#baronyofthesilverwolf

David frowns slightly as he examines the symbols. “These..." tracing a marble finger along a faded glyph, "seem to be wome sort of warding signs, perhaps tied to a cantrip."

"The emblem here… " He touches the rose and hammer crest, "it stirs something in my memory, like a distant echo. It resembles a personal crest, but I cannot place it. It’s possible it belonged to someone of significance, though the details elude me. Much of my memory from before my long slumber is still... fragmented. Perhaps one of your elders may recognize it?"

"maybe. My mom knows a lot of people" A pause "And there is a sluagh historian but I don't know what he'd charge us"

David nods, his expression thoughtful. “Seeking their knowledge may be wise. If this emblem holds any importance, it could lead us to understanding the disturbances. As for the historian, I would not underestimate the value of his insights, even if the cost is uncertain.”

He traces a hand over one of the limestone walls again, looking troubled.

Gladiola nods, "We could try a cantrip on it, willow whisper or something. Do your people have any magics akin to our cantrips?"

"Yes. Myself, not so much as elder stones, but I have some small skills in the magics that relate to stones and growing things."

"Nothing to sneeze at" she runs a finger near the symbol

She whispers softly, "Secrets of Stone, far older than I, questions I'd ask , or at least I will try. Spirit of Rock, pray listen to me. I am full of Inquiry"

She can feel the glamour trickly and expand, wrapping around the engraved stone. As it sinks in, she feels a sense of expectancy, of waiting.

(Three questions! Pause for Thistle)

"Still think Art is worth checkin' with. He knows heraldry and all that courtly dreck."

Gwen gives a shrug, but the cantrip is cast and she's not going to waste it . She whispers "Who inscribed this upon you?"

For a moment, there is silence, as if the stone itself is remembering. Then, a deep, slow voice resonates, it's whisper echoing like the rumble of distant thunder.

"A master of stone and sorcery," the stone responds, its tone imbued with reverence and age. "He carved these sigils, binding me with his will, long before the world you know was born. His crest—rose and hammer—marked the lands he ruled with a firm hand, protecting them from enemies seen and unseen."

As the voice fades, the sense of expectancy lingers, as if the stone has imparted only part of its knowledge, waiting for the right questions to unlock the rest.

"What is your purpose?"

The response carries a weight of ancient duty, which speaks to the Troll deeper then it's words.

"My purpose is to awaken that which lies beneath. I hold the sentinel in slumber, ensuring it remains dormant until the time of need arises. When the world calls, my markings will rouse. Or so, it should be.... careless young ones, in revelry with fire and noise. They disturbed the quiet, and what slumbered, stirs."

Gladiola feels the lingering touch of Glamour, indicating that she has time for one more question. The stone seems to wait, patient. Forever patient.

She has so many more questions to ask, she looks at Thistle and David to see if either has a preference

Chiiiiime. Citrine is buzzing about nearby, apparently bored with the rock conversation. She flits off to play with something that catches her eye.

Hearing no response, Gwen shrugs and asks her last question "Who and WHAT is the Sentinel?"

The response is slower, more deliberate this time, as if the very earth is choosing its words carefully.

"The Sentinel... meant as both shield and sword, a guardian born of earth and magic. Wrought to stand against the tides of time and threat on completion. It's purpose... interrupted."

The stone grows silent again, leaving Gwen with the weight of the final revelation hanging in the air.

David bows his head to the boulder, reverently.

Gladiola seems to sway for a moment, "Heavy"

David rests a hand on her shoulder, for a moment.

His touch cool and reassuring on her stone skin.

She gives a grateful look at the not unwelcome contact, "What do you make of all that? I saw the look on your face. This is kind of... sacred for you isn't it?"

David nods slowly, his expression grave. “Yes, it is. The earth holds secrets older than any of us."

"Part of my heritage has a ...strong respect for Mother Earth"

She goes on "So I think I get a bit of what you're saying."

He considers. "Perhaps it is like.. a graveyard, would be, to meat creatures? Except... no, not quite. Many think Stone is dead. It is not. It has it's own life. Mm. Perhaps, a church?"

"Sacred Ground" She says "A holy place, whatever you might call it. Some believe all is sacred, and that is a good way to live if you can, but I do think there are special locations and places where the spirits, even the Earth Mother, is more easily spoken to. Her voice is louder here than other places, that sort of thing."

He traces one of the half-faded glyphs. "It seems this quarry was sacred to someone in the past. We should find out who."

"That's why we have geniuses like Thistle and Art." She nods and looks to Thistle

Snort. "Art, maybe."

"So, okay, this is some Godzilla sitch. Guardian spirit, awakened at the wrong time - it should be sleeping?"

"Anyway we can, like, sing it a lullaby?"

"I'm not that musical" she says "Though, I do play the Sacred Game. Lacrosse that is"

"...Maybe we could make a kind of seismic speaker, and pipe soothing music into the stone?"

"We need a troubadour " A sigh "Been meaning to recruit one"

"Well not ME," She says "Anyway... I like the seismic speaker idea but is there a chance it might wake instead?"