Scene 2 – The Dawncaster

Rhomande: I cannot tell you what novel landscape awaited us.  Would that I could describe a vaporizing corona in all its fiery majesty, or a great hall of burnished bronze, or gates inlaid with pearl!  But, in all honesty, all before me was white.  I could not shut out the light, regardless of my intestinal fortitude or the girth of my arm.

Rhomande: Shortly, the infinite light receded, or perhaps we all regained our physical forms at the precise moment that a man carrying a clutch of golden javelins approached.  The stranger aimed a dart far off into the distance and cast it beyond sight.  Moments later, a distant rosy glow flared up, as a tiny sun broke its dawn.

Stiev: Um… I know I sssay thisss a lot, but who issss thissss guy?  I mean, who jusssst sssstandssss around all day throwing ssssunssss over the horizzzzon? 

Thrimlach: Yeah, the chameleon is right.  This is not an acceptable way for a possibly-divine being to spend all of its time.  Stranger, I demand that you immediately identify yourself and tell us what the fuck you think you’re doing.

Il-dana: It would please my ears were you to call me Il-dana.  Many dawns are yet to come, e’en this day.  Tell me, fair travelers, which dawn would you behold?

((Sfx: d20 roll))

Maldreth: The Il-Dana, you say?  According to the Old Tales, Il-dana, the Son of the Sun, stands on the Plane of Morning and hurls each and every dawn over every conceivable world.  Though he is a godling worthy of serving this honorable function, he does not embody the suns themselves.  Instead, all the rising stars, as beheld from every conceivable vantage point, are housed in the javelins that he hurls into the skies.

Il-dana: You state my function well, traveler.  I am the Son of the Sun, and I provide the first impulse for all dawns to break the horizon.  Now, you have conquered all of your trials, setbacks, and contests.  Which dawn would you behold this day?

Stiev: Ooh!  Can we go sssee what happened to Brexxxt?  That would be a great way for me to catchhhh up on the party’ssss hissssstory.

Thorn: I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Stiev.  From what I’ve heard, nothing very good happened when they visited Brext.  Something about a former ally going bad and a city that slew all good-hearted people.  I’d rather go back to the day I snuck that itching powder into King Oberon’s leather athletic supporter, as he was getting ready to visit Queen Mab in their marriage chamber.  

Imenand: Neither of those days suits my purposes.  O Great Caster of the Dawn Spears, we left Scottalia on the eve of Lugh’s Feast, in the seventh year of the reign of Her Majesty Morag Cassini XVII of Scottalia and Helsnak.  I had experiments that should have reached maturity four days after we left.  I would prefer to return to my workshop outside of Oak Vale, on three days after Lugh’s Feast, of the previously mentioned year.  

Issa: Yeah, that sounds pretty good.  We’ve been wandering around the potato plane and the arena and the tower thingie for what, like, a year and a half now?  Look!  Vriggle’s even learning to walk, now!

Yfirma∂r: And hims teething now.  Me think it just teething.  Might be tusking, now.  Either way, it time for wean little prince and give him raw leather for chew through gums.  

Vragul: Yeah.  You lady-chest-things pretty chewed up.  But you Queen of Breastfeed, and you strength make son strong, too.   Me only hope him also get you smarts, sweet-tusk.

Issa: I’m so glad I’m not a mammal.  I do not want a tiny beak near these things, whatever they do.  I’ll have to ask my mom what they’re for when we get back home.

Tuxedo Beak: My dad always said they were for storing water and calories, like a camel.  But he was a poor, uneducated kelp farmer whose wife was kidnapped by seals, so I’m not really sure he was right about that.

Smyd: I’m with Imenand.  If we can get back to Oak Vale before mid-August, then I can oversee the final harvest of the year.  Let’s go back to three days after we left.

Il-dana: Your dawn in selected.  The sun rises on this and every morn.