NationStates Jolt Archive

Arpia Int'l Airport, Runway 9

It had taken more time and diplomatic wrangling than he would have liked, but at last Najoedo could begin his new journey. The Eldest of the Keepers surveyed his means of travel with eyebrows raised- it had taken some effort to convince the ancient man that for the sake of everyone's sanity that he should fly long distances via more modern means than simply the wide span of his own wings. As such, Firefury herself had insisted that Najoedo should travel via a personalized Harukaze 100-S jet, the craft shining white in the afternoon sun, striking the occasional glimmer of color from the Shogunate flag and the Keeper's own ancient sigil emblazoned on the fuselage and tail of the jet.

"Um.. sir?" One of the plane's flight crew timidly addressed the tall Keeper, rousting the half-dragon looking man from his thoughts. "We're all ready to depart whenever you're ready."

"Indeed. Then let us begin this trip, though I wish this voyage was commencing on a kinder note." Najoedo follows the crewman up the loading stair and settles into the seat in the cabin custom built to accomadate his unusual form.

The Keeper's first stop was the Dominion, primarily to pay respects to a man who had earned Najoedo's respect a thousand times over, Leandro Pacci. Due to prior engagements on the "Far Moon" at the time, Najoedo had been unable to attend the man's funeral.

Admittedly, the Keeper was also looking forward to seeing the sights, having been enthralled by the atmosphere and culture the few times he had been to the country before on official business. This time though, he was bound to no schedule but his own, free to explore as his whims dictated.

First and foremost however was a trip to the Basilica di San Bernardi he had heard a great deal about. He had already sent word ahead to the necessary people notifying them of his arrival, all that remained was his arrival and finding out what his meetings would reveal.

“Chiedere scusa,” Cardinal Battista said, blinking and adjusting his glasses as he looked up at the aide currently standing in his office. “Who is coming for a visit? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“Najoedo, Eldest of Keepers, hailing from the Shogunate. An ancient and venerable representative of both the past and present of said nation,” the young man said respectfully.

“Keepers … Keepers … “ Fingers tapped thoughtfully on his desk as Battista cast about for a face to match the name, his eyes widening as he reached recognition. “Il Dio, I remember now! The coronation! Those large winged draconic fellows!” He pauses again, brows furrowed in momentary confusion.

“But … why?”

“I believe there was mention of paying respects to the recently-departed Minister,” came the response.

Battista licked his lips nervously, looking inexplicably concerned. “Ah, yes … there was if I recall, an archaeological expedition there.” He knew quite well there had been, and what had gone on, and given his nature, chose to believe that this visit, by the Eldest, was no mere coincidence, nor did he think that such a prestigious presence was for the reason given alone. Even being involved in the Church, the old saying held true – there were only two types of paranoia: absolute, and insufficient.

“Right then. Be sure everything is in order, coordinate with whomever we need for proper transportation, and make sure we will have the appropriate privacy for the Eldest to pay his respects. I just hope there will be no desire for any of that confounded magic or outlandish ceremony I’ve heard mention of. Not in the church at any rate,” he grumbled slightly at that last. “It’s just not right. Perhaps you could ah, look into that a bit? Make some quiet inquiries so we aren’t caught completely unawares?”

As an afterthought he added, “And do be sure that wretched Giraldi is kept as far away from all this as possible. The last thing we need is his meddling.”

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

When the time came for the arrival, every effort was made to accommodate Najoedo that was possible, though the transportation proved somewhat tricky. A larger vehicle such as those that had been altered to suit the Dominion’s larger allies, such as the Sakkrans and the Kzinti was chosen, with the seat altered to suit passengers with tails – this one further adjusted to try and make room as well for wings, as best as could be managed in any case. While the security detail that was assigned to the Keeper were soldati, the crest on the vehicle, and those greeting and accompanying him, were of the Church.

Cardinal Giovanni Battista was waiting to meet the entourage at the entrance to the Basilica di San Bernardi in his black simar with scarlet piping and accompanying scarlet fascia and zucchetto, with a pectoral cross hanging on a red and gold cord that had the look of very old Dominion to it.

He offered a respectable enough bow in greeting, smiling warmly in spite of his reservations, eyes widening a bit as he took in the Keeper’s impressive form for himself for the first time, with the scaled lower body and tail, the majestic wings, horns, reptilian ears, and clawed feet.

And yet they say these are indeed no servants of the devil, in spite of their fearsome appearance. There are indeed more wonders in heaven and earth, as I learn anew each day.

“Lord Najoedo, Eldest of the Keepers, welcome to the Dominion, to Devras, and to the Basilica di San Bernardi of our Holy Mother Church. I am Cardinal Battista, and am honored to receive you.”

The Keeper returns the Cardinal's gesture with a formal bow of his own, the motion emphasized with a slight spread of his milky wings. Rather than going entirely au naturale like the Keepers often do out of simple convenience (often it is simpler not to wear anything after all, than to try and manuver a set of wings and a tail through any sort of outfit), Najoedo wears a simple drapery affair not entirely unlike a Greek toga, though the grey cloth does little to truly hide his inhuman features.

"It is an honor to be so well received here." He chuckles slightly, glancing about at the ornate building. "Particularly since as I recall, the last time I went anywhere near a house of this faith, I was chased away by a rather irate mob with torches and pitchforks."

If not for the fact the Keeper was likely talking about an event from a few thousand years ago, one would surely think his claim absurd.

Battista blushes a bit in spite of himself, knowing all too well some of the less savory histories of his church, and others at times – though at least he can honestly say that to the best of his knowledge, no local stories consisted of chasing of great dragony-folk. Thank heavens.

“Have no fear,” he assures the Eldest Keeper. “We have had to adjust our perceptions in many ways since the world opened up to us, so to speak. While the way has not always been easy, I continue to hope that it will be worth the effort in the end. May you find it in your heart to forgive those who wronged you, and in the meantime, accept our hospitality. I’m afraid the worst you’ll find are censors, candles, crosses, and assorted letter openers – we’ve left the torches and pitchforks home this time,” he adds with a good-natured smile and a wink.

“If you would come this way,” he says, gesturing to the main doorway. “And perhaps along the way, let me know what I can do to be of service?”

"Those who cannot adapt only doom themselves." Najoedo nods as the two head for the door. "And there is nothing to forgive. Those who chased me away are long since passed, and they acted out of fear. I cannot fault those who were merely trying to defend themselves from a perceived threat. There would be little point in bearing a grudge against such people."

As they enter the building, the Keeper pauses briefly to take in his surroundings as he considers the Cardinal's question.

"I fear I am woefully unknowledgeable about the grieving customs of this country, and even less so about the customs of your church." He unslings his sword, and displays it with the blade laid flat across one palm. "This weapon is dearer to me than life itself, but I would not enter a sacred place armed if it will cause offense."

“Bene, bene,” the Cardinal says with some measure of relief. It’s always better to start off on a positive note, and Najoedo has already proven himself in possession of both wisdom and dare he say, a surprisingly Christian outlook on some things.

The question about the sword gives Battista pause, and he takes a moment to ponder his response as he looks over the weapon thoughtfully. “I have been somewhat educated in regards to your sword and the meaning it holds for you, Eldest,” he begins carefully, taking another moment to pause at the font, crossing himself and bowing his head in a brief prayer.

Turning back to his guest, he smiles understandingly. “I believe that given the circumstances, it would be for the best if you were to keep it with you. Should any take issue, they can discuss the matter with me. After all, I would not ask another priest to remove the symbols of his faith, though it differs from my own, even in our place of worship. If our faith is wavering enough to be disturbed at such things, and our resolve weak enough to be shaken by that of others, I would wager it isn't worth holding.”

"A practical way of looking at things." Najoedo chuckles as he places the elegant weapon back into its carry-sling across his back. To someone without wings, the arrangement might appear awkward; but long years of practice means that all of the Keepers know how to draw or sling the weapon just so without damaging anything with a blade too large to easily carry sheathed at one's side.

The Keeper does bow his head briefly at the font as he has seen the Cardinal do, though without crossing himself, murmuring a barely audible "Muo fouso hoawd."

"It is a shame that I begin my trip with mourning." He speaks again when done. "Leandro Pacci was a delight to speak with, even if he managed to scare one of my kindred half to death when we first awoke. Had he wished to, I doubt any of us would have objected the idea of him joining the ranks of the Keepers. There ought be twelve, but several of the blade lie waiting still for a new weilder."

Deucedly polite, too, Battista observes as he leads the way further into the ancient building. Well, ancient by human standards at least, which again leaves him puzzling as to what he’s been told of the Keepers, trying to imagine such a vast length of time or any one organization to remain so steadfast.

“Leandro was a good man,” he begins thoughtfully as they walk towards the back of the building, the soft soles of his shoes whispering over the intricate mosaic floor tiles. “I am sure he would have been deeply honored by your kind words.” He arches a brow slightly though, giving Najoedo a curious look. “Scared half to death, you say? That’s a story I’d not heard. And, if I may be so bold, how are new wielders chosen? It seems a curious thing that a foreigner, even such an excellent man as Leandro, would be considered.”

Najoedo chuckles again. "Until very recently, there was little rhyme nor reason to it. Sometimes the blade would be passed from master to student, or father to first-born son- there have only been very few women among our ranks. Often it was mere chance, theft or an accident that would leave the weapon in the hands of a stranger. That is why for many years the Keepers were not organized, and why there are still... some tensions... among the oldest of us even now. We were scattered on the winds of chaos, using our power to help whatever warlords we cared to. The blades are far older than the Shogunate, so the idea of a 'foreigner' having one is not so strange."

He frowns at some memory. "I suppose it was nothing short of a chance miracle that in all that time there has been but one to abuse that power and seek glory and conquest for himself. Despite our strength in the mystic Arts, we are but servants to our weapons, and to those we wish to serve."

"As for scaring one of our number so badly, I'm afraid I was not present for that event. But one of the youngest of our number came out of hiding early, and apparently ran into Leandro in the dark, startling both quite badly."

The Keeper frowns as they progress into the building, as though something is bothering him and he can't quite place it. Perhaps a sign of nerves on the ancient man's part?

He nods thoughtfully at the explanations given, thinking it best perhaps not to dwell on less pleasant topics, though he voices agreement at the comments on power.

“You are a blessed people indeed to have suffered only one. I’m afraid it’s all too in the nature of things for power and glory to go to one’s head, and to forget the responsibility of service that comes with positions of power.”

The Cardinal smiles, laughing softly at the visual of Pacci running headlong into one of the Keepers. “I’m sure that would have been a sight to see. It’s good Leandro was able to live such a full life, so filled with experiences like being a part of the team who rediscovered your people, so to speak. I know he was humbled by the honor of having been there. Your newest member, Kira was it? I take it she’s been doing well? He often spoke of her and the rather incredible change she went through to become a Keeper. Truly amazing.”

Still, he watches his guest carefully, one brow arching slightly in unspoken question as he ponders how to best approach. “Please forgive my prattling, I meant no offense. Is there something I can help you with? Anything you need to make your visit more comfortable?”

"Blessings come in many guises. There may have been but one to stray from his duties as a Keeper, but one was all it took to spell the utter annihalation of one of the greatest of the ancient clans." Oh yes, there are many stories there left untold as Najoedo continues. "And I believe you refer to young Kiara. She is doing as well with the change as any of us have. It is different for each, and with how sudden the change can be, adaptation can take a great deal of time and effort. Even walking becomes a skill that needs to be relearned, let alone balancing with the addition of wings and tail."

He chuckles again, ruffling his own white wings for emphasis. "I am told her flying still needs a great deal of work. Leandro was a great comfort those first several days after it happened."

Najoedo pauses at the Cardinal's question, contemplating his answer carefully. "No offense is taken, for often there is much to learn from so-called prattle. However..." He frowns in concentration. "I realize many places of worship have some of the Arts to them, and the oldest such places have it in greater measure... But there is something I can only describe as... strange. I fear I lack the words to properly describe the sensation, much like one cannot describe color to the blind, or song to the deaf. Like a whisper of sound on a breeze, or like water on bare skin, a light presence that I have never felt prior."

He straightens his stance slightly. "For lack of a more diplomatic way to say it, there is something here."

“I cannot imagine going through such a change myself,”Battista admits as they near the small graveyard at the back corner of the basilica. Being built out on the water of course means that all graves there are by needs mausoleums rather than more typical ground burials, as can be glimpsed at the end of the long hallway.

Of course the next bit brings him up short, causing him to stumble as he tries to compose himself again. “Jesu, Maria, Josef,” he mutters under his breath, taking a crisp white handkerchief out of his sleeve and dabbing at his forehead and face, which were slightly damp with perspiration. “Begging your pardon, but I’m afraid this body of mine isn’t quite as up to task as it once was. The Basilica is a large place, and now and then these old bones falter a bit. Time makes fools of us all, no?”

“As for the sensation, perhaps it is the presence of God you sense? This is His house, after all,” he finishes, offering Najoedo what he hopes is a beatific smile. “We’re nearly there – just through the doors at the end of this hallway.”

The Keeper barely quirks an eyebrow, absently scratching behind one of his small horns. His expression doesn't change much, but still manages to carry a trace of suspicion.

"I suppose that may well be the case." Najoedo replies softly with a slight nod. "Though in all my years and encounters with the Unexplained, I have not encountered such a sensation... at least not in relation to such things."

His tone doesn't betray his meaning; the statement could be merely what is said. Or could it be a more diplomatic way of saying This doesn't add up.? His expression softens as they approach Pacci's resting place; whatever it is, perhaps the ancient man has chosen not to pry. Or at least to withold his thoughts until such time as he has more than a damnably vague mystical 'notion' to go on.

He had been afraid of this when first contacted about the visit. It wasn’t every day that those more attuned to the spiritual world came around after all, and so it had been simple enough to hide what needed hiding. There had been the occasional person who mentioned feeling … something when visiting the small graveyard, always a positive sensation of one sort or another, save for Niccolo Giraldi, oddly enough the Minister of Religion, who idly commented how the place felt stuffy and oppressive. Given the man’s Machiavellian nature, Battista was hardly surprised.

This however, was entirely different, and the truth was, he had no idea how best to handle it. It isn’t as though he could have refused such a polite request without really raising brows, nor could he have taken out the item, or moved Pacci to another resting place without rather serious issues of the faith and all. It had been bad enough doing what he did to hide it further, hoping that such a desecration wouldn’t take place, and feeling that Pacci had more than earned the right to be a guardian of the item in his final rest.

Dabbing at his face again, he politely holds the door open for Najoedo, gesturing out to the relatively small private graveyard, quiet and serene with it’s carefully crafted and cared for mausoleums, tended patches of garden, privacy hedges, and several trees. Stained glass and other windows from the Basilica looked down on the protected place, and along the back wall one could peek through at the canal below, though there was no other exit save for the way they had come.

“There, in the corner near the building, under the tree,” Battista says with a nod, quietly closing the door behind them, nervously wringing his hands. “Leandro Pacci’s final resting place, God rest his soul.”

"Muo Jxo Nxe Jooj Ucc wiato kxoo nxe leouwo uxout." Clearly a prayer for the departed of some sort, barely whispered as Najoedo steps forward.

About five feet from the mausoleum, and that's when things go pear-shaped.

It starts with a brief ringing sound, the vibration of finely crafted metal. In fact, it's coming from the Keeper's blade, the weapon ringing as if struck. Before Najoedo can properly react to this oddity, some sort of pressure wave whips out, its point of origin without a doubt Pacci's tomb. The Cardinal isn't affected, though there's little doubt that only a complete magical dunce wouldn't have felt it on some level.

And then Najoedo is sprawled on the ground in a most comedic position, flat on his back, legs sticking up, tail tangled around his feet, and a look on his face best summarized as "What the hell?"

"What-" The Keeper gasps out in surprise. "-was that?"

Battista bows his head respectfully as the Keeper seems to pray, his own brow furrowed in thought and consternation. He had already tried to mislead Najoedo, for perfectly good reasons, though it didn’t make his conscience feel any better about it. And there was the fact that he sensed something that complicated it all. How was he going to explain? What would Pacci have done? He wished right then more than ever that his old friend were back, and not just to keep him out of this predicament.

At the sound of ringing metal, his head comes up sharply, and he looks around quickly as he tries to pinpoint where it came from, half expecting an attack of some sort. Of course before it all comes together, things go haywire, and his guest finds himself in a terribly undignified position, and is again asking questions that the Cardinal would really rather not have to answer.

But then how in the world does one dodge something like that? A sound, perhaps, but getting blown off one’s feet? Hurrying over to lend what assistance he can, Battista nearly stumbles over himself and his words in an effort to try and both buy time, and get the Keeper back on his feet.

“Why I…I’ve no idea. That’s never happened before…good gracious man, are you alright? There was this ringing, and—no, wait, you’ll step on—that’s right, there we go…il dio, I’ve never seen such a thing in my life…”

"Just surprised." Najoedo accepts the help, getting back on his feet and briefly shaking his head as though to clear it. "That was... I am not sure what that was."

Coming from a guy with roughly ten thousand years of experience in regards to magic and its intrinsic weirdness, that's quite the statement.

"It was the blade." The Keeper unslings the weapon and checks it for damage. "Something... a resonance perhaps, or warding. Far more than could be accounted for by Leandro's skills barring unsavory deals I cannot see him having made."

The blade appears unharmed, and Najoedo frowns in intense thought, glancing from its shining surface to the grave and back again. Apparently he comes to a decision, for he drives the blade a few inches into the soil, leaving the weapon upright. It must be just within the perimeter of whatever sent the Keeper reeling, for the weapon is ringing again, though the sound is dampened by the tip being buried in the ground.

"Forgive my ignorance, but it is not common practice to ward graves in such a... forceful... manner, is it?" Najoedo studies his blade. "Nor do I sense the presence of any beings in this world or the Realm of the Arts that have the ability to do such a thing."

“Un…savory deals? Good heavens no, not possible,” Battista agrees, glancing nervously between the crypt and the Keeper. “And no, we do not … ‘ward’ graves beyond the usual consecration and prayers. They say that God protects his own,” he continues carefully, walking over to the Keeper’s blade and reaching out a hand to tentatively test the air around it, as if he might be able to sense something of what was going between it, and the blade he knew to be buried with Leandro.

Reluctantly, he turns again to face Najoedo, coming to a decision. “What I am about to tell you must needs be kept in the strictest of confidence. It is a secret kept by myself, and Leandro, and I know for a fact that he took it with him when he passed on. In all our studies, we have yet to prove one way or another what it is that he discovered several years back while on a small archaeological dig on an island in the far south of the Dominion, but what we do know is that it seems to be, at the very least, a holy relic. And if what we fear it to be is true, it can never fall into the wrong hands. It would be disastrous. In fact, neither one of us believed anyone should lay claim to it.”

He gives the Keeper a long, searching look, then lets out a soft sigh. “You and yours were held in high regard by Leandro. He believed that in some unexplained way that you, and we, are servants of the same. I trust that his confidence was not misplaced. Please, if you care to, have a seat,” he says, gesturing to one of the marble benches scattered here and there throughout, offering a moment’s rest for those visiting the graveyard. “This story may take some telling.”

And from there, he launches into what he knows of the finding of the spear (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=367088), what Leandro told him of it all, what they had learned in the meantime, which was little, and how they came to decide to keep it all secret, ending with his choice to secretly bury it with his old friend.

The Keeper listens intently, his former relaxation gone and replaced with an attentive readiness. He remains silent for several long moments after the Cardinal completes his explanation of events.

"That... certainly would explain it." Najoedo finally remarks quietly, looking at his sword where it still sits, resonating. "You have my word that I shall not speak of this to any, not even the other Keepers."

He gets up from his seat then, walking cautiously toward the mausoleum again, one hand held up toward it almost like how one would find a wall in the dark. Without the sword, this time the Keeper is able to approach without repercussion.

"Jnook Wettojj, nxuk xulo oei veidt, Leandro?" Najoedo murmurs, studying something unseen. "The resonance between my weapon and this spear... it is building a ward. A most fascinating one, at that; I suspect that listening devices, or just a person elsewhere in the garden would be unable to hear anything we discuss. Just getting a sense of it at closer range... I could not say if it is or is not the spear of legend, but whatever it is most certainly is a powerful artifact. Perhaps even of the same class as any of the Keepers' weapons. Your caution in hiding it and guarding its secret is definitely wise."

Battista crosses himself and murmurs a quiet prayer at that last bit, taking out his handkerchief and nervously blotting his brow.

“I haven’t the faintest what I should do with it, and so I thought this the most fitting place to have it rest,” he explained. “This sort of thing is rather outside my boundaries of experience. Granted, we believe in such artifacts, but to actually see one, and to have the responsibility of keeping it out of the wrong hands, well … without my dear friend and his steady mind, I haven’t dared do more than continue to carefully try and research as best I can while leaving it well enough alone.”

He glances over regretfully to Pacci’s tomb, and shakes his head. “On the one hand, if it is what we fear, it shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands, not given the history of the thing. On the other hand, if it isn’t, and is as powerful as you suggest, it probably shouldn’t either. I love my country, and I respect our leadership well enough for having guided us into such a prosperous age, but I’m no fool – we are ill-prepared to deal responsibly with such a gift. Our natures, I’m afraid, do not lend themselves well overall, to the idea of infinite power.”

"The only power that is infinite is that of the All-Seer, in all its many guises." Najoedo counters, his tone firm but not heated. "All else exists in a balance. The greater the power, the greater the cost... if this spear is of a kind with my weapon, then that price is high indeed."

He pauses and glances at the tomb. "Please pardon my outburst. It has been some time since I've been so puzzled. There is a way I may be able to find out more about this weapon, though it may be a risk taken for little gain." The Keeper pauses again, trying to figure out a way to translate the concept out of his native language. "Among the old clans, it is a common myth that some items, weapons in particular, house a jneht-jfahak... that is, a ghost of sorts, a sentient awareness. It is not exactly true, nor is it false; given enough time, some things do soak up some of what they have been exposed to, items of power especially. In the Realm of the Arts, it can be possible to... speak... with such items. Though to call it speech is something of an exaggeration... it is impressions mostly. There is some danger, there always is when one seeks the Realm, but the worst danger comes from carelessness. I do not know if I can find anything, but if you like, I can make an attempt right here."

“Here?” Battista stammers, looking around nervously. “N-n-now? That is to say, I understand your suggestion that none can hear, but certainly they could see, were they to …” He thought for a moment, still looking around, conceding that the area was rather private, and additionally, were fairly assured of lacking any interruptions were such instructions given. The Keeper’s honor guard were waiting patiently, and in no hurry, being at his disposal, so there was no worry there.

He belatedly waves away the apology, his expression and manner indicating that truly, it is nothing. “I have read of such things in my studies, such as they are, though I’ve had no experience of them. In our belief, it would be the power of God that infuses the relic, and if any voice were to be heard from it, it would be His – or such is my understanding. Of course, as I said, my experience is woefully limited, and most of my knowledge is base on study, my teachings, and my faith. God works in mysterious ways, and who am I to limit His methods of taking care of His own. My concern is mainly for this danger you speak of.”

Najoedo smiles slightly at the Cardinal's worry about the dangers. "To the outside observer, it looks merely as though a deep meditation... which it is, essentially. A way to see the Unseen and explore where the body cannot go. It is the world that is not, I have heard it spoken of as the astral plane, higher dimensions, and the like. To me and mine, it is simply the Realm of the Arts, where power is the will of the spirit made manifest. There are dangers, spirits of ill will, things commonly called demon in other cultures; but by far the most dangerous is the allure of staying and not returning."

He pauses and paces slightly. "To one new-come to the concept, it is vastly dangerous; one can easily get lost and be unable to return, or drink in the freedom of it and not wish to, or fall prey to the dark things that lurk awaiting the unwary." The Keeper's gaze turns distant at some old memory. "Without that, the body eventually withers and dies. These are dangers I know well, and caution is always the best defense against the dangers inherent to it."

Nodding thoughtfully at the explanations of Najoedo, Battista ponders it all for a moment before replying with care.

“I’m not about to insult you by inferring that your wisdom is not up to task, and I acknowledge you far surpass me concerning said theories, experiences, and general knowledge. All the same, the entire matter vexes me, while at the same time, answers seem to be demanded, one way or another. My prayers concerning the artifact have thus far gone unanswered, though I have maintained faith that given the right time and circumstances, the answers I seek will be revealed.”

He sighs and gently mops his forehead with his handkerchief, looking worn and tired.

“God does indeed work in mysterious ways, as I said before. Perhaps this is the way to the answers I’ve been seeking. And if I am wrong in this, time will tell. If it please you, proceed at your leisure. I will add my own prayers for your safety, and that the truth of the matter will be revealed to us. It’s all I know how to do.”

Najoedo nods slightly. "Perhaps these are the right times and circumstances. At the very least, I can do no worse than fail."

The Keeper retrieves his sword, and uses the tip of the blade to carefully carve a circular pattern in the soil a safe distance from the grave. Two concentric circles, with the cardinal directions marked on the outer ring, and a series of glyphs carved in between the two rings. Oddly, the Keeper carves what appears to be a Catholic cross at the north end of the design.

"The rings of protection." Najoedo explains as he works. "The four directions that guide the stars in the heavens; the glyphs representing the elements of the earth, water, wind, chaos, and order... those last two being the purview of She Who Sees All. And the cross... well, assuming that all gods are part of the same whole, it would be rude to attempt this without some appeal to the one that reigns here."

He paces the perimeter of the circle, double checking all the glyphs and touching them up as needed. "This aren't really necessary for what I intend to do, but it never hurts to make an appeal to the powers that be when poking around with the supernatural. Now, this glyph is particularly important-" He gestures to a glyph carved just south of the center of the circle. "While I don't anticipate an emergency, it is better to be ready in the event of one. While I am doing this, I will be in a trance of sorts, and unresponsive. This glyph is a recall one, a sort of beacon. If for some reason you need to snap me out of it quickly, just rub this glyph out. I would request that if I am gone more than an hour, that you rub it out anyway. Even if I fail to find anything in an hour, I can always try again later."

Najoedo seats himself at the center of the circle, facing north, and carefully lays his blade on the ground, also pointing north. "Are we ready?"

Of course Battista looks more than slightly alarmed, all things considered, though he watches the Keeper make his preparations, and listens to the explanations with undisguised curiosity. As the recall glyph is pointed out, he carefully aligns himself with it in preparation.

With a steadying breath, he nods, and checks the time. “One hour if not before. Best of luck, my friend – and may God go with you.”