The peak at last. Here the Seat of Mavros, from here all could be surveyed from below. How the people they had passed become like ants to the majesty of the mountaintop, busying along they daily lives as the purple sky dimmed into the evening's indigo streaks. There a heavenly painter's cool palette brushed across, the azure gradient into the lavender fields, and the warm glowing embers of the celestial eye gazing rays of sunbeams through the clouds for one last glimpse before sundown. How they below could not see past the stonework masonry, the protective walls that enclosed as a bastion for her people, but here at the summit such pleasures were afforded the Twin Dukes amongst the courtyard greenry. Indeed this motley crew of gathered sheep were not ordinary lot, and though they hardly knew each other, perhaps their reputations preceded such knowledge that escaped Kethan's memory and failure to keep tabs on the young and old. Nevertheless, with a musing chuckle to the raven-elf's reply to his matrimonial comment, none were certain as to why they came. What calamity was upon them that required a gathering of such giants amongst mortals? What did had Ioun and the other divines see?

Ah there they were, the Twin Dukes. Lord Mavros always so stately dressed in his regalia, and Lady Mavros was almost a mirror image in hers. They were young, for elves, but the old cleric knew the Lady for some time now. Some people leave a more lasting impression, even on the feeble memory of an old man. That said, as the Dukes appeared, Kethan tapped his cane before him and bowed his head in acknowledgement of their titles. Perhaps he was the only one who still bore some respect to the reigning powers that be, even despite holding his own high-ranking position in the order of Ioun's clergy the hoary librarian considered himself just that: an wizened bookkeeper. It did help however that the Duke and Duchess were also more than just inheritors, they too where great mortals of skill to praise. For which a fading smile turn into a knowing stoicism at the arrival of the high elves. So, Lady Mavros was going to join them, then indeed there was no wedding to be had, but indeed as Kethan feared a great threat once again rises. One poised to bring ruin upon all nations such that someone had gathered them here. And there the darkened sky and crashing thunder was the very omen Kethan expected as he gaze drifted from the moment the Duke spoke of how the others had been summoned without the knowledge of Mavros itself.

There spoke the gods, as the booming voice of the celestial being rang out from the mountains. There the old man braced his ears for the deafening blast as his grip tightened across his cane's intricate handle. The voice of thunder cracked the very air, the resounding storm of Valkur, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing more than mere dramatis for all the world was a stage to the gods, And all the men and women merely players. Pawns in the games they play, or knights, or bishops or rooks, or whatever have you, the worth of a single being to be measured against the common soul perhaps. But they were just pieces, they have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many part. Kethan was once commanded in his meditations to journey the world, and only relatively recently did his pilgrimage end at the place it all started. But now, as the celestial spoke of dragons and undead armies it seemed once more the gods bade him play his part. Now exit, first the messenger who came to use a tongue to spoke quickly, then the Duke for anon the trees began to move, and so only does the Lady here remain.

And the young bade their questions, without letting the gravitas of the message sink into their bones. Not one, but two threats, one from the north, one from the west. There are minor threats which rise and fall everyday, many to lesser heroes than those gathered here, an army of undead is no match for an army of united faiths, but this Ghoul Emperor, this Kethan himself had not heard of perhaps either it was so new that it had yet to be documented, or so obscure that he did not know. but dragons were common knowledge, but of giants, he had no dealings with such beasts, yet knew of the bitterness of dragons and giants. It was indeed surprising to hear such a threat come from the cold north, but if indeed it was a white dragon, then either the dragon had become so desperate to deal with giants, or the giants were the real threat beyond the incapable dragon that had to swallow its draconic pride. Regardless the old man gave Ada an approving look at her wisdom, the library was a wonderful place to start. There the safeguards against the failing memory, inked upon the pages of ancient lores and histories. It was no Great Library of Archimagos, but it will do for a man who had spent days without dusty shelves to roam through. There Kethan would be in his element. Ah there the reason why he was summoned, to be the librarian they needed.

[color=DEAD2B]"I see we are already dividing our numbers. I suggest an even split, five to North, and five to West.[/color]" Kethan grip relaxed as he began to walk forward towards Ada, [color=DEAD2B]"I fear the mountains will be too cold for my old bones, and Sir Lakeltia here may find me more useful in dealing with the undead should he raise arms to his sacred duty. I am too old for dragons and giants, I leave that to the young and able-bodied.[/color]" A gesture towards Marcus, before a nod towards Ada, the Halfling, and the Druidic Elf. [color=DEAD2B]"And if we are indeed dealing with Orcus and his ilk, then I suspect Miss Lonett will join us. And I see the young man will also join us, making four. And though I suspect our Warforged here can surely turn the tide of battle against the undying armies, perhaps it would be more useful culling giants with someone to provide maintenance as indeed."[/color] A gesture towards the Warforged and the Gnome, before turning with a glare at the other human in the group. [color=DEAD2B]"Thus, leaves me with keeping a watchful eye on our bard. Who I suspect will be more useful in keeping up our morale against the living dead, rather than as a thief in mountainous dragon's treasure vault. But I am just an old man with no power here, little power left, and little time left in this world so I certainly have the least to lose."[/color] 

[color=DEAD2B]"I do however, have a gift to bear for yourself Lady Mavros, Ah here it is."[/color] A book retrieved from his satchel, the leather binding stroked and the cover brushed before being presented. [color=DEAD2B]"Manual of the planes, fifth edition, by J.B.Ram, two thousand and two pages over which the coastal wizard describes the cosmos. Relatively new addition to our library, I hope it will find a home in yours."[/color] The book handed wholeheartedly, bestowing the gift to an old friend from an old friend. [color=DEAD2B] "So, shall we venture into the library then? Or does any amongst us care to rush so eagerly into defeat without knowing who our enemy is?"[/color] Spoken like a true master, surprisingly long-winded, but often aren't these old timers just so?

[hider=Mechanics]
Arcana on dragons = (7)+16 = 23
Nature on giants = (2)+4 = 6
Religion on ghouls = (4)+10 = 14
[/hider]