TF Fantasy AU: Magnus
Megatron may be an overconfident fool, but loose-lipped he is not. He resolutely refuses to answer any questions about his automata. The only thing of substance - if it may be called that - is that Provoke overheard him - along with anyone in a radius of forty meters - shout about it not being what he was promised.
And so you seat, with a pile of belongings, and sift through them in hopes of finding a clue. You’re not alone in this task: Kup has joined you, since he might spot something that reminds him of something. Perceptor, Highfire and Paragon are digging through things.
Cyclonus hovers to the side, along with Shockwave.
“Hm, now that does look familiar,” Kup says, holding out something that to your eye looks like a cross between a very ugly, useless, silver tea pot and a phylactery. The gem inside gleams with magical energy. “Remember the lich I told you about? The one who fell into a volcano? His phylactery looked a lot like this one.”
“You mean ugly?” you ask, still marvelling at just how unappealing the object is.
Cyclonus steps closer and looks at it with a focused expression. “I’ve seen something that looked similar. You remember the lich that-” he hesitates “-the lich that Prima destroyed? He has this pendant with a gem inside that looked like this.”
“A phylactery,” Shockwave says. “A container for a lich’s soul. It makes sense - the hearthstones are made of precious gems, and so are phylacteries more often than not.” He lets out derisive snort. “Vanity.”
“Now that you mention it,” Highfire says, as she looks at the tea pot-like object, “it does look like it was made by the same person. Feels like it was enchanted by the same person too.”
“A pity we do not have those phylacteries,” Shockwave says in mournful sepulchral tones. “We could track their creator through them.”
You know what he’s talking about. This was Extempaxia’s favoured type of magic: divination. Except… Well, you certainly cannot do the tracking. This would require actually constructing a spell, rather than memorizing one and you don’t think you know about that. But you do know that it ought to be possible to track the creator just with this ugly tea-pot thing.
“I think we still have Extempaxia’s notes on scrying,” you say. “They might help.”
“Extempaxia…” Shockwave muses. “Now where did I hear that name?”