Uxor said:

((Here's hoping I made deadline or, if not, that people enjoy this anyway. If it's not clear, it picks up where "Jinna's arrival to Stormreach" leaves off. Apologies to Points and Liyra for not clearing with them how I portray them. I tried to base this off real in-game interactions, so I hope it's at least close to accurate.  Also, Jinna appears to have adopted my habit of swearing in "British". If anyone happens to be offended by use of "bloody" as a curse, please let me know, and I'll stop using it.))

Jinna squared her shoulders and smoothed down her blond hair where it had gotten disheveled in her search of the Marketplace. She took a deep, steadying breath and fixed a warm, friendly smile on her face as she opened the door to the Phoenix. Rule one: always make a good first impression.

She paused in the doorway to look around, letting her eyes adjust to the interior lighting. None of the patrons near the door looked likely; few were elven and all were too absorbed in their drinks or companions to be waiting for someone. She heard some noise coming from the back of the bar and headed in that direction.

Jinna found herself approaching a chaotic scene that her mind classified somewhere between a dance party and a bar brawl. A red-haired man caught her eye, striking her as somewhat familiar. Hmm… red hair, strong features, narrow tuft of hair on his chin. Why do I recognize him? Something about the eyes, maybe. After a moment’s contemplation, Jinna cursed herself for an idiot. He looks familiar, does he? Well, I’ve only been seeing his face posted on every wall since I got off the boat. Time to work on those observational skills. At least if Varro’s here, that means I’m probably in the right place.

Before she had time to berate herself further for her lapse in identification, she was approached politely but cautiously by a pale elven gentleman. “Jinna, I presume?” he asked, greeting her with a slight bow.

Quickly smoothing her face back into its smile, she responded warmly. “That I am. And can I assume that you would be Fellowship Officer Points?”

“I do have that honor,” he replied, returning her smile. “I appreciate you meeting me here.” He gestured her to a table and glanced around as if seeking a barmaid before drawing himself up short. “If you’ll forgive the intrusion, there is one small test I’ll need to make before we can speak comfortably.”

A grinning halfling woman appeared by his side, out of nowhere as far as Jinna could tell. “Can I poke her face, Points? Can I?” she asked eagerly.

“Poke my face?” Jinna asked, looking between the two in confusion.

Trying unsuccessfully to gesture the halfling away, Points tendered her an explanation. “A minor precaution to ensure that you are who and what you say you are. We have been infiltrated recently by a shapeshifter, you see.”

“A shapeshifter?” Jinna responded, eyes widening in shock. “And you can identify one just by touching their face?” Realizing that she had instinctively tensed into a slight crouch, she forced her muscles to return to a casual, relaxed stance.

“She wears a mask,” the halfling volunteered. “You can’t see it, but you can feel the edge of it.”

“In that case, you are welcome to feel my face for this mask, although I’d prefer if there weren’t too much poking involved,” Jinna responded, bending down slightly to make the process easier for the halfling.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Points said, shifting his posture in a way that suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation.

“Not a problem at all,” Jinna replied breezily, standing back up as the halfling woman completed her investigation. “It seems a reasonable security precaution.”

She was about to suggest they find a table for the drinks and stories portion of the evening when a loud tumult broke out from the crowd they stood on the edges of. Points and the halfling turned to look for its source, his mumbled exclamation dying on his lips as they surveyed the scene.

What moments before had been a relatively normal, if somewhat chaotic, evening revel had become utterly surreal. A group of odd-looking kobolds stood in a rapidly-clearing circle of floor. Curiously, they appeared to just be standing there, not attacking anyone or fleeing the crowded bar. Turning to ask Points if kobold-baiting was a standard tavern entertainment here, Jinna discovered that both he and the halfling woman had vanished, presumably back into the crowd. She looked back up in time to see the kobolds begin dancing, of all things. A grey-haired man in a brightly-colored robe stood in the middle of them. She saw him strike a dramatic pose as if leading the kobold dance party, but then she blinked and he was gone.

******************

The rest of the evening was a chaotic blur to Jinna’s recollection. She remembered watching in bewilderment as the crowd alternately danced with and beat on the strange kobolds. Various musicians played competing tunes to spur on both the dancing and the combat. Jinna knew that at some point later in the evening she had been swept out of the Phoenix with the noisy crowd as it relocated en masse to another tavern in a different part of the city. This bar was apparently the site of a favored sport among the Fellowship and its associates, something they called Sharks and Minnows. She grasped the rules rather quickly but opted to remain in the safe “beach” area at the top of the ladder to observe the game for a few rounds.

Jinna remembered the point at which she had decided to join in as a minnow. She’d shed her uncomfortable chain shirt and left it, her rapier, and her lute in a tidy pile on the “beach” platform while she went to find a place in the minnow pool. Based on her observation period, she had a strategy worked out: stick to the middle of the pack, be unobtrusive, stay light on her feet to dodge unexpected attacks. And it quite possibly would have worked, had she not turned the first corner straight into a magical ice storm. Bloody mages! was her only coherent thought before she hit the floor and blacked out.

Jinna did not clearly remember regaining consciousness or dragging herself back up the ladder to the “beach” platform, but she must have done so because that was where she found herself sitting now. “I think I should stick to spectating for now,” she mumbled to herself as she blinked repeatedly to try and clear her fuzzy vision. A soft chuckle from nearby told her she wasn’t the only one sitting this round out, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn her head enough to see who it had come from. Not that I’d recognize them anyway, unless it was Varro, Points, or that halfling girl. Hey, I didn’t even get her name. I’ll have to find her and ask, once the world quits moving quite so much.

Trying to get her eyes to focus properly, she returned to watching the crowd of minnows run by beneath her, studying the details of individual faces to better recognize people later. A slight frown crossed her face as she studied one man who looked vaguely familiar, as if she’d met him in passing. Jinna prided herself on her memory for faces, and to redeem her earlier mistake with Varro (which she passed off as a result of the differences between flat sketches and a real face), she was determined to place this man. Grey hair, dark eyes, silly little beard… Aha! He took off the bright robe to be a minnow.

“I knew I recognized him,” she mumbled to herself in satisfaction. “That’s Dances With Kobolds down there, that is.” At a remark from whoever else was sitting on the platform with her, she frowned and responded, “No, I do not need to see a cleric about a concussion. I’m not seeing things. Look, he’s right down there.” Jinna stared intently at the minnow pack, ready to point out the strange man as soon as he came into sight, but he never showed up again. She sighed wearily. “Never mind, maybe I did hit my head harder than I realized. I think it’s time for me to find a bed for the night before I start seeing anything else crazy.” She dragged herself to her feet, stuffing her chain shirt untidily into her bag rather than going through the bother of putting it on.

“But there were kobolds,” she muttered defiantly under her breath as she walked unsteadily out of the tavern. “And he did dance with them.” 

 Varro: Uxor... *he searched for something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate for the reaction he had inspired in her. At last he settled on saying* I can't read your notes through the door. *He could hear her on the other side. Varro retrieved more parchment,  fresh and unwritten upon, and began to wriggle the page beneath the door* You don't have to face me, but at least explain to me what I've done. When you're finished writing, just slide it back. *He really couldn't recall if she had taken her writing stick with her or not. He hoped so, as the crack was too thin to push it through as well*

*As the paper disappeared beneath the door, there was a click, and he saw the door shift open slightly*
Varro: I'm going to presume that is your way of permitting me to come talk with you. *But he put a hand to the door, pressing lightly on it and staying back, so as not to prompt another physical misunderstanding. <At least she doesn't have the sickle this time> he told himself. It was no great comfort, since he was aware that in this room she frequently kept a greatsword.*

*She was sitting on the guest bed, already set to writing on the paper he'd given. Slowly and non-aggresively Varro slinked across the room, until he arrived beeside the bed. Watching for any sign that she meant to lash out at him, he sat down beside her, and read her note even as she wrote it.*
Uxor: "This being... This 'avatar' as you call it... I believe you in that you have seen something. That whatever it may be, it is very powerful. I will not, however, call it a god, Varro. That is something I must come to decide for myself. You told me that you were from this plane. That you are a man, and nothing more. Were you lying to me?" *she stopped writing, apparently awaiting an answer before continuing. She didn't look at him.*
*He started to say 'no,' but came to realize it was more complicated now*
Varro: What I said is true - I am human. Accepting this gift has granted me a few new...skills, that is true. But if you strike me down, I will fall the same as any other would. You nearly had a first hand demonstration of it. Thank you for stopping. *he rubbed his throat, still feeling for any wound left by the edge of the godly blade. He heard her start writing again*
Uxor: "When I heard you say it, I knew it was my name. It was frightening. I've never spoken of this before, but it was like the same experience I have when I kiss you"
*This confused him, and he spoke before her writing progressed*
Varro: Fear? Kissing me makes you afraid?
*Adamently she shook her head 'no' and motioned for him to let her finish writing*
Uxor: "When I...  No Varro that isn't it at all. Familiar. When I kiss you, I have feelings and sensations as if I've been kissing you for years. The name, when you said it *she paused trying to put it to words to write* "You know the feeling of recognition - of knowing those letters to be in conjunction with your existance? Hearing you say it to me felt normal. It scared me. It scared me because that is not something you pull from the air. I was afraid that somehow, you knew my memories. That you might somehow have met with the one who took them from me in the first place. MOre over, that maybe you were going ot return me to him. That this being you're talking about WAS him. I realized that I was holding that weapon in there, and the drive to defend myself from you was strong. I heard your voice in my mind, in the way that Mekari had done, but it felt like you so distinctively. It brought me back from where ever the sickle was trying to lead my intent. I needed to step back. The shock of that name... of you and your 'gifts'... your account of this avatar. So much"
Varro: Why did you come in here to this room? I thought you would have dashed out my front door the way you were looking at me back there.
*Uxor sighed slowly through her nose.*
Uxor: "I remembered the last time I was forced out that same door. I remembered the look on your face. I realized what I feel" *she scratched it out to past tense* "what I felt was what you must have felt when you thought I was a traitor to you, and how I had my good intentions for you - just misapplied. So I came in here instead on the chance that there was an explaination. Mostly though, I needed to puzzle over things."
*The bard read her words gravely*
Varro: I am sorry to have caused you distress. That isn't what I want for you. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves. On the bright side, concerning these 'feelings' I've stirred in you, that is good, yes? If you're getting your memory back?
*Uxor shook her head 'no,' and once more parchment was being written upon*
Uxor: They're not memories Varro. Just... feelings. I feel a certain emotion, but I don't recall it. I know that to be my name, but that doesn't mean I remember who called me that, nor what my life was when I was known as that."
Varro: Are the feelings good or ill when you hear the name? *he didn't bother to say it. He knew better than that now.*
Uxor: "Neither. It just is. I don't know how else to explain it."
Varro: Would you want me to call you that from now on, knowing as you do that it was your name?
*She sighed more deeply that time, enough that she had to open her mouth*
Uxor: "I'm not sure."
Varro: Then you will be Uxor to me for as long as you desire me to call you that. I am sorry. I just wanted so badly for you to believe in what I've said. You're the one I confide in these days, and if I can't come to you, then there is no one.  If you wish to discover this avatar for yourself, I won't press that aspect of it. I will tell you that I may need your help in the coming weeks. This will not be so simple as putting on a few dresses for me as you did for the Fashion Show posters Uxor. I need real help this time. However *he set the scepter aside and faced her fully* if you do not feel that I am being truthful with you... or that I've misrepresented what is happening... I want you to tell me now, and I will never speak of it again to you.
*Uxor stared at him for some time in silence. After a time, she reached out and touched the side of his face. It was not in the way that so many of the city did, to discern if he were Mekari or not... it was a caress. He closed his eyes halfway to it, and his thoughts turned to her earlier words*
Varro: What do you feel?
*She angled her head a little trying to figure out what he was making reference to. This prompted him to lean forward swiftly, but gently, to meet her lips with his own, afterwhich he asked again.*
Varro: I want to know what it is you feel.
*The paleness of her face was warmed somewhat as she flushed at the question. For having to spend her existence in writing, being mute, she found it particularly difficult today to communicate her thoughts.*
Uxor: "I don't know Varro, it's not as simple as a word. It's nothing bad. If anything it's happy feelings. My name now, Uxor, means wife. When I kiss you, it must remind me of whomever it was I was married to before my memories were taken" *she stared at the page, realizing how reading that must make Varro feel. It read as if her mind went somewhere else and she quickly added* "It's not that I'm not here with you when I'm doing it it.."
Varro: Calm down, I'm not offended if that is what you're thinking. I'm confident enough to share you, even if it is in this case with some feelings of your past. *his mind already was coiling around an idea. Would it work? The only way of knowing wass trying...mentally he reached out for the avatar again*
Varro: <Are you listening?>
<For me to know and you to learn.>
Varro: <No games this time. No scheming. I want to know... you say you are privy to times of celebration and joy, yes?>
<I am.>
Varro: <What of her? Are you able to see the joy and mirth of her past?>
<Yes. I know what you are thinking, and I know you only mean well for her, but consider your actions carefully... in light of the last reaction she had to word of her past imparted by you, Augur.>
*He didn't need to ask further of the Avatar now.*
Varro: Uxor, in the same way that I was able to know your name, there is the possibility that I also might be able to find out aobut events of your past. If you have a family still.... who your husband was... many things about your old life. Do you want me to tell you?
*Uxor sat up straight hearing this.*
Uxor: "For what purpose?"
Varro: A gift. A gift for you that no one else can grant you so readily. One that will be yours only if you ask it of me. I don't have your answers yet, but I can get them. I won't bother to do so unless it is at your request though. It is the only thing I can think of to make up for the difficulty of knowing me Uxor.You don't have to decide now but... just know that I offer you this, should you want it.
*Uxor wrestled in her mind with the answer for this. For the present, she set the paper and writing stick down, shoved aside the scepter, and pulled him to her. With great determination, Uxor tried to think of Varro only, to put all else out of mind,  and tried to suppress the dejavu that haunted her affections for him. Did she feel this way because of her past, or because of Varro himself?*
Varro: <I'll get back with you on that, but if that information is yours, may I be so bold as to ask for it, not for myself, but for her, if it came to it?>
<You can ask.>
Varro: <Fair enough.>

[Note: The council of 12 has recently relased the testimony of one Cerulean Blue Shadow. The council neither acknowledges nor denies the events as true, but reserves the right to censor any statement or part thereof due to Provincial Security.]  


I am Cerulean Blueshadow, and I swear under absolute Law the events I am about to mention are absolutely true, and not caused by any inbued substance, magical trickery, or other phantasm:


As mentioned to you earlier when you asked to have me and my party placed in great peril retrieving a book in the lighthouse, I have been here only a short while in Stormreach.

One week, I was alerted to an event testing our tactical location skills finding a said Sir Lawrence. Being a master at searching and having recently [then] acquired the ability to speed my movements, I accepted.

Not only did one person in the entire mob of people find this person, and he taunted our collective thoughts, he personally taunted me solely after my sent message to him was apparently received. This following is the section where you dispute my claims:
 

One night after I had imbued three n[CENSORED] o[CENSORED] but after its effects had worn off by 3.2 hours, I was dancing late into the morning (after visiting that slave camp called a resort named called Ataraxia's Haven.) After retiring from such and saving a halfling bard from utter death via communicating my concerns on her life entering a certain spine area alone, I had gone to my room for more research. 

Pouring over the tome "The Artificer and Emotional building ," I was obviously in no condition to expect the surprising voice that stated,
"I liked it much better when you were dancing."

Few thing cause me an imbalance, but that did cause me to drop my book in surprise not knowing if this was some assassination attempt for the good deeds I did against some very evil groups or yet another of Pempernel's jokes.  Deciding since I still functioned, this was a 72.31% probability of "practical joke" I replied what humans called "flippantly" I call bluntly.
"Well, I had things to do, would you care to imbue my oil and choke for several minutes?"
The being, now I recognized with a short hair style and small hair on his chin called a "soul patch" laughed.
"Oh, when you finally contemplate humor, you will be even more an enjoyment you are now!

"But I am no mere human... although I normally appear as one, or use them as willing vessels...don't bother with your planar analysis, you will take decades of your life trying to comprehend exactly what I am compared to your inferior thinking, but this is not a Cerulean Dialouge, I have....interest in your talents."

If a warforged could ever redden in anger, this would be the time.
"I recognize your voice now, you were the one taunting me in  my head! Sir...."

"Now now," he abruptly stopped, "that's just one of my followers, no need to accuse him of something I did...but I liked it better when you were surrounded by more color..."


With no warning, the man suddenly appeared in a robe of scintillating colors. But instead of blinding or fascinating Cerulean, they coalesced into a ball....a swirling sphere of dancing, which Cerulean could not resist.

"Now, all people may not dance if they want to, but this ball reflects what is in your soul. Yes Cerulean, you have one as do all self-aware beings, and if you haven't noticed by now, I haven't said a single word to you, and you haven't either to me."

Shocked as he was hearing this and doing something he remembered as called the "Boogie," Cerulean noticed the man's lips weren't moving, and his conversation was taking pace by thought as if a message or ESP spell. 

[Cerulean: So, what do I call....think your name then]
[Man: I go by whatever reflects the person I meet best. As for you, you may call me Ecnerwal]
[Cerulean: But that's....]
[Ecnerwal: Yes it is. I thought you would enjoy me using one of my follower's inverted so to speak. ]
[Cerulean: {twirls}: And who or what are you to pay me a visit like this....perhaps I could stop dancing please? While I do not tire, it does hurt my concentrating think-speaking {the ball vanished and he stops} thank you.]

[Ecnerwal: Well, you went to what when I said no mere  human. You embrace logic as a shield, afraid to let your joy out for joy itself. But you are technically correct when you say what, like the way an aspect is part of a Portfollio.]
[Cerulean: Portfollio? That means you are...]
[Ecnerwal: An Avatar. Correct. Yes interrupting your thought stream bothers you, but your eyes glint so amusingly! If you haven't deduced it which I know you are thinking you have....but are incorrect in principle, my portfollio is merriment, not fun. I want to have people enjoy life for the advancement of revelry...and you have come up as an unexpected but welcome additional member.]

Cerulean spoke, "Well Pempernel, you have fooled me! What, permanent illusion? Spent 500,000 platinum just to Wish this to happen? Am I summoned in yet another pocket dimension?"

[{Ecnerwal looked annoyed and spoke in his head more harshly}: Cerulean Blue Shadow creator truemessage [WITHHELD BY WITNESS], this  is no joke from your mortal friends!]
Cerulean looked shocked. He had referred to him by his COMPLETE name, including the part only known and never shared outside him by his forger, dead since the end of the last war.  
[Ecnerwal: Now I have your attention. That day was a joyous day for him, for you were the first son he created all by himself.]
[Cerulean: What....do you want of me?]
[Ecnerwal: Smartest thing you thought all night. All I want to do is offer you something. A Gift if you will. It will take physical form, but once you accept it, if you accept it, that will no longer be needed, but you may keep its shell as a token reward if you wish.]
[Cerulean: So you pop in,make me dance, prove you're an avatar, now shower me with gifts?]
[Ecnerwal: Actually, a Gift. The potential for happiness, which I know you seek. You can find it your own way.]
[Cerulean: For a manifestation of a party god, you seem to not be omnipotent. I seek knowledge, as much as I can maintain, until I advance to the next level of being]
[Ecnerwal: Very well, let's play your logic game. I do enjoy games. What will happen when you achieve this goal?]
[Cerulean: Impossible to determine. My thoughts are inadvanced for that state.]
[Ecnerwal: Very well. Why do you want to achieve that state?]
[Cerulean: Then I will have succeeded my life's primary objective and I will be happ.....]
Cerulean let his thoughts trail off. Ecnerwal was right. All of us strive for some thing or things, but it is to satisfy our goals, to make us happy.

[Ecnerwal: So now you see why I chose you?
Many people can never admit that simple truth, yet seek it all their lives. You as a Warforged with...self doubting emotional ability....would have even more of a difficulty doing this. Yet you have enjoyed life with others and accepted it, all the while still embracing your passion of knowledge....you have handled all you can without going into "paradox" as you call it. Know this:
 There will be a time when you are there but not there anymore and a gift of good fortune will be offered. After this, you will have many trials and your fortune will be mercurial if you accept while you adjust. I suggest you just go outside and look up until dawn. You will thank me.]

Without warning, Cerulean was back in his chair, book in hand.
[What, a spell, a curse...what happened......?]


Cerulean got up and looked up at the moons. One of them seemed to reflect a bluish twinge, while another was slightly reddish. It was....beautiful.

Cerulean stayed that way until dawn then continued his life.

Almost exactly one week later, Cerulean was asked to help other on Penitent's Rest for fame and fortune as well as putting souls to rest. He accepted.

All went as expected. Some died and were raised, the undead were given rest, and the chests were in front of him. As requested, all those were given two die-one red-and the highest and lowest rollers would open the chest "for luck."
While not bothering to chide them due to fortune not ever showing him a win against the odds, Cerulean rolled.....


And all stopped.....

He was at the gravesite, but all was grey. Nobody was around, except him. His voice sounded hollow or echoing...
"HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"............


and without warning he was back among the group of others as if nothing had happened.

"Say ya rolled highest ya lucky forged you," said one of the party! Cerulean got that feeling again, that feeling that somehow somebody was targeting him as what happened last week, and swore he heard a chuckle.

Trying not to appear un-normal, Cerulean opened the chest.

And in it was a Scepter of the Magi.

"Way to GOOO," "Congrats," and other slang was heard by the remaining of the party-not one who were an ancanist-but ignored as he saw the all but impossible. He never got this lucky. Then he saw what looked like a blue spark crackle amongst the secpter, almost like mana or....what courses through the heartstone of a warforge.

"Did you see..?"

"See what," one of the dimmer fighters asked? "I didn see nuthin!"
Then he knew. He just knew. A Gift, a choice. He could always give to the cleric, but he knew, just knew that spark would not be there.
He thought:
[If I accept this Gift, what do you want of me?]
A response answered in almost an approving sound inside his head:
[Ecnerwal: All I ask is to promote the ways of enjoying life, however you do it. Encourage others, and never give up or feel fear to do it yourself. Mind you, if you accept this...there will be other things you learn...things that no mortal normally does... and as you have just thought correctly, sometimes they are not ready to handle that knowledge, so be cautious in imparting anything learned....if you accept my gift......seeker]


As if a wisdom he never knew in his life were just imparted, Cerulean thought:
This is what my path in this life is. I accept my path and will enjoy its ways however it takes me there if I may enjoy the life it brings!

Cerulean grasped the staff, feeling a mild jolt as the spark....was somehow absorbed by him.

[Ecnerwal: Welcome seeker, for that is for title. Seek happiness through knowledge if you find joy in it, and fight for all others to live their life...even if they truly wish suffering....but turn them to revelry if misguidance clouds their vision.....]

"Well, I must be off, thank you for the party against evil and for the rewards. It was most helpful!"


Cerulean knew whatever thread he just pulled, it would be leading him to one large tapestry......and when did he think in metaphor?

As the clear echoes of laughter  die from his head......


That is the absolute truth of my testimony. He appears to be able to alter fate outcomes and purview anything in regards to enjoyment. Others have also claimed somebody matching your town's leader "uncharacteristically" summoned a bunch of dancing kolbolds. I suspect that was his doing not your leader's. I warn you, hiding this truth from others will only cause conspiracy and mistrust, and must be disclosed immediately!"


[Recommended actions: wipe and reimplementation of personality not advised. Information will become "declassified" in 60 days. Place with other 1,362,591 declassified documents. Filing system will not be implemented......]