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Felix has sent word via Jim that he's ready to assist Harrow - that he has everything required. He didn't specify what: Harrow knows well enough. He did specify where: a long-neglected picnic area marked by picturesque little boulders and paved with some kind of bricks. It's no doomstone circle, but it'll do. Felix has a sense of both appropriate dramatic flair and practical caution.

Granted, the 'altar' leaves something to be desired on both counts, but he had an atronach rip out the table's benches earlier and clear away the unnecessary furniture. Felix has been busy setting wards around the ritual space, some powered by blood and some by a pair of lesser soul gems: wards to keep out unwanted magical influence and bind what's in the circle from harming him. Or Harrow. Of course.

Preparations as complete as they're going to get, he's sitting on one of the boulders while he clears his mind and waits. His satchel - and the thing it contains - lies by the table, at a comfortable distance.

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Felix Caelus

July 2017

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