A random night after the Cave

     Miro looks over the party at rest.  He ensures all their sleep and then pulls the blue candle from his bag again.  With a pass of his hand it ignites and he sets it on the floor.  Closing his eyes he begins to breathe rythmically and slow.  A calm fills his him through every muscle.  Even his heart begins to slow as he breathes in and out.  Crossing his legs and then laying his hands palm up in his lap.  Finally when the calm takes him his body seems almost dead in its lack of movement he speaks.  "Desna I call to you again.  Now I know your warning to be true.  For that I thank you though my ignorance was too great to act sooner.  Now I come to you again.  Nethys may keep my soul but my actions remain my own.  For that I come to you with truths.  I know I am but a lowly aphid resting upon ants in your eyes... but I too have a dream I would like to share.  A dream that would see both my saviors come together as one.  Through my actions I seek to take your notice as I pull the servants of Lamashtu from her grasp.  But by the gods above it seems I am just unable to succeed.  I know it to be the height of avirice but I hope to see you and my lord Nethys to find common ground through me, the vessel of you both.  But now I come to you as lowly and powerless as I am... guide me Desna in my holy quest... help me.... please.... to save those lonely lost souls... help me to overcome my companions for their sake."     Miro pulls back his hood and returns to his stone like breathing as he prays quietly for her to hear his words.  With hope... and luck perhaps he would finaly catch a glimps of her wisdom either in his meditations or maybe even his dreams.

1st of Abadius in the cave (no rest was established after the cave and before returning to TB Ferry) Miro inhales and exhales... The sounds of calm winter wind and ice crackling. Unbidden a thought comes, "The Cube Is the Red Is the Sphere, Miro. When one finds himself wiser than the wise, one must look to why his companions fail to see the light. Do your companions not share your dream?"

  Miro's breathe catches in his chest mid stream as the thought comes to him.  So alien the thought is like a white hot knife, stabbing itself into a concious that had been cleared of everything.  Then he reflected on those words.  There was a time, back when Bobole was around that all his companions seemed to share (even if hesitantly) in his dreams.... But now, Vrinns self-centered egotistical ways seem to have turned against those older views.  Synovia still supports him as best she can.  But without his brother it seemed to be that he no longer had a majorities support.  He realized then it was a majority before... enough agreed with his ideals that he could prusue them and without it he could not see his dream grow.  He had to persuade one of the new companions to aid him.  Finally as his shoulders visibly relax.  With atleast an answer preceived he had reached the end of his NEED to meditate so he continues anyway until the smell of the lavender candle finally dies.

Miro inhales and exhales... His excitement coalesces around an idea of a Sandpoint with abundance for all, magic, and races of all kinds working towards a common goal. And a new question forms like mist. "What role does diplomacy play in bringing together crossroads that want to diverge?" Vrinn's road of a son with magnificent parents and no guidance except to seek fortune. Synovia's road of discovery, stability, family, protection. Chuffy's road of alchemy at the side of true love Gulo's road of an aged war veteran with no legacy yet laid And Miro's own road that ends with a school of magic and arcane discovery. "What role does diplomacy play in bringing together crossroads that want to diverge?"

  Miro's head shifts down and right.  The thought plays through his head like moving pictures.  But something was off.  Something was wrong.  It was never just a school of magic.  The school of magic was there but it was a means to grow the town itself.  He would teach magic... for the world should know its majesty.  But his dream, was a place where all who sought a better life could find a home.  A shining beacon of freedom for the displaced.... like him.... a home..... at the end of the road....     The wisdom was sound however.... he must work to convence the others that his interest is theirs.  Buit how to show a spoiled child the gains of altruisim.  How to show Chuffy that it isn't just his kind that should benefit from the freedoms offered by sandpoint.  Still he meditates inhale.... exhale...

Miro inhales and exhales... Recalling, the underbridge and the sounds and screams of those he wished desperately to help and a towering image of Nethys looking down on him. He recalls Ukawada giving away his fortune, a man who left his home, came to Sandpoint a stranger and remained in temple in a dark place. Imahnee appears not his armor from Magnimar but the lowly armor of a Sandpoint guard. Naomee helps to put away books in the Turandorak Academy, wiping her brow. Dortlin plays with his child, who bears little resemblance to him now. His wife laughs from her seat by the fire. "Learn from What Is Different.  Are you truly willing to sacrifice ground for more than yourself? From your position, are you willing to give a step? Why should others trust you?"

     Miro's breath quickens in his chest.  Had he become so unfocused.  In all that had happened around him how could he have not seen it.  "Here I sit, looking into a soul no longer my own and I see now.  Like a spiders web I am pulled too taught.  In many directions I move in too many directions.  Yes.  Now I am sure.  My future as a weapon of burning vengence is to this day cast off.  No longer does my rage at my old life hold me captive.  I wash from my soul and my hands my desire for revenge.  Guide me.... Help me to walk the path that will bring Unity to them all.  All the dreamers of the world."     Miro's pulse had quickened to a dangerious pace, his breathing erratic.  His meditations had slipped from controlled to actual sleep.  

Miro gazes at a board of slate filled with his handwriting. He turns and see children of many races in robes of different colors, a color for each school of magic.  They watch him curiously. On the board he had been writing about the basics of magics. "The first step of magic," he had written, "Is a desire to change the world." A bell rang the hour and students hurriedly gathered their things and ran for the door. Children of magic are still children after all. A tiny half-goblin dashing out the door had inkstains around her mouth. A man in black and white robes stepped in and looked at Miro. "It is good to see you have time for the young ones. Your responsibilities usually keep you distracted."

     Miro stands much older now.  His face bisected by black with red traceries of a dragon, the other white with gold traceries of a butterfly.  He arches his old back his old bones creaking and popping.  His face had developed beard bisected opposite the colors of his face.  The white with a salt and peppered beard, the left with a pure cloud of white.  His hair still in it usual intricate braids.  His robes still of the same contrast.  "Thay are our futua... What greata persuit than growing the gardins of our futuas?"       Miro turns to the board and wipes it clean.  His hands scared more than even before, gnarled and ragged with time, age, and battle.  He turns to the man.  "Are you here for an advanced lesson?  Or perhaps more a divine request?"  Even his voice weakened and ragged by age.

The man shakes his head. "They said it was impossible...Bringing the races together...And yet when I separated a drow boy from a stone giant just this morning, I thought "A hundred years ago I'd be separating corpses not students."' He picked up a dropped quill and admired the flashy feather before putting it on a bookshelf to be retrieved later. "How did you do it? Why?"

     Shakingly Miro reaches for his "walking stick"  a true staff of power, stained with age.  "When I was a boy, the world was black and white.  Evil was evil, and good was good.  But then I met a little goblin boy.  A goblin who against all odds came to a town to warn it of its peril.  In that goblin I saw a heart bigger than any mans.  I saw an Iron Will to change the tides of this world."  Miro walks over to a teachers desk and takes a seat.  "Thats when I came to understand.  Nothing is black and white.  Every soul under Sarenrae's sun is not a creature.  Some monster here to harry the just, and be slain to make ones name.  But a living breathing person.  With desires, dreams, and fears.  That is when I understood, that no matter the cost..."  Miro looks to his gnarled flesh, then to a small talisman made of black and white feathers. "I would create a place where those who sought a better life could live without reproach."   Miro smiles to himself abit and looks over to the man.  But in his dream the words become muffled as if a strong breeze broke them up as he speaks to the how.  Then Miro stops again and looks to the man quietly.  He smiles as the half goblin darts back into the room for a bit of forgotten parchment.  "Do not forget, Frinn, your homework on triteragaphy is due tommorow."  The goblin nods and scurries away.

The man in black and white robes nods. "It is no small feet to unify disparate paths and a greater feet to keep them unified. You made difficult sacrifice once," Miro and the man walk through Sandpoint. The streets bustle with life and different races. "Varisia is grave danger, as you know. As a servant of Nethys, magic is the tool you will use to save this nation from peril." They walk as a blur, going from location to location as they speak. "Your vision, however, is something that benefits all. Yet, you are unrefined in your everyday diplomacy - a skill essential building great societies." The scene stops somewhere about a Sandpoint as large as Magnimar with robust farmland all around. A dragon delivering goods lands near the port and worker hurry to assist. "This...this is daunting and unparalleled, Miro. Are you truly up to a vision of this size?"

     Miro looks up to the man in black and white.  Now a child.  Small beyond measure to this towering man.  "With every inch of my heart and soul.  No matter the costs to me, no matter the cost to my soul.  I will do everything I can.  To the hells with my revenge."  Miro's scene shifts again.  There he stands a toddler in the kitchens of osirion.  His slave family, his first true love.  All of them begin to crumble to ash.  "Alaria, Tenpoot, Kali, all of you.... I am sorry, but I can bare your cross no longer.  I must see the world a better place... so that our stories may have hope."  All around him turns a blackish grey ash.  "Goodbye my family.... goodbye Alaria."  The last figure, a small pink haired halfling reaches for Miro's face to stroke it and smiles just as her form crumbles.  He stands again looking over a birds eye view of the future Miro Dreams of.  There the Dragon helping with the fields, there the gobsquad and Orc wardens colaborate.  Finally the shrine in the graveyard to the companions he travelled so long with.  "Truely now I banish my revenge.  My slate is clean that it may be filled with the scripture of a brighter future."  

The man in black and white nodded slowly and walked down a corridor filled with snarling monster of all shapes and sizes. No matter how they raged and shook the corridor with their fury, Miro and the man were safe. "You will find many savage races will resist any manner of reason. Some will actively set to destroy your work. All have been under the will of dark gods who seek power, chaos, and destruction. You will need allies and one drop can overflow a barrel," the man stops abruptly and waves his hand. A mighty giant made of stone, runes carved into his flesh steps out wield a mighty great club steps out of an opened cell. The giant roars as stomps forward. "The spell I teach you lays them bear of this dark influence. Cast it then speak with reason. Should you succeed, you will have an ally and Lamashtu and her ilk will lose a servant." The giant was nearing. "This magic is potent and you can only cast it occasionally. You must  bear wisdom in this, Miro!" the man hisses.  Miro's hand raises and flourishes the Giant hesitating as he incants. The Giant stops and peers at Miro as if seeing him for the first time. The hatred and lust for violence disappears from the creature's eyes and is replaced with doubt and hesitation. The man in black and white nods. "Good. So, how do you make an ally of this creature now that you have his attention? What words would compel him to seek a life of civility and one above petty squabbling and murder?"

Miro looks up to the giant in a quiet moment and then smiles.  "Oh great lord of stone.  I grant you freedom.  Beyond your choice in this very moment I offer you freedom from your bond.  Return to your tribe and enjoy the remainder of your days.  However I only ask you consider an alternative.  A life where you need not fear humanity any longer.  I know your past and i know the stories ofyour kinds slavery to humans.  I too have been a slave to humans.  But I tell you now there is hope to return your people to the great masons of old. "  Miro reaches to his pocket and draws a stone of marble inscribed with a rune depicting a dragon encircling a butterfly.  He reaches the stone up to the giant.  "I offer this to you good giant.  With this stone you may seek a better life in a place where all may be seen as people.  Where the word monster only exists to describe the cruel and unjust.  No go and take your freedom.  My lord will not stop you."  He says as he looks up to Nethys.   Knowing now his company.  (39 Diplomacy)

The giant snarls and knocks Miro across the room, airborne he looks down at the giant and lands at the feet of the deity, who looks sternly at Miro. "Are you a bard? Are you a druid? Or are you wizard?" The man walks around Miro. He began pacing a slow circle, like a panther around the halfling. The Giant slowly lumbering closer. "'I grant you freedom.'" He laughs shortly, mocking. "The giant is  free, Miro. He is free to be what Lamashtu made him... I see now why Vrinn has no faith in you. You treat the bird with more respect than the creatures you  think  you want to help." He stops as Miro gets to his feet and turns slightly to regard the giant lumber forward. He shakes his head and looks back at Miro. "The giant doesn't want what you want because he is conditioned to want something else entirely. You had no qualms meddling in minds before and now when you should, you don't." "Remember, you are dealing with monsters who will become  civilized. Try. Again," he ordered stepping aside to reveal the impossibly large stone man.

Miro stands his eyes going dark.  He wipes a fresh crimson drop from his lip and snarles his eye glowing like molten rock.  His hands begin to move in quick succession as arcane power begins to burn through his body.  With only a single spell the crimson lines on his left side instantly flare to the likness of the dragon again.  "Kasson de'lath tu ra forooosh."  Miro growls as hold person takes the giants form rendering it as solid as the statue of living rock it resembles.  "I have tried to show you a lighter path.... in lue of that I shall MAKE you walk it."  Miro walks up to the creature unable to do but feel and see.  His hands move as he walks forward of their own volition.  With only a few steps between them spells begin to rattle off, touch of idiocy to make his will easier to mold to Miro's wishes.  A charm spell that Miro's words will appear as divine as they are inspired.  A break spell to destroy the creatures only armament.  "You will here my words now creature.  I stand before you with but two options.... seek a betta life.  A life in sandpoint where all will work to make a betta life for those around them.  Or be crushed here an now, that you may neva see you tribe again."  Releasing the hold monster on only the creatures eyes.  "You may now make your choice creature.  Happiness or death.  Blink once for the easy way.... twice to meet your maka."  With that Miros hands gather the energies of the only enemy of stone... Huge globs of acid begin to drip from his hands to the floor causing a loud sizzle with every drop.  (Intimidate : 33)

The giant is motionless for a many seconds. It seems unsure if the spell takes. It's eyes slide close then opens. Many moments pass but the giant does not blink again. Miro stands before his teach who nods. "You are certainly one for theatrics, Miro. This can be good and it can also be foolish." The scene changes from the dark depths of the dungeon to a garden of strange exotic plants and architecture. "I will grant you this ability. Be bold, clear, and direct. Magic is tells reality what it should be and reality is convinced." He stops and turns on his heel. "Greatness awaits you and in your greatness, I will be made greater. Do not disappoint me, Miro." And Miro is left alone in the garden. Birds fly overhead and land on the impossibly tall arches and statues before a dragon roars and they depart in a chirping flurry; harassed but unwilling to address the cause of their worry. The sky is clear and blue.

     Miro awakes from his trance or out of body experiance or whatever the medium was chosen.  He breathes heavily and reaches up to feel the cut on his lip still present.  His face is a mask of confusion and anguish.  "What have done...."  From his robe he pulls the phylactery and opens its door to reveal the tiny mask of Nethys he had held since his escape from Osirion.  He stands and walks from the cave his companions rest in his mind a labyrinth of thought.  He thinks back on his time back in Osirion and how much hate his time there had grown.  It was true... he was prone to anger... To be honest when he was angry it was the only time he felt more like a person than a statue.  Wait... no.... that wasn't true.  There was a time, back in his first days at Sandpoint where he had felt a whole slury of new emotions.  The time he masquiraded as a chosen of Desna.  He had friends.... true friends, not just pawns on a dragons chess board.  He had spent sooo much time lost in the idea that he could make Sandpoint a bastion of freedom for those who sought a new life.  But here he was, a power unlike any power seen on Golarion before.  The ability to force his enemies out of combat long enough to hear his doctrine.  But now it was clear.  Nethys is, or was atleast a god king of Osirion.  It made since he would see this the way he did.  But he had not sacrificed his family, his friends, hell even his first true love, just to force others into subjication.  No, it would not do.  "I can not do this..... I cant."  Miro says dropping to his knees in the cave of his short lived companion.  The Ogre's body nothing now but a burned up husk.  Miro draws back his cowl to reveal a face streeked with tears.  "Everybody has a line they must decide to cross... but I can not... Nethys my lord..... "  Miro goes silent.  " I can only honor you one last time....... Tenas terro sana fo Sinlach tan Berris Kha."  Miro pronounces as an orb of flame blinks into existance before him.  Looking down to the phylactery in his hand he tears it from his neck and still in hand shoves it into the flame.  A roar peels from the cavern as Miro holds the holy symbol into the flames burning his hand until he blacks out from the pain. 

Miro awakens on the floor of the cave with a young Osirion man glaring down at him. Half of his body was engulfed in everburning flame, flesh flaking off in ash that floated into the air and disappeared. That side of him looked molten. The other half looked young, vibrant whole, and pissed. "Idiot," came the strong and powerful voice of Nethys. He looked up and across to the man in black and white from Miro's visions. The man looked shocked and stunned. "I didn't know! I wouldn't have expected him to-" "SILENCE! I will deal with you both." The air around the room vibrated with energy.  Nethys looked from the man of the vision down to Miro.

     Miro looks up.  Then down to the cave floor.  For the first time in Miro's life he is silent.

Nethys hisses and turns to the man. "You should have stayed in the shadows, wurm." "My lord, I-" It's not possible to describe the feeling of reality quaking however what Miro feels in his body can only be described as that. His entire existence felt in turmoil, in danger, in stark clarity. The god of magic, a man risen from mortality to command in single minded focus the will to create and destroy from mere thought, raised his hand at the other man who began to writhe. "I'm done with useless words, spirit. Go back to sleep where you can return to silence," Nethys ordered in a icy calm voice. The man before Miro shiver, shuddered. His entire body began to fold in on itself is disgusting cracks and pops until what remained was a small condensed gem of some kind. Nethys waved his hand and it too disappeared. The god then turned his eyes to Miro. His eyes were dispassionate as he regarded the halfling. "And you," he began coldly. "And you could not recognize a cheap fake. You have been split in your focus since I obtained you. I need you to pay attention and you spend too much on mundane things. Speak no more the mundane, halfling." Nethys turned on his heel and began to walk away. "If you open your mouth, it will be only the words of the arcane that will be spoken and next time you speak to me, it should be because you have something new to show me about the arcane..." He paused in his steps. "That spell peacock showed you. I liked it. I shall keep it." He smirked and narrowed his eyes at Miro. "If you don't like how I do things, then surpass me, halfling." He gave a short laugh and Miro awoke again, with the phylactery in his hand, whole and unharmed.