Farrin grinned wide, holding the gem up before suddenly tossing it to Cical, "By the Ancestors of Mennon, I'd like to see you try and crack it, Sky gods of Roshad and the Hubris of Kothar know's I've tried." The great old man suddenly stood up, his legs shaking not out of weakness, but something akin to a great giant waking up after a long sleep. The old Mennonite stood tall and broad despite his age. He stared intently at Cical, his remaining hand tight on the pommel of a curved Silesian blade, "if things were as easy as you suspected, there would be no use in this gathering, boy." "But go ahead," Farrin nudged his chin at Cical, "it is only fitting we end the sin of the ancients hubris by starting with an act of our own." Before waiting to see if Cical would attempt to break the gem, Farrin continued, "but of course, that leaves question on what we shall do when we do have all the gems. An old Roshad tale tells of the great hallow of the cradle, a dire hellscape deep underground. I believe with all five gems we can access such a terrible place, and at its center, we offer the power of the old mountain back to the cradle, and then we seal this place..." "But of course," Farrin swallowed drly, "we have plenty of task to do before such a grande endeavor."