the urge to trace the scorched impressions. Echoes linger in places like these... old pain, old fear. How much of it still clings to the air?

She exhales softly and follows after the others, drifting along in that unhurried, weightless way of hers, as if she might simply step through the air if the ground failed her. Jasmine’s offer of protection doesn’t faze her in the slightest—whether she is shielded or left exposed seems to make little difference to her.

At Alisande’s caution, Sylwen tips her head, golden and storm-grey eyes flicking toward the bridge with mild interest. She stops just short of the first crumbling stones, rocking back onto her heels slightly as if testing the air itself.

“Oh yes,” she murmurs, absently pulling a small, round stone from the folds of her robes. She bounces it once in her palm before gently tossing it forward onto the bridge. “It does have that… very old and terribly tired sort of look about it, doesn’t it?”

She watches intently, curious if the stone finds purchase—or if the bridge might decide it's had quite enough of travelers for one lifetime.