Ralnor listens to Femor, thinking that his opening line sounds rehearsed. How can you prove someone didn’t predict you were coming?

Still, he nods and gives the Elder a short bow of respect.

”I have joined this group as a messenger,” Ralnor begins. “Beyond that, gather strength for the future is my task. Sometimes alone is best but not now. One day I will go home.”

Ralnor bows again and then gazed at the crystal ball.

On the way up to the highest platform, Lazarus pauses momentarily and looks around. He retrieves a ink pen, bottle, and a fine piece of parchment and scribbles on it, before folding the paper up in a pocket. 

Lazarus looks at Femor, as if considering something. Making up his mind, he approaches the Elder and bows deeply. Meanwhile, his fingers flutter to one of the Elder's pocket, furtively depositing the note he's just written. 

Sleight of Hand: 2

He smiles at the Elder, and says, "Well, the Archmage has left his tower, and has discerned the meaning of life." Lazarus looks on at Femor, seeing if he understood what he's just said. 

During sleepless nights at the University in the Empire, Lazarus' mentor Mr. Demar would tell him old stories from other lands. This one, Mr. Demar claimed, was a popular story told by wizards wherever they went. 

Once, there was an Archmage who lived alone in a tall, grand tower. He was the most powerful being in the world, having deep knowledge of all areas of magic, knowing spells of frightening proportions. Once he had learned all there was to learn, he resolved to learn one last secret that has eluded wise men for centuries: the meaning of life. During the day, the Archmage watched the world through his crystal ball, seeing great battles, kingdoms rise and fall, as well the regular bustle of the common folk. At night, his magical experimentations became more twisted and dangerous. This continued on for centuries, yet the Archmage failed the learn the meaning of life. One day, in frustration, the Archmage erred in the completion of an experiment. This caused his tower to collapse, and he was buried in the rubble. 

In a twist of fate, a traveling farmer had seen this happen. He rescued the Archmage from the ruins and brought him back to his farm, nursing him back to health. The Archmage was surprised to wake up to the faces of the farmer and his family. The mage offered the farmer whatever his heart desired as a reward for the selfless act. Yet, the farmer only replied, "The harvest is coming soon, and we'll need some extra hands in the field. Would you mind staying for a while and helping?"

The Archmage stayed with the family and worked on the farm. His palms grew calloused and his back became strong. Once the harvest was complete, the Archmage decided to stay and continue working. He had never felt such a sense of purpose before, and he enjoyed the company of the family. As the years passed on, the Archmage watched the farmer and his wife pass away, their children now grown up and taking over the farm. For once, the Archmage was satisfied. 

It is said that on the farm, the Archmage finally learned the meaning of life.

Lazarus recollects that the little tale had many morals, yet there was one that he hoped that Femor would recognize. That those of great power may require the help of the regular folk if great things are to be accomplished. 

The message:

Luxaene steps forward and retells her take of waking up in the desecrated land and joining together with everyone and their travels, sparing no detail. 

She also goes on to explain she is; the current Luxaene from the Morka tribe, albeit still very much early steps on her path laid out in front of her. Her goal still very much remains on track to rid the lands of any infestations or corrupts, regardless of the source.

Hush shrugs, "Just a wanderer that happened to find myself waking up in a grove with this group of misfits." He smirks. "Tell me, oh wise one," Hush says with a hint of sarcasm, "What does your mind see fit for us non-magical beings to do for you? And more importantly, what gold is in it for us?"

Holden speaks last, giving a small bow to Femor—speaking respectfully and softly “Holden Stonefist. Previous… non-magical member of the Morka. Now wandering soldier for hire…” he trails off before bringing his head back down. 

Femor watches with intense interest as each member of the party speaks in turn - some saying more than the other. Either way, Femor seems satisfied; perhaps he had received the answers he expected. 

Lazarus, however, quickly pens a letter with hopes of delivering it directly to Femor unseen - and, in the process of attempting to slip the quickly written note into Femor's silken, purple-pink robes, entirely fumbles the delivery and sends the note fluttering to the ground. Femor raises a brow and waves a hand - two faint blue mage hands calmly pick up the parchment and bring it to Femor's eyes. He pauses for a glance before the magical appendages crease the paper and deposit it in its intended destination. "I see," is all he simply replies. 

Femor pauses to address each in turn - first, turning to Holden and Luxaene. "You are of the Morka, yet one of you is devoid of magic. Strange - I have never had issue with those who happen to be born magically dry. Each has their use in a functioning system - and why, as Elder, I have learned not to discount any for being a waste of space as the other magically elite would claim. That said; you, Luxaene, are a different case - a member of the Luxaene family, no doubt a practitioner of high magic. Neither of you are remembered by your respective families - all records of you, Luxaene, have disappeared, while none existed for Holden in the first place." He pauses. "I believe only myself and a few other high priests of the Morka remember you."

"As for you, Hush - ever cynical and witty. Affiliated with only yourself, a wanderer's life suits you. Yet to wake in a grove with an Imperial two of the Morka? It puzzles me - and although Ralnor only seemed to join the group at a later time, there is no doubt in my mind his arrival was orchestrated. For what reason? Again - I do not know."

He pauses for another moment. His voice is clear and confident - something seems to thrum through his veins, causing his voice to almost vibrate with power. "I am an oracle. I forsee the future, glimpse the unseen past, and detect the present. Little escapes my prying eyes - yet, with you all, I seem to have found a blind spot, if you will. I encountered a period of time - starting a few days ago - where I could simply not question the events of the future. A void of empty possibility greeted me; the only vision I saw was of a dead grove where several people had awoken." He frowns. "And as the one navigating the main opposition of the Imperium, this concerns me - though I do not fear the future. You five - you interest me. I am as curious as you likely are to what happened with you six - I do not believe in coincidences, especially now. Something is afoot in the world. You may be asking why I decided to speak with you; it is because I simply - as you may all respect - wish to ensure the safety of the Morka. It is my duty. Perhaps keep an eye out - for your benefit, and for mine as well. There must be a reason why you all were chosen; whether it be power or presence, I wish to make allies. I do not need more enemies." 

As Femor speaks, Lazarus - you feel a strange sensation enter your mind. A dreamy voice seems to speak to you in flashes of emotion - somehow similar to Femor's voice, but different; deeper, smoother. Lazarus feels a sensation of snapping in the center of his brain - suddenly, a telepathic connection has been formed. "I am listening. This is my preferred method of private communication - you may respond, though I advise not speaking while trying to telepathically communicate. Not all have two minds. What is your offer?"

Lazarus nods as if intently listening to Femor's words, but isn't surprised when a telepathic connection is formed between their minds. 

"Elder, with great respect I have a proposal for you. You are concerned with navigating the main opposition of the Imperium, and you are confident that we can help ensure the safety of the Morka. Yet, how can tribespeople of the Wilderness help you against the Imperium? Do you wish to wage war?"

He gently shakes his head. 

"Elder, as you can see I am an Imperial, but I am not a xenophobe imperialist like much of my countrymen are. I have been blessed with the knowledge of arcane magic, and through my time here in the Wilderness, I've gained a great amount of respect for your culture which blends magic with every aspect of their lives. Like you, I believe that the Morka is worth saving. 

So, I have an offer for you. I offer not just to be your ally, but to become your personal agent and ambassador to the Imperium. No more will the Morka have to seclude themselves from diplomacy. As an Imperial, I can go places where others would be restricted, and as a nobleman, I have contacts that would be normally inaccessible. I offer to undertake any and all missions you would assign to me. Surely, with your vision of the future, you can see how valuable an Imperial would be in arranging peace with the Imperium?"

Lazarus smiles and continues. 

"I do not need much for my services. I only ask to have access to the Morka magical archives, and a few choice arcane artifacts upon completion of a successful mission. Ostensibly, you can hire all of us- this entire group. But there are many cases where the whims of the many are outclassed by a single, focused mind. I can be that single, focused mind."

Ralnor listens carefully to what Femor says.

"Betrayal from allies I have had before," he finally and carefully says. "I have been a pawn and wish not to be so again. But logically not all can be enemies."

He mentally parses everything Femor has said and compares it to his body language, seeking to see if the Elder believes what he says.

Insight: 12  

"But what next? Visit the Imperium?"

It is visibly clear Luxaene is taken aback by this news. She looks to Holden, and then to others having clear difficulty processing the news; the sheer delivery did not help either! Her entire family? Simply forgotten?!

The Morka takes her time to compose herself before addressing her leader, "Your Grace, I hope you can understand that I must experience this myself; I will not try to convince my family to what they... now believe, but I have to experience this truth. And what of the Morka knowledge on this? Have we no clue of the source? We must have diviners working to see why?"

She takes a breath again, remember the immediate request, "Elder, you know my allegiance stands with Morka - even if it is I alone who gives word; I am with our people." She gives a deep bow, her breathing now a bit steadier.

Holden stays quiet, but gives a nod and grimace at the sound of his name before returning to a neutral disposition but still stands quietly.

Hush raises an eyebrow as the oracle mentions him and chuckles as the statement of a wanderer's life suiting him. He looks at each of the others as the old man mentions them.

"Beats me as to what next," he replies to Ralnor. "I'm sure the all seeing one here might have something he wishes done," Hush says sarcastically. "That is if you all want to go against the Imperium. Especially you," he nods to the Imperials amongst them. 

Femor listens to the party in turn. He seems calm - keen despite his inevitable age, as if his eyes see much more then what others are capable of. Ralnor, he seems quite forthright what he says, though the large soulmask obscuring most of his face makes facial inflections difficult to observe. 

“I do not wish to wage war against the Imperium. No, rather, I wish for anything but all-out war. I took power over my brother, Tumor, some months ago. While the Morka are powerful, we have forseen far too many deaths - both Morka and Wilderling - for us to desire a frontal attack. I am not one to believe in coincidences; an empty gap in all prophecy, you five awaking in a grove. It is strange. Unknown.” A pause. “I predict - this time, not through magical means - that you all will become pivotal players in whatever is to come, and I would rather be your ally rather than an enemy. If your intentions are true, Lazarus, then the exchange of Morka knowledge for cooperation in dealings with the Imperials is a fair one. Consider your offer accepted.” What Ralnor can tell, however, is Femor’s disposition towards Lazarus and his abilities of crafting spells certainly aided in his decision-making process. 

“Luxaene - our most powerful divinations have failed, causing us no small measure of concern. I encourage you to attempt to regain what you - and others - have lost. Someone, or some power, went to great lengths to eliminate every trace of you existing. No records, nothing - only the memories I still have.” 

“And, Holden - do not take this the wrong way, but very few remembered you in this city in the first place. Regardless, you are somehow involved in this scheme. Prove you are worth more than what was originally thought of you.” 

Lastly, he turns to Hush with a flash of irritation in his eyes. “The conflicts have ceased a decade ago. Tensions are on the rise; I wish to know who is in charge of the current Imperial camp and their approximate strength of soldiers and numbers. I have no wish to quicken the inevitable. Broker and maintain the peace between the Imperium and you shall be rewarded. Is that something you understand?” 

Ralnor contemplates what has been said and weighs his options, and finally decides the goodwill of one such as Femor could make his ultimate goals more achievable.

He looks over at Lazarus, then to Luxaene, Holden and finally Hush.

"Your bravado will be useful," Ralnor finally says to Hush.

Turning back to Femor, he continues "Scouting the Imperial camp? I will do this. Hopefully with my companions. But I see not how ones like us can broker a peace. Though perhaps in time."

Hush stretches and grins, "Sneaking into places we're not necessarily welcome, what could go wrong? I'm in." He looks around the group though, then adds, "Though we should probably have a plan in case things go south. I might be able to talk our way out of a problem, but better to have a story in mind before we start. We're not exactly the an inconspicuous group."

Lazarus smiles, and bows once more. 

"I applaud your wisdom, Elder. My companions and I will be more than capable of this task you have assigned us. We thank for you trusting us with a duty of such importance to the Morka. We will see that you are correct in placing your faith in us."

Turning to the group, he says, "I trust that you can discreet enough, Hush and Ralnor, that we won't face any issues. If any do arise, I can leverage my Imperial heritage to keep you gentlemen out of trouble."

To Luxane and Holden, he says, "This is a task of great importance to the Morka. I offer my condolences that both of your memories have faded from knowledge, yet by undertaking this assignment you may be able to make a new name for yourselves." 

Holden nods in understanding at Lazarus’ words, but you also see the large half-orc standing just a tad taller, it seems, after the encouragement from Femor even though he is still deferentially quiet. 

Femor calmly listens to the words of the party before straightening his back and clapping his hands for attention. "Peace is earned only with time. I wish to be prepared in the meanwhile. I have told you what I know, and I have made an offer - I hope it is honored, and I will be more than happy to honor my own part. For now, I have many issues to solve among the tribe." He gestures to the staircase leading from the apex of the pyramid - there are no doors, but the precise angle of the pyramid in conjunction with the town provides Femor a method of overlooking the town while also remaining unseen if he so wishes. The crystal ball affixed in the center swirls as he rests a palm on the surface, quieting for the time being - though the party feel as if they are being watched nonetheless. 

What would the party like to do? 

Lazarus says to the group, "I think it would be wise for us to prepare for this mission. See if we can scourge up anything in town that'll help us scout out the camp. I'll meet you at the nearby tavern shortly."

With that, he exits the pyramid, giddy with excitement as Tiddles the cat follows behind. Lazarus beelines to the Morka library, where he's eager to see what he can learn. 

Ralnor listens to Femor as he speaks, then watches Lazarus speak and depart.

He looks around at the others, shrugs, and then starts off towards the same way Lazarus went. But as he goes past the crystal ball, he takes a look into it to see if he can make anything out. 

Perception: 18  

He keeps walking until he's away from the Elder's chamber and waits for the others.

Hush nods to Lazarus and follows suit with Lazarus and Ralnor, though his idea of gathering intel relies more on subtlety, stealth and perhaps eavesdropping on private conversations rather than reading books.