Though a touch put off by the curt dismissal, Xemnez held his tongue and even gave small but respectful nod to the speaker, before turning away to follow after the others, leaving the council to their grieving and plans. A mental note however is made to inquire more into possibly inquire more into the connection they had to the spirit, as his own thoughts had begun drifting to the one ancestral spirit that journeyed along with him...

In later much the same way as Mirica, Xemnez is largely occupied by the first book, and would willingly stand and ready over her shoulder if need be to try commit as much of its contents to memory. The leonin hoping throughout it all to piece together some mental map of the place based on description, even though the possibility existed of the area ahving been warped or warded further since the explorer's meeting with the Lich.

As far as the dry poem and everything else, most of that Xem left to the rest to ponder on more on. But not so deaf was he as to not respond, if albeit absent-mindedly so aloud for all to hear. "Mayhaps there lies a gift in this tree if its been long enough.... the dates... I am still having trouble understanding them, but... could be something important was left behind there." He'd say. "As for this bar, it... Hmn... Feels like a stretch, but... wouldn't hurt to pay it a visit after all of this... Wouldn't hurt to ask as well on books of this Selune as well."

Thyrius digests the contents of the books (or his companions' summary of them) and eventually speaks up: "Four more Mythallars he seeks... Warlock's Crypt, Lathery, Selunarra, and this great tree home." He turns to face the group: "That's the riddle here. Larloch stole books that describe how to reach the four locations that still house the four Mythallar he seeks."

Letting the others digest his theory for a moment, he then asks: "If we are not willing to go the Orbedal, that is, the Warlock's Crypt, then perhaps we should be asking where are we willing to go: Under the Narrow Sea, into the Astral Sea, or in search of a tree house neighboring Toc's home. Selunarra might be the most promising, given the potential to recruit powerful allies and legends about its return to save the day."

Thyrius speaks mentally, as to not give the dwarven librarian any free information.

Toc mentally responds to the group, "Thyrius, I would like to amend a couple of your suppositions. First, I believe Orbedal, or Warlock's Crypt is Larloch's home. I do not believe he would be seeking it. If he was after this book then it would be for some other reason, other than finding out where it was. Perhaps he does not like this sympathetic view of him being known by others."  He grins and shrugs.  "Or there is some hint to how to get into Orbedal in here that he would prefer people not know." 

He looks thoughtful for a few moments, "In the same vein....if Selunarra is on another plane of existence, and fully populated by Selune's followers, then I doubt he would be researching it to try and get access to it's Mythallar. Indeed, if anything, I would think it's to try and keep this information out of the hands of others. Or worse, to sabotage the ability for anyone to perform this ritual." 

At Toc's first point, Mirica scans back through the book.  Indeed, it does refer to a system of tunnels that were visible on the underside of fallen cities base. Who knows what vegetation, and dark magics have done to the place since, but knowing that there is a series of tunnels throughout the base of the city could be valuable. There are several other natural features described on the long approach to the city as well, including a shallow part of the river good for fording, and a series of fissures in the ground, long cracks, that the traveler didn't use, but supposed were created when the city crashed to the ground....and he figured formed a maze of deep chasms throughout the area. 

Mirica sighed as she rubbed her temples. For the dwarven scholar, the sign of the tired reader had to be common, yet, she did not do it to deceive the man to hide the silent conversation but was genuinely weary of the things. "I would go to the Warlock's Crypt right away. Straight from here, if you wish. We even got the map now." She stroked the map in the book as if smoothing the page. "Sure, every passage will be trapped and full of monsters but if we want to win that race, what other chance do we have? Larloch got those books before we did, and does not need to search for clues to reach those locations." Mirica sighed again. "This is what my mind and my senses tell me. When we started that journey, it seemed like the right path. And yet, every prediction we get lately, every sign, advice, every dream and every old wizard we happen to come across, tells us otherwise."  She made a long pause, sighed yet again and concluded. "I do not think I can deal with that conflict anymore. A few more days like this, and I will begin to question even my faith. I need a break. If you are going to search for more mythallars, I wish you luck but I am not going with you. If I happen to be right - and I am praying every day to be wrong! - we all will die quite soon. I'd rather spend those days in meditation and contemplation of my actions and wrongdoings on the way to that point, rather than in a desperate attempt to outrun the hurricane."

One more sigh - the dwarf scholar could begin to wonder about the strange effect of those four not that difficult to read books - and one more thought sent. "Toc, would you please teleport me back to Myth Drannor? So I can leave there all the useful things I keep in the bags for emergencies. You might need them." There was nothing else to say. She just looked at everyone and said one more time - out loud now. "Good luck to you all."

Thyrius noded. "Thank you for the corrections, Toc. It makes more sense now. If Larloch is that concerned about access to Selunarra, then that is more the reason to seek it. Surely the potential allies there should be formidable. Wouldn't you agree?"

Then listening to Mirica's decision, Thyrius asks for clarification. He wouldn't want to misinterpret such an important claim: "Mirica, is your decision made or is it an ultimatum? In other words, should we agree to go to Warlock's Crypt now, would you join us?"

"Ultimatum?! Gods, no! Should we go to the Crypt, I would join feeling guilty for dragging you to the many times predicted death. I would die before any of you there, yes, but would it help? Yet, searching for other mythallars would be my personal torture - I can not accept it to be the way forward, and can not see it other than a waste of precious time. The decision is made, I have to go."

Toc nods, "Yes well, we are all free to do what we must of course. I will return your to Myth Drannor.  Tic is there and can send you anywhere you wish." 

Toc looks to the rest of the group, "Thyrius, I agree Selunnara....and potential allies....does seem attractive."

Simaal is quite quiet throughout as if all the recent events have not quite been filtered through, especially the massive amount of recent information. He seemed a bit shocked at accusations thrown by the librarians, but did not say anything. When presented with the books, he asked if the original dwarven book was available and if he could read it. His thought is that maybe his interpretation may be slightly different which may give us a bit of an advantage down the road... at least hoping it would be advantage instead of disadvantage. While he didn't see eye to eye with the priestess he was nonetheless sorry to see her go, for she has proven herself a worthwhile companion.

"As the first thing, perhaps someone forgot to notify the Selunnara folks, and at minimum I believe we should warn them, if we at the very least learned something about what happened here at this library. It may be worthwhile to see if they''re willing to communicate back to us if something does happen. Then either the undersea home or the tree home. To my mind it would depend on how well known this tree home place is known. If it's known and populated I would warn them then move on to the undersea which would like be a place where no one would know that something happened there. So basically warn the two places, then head to the underwater place to my mind."

Toc looks to Simaal, "The Tree home is deserted and in ruin. I doubt anything other than animals live there now. And the one that is in the sea, sits above sea level now. Ever since the spell plague, the entire sea level dropped dozens of feet and the city, which was submerged, was revealed. The Shadovar have since setup shop there....it is there home base for all intensive purposes. We have been there. It is not pleasant."

"If the Shadovar have set up shop there, we might as well assume that Mythallar is under Larloch's control," Thyrius pipes in after patting Mirica in the shoulder, uncertain of what else to say.

"I can try contacting Selune the same way I contacted Ajani. The spell is much more dangerous now with Mirica not being around. IS there another way we could contact her people instead of the deity herself?"

"Right, I knew I was missing something. So I guess do what we can to warn the astral sea one, and then head over to tree home and figure out if he's already been there which seems likely. At least we'll try and take out whatever guards he may have left behind."

If he hadn't already largely been standing at the time, hovering as he was want to given the limited books of importance to share, Xemnez might've stood up sharply in his seat at the announcement from Mirica, knocking the chair likely over in the process. As things tood, the younger Leonin settled for practically slamming his hands on the table and staring hard at the cleric, scowling as he searched her expression for any hints of mirth or... or something -- ANY sign that might make light of her intentions and leave some room of convincing to do otherwise.

But between the answers to his brother's questioning, and the others acceptance of her choice, there was little denying reality in that moment. Xemnez... never really got angry at anything. Upset and frustrated, certainly. But not since he was a cub and outside of magical influences has his wrath not been tempered in some way thanks to the training and guidance of ancestral spirit. But for the first time since they group has met the Leonin, all of that honed self-disciplined seemed about ready to fly out the window in the next few moments, as he stared and looked poised to try and snatch her up!

... And yet, whether it by words of warning, a calm hand raised, some self-restraint reinforcing itself, or even some combination of all three, Xemnez' claws are eventually returned to their sheathe, and with a few deep breathes, some measure of calm returned to him soon after. "... Do what you feel is necessary. And may your... may in these meditations you find you find peace." He said aloud to Mirica prior to her departure, not caring in the moment just how much he'd given away of any telepathic tricks at play. Afterwhich, he settled down once again and took to "reading" one of the books over again. But from that point on and for some time still, any of his responses are curt or nonexistent.

Thyrius focuses on Simaal's words, not wanting to interfere in Xemnez's own dealing with the situation at hand: "I'd vote for going in person to Selune's city, recruiting some allies and making sure their Mythallar is more than safe. It doesn't sound like Larloch would venture into that city to claim its Mythallar if they are that well protected, isolated, and overseen by a goddess, but we could still use the allies. And by 'going in person', I guess I mean summoning the city here as per the ritual described in the book."

He then turns to Toc: "Speaking of allies, with Mirica now gone, our team is reduced significantly in power. I don't doubt any of our abilities but there is no denying that Mirica's were unique among our group. Additionally, apart from Toc and maybe Nuzej, the rest of us are still relatively new arrivals in this fight, am I correct? If so, losing Mirica also means we lose a large amount of relevant knowledge."

He sighs: "Surely there is more among those who would save the multiverse from doom who would be willing to join us. I have high hopes for those who follow this moon goddess, and I heard your tales of armies standing on the sidelines waiting for the potential final war to start, but should I really understand that in this hour of need the main opposition to Larloch and all of his allies is five-strong? That about half of this taskforce is manned by lions of a different world? Where are the great heroes of this world apart from the three who stand right in front of our Leonin eyes?"

There are some curt, strained goodbyes, and then Toc opens a portal for Mirica and she steps through, vanishing into the cracks in the universe. 

Toc sighs, and looks surprisingly weary. 

Thyrius begins tossing ideas about.  Toc nods in reply, "I agree. Let us try and investigate and complete this ritual. As for other heroes. Early on I made attempts to involve groups. There are in deed other factions, and hero's in our world. One such, the Harpers, a powerful and secret alliance of good has been....tepid about taking on this challenge directly.  But, I'm afraid our problems caused by Arch-liches have been coming fast and furious. Not too long ago, an arch lich known as Acerack tried to birth a new evil god, by consuming the souls of all of those that died. As a terrible side affect, anyone who'd ever been raised from the dead before found themselves weakening and dying. Not only did tens of thousands of souls perish utterly and completely, but many powerful hero's who'd died in their past and been revived were also destroyed by the horrid ritual.  It was eventually stopped, but great damage was done. Many powerful hero's that we may want to rely on are no longer.  But, all of these are excuses. Indeed, I have been working what channels I can, and there are now many more hero's and factions aware of this threat, and willing to aid us. I think, should we choose to make an assault, we will find ourselves with many allies."

He sighs heavily, "But in our group specifically, we are missing someone with Mirica's unique skills. I wonder if I should seek a replacement. Perhaps we shall tackle two issues at once. Let us go to Waterdeep. There we can investigate this Selune's Smile...see if it is a coincidence or related to this book...and perhaps at the same time explore the city in search of a new ally to aid us." 

Feeling heard, Thyrius nods in agreement. He simply says "Let's go" and looks at Xem to see if his brother agrees, a common occurrence when the elder but frailer Leonin speaks first.

Ever attentive whether he wished to be or not, Xemnez glanced up as if sensing his brother's gaze, then looked over Toc. Some of the earlier fury yet smoldered in his eyes and beneath the surface; and yet, ever since mentioning the recent fate of some heroes of the world, some of the tension in his form had quickly waned over time. "I am of the same mind as my brother. Two harpies and one stone, and all that."

With a last glance around at the books Toc nods.  The group is informed that these "copies" are in fact "copies" themselves. The originals were stolen by Larloch.  But, with these new copies, of the very old copies handed over to Toc to place safely in his inter-dimensional chest, he opens up the now familiar pathways. Thyrius notices that when Nuzej or Toc take the group between through the temporary portals....to these glowing runes at specific locations, the trip is stable, quick, and easy.  Unlike the teleportation which feels like controlled, or sometimes uncontrolled, chaos. 

Regardless, the group emerges into the garden of a lovely mansion in Waterdeep. The home apparently belongs to some important Waterdeep military member, of elven decent. The sky is grey and weeping across the city. As the group emerges, the look up into the grey sky and see the now common twinkle of torn threads of magic smattering the air. They depart the mansion grounds, past rain drop covered roses and lush, but well trimmed cedars, past some guards that seem unsurprised to see them, and out past a wrought iron gate into the busy streets of Waterdeep.  The cobblestones here are slick and thin rivulets of water run down gutters only to splash through iron grates into the cities underground sewer system. 

You're in one of the nicest parts of the city, and Carriages trundle past with their important occupants inside, carriage men sitting up front in sopping clothes.  The rain comes down steadily. The group walks through the city, passing by churches, taverns, and store fronts on their way to the dock ward. A few queries for directions and eventually the group arrives outside a three story building one block back from the docks.  The salty tangy air mixes with rot, oil, wood and sweat forming that pungent perfume common to so many docks across the world.  The Inn of the Cresent Moon is a sturdy old structure built in the old Waterdeep style.  The building that must be a hundred years old looks like it's been built on, up, and around for years, though all with good craftsman ship and tastefully done.  It looks like a cornerstone of the city at this point. As the group enters they find a tavern that looks like it's truly seen some action. Grime is built up in every corner and every beam, floorboard, table and wall bears numerous scars from past events, be those brawls, fights, celebrations, or magic. The middle of the taproom has a cleared space, as if the management long ago conceded that brawls were inevitable, and moved away any breakable furniture. The tables and chairs are large and lightweight, stained with beer and blood and smoke and pitted by knives and broken teeth. The main taproom has a large bar which extends out into the room at an angle, giving room to serve the tavern's considerable clientele. Narrow hallways and half-staircases lead out to smaller rooms and quiet nooks; a small staircase leads upstairs.  

You've arrived at just past lunch time and the place has the remnants of the lunch crowd mingling with those coming early for post work or pre-dinner drinks.  The two Leonin's catch a few lingering glances, but Waterdeep is nothing if not a multi-racial metropolis use to beings from across the multi-verse, so nobody comes running for autographs and soon enough chatter resumes to a lively level.  A robust human with a bald head and beard comes out from behind the bar.  He wipes his hands on a filthy off -grey apron on his chest and says, "Owdy there! Get yerself a seat and Kit-kat will be right wit ya...."

Simaal looks around with some interest as the group travels in Waterdeep. "It's such a completely different place than the lizard city." At the inn. "Thanks so much." Simaal says in a friendly way though his mind spins at recent events. When waitress arrives, order drinks and some food. When drinks arrive "Would you be willing to provide directions to Selune's temple? Thank you."

Although Xemnez was growing acclimated to the world, visiting a major city further removed from the wilds remained his least favorite past time, as there seemed far too much going on at once. If only for his brother's sake and sensibilities however, he did his level best to keep a chin up and restrain any impulses to look too interested in the going-ons beyond what directly impacted their progress.

The somewhat crowded Inn the group arrived at hardly further endeared the young leonin to the city. But he kept to decorum and merely parroted, "Kit-kat?" at the name's mention, as if uncertain he hadn't heard the barman right. However, after letting it roll about in his noggin for a few moments he ultimately nodded in acceptance and followed the others along to whatever seating yet was available.. "The.. the temple? I thought-..." He started to say, only to catch himself. "Er, nevermind.  Uhm.. yes. Directions." He half muttered.

Nuzej had dived into the books and seemingly never came out. He appeared to have scanned them with his photographic memory and receded into the depths of his mind. 

Jezun blinks and takes a few beats to catch up. Just in time to see Mirica announce her departure. Jezun is very sad and gives her and embrace and doesn’t let her leave without yet another promise to make sure this is not goodbye for good.

He weathers the travel easily and then, walking into the bar, says he’s very glad to have Toc around because he’d assumed Selune’s smile was the crescent moon, which seemed very far away. He looks around for an eye on the wall.