I have a thought that I wish to share with the group and Sir Madigan has sugested this medium.
Over the past several months I've had a feeling that the Fist Oane spoke of was in Maelshye's fortress.

These are the weapons on the rack and are protected and blessed.

>look hand
Designed to attach to the wrist with a thin yet sturdy leather strap, the hand-scythe bears a single delicate blade that curves along the length of the palm to deliver a vicious underhand strike. Engraved into the delicate blade is the moniker, "Spineripper".



>look maul
The magnificent specimen of war consists of a thick trunk of petrified black ironwood. The weapon ends in a massive steel head embedded with sharp animite studs tinged with a suspicious green slime. Engraved deeply into the lustrous wood is the name, "Blight Fist".



>look broadsw
Formed of a blade of jagged bone reinforced with molded obsidian, the broadsword is unlike any blade you've ever seen. Its pommel is a petrified kobold claw, which is designed to firmly grip the wielder's wrist and steady one's swing. An etched inscription reads, "Mortal's Folly".



Upon further investigation I found this curious silver fluid flowing down one wall.


[Maelshyve's Fortress, Inner Sanctum]
A wave of mysterious silver liquid flows sluggishly like streaming teardrops from a crack in the ceiling,
painting the eastern wall in its luminescence. The liquid disappears into another crack in the ground,
presumably to an unknown reservoir. Strange shapes manifest in the mirrored liquid every so often,
only to smooth out moments later.

The events you are about to read are what happened to me interating with this fluid.


You ask, "Lady Csilla are you there?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.
>

You ask, "Lady Csilla is there away I can get to where you are?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla do only Paladins go to where you are?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Lady Csilla did you get here looking for Lord Syal?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is this liquid what is used to power the stones?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.

With a shrill shrieking sound, the outline of a small feral beast suddenly lurches out of the flowing silver liquid, suddenly freezing in mid-air. Its vile expression becomes contorted and stony as the liquid conforms around it, solidifying to what seems like metal.

Tendrils of the silver liquid languidly slither out into the air, wrapping around the petrified beast, and drag it purposefully back into their depths.

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You say, "Lady Csilla I have returned."

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
The sound of muted weeping keens through the empty hall as a large bulge passes through the silver liquid only to disappear into the cracks below.


You ask, "Lady Csilla can you find away out?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.




You ask, "Lady Csilla do you know what magic is holding you here?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is the evil of the dark hand holding you?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

The outline of a Dwarven man's face distends from the flowing silver liquid, his mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts, smoothing out as the flow continues.

You ask, "Is that Lord HRAIGE?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lord HRAIGE IS PART OF THE BONDING THE THEFT OF THE SOUL?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
Roundtime: 5 seconds

The sound of muted weeping keens through the empty hall as a large bulge passes through the silver liquid only to disappear into the cracks below.

You ask, "Lord HRAIGE IS there away to free you all?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

You ask, "Lord Hraige is there away to aid Syal?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

ou ask, "Lady Csilla are you there?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.


You ask, "Lady Csilla is that your weeping I hear?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla is the bonding to hold Paladins as power?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is this liquid the sum of all the souls on the Paladins lost?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

You say, "Lady Csilla and Lord Hraige I must retire for the night but do not give up hope."

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
>
>
>

You ask, "Hello Lady Csilla are you there?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>'does OANE know of the bonding?
You ask, "Does OANE know of the bonding?

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Does OANE know what it is?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Is Oane the key to this lock?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
ou ask, "Does the demon use a combination of Holy and Necromanic magics?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Can a living person come to where you are?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Can the bonding be broken?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Is this something you wish to happen?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.


You say, "Yah yah I know you don't."

You ask, "So the demon doesn't want the bonding to end?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "So the demon doesn't want you all to be freed?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Is the blight fist your weapon?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Is the fist your weapon?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.


You ask, "Is your weapon here in the fortress?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "If Syal is not with you and not in the Hand is he in Shard?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "You said the bonding is coming to an end?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

The outline of a S'Kra Mur woman's face distends from the flowing silver liquid, her mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts, smoothing out as the flow continues.

You ask, "Would SITHSIA BE SOMEONE TO CONSULT ABOUT THE BONDING?"

>
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Was Seome the vessel for the bonding?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Was Syal the vessel for the bonding?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "Was a person the vessel for the bonding?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Was the bonding the bringing of flesh and evil together in one form?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks
below.

You ask, "Ok let me rephrase that was the bonding the bringing of flesh and demon together in one form?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Was human flesh used?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Was elf flesh used?"

>touch liquid
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
Roundtime: 5 seconds

You ask, "Was male elf flesh used?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.
Roundtime: 10 seconds

You ask, "Was female elf flesh used?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.



You ask, "Lady Csilla is this device of man making?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "Lady Csilla can you see me?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>

You ask, "Lady Csilla can you speak?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "Lady Csilla was the demon behide Lyra's power the one there with you?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, Lady Csilla is there away I can help you speak to me?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is the bonding magic failing?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla is this place your at near the starry host?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is Lord Syal near you?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is Lord Syal near the Dark Hand?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla is Lord Syal fighting us?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is Lord Syal fighting the evil within us?"


You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lady Csilla did you once love Lord Syal?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

The outline of a hand distends from the silver liquid, reaching out for something to release it from its prison. Gradually the arm is dragged under, as the liquid continues to flow into the cracks of the floor.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla will an object free you if you have it given to you in this state?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is there an artifact that can break this curse?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

The sound of muted weeping keens through the empty hall as a large bulge passes through the silver liquid only to disappear into the cracks below.
>
You ask, "Lady Csilla the demon there does it use necromatic magic?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Lady Csilla if you were freed would the demon be freed also?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

ou reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and
grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it.
The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

A pair of sanguine red lights glisten beneath the silver liquid like a pair of piercing eyes,
illuminating it briefly with a blood-red haze.

touch liquid
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers,
stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away.
The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>touch liquid
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers,
stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away.
The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>touch liquid
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm.
A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise.
The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

>
The outline of an Elven man's face distends from the flowing silver liquid,
his mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts,
smoothing out as the flow continues.

ou reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and
grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it.
The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

A pair of sanguine red lights glisten beneath the silver liquid like a pair of piercing eyes,
illuminating it briefly with a blood-red haze.

>
The outline of an Elven man's face distends from the flowing silver liquid,
his mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts,
smoothing out as the flow continues.

You ask, "Lady Csilla are you rested?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
Roundtime: 5 seconds

You ask, "Lady Csilla can you see the other fallen Paladins there?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Lady Csilla is the demon always watching you?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
Roundtime: 5 seconds

You ask, "Lady Csilla does the demon have red eyes?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Lady Csilla does the demon have claws?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Lady Csilla does the demon have flesh form?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow once more.

You ask, "Lady Csilla?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "'does the council know the truth about the bonding?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "'does the council know the truth about the lord Syal?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "'does the council know the truth about the demon?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
A large bubble forms in the luminous sludge, bulging ominously before sinking back into the flow.

You ask, "'does the council know the truth about the Oane?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You say, "'does the council know the truth about the Versyth."

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You say, "'does the council know the truth about the Varsyth."

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.

You ask, "Lady Csilla does the demon want flesh form?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.
Roundtime: 10 seconds

ou ask, "Would Oane research help me to help you rest?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

You ask, "Would reading some of the books on the time of the bonding help me?"
>touch liquid
You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Is Lord Syal in the lost land?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.
>
The thick, silvery liquid continues to flow down the eastern wall, seeping into the cracks below.

You ask, "Is Lord Syal beyond the barrier?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Is there away to get beyond the barrier alive?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

You ask, "Is there away to get beyond the barrier?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
A clawed hand painted with a metallic coat of the silvery liquid suddenly lurches from its depths and grabs hold of your neck. You hit the ground, dragged down as the current takes the hand with it. The claw suddenly releases its hold, disappearing into the cracks below.

The outline of a Human woman's face distends from the flowing silver liquid, her mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts, smoothing out as the flow continues.

ou ask, "Was that Lady Ptera?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
Ripples wash outward from your touch, like a stone dropped into a lake.

The sound of muted weeping keens through the empty hall as a large bulge passes through the silver liquid only to disappear into the cracks below.

You ask, "Can you see the other side of the barrier?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils grip tightly, pulling your hand back toward the wall. With a brief shock of panic, you yank your hand back, freeing yourself. The silver tendrils meld back into the flow once more.
Roundtime: 5 seconds

You ask, "Are you on the plane of abiding?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
An outline of a delicate hand distends from the liquid, pushing out against your own palm. A chill washes through you, and you yank your hand back in surprise. The liquid flows over the hand-shaped bulge, erasing its existence and smoothing the surface.

You ask, "Could a moon mage reach you?"

You reach out and gently touch the silver liquid flowing down the eastern wall.
The silver liquid solidifies into tendrils that enwreathe your fingers, stretching out into long strings of coagulated ooze as you pull your hand away. The tendrils suddenly fall limp, drawn slowly back to meld with the flow.

The outline of an Elothean woman's face distends from the flowing silver liquid, her mouth opening as if to plea for something. The visage soon melts, smoothing out as the flow continues.

The sound of muted weeping keens through the empty hall as a large bulge passes through the silver liquid only to disappear into the cracks below.



A sudden chill washes over you, leaving you weak and dazed.
Somewhere in the darkest recesses of your mind,
you feel a distant presence,
familiar and yet completely alien...and utterly evil in every sense of the word.

And I have a theory but need to find the Lore Master before I say much more.


"My goal in M3.0 is to give Paladins a contested spell that forces a target into melee and allows neither of you to retreat nor hide.

-Z"

"That liquid stuff is weird"

Yes and it was strange to say the least. I was injured every time it grabbed me by the neck.


"My goal in M3.0 is to give Paladins a contested spell that forces a target into melee and allows neither of you to retreat nor hide.

-Z"