Iapetus shall give Sinmore an apologetic bow. "I apologize, Maga. I do not have the skill to assist you in this. It is something I shall... sooner or later... correct." In fact, Iapetus seems to be badly hiding a bit of upset that he can't help in this case.
Upon entering the hillside, Iapetus looks about the dark tunnel-space, peering down both of the side passages. A moment of silence to see if there is audible activity down any of the tunnels, then, "Creo Ignem," he chants, summoning a globe of firelight in his hand (Spontaneous CrIg 5 Palm of Flame, probably needing to fatigue himself because he never actually learned the formulaic spell). Before going any deeper, the Spanish Magus takes a moment to ensure his (now blonde) hair is securely not in his face, and his mace is securely held in his grip. He chews for a moment at his lip before speaking to his companion. "Sodales, you are one more familiar with this Vis source than myself. Would you know which direction to go?"
Having had to be quite magically spontaneous, Iapetus is going to lean against the wall of the tunnel and try to catch his breath while he has a moment. Phew.
Attravere was never here personally as an apprentice, but he remembers that the twin dragons are sealed in separate chambers on opposite sides of the hill. He also recalls that there is a red one and a white one; the fire-breathing dragon had a particular dislike for Aislinn, and Zephyrus had a particular hostility to the white one (he feared his maga might be tempted to forsake him for the lightning lizard).
"There's a white and a red dragon kept separated here. Their rooms should lie ahead. I don't know which is where, so we should just pick a direction and check them each out." Attravere offers as they march on.
As the two magi stand there talking to each other, a sudden crack of thunder shakes the whole mountain. It seems to have originated down the left passageway.
Shaken by the sound, Attravere will spont a CrIg to create torchlight upon his hand as well and then begin advancing toward the sound, ensuring that Iapetus is following along.
The left-hand passage opens up into a large cavern; as the magi draw near, their blond hairs gradually stand up on end. Within the cavern, a great white wyrm crouches on the ceiling, panting. On the ground beneath it is the broken shards of a large cocoon, still crackling with electricity.
Iapetus is likewise shaken by the noise, his attention snapping down that passageway, then immediately down the others, as if looking for a response. After a moment, he turns and moves to follow Attravere, his mace at the ready. Looking up at the dragon, his (blue)eyes widen noticeably,the electric crackles definitely drawing his interest. "That is... unexpected. I think we can confirm that the shell on this one was a cocoon rather than a trap on it." He doesn't look at his compatriot, his full attention on the Dragon - eyes on the biggest danger. "I don't suppose your memory would confirm if it's changed significantly from what you remember as an apprentice?"
(I don't suppose there's a 'WTF Happened' spell I could spont? I'm pretty sure that it just finished charging up from a cocoon and broke free. Also, are dragons 'elemental' creatures like the elementals in Aislyn's lab, or are they just magical beasts with elemental powers?)
[i]((There's no AM equivalent of SW's postcog, no Nerf Jedi!
You could InAn on the shell to try and find out whether that thing on the ground is Animal, since, if it is not, it's unlikely to have been native to the beast.
Iapetus has studied a bit of Magic Lore, and knows that elemental beings can sometimes create forms for themselves outside of their own element, but this creature is clearly aligned with Auram-- if it were an air elemental, it would have been able to ditch its corporal form and go next door to kill (or be killed by) its ancient enemy.
Attravere never saw these beasts in person as an apprentice.))[/i]
The beast eyes the two wizards warily, and opens its maw wide in a mute shriek of rage and fear.
"Oh and then he called William a weak and adle paited braggart! Or some such nonsense." Sinmore was declaring aloud as she swung her huge greatsword in practiced arcs, thrusts and chops. "I mean, yes, William was...is a braggart, but he would not have said that to his face! Valten certainly is brave when I'm wounded and fighting some lycanthropic sorceress!" it seemed she was talking to her sword, who she often referred to as her 'Little Sister'. After a particularly vigorous swing she paused to stare directly at the gleaming blade and examine her reflection as she wiped some sweat drenched flaming red hair out of her eyes.
"He's just the first of several. That lioness bitch, she gets hers also!" she pulled her sister back into a guard and then swung behind her as if a new opponent had been sneaking up on her. "Just need to get some things straightened out at the Covenant." she paused again. "Yes, I know they don't pay me much respect yet! That's my point! If I return with victories over those two they will have to respect me!" she swung again hard, looking like a swing that would fell a thick tree. "Or they join the next list!"
Would I be able to roll Magic Lore to figure out more on the beast? My desire would be to calm it, stop it from throwing a fit, make sure it doesn't attack us. If that requires a display of force or dominance games we might have issues, but hopefully we can just assure it we're not enemies or food.
If the 'shell' trap it was in was a construct of magic, would it be able to determine a caster's sigil from its remains?
Sure. You've never read or heard anything about dragons "hibernating" or undergoing any kind of metamorphosis, so either this isn't a dragon, or something strange is going on here.
Dragons can be placated with gifts of silver, gold, and gems. Even the very intelligent ones still covet wealth. They are also known to go into "food coma" after large meals. Beyond that, you're pretty sure it could be beaten into submission, but maybe not by you.
An Intellego Vim would be required for that, the level of the spell required would be based on the level of the spell you're detecting and how much time has passed since it was in effect-- long story short, it would take MUCH more Intellego Vim than you have, or anyone you know, for that matter.
After gawking for a bit and then remembering himself, Attravere nods very slowly to Iapetus' subtlety slipped information, never taking his eyes from the creature.
Attravere will slowly and deliberately back away from the creature without turning tail, so to speak, taking particular care to seem like a non-threatening act toward a dangerous being.
(How large is the dragon?)
Once he is unable to retreat further and is out of sight of the creature (guessing just around the corner of the entry), but not out of hearing range of Iapetus, "I think we're in trouble unless you brought an Wand of Draconic Placation. It is probably hungry. Do you think it eats human food, maybe?"
Size? It's really long and skinny so hard to gauge its mass when coiled up... but it'd probably need added magnitude for Size to affect it with Animal.
Sinmore is back at the entrance rummaging through her rucksack of food and has removed some of her armour and is just wearing a thin chemise and trousers. Her 'Little Sister' is balanced on a tree stump gleaming from the attention of a whet stone and oil that sit next to it on the stump.
"And I know what's going to happen next!" she snaps aloud. "This trip shall not count towards my service, all because I could not access this stupid regio! Blond hair and blue eyes, how ridiculous! Since when do dragons care? We all taste the same!" she comes out of the rucksack with a large mutton leg, juices streaming down her lips and chin. "And they want me making things that put out fires? Me? A bloody Flambeau?! My fires don't go out of control!" she seems to pause as if listening to someone and then slowly looks over at a smoking tree stump. She scowls before taking another bite of mutton. "Not sure what you're getting at, that fire was never out of control. The tree just...got in my way is all." She sits down next to her sword and continues to chomp on the cold mutton leg. "How long is this going to take them anyway?"
"Who are you talking to?" inquires a disembodied voice behind Sinmore. When the giantess turns, she sees that the voice belongs to a small blond girl, perhaps six years old, laboriously lugging a pail full of milk in her scrawny arms.
Sinmore's head whips around at the voice and she starts in surprise at the sight of the little girl. "Uh...hi? Where did you come from little girl? I was...just talking to myself...I do that sometimes." Sinmore stands up and looks around, were they near a farm or something?
"I've just come from Lewis'," she replies, glancing at the pail of milk in her arms. "Are you sure you're not a ghost? I've never heard of anyone talking to themselves, and this hill is haunted."
You haven't noticed a farm in particular, but then, Sinmore probably wouldn't recognize grazing lands when she saw them anyway. (Medieval farms are much less conspicuous than modern day farms.)
Nerf Jedi!