Inside the walls.

[Abaddon]

Under cover of darkness the man in the mask steps out into the bitter cold wind of the dying winter. The clouds over head are roiling like a turbulent sea and lightning flits back and forth between them like the messengers of the shadows. The man finds a spot about forty nine feet from the inside wall of Castle Gravesbane and sticks the end of his long ringed staff into the snow to the frozen ground. He stops and closes his eyes and the storms roll thick and thunder claps. A funnel cloud formed pushing down from the sky and strikes where the staff is set blowing snow and ice and the top layer of frozen dirt away like a sandstorm revealing a clean flat surface free of roots and other breaks.
The man in the mask takes out seven Amethyst Orbs and sets them down in even intervals in a circle around the staff. Each stone is set seven feet apart and pushed into the ground with his thumb. Carefully he takes a silver chalice out of his pouch and fills it with water from his wine skin. From the chalice he connects the lines of the seven orbs into a seven pointed star connected by a circle. The septicle is bound by lines now frozen water with his staff in the center. The wind and snow do not enter the circle and it is now humming with energy like a dowsing rod. Lightning reaches down from the sky and strikes the staff repeatedly seven strikes in seven seconds. The man in the mask steps to the center of the circle and takes hold of the staff with both hands.
The ground shakes a little and then there is a shift. The orbs burst like eggs and seven tentacles of purple and silver begin to grow. They reach up and tangled together and grow together forming a room. The twisted crystal tentacles are irregular and other crystals form from their skins tangling together into what looks like a small tower. Random bits of purple stone jut off at seemingly jagged edges. The man in the mask pulls his staff free and steps out of the tangled mess and steps back.
The raw magic of the ritual dies down and the tower continues to grow though now so slowly it could barely be seen by the naked eye.

[Zydana]

The Valkyn'Vi woman in the purple robes stands a safe distance away. Her emotional-less face never gives way to tell if she may be frightened or impressed at the slowly growing amethyst tower. She watches as Abaddon takes his staff and steps next to her. She gazes at him momentarily before focusing her attention back the the amethyst construction.

[Dallid]

Dallid’s eyes shot open with the first thunderclap. The strike had been *very* close – within Haven. A blasted tree could cause much harm if it fell the wrong way, so he listened intently for sounds of distress.

Instead he heard seven more thurnderclaps – each a mere second apart, and just as close as the first. This was not random chance. This was design. Dallid shot from his covers, grabbing sword and shield but leaving even his cloth armor and boots behind in his dash out into the snow. Was the Red Tear Remnants back? The Master? Had they discovered a way to control lightning and were now assailing Haven from the sky?

In seconds he spotted the crystal tower and ran toward it. Abbadon and Kami were all ready there, and looking not at all on edge. Dallid slowed as he approached.

“Yours, I presume?”

[Abaddon]

"In a matter of speaking Dallid. It belongs to The Queen, like all this land. I am just using it with her allowance. It should grow tall enough to allow me to harvest the lightning."

[Zydana]

As Dallid approaches, she looks at him for a moment acknowledging his presence or perhaps it was a form of greeting in her own sort of way. Of course she says nothing to him, but instead goes back to watching the twisting mass while listening to the exchange between Abaddon and Dallid.

[Dallid]

"Keep in mind that the Queen is the representative of this land - not it's owner. Numerous farmers would take great offense to someone suddenly staking claim over the soil they have toiled over throughout their lives."

Dallid returns Kami's nod, then looks over the tower appraisingly, noting its growth. "Harvest the lightning? Ambitious. To what end?"

[Abaddon]

"Certainly but the Queen owns Castle Gravesbane and it is on that land it is constructed. This is non-farmland that I have used. unused barrack space so to speak." Abaddon says from behind the mask. "when I said this land i really meant THIS."

Abaddon points out over the Castle, the keep and the walls.

"I am working on the construction of a Valkyn'Vi Lightning Forge."

[Dallid]

Dallid nods. "Valkyn'vi Lightning Forge. I have heard this term before. What does it do?"

[Abaddon]

A bolt of lightning strikes the purple tower illuminating the area for a second with intense light. Abaddon grips his staff and shivers.

"The Lightning Forge has many applications. It is the easiest and safest way I know to pull enough pure magic as lightning is into one single area for one moment. I may be able to use to reforge magic items or repair them. Who knows. My clan once used the forge to make pure silver and crystal items much lighter and sharper than a traditional forge. This way also works in places not thick with forest for fire to warp the metals." Abaddon says.

[Dallid]

"I see. A location where a mage may expect a lightning strike during a storm for harnessing. There may be a second such forge not far from here. I am aware of a tree that is very prone to lightning strikes, but until now did not know its possible significance. Worthy, I think, of investigation."

Dallid looks down at his blue feet and sighs. "But for now I had best return indoors to take care of this. A warning in the future would be prudent before such grand and noisy tasks."

[Haku]

He had been walking the ramparts, enjoying the spring storm and the rebirth it signified from winter's grasp. While many would be inside on a night like this, the Lord Marshall reveled in the cleansing wind and rain. There was a sense of order to the chaos of the storm, and this brought a slight smile to the An' Irri's face. He doesn't hear the jingle-jangle of Abaddon's staff over the din of the storm, nor does he notice the elder making his way to the courtyard or the beginning of the ritual. When the seven lightning strikes land however, his 'eyes' are drawn to the ground...


'Interesting' he muses as he watches the ritual unfold. He's never witnessed the birth of a Lightning Forge before, but he knows of them and the power they contain. 'At least he's not trying to hide this in the basement of the Keep' he mutters to himself. "If it just so happens that he needs to cover his tracks again, I'll make sure to be well away from that thing if he plans on blowing it up."

[Esmerelda]

Exhausted by a long day of travelling villages, it seemed Esmerelda has scarcely fallen asleep when the rolling of thunder woke her. Peering out her window, she blinked in astonishment, trying to decide if she had truly woken or was dreaming. Deciding it must be the former, she quietly slipped out of bed and pulled a cloak about her night shift. Hurriedly she made her way down the courtyard.

Catching the tail end of Dallid and Abaddon's discussion, she nodded emphatically in agreement with the healer's final words. Turning to the mage, she frowned.

"When we discussed you having a tower here at the keep, I assumed you meant taking possesion of one of the current towers, not building an entire new one!" she said curtly.

[Abaddon]

"I misunderstood then what I was allowed. It was simply that I did not want to encroach on anyone else's space with my doings. As it is yours, I will do with it as you wish. If you want me to take it down I will do so. I can also give you a tour if you like to prove there are no secret doors hidden in the dirt." Abaddon says.

Lightning strikes the tower once more flashing them with light.

[Garritt]

In the night, Garritt was dreaming.

In his dream he was a younger man, perhaps by half a decade. He was enjoying himself on a nameless beach, walking in the surf alongside a woman. She was attractive, balancing a feminine grace with the confident rough and tough feel of someone used to ways of a soldier. They both wore plain clothing fit for enjoying the warm weather, and when the woman raised her left hand to hold the one of his that lay over her shoulder, it bore the ring that Garritt now wears so continuously on his forefinger.

Garritt was bare to the chest, but his skin bore absolutely none of the scars it does now. They held each other close and smiled, reclining in the sand just out of reach of the waves. When the thunder first rolled, Garritt thought it was odd that the waves would suddenly be so loud.

When the second peal of thunder struck, the sunny skies darkened. He looked up, and when he looked back over to meet the eyes of the strange woman his brow furrowed, for she was gone, and he was standing in the ruined streets of a city under siege, held in the grip of a terrible battle.

Each roll of thunder carried with it a new terrible image. Here, a common man running with a basket of personal items was blasted apart by a ball of energy, while next, an outnumbered group of soldiers crashed into a line of ravening, feral Ga'Vin led by black-skinned elves clad in baroque armor. They were cut down with no mercy, a forlorn hope in the face of losing odds.

Each image came faster and faster, until the last, more powerful than ever. Sound rolled around Garritt, and he looked up to a see a wall of masonry and dust roaring down at him, blotting out the sky. Flinching, the last thing he saw was the woman's smiling face in his mind, and then.................

.........He jerked awake, doused in sweat. His hand, still in a fist, screamed in pain from when he had punched the wall beside his bed. Shaking like a man with palsy, he got up from his bed and with a hand bearing the woman's ring, drew the long dagger from it's scabbard hanging on the bedpost, holding it low and ready.

"What....ugh.. what's happening, Rylls? Can you sense anything?" He asked the air. He waited a few moments, and heard a reply in his head.

*I can sense magic nearby- powerful constructive magic. From just outside the keep. I don't know if we're under attack or anything, I can't be that exact. But at this time of night......*

Garritt was already on the move before the spirit finished, nearly naked but for his small-clothes and padding barefoot though the hallway of the keep. His right hand was awash in blue flames. They dripped sparks and sputtered angrily, as if he was trying to force too much power from himself. When he got to the doorway, he brought a foot up and kicked it open with a snarl and stepped out onto the porch to scan the area, weapons at the ready.

When he saw the small group clustered around the tower of energy, he looked first at it and then them with a rage in his eyes. It almost didn't seem directed at any of them in particular, more like the unfocused rage of a man who might not be in his right mind at the moment.

"What the hell is going on, dammit?! It's the middle of the night and it sounds like we're under a fucking attack! Have the Isiri found us again so soon?"

He pointed at the tower with his dagger, the flames in his other hand still guttering unhealthily.

"And what in the bloody hell is that thing?"

[Dallid]

Dallid had been on his way back to the Keep when Garritt came charging forth, ready for blood. His nearly berserk rage was concerning, so Dallid extended a hand to his shoulder as he passed. <Sooth>

"There is no danger here presently."