The rocky expanse upon which the trio sat provided little in the way of shelter. It seemed though that the sorcerers had elected not to follow them to this side of the mountain. For at least that much, the young man of ivory skin and ebon hair was glad about as he looked upon his wounded friend with concern. Mystrus hadn't regained consciousness yet. They were close enough to the lifestream to where Nespian had thought he might be able to heal her within it. Second thoughts crossed the back of his mind for reasons he himself was unable or unwilling to explain. He looked down at the blade he had looted from the boy in the skirmish above. True to his word he had not looted it from a corpse. The boy was young enough to realize the error of his ways and turn from his life of crime, so Nespian had let him live. His primary concern at the time had been trying to stop the vagabond and red ribboned woman from hurting Mystrus any further. Nespian continued to stare down at his battle prize unsure of what the words etched upon the blade meant, but sure only that going forward its use would be for far nobler pursuits. He sighed as he set the large blade aside and looked down at the pale form of Mystrus as her companion Visha continued to swirl vigilantly about whispering words to which Nespian had no way of understanding. There was something about the creature he didn't trust. Hell, he wasn't even sure that he trusted Mystrus nor himself these days.
'How are you today?' Nespian muttered under his breath, placing two fingers to the side of Mystrus' temple. If she were unable to communicate outside of her mind, perhaps she might be able to from within. He didn't even realizing that this time there was no burning sensation upon contact as he set his mind to work finding hers.
A little bird told me
It was happening just like that as the old man had said the clans would get together and unite. Pheniox couldn't believe it he seen with his own eyes Dryden of the hoard clan had been siding with Crovax of the Radiant Heart. Could it be! Would they be teaming up to take us out? Pheniox thought. No way. We are not strong enough, there is still much to learn about the art of death and the black church has not made the final deliverance. Which Pheniox knew it would never happen, but if the mad wizard Sensui thought he could then maybe it was possible joked Pheniox to himself 'hmmph never possible.'
[The Contract] Investigations
She sat there, in the hard backed chair, staring out the window in a daze. Clutching her robe around her naked shoulders, she barely noticed all of the soldiers wandering around her.
'Hey! Whore! I asked you a fucking question!' She winced when the wooden plate hit her in the back of the head, breaking her trance. She turned slowly and looked at the soldiers that was yelling at her.
'What?' She muttered softly.
'I said who the fuck did this? It clearly wasn't your pathetic ass,' he was practically screaming at her. The body of their dead compatriot was stiffening in the bed next to her, the blood seeping into the very mattress.
'I... don't know. I didn't see them,' she shrugged slightly, looking at the floor. 'They shushed me and then jumped out the window.'
A low growl escaped one of the soldiers throats.
'Which is it, you dumb bitch? Did you see the murderer or did you not?'
'Oh... um... well, I didn't see who it was. They were hidden. But they were in the window. And they jumped,' she nodded slowly to herself, motioning towards the open window.
'Jumped? JUMPED?! We are on the fifth fucking floor! You mean to tell me that some pathetic coward scaled five stories, slunk through a window, killed a veteran soldier and then jumped back out safely? What kind of a moron do you take me for?' He was getting angrier and angrier.
'This whole damn city is starting to go crazy. What the hell is going on?' One of the other guards muttered.
'The city is alive again. Alive and angry. And the streets have a hideous way of dealing with problems,' she said in a hoarse whisper, smiling slightly as she looked out the window.
Thing were changing. She could feel it. Hope was on the way.
'Hey! Whore! I asked you a fucking question!' She winced when the wooden plate hit her in the back of the head, breaking her trance. She turned slowly and looked at the soldiers that was yelling at her.
'What?' She muttered softly.
'I said who the fuck did this? It clearly wasn't your pathetic ass,' he was practically screaming at her. The body of their dead compatriot was stiffening in the bed next to her, the blood seeping into the very mattress.
'I... don't know. I didn't see them,' she shrugged slightly, looking at the floor. 'They shushed me and then jumped out the window.'
A low growl escaped one of the soldiers throats.
'Which is it, you dumb bitch? Did you see the murderer or did you not?'
'Oh... um... well, I didn't see who it was. They were hidden. But they were in the window. And they jumped,' she nodded slowly to herself, motioning towards the open window.
'Jumped? JUMPED?! We are on the fifth fucking floor! You mean to tell me that some pathetic coward scaled five stories, slunk through a window, killed a veteran soldier and then jumped back out safely? What kind of a moron do you take me for?' He was getting angrier and angrier.
'This whole damn city is starting to go crazy. What the hell is going on?' One of the other guards muttered.
'The city is alive again. Alive and angry. And the streets have a hideous way of dealing with problems,' she said in a hoarse whisper, smiling slightly as she looked out the window.
Thing were changing. She could feel it. Hope was on the way.
[The Contract] Beginings Pt II
She woke up suddenly, disturbed. Something was different. The room was darker, the moon having drifted behind a wall of heavy clouds. It took her a minute to adapt to being awake before she realized what it was. There was no snoring. She still felt the weight of the Vectorian in the bed, but his normal heavy snoring was missing. She also felt something wet on her arm, the one she held defensively between herself and her captor. Trying not to move much, she slowly moved her other hand over and rubbed at her arm. Lifting her hand, she saw it was smeared in some dark liquid.
Slowly sitting up, she propped herself against the headboard and examined her hand. Blood. She realized that it was blood. But not hers. Looking over at the slumbering Vectorian soldier, she noticed that his throat bore a new wound from ear to ear. The bed was soaked in his life blood And covering his eyes were two platinum coins: one showing a grinning skull, the other a ticking hourglass. Startled, she jumped slightly and tried to push herself away from hit body.
She sucked in her breath and was about to scream...
'Shhhhhhhhhhh'
The noise caught her off guard and she swallowed her scream. Turning towards the window, for the first time she noticed a figure perched on the window sill. Clad in dark leathers and a heavy cloak, the figure's face was almost completelyshrouded in darkness. However, one leather gloved hand was held up near the face, one finger extended over the mouth in the universal sign for silence.
For some reason, she felt a need for modesty and she quickly pulled her robes up over her naked body. The figure in the window only chuckled softly, smiled, and jumped. Just as quickly as she had seen him or her, the figure was gone out the open window...
It was right about then that she remembered to scream.
Slowly sitting up, she propped herself against the headboard and examined her hand. Blood. She realized that it was blood. But not hers. Looking over at the slumbering Vectorian soldier, she noticed that his throat bore a new wound from ear to ear. The bed was soaked in his life blood And covering his eyes were two platinum coins: one showing a grinning skull, the other a ticking hourglass. Startled, she jumped slightly and tried to push herself away from hit body.
She sucked in her breath and was about to scream...
'Shhhhhhhhhhh'
The noise caught her off guard and she swallowed her scream. Turning towards the window, for the first time she noticed a figure perched on the window sill. Clad in dark leathers and a heavy cloak, the figure's face was almost completelyshrouded in darkness. However, one leather gloved hand was held up near the face, one finger extended over the mouth in the universal sign for silence.
For some reason, she felt a need for modesty and she quickly pulled her robes up over her naked body. The figure in the window only chuckled softly, smiled, and jumped. Just as quickly as she had seen him or her, the figure was gone out the open window...
It was right about then that she remembered to scream.
[The Contract] Beginnings Pt I
The moon was cold and beautiful in the night sky, illuminating the streets of Westbridge on the other side of the window that acted as her only portal to the outside world. She had been here for so long she had lost Days? Weeks? Months? It was hard to tell anymore. The days blurred into nights and back into days. He wouldn't let her leave. Not that she was really living in squalor or anything like that. The accommodations were clean, and there were always meals provided. But nevertheless, she was a prisoner. A slave. His play thing. Ever since they had come, it had been like this.
Standing before the window, she stared longingly at the city which was beyond her grasps. So engrossed in thoughts of freedom, she didn't even hear him approaching. When he touched her shoulder, she shuddered involuntarily. He leaned in uncomfortably close and kissed her neck.
His rancid breath invaded her nostrils as he whispered in her ear, 'Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Let's go back to bed.' He ran his hand down her spine and lightly spanked her butt before walking back to the filthy bed against the far wall.
He threw himself into the bed and leaned backwards, presenting his naked body as if it held some sort of sex appeal. Swallowing the bile that creptup into her mouth, she lowered her head submissively and slowly walked towards him. Shrugging off her robe, she slipped into the bed beside him. Without even the slightest hint of tenderness, he flung his leg over her and prepared to mount her like a wild animal. All she could do was close her eyes and send her mind to a far away place, isolated from this room that had become her prison.
Within moments, he was done. He unceremoniously rolled off of her and quickly began snoring. Like every other night since she was taken, she wrapped the blanket tight around her body and quietly cried herself to sleep.
Standing before the window, she stared longingly at the city which was beyond her grasps. So engrossed in thoughts of freedom, she didn't even hear him approaching. When he touched her shoulder, she shuddered involuntarily. He leaned in uncomfortably close and kissed her neck.
His rancid breath invaded her nostrils as he whispered in her ear, 'Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Let's go back to bed.' He ran his hand down her spine and lightly spanked her butt before walking back to the filthy bed against the far wall.
He threw himself into the bed and leaned backwards, presenting his naked body as if it held some sort of sex appeal. Swallowing the bile that creptup into her mouth, she lowered her head submissively and slowly walked towards him. Shrugging off her robe, she slipped into the bed beside him. Without even the slightest hint of tenderness, he flung his leg over her and prepared to mount her like a wild animal. All she could do was close her eyes and send her mind to a far away place, isolated from this room that had become her prison.
Within moments, he was done. He unceremoniously rolled off of her and quickly began snoring. Like every other night since she was taken, she wrapped the blanket tight around her body and quietly cried herself to sleep.
[The Contract] Signing
Crovax leaned back in his chair, raised his right arm, and motioned briefly to one of his guards. The soldier stepped forward and produced a fairly large leather pouch, clearly heavy with coin. The guard dropped the bag on the table with a loud thud, the unmistakable clinking of coins filling the air. Crovax slowly pushed the pouch across the table. Dryden leaned forward and casually glanced inside.
'Consider this a deposit. Much and more will be provided should you follow through with the deal,' Crovax said as he watched Dryden counting the coin in his head.
'One final question. Do you have any requirements or restrictions about how we accomplish the mission?'
His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Crovax shook his head. 'None. Do what you must.'
Dryden smirked slightly. 'Very well. Then all that is left is a little bit of paperwork...' Without breaking his gaze, Dryden motioned over his shoulder. A man clad in plain gray robes stepped out of the shadows with a parchment in hand. He laid it down before Dryden and handed him a quill. Dryden quickly signed his name along the bottom of the document and then slid it over towards Crovax.
Crovax looked the document over, reading everything that had been discussed during the meeting. He looked up at the scribe still standing over Dryden's shoulder and chuckled. 'My, do you work quickly.'
The scribe smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Crovax then picked up the quill and scribbled his signature before sliding the document back to Dryden. Grabbing a small metal seal and a stick of blood red wax from the other side of the table, Dryden held the wax over one of the candles until it started to melt. He then quickly smeared it on the document, next to the signatures and firmly pressed the seal into the hot wax. Pulling the metal stamp away from the document, a grinning skull plastered in blood red wax finalized the document. Dryden handed the document back to the scribe who quickly slipped away.
'When shall we begin?'
'Consider this a deposit. Much and more will be provided should you follow through with the deal,' Crovax said as he watched Dryden counting the coin in his head.
'One final question. Do you have any requirements or restrictions about how we accomplish the mission?'
His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Crovax shook his head. 'None. Do what you must.'
Dryden smirked slightly. 'Very well. Then all that is left is a little bit of paperwork...' Without breaking his gaze, Dryden motioned over his shoulder. A man clad in plain gray robes stepped out of the shadows with a parchment in hand. He laid it down before Dryden and handed him a quill. Dryden quickly signed his name along the bottom of the document and then slid it over towards Crovax.
Crovax looked the document over, reading everything that had been discussed during the meeting. He looked up at the scribe still standing over Dryden's shoulder and chuckled. 'My, do you work quickly.'
The scribe smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Crovax then picked up the quill and scribbled his signature before sliding the document back to Dryden. Grabbing a small metal seal and a stick of blood red wax from the other side of the table, Dryden held the wax over one of the candles until it started to melt. He then quickly smeared it on the document, next to the signatures and firmly pressed the seal into the hot wax. Pulling the metal stamp away from the document, a grinning skull plastered in blood red wax finalized the document. Dryden handed the document back to the scribe who quickly slipped away.
'When shall we begin?'
[The Contract] Requests
'Please, have a seat,' he motioned to the vacant chairs across the table from him. Crovax stepped forward and took a seat, brushing his cloak over the back of the chair. Dryden made a subtle motion with his hand and a pair of guards clad entirely in black appeared as if from nowhere, flanking the Vox of the Hoard.
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
[The Contract] Introductions
The ageless blond elf walked confidently into Smuggler's Haven, flanked on either side by Warriors of the Radiant Heart. The shady tavern in the depths of Makou was crowded at this time of night, just about every seat taken by some random denizen of the outlaw city. Stopping just inside the door, he started to peer around, searching the faces that surrounded him.
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Lost Causes
Late evening cast it's gloom down upon the city of Kefkaburg as Escalore strode through one of the many run down squares within it's walls. The streets were empty save a dark elf slipping through the northern gate and a dirt laden begger who slumbered in the doorjam of a shop that had closed for the day. It seemed to Escalore, that even the Vectorian patrols were lighter than the last time he had passed through. Leaning down he picked one of the two gold pieces from the hat which lay beside the begger and held it up to the dying light of day thoughtfully. Gold, the drug in which it seemed every cursed being on the forsaken planet was a victim too. The priests and their fallen pantheon, those who claimed to be the rightous. They all needed it just as much as the begger who lay at his feet, there was no difference between them all. Escalore himself detested the fact that he needed it to charter the passage for his mission. Perhaps it would be far simpler to commandeer a vessel with which to ply the eastern seas with. No. Those actions would draw far too much attention, and there would be enough of that in the days to come.
'Travel across the Sea of Swords. Within it's waters lies the key to salvation. Bring it home.' These were the simple words that had kindled the flame that lit the path before him. What would happen when he got out there was left in the hands of the Son. So long as it brought closer the inevitable and cut short any unnecessary prolonging he didn't care how far he needed to travel.
Escalore tossed the gold coin idly back into the begger's hat, inadvertently waking the man who turned his tear streaked face up towards him. 'Shh, it will all be over soon. ' Escalore crooned as he stood, looking down at the man. 'Yeh speak o'the occupation?' the begger croaked as he looked up with weary eyes. Escalore's lip curled up in a half sneer half smile, putting the man in visible discomfort. 'I cannot attest to that. After all, it's inconsequential who claims to hold control over this lost cause of a city. ' The man's mouth open and closed not unlike a fish out of water as he attempted to formulate what was certain to be a question to which answers would bear no level of understanding. Escalore simply stood as he set his mind to the task before him. 'Ah coin fer the trouble?' the begger had finally found his voice. Escalore made no attempt to hide his disgust as he left the man behind him, his words lingering as smooth as silk. 'I'll not feed your addiction unbeliever.'
'Travel across the Sea of Swords. Within it's waters lies the key to salvation. Bring it home.' These were the simple words that had kindled the flame that lit the path before him. What would happen when he got out there was left in the hands of the Son. So long as it brought closer the inevitable and cut short any unnecessary prolonging he didn't care how far he needed to travel.
Escalore tossed the gold coin idly back into the begger's hat, inadvertently waking the man who turned his tear streaked face up towards him. 'Shh, it will all be over soon. ' Escalore crooned as he stood, looking down at the man. 'Yeh speak o'the occupation?' the begger croaked as he looked up with weary eyes. Escalore's lip curled up in a half sneer half smile, putting the man in visible discomfort. 'I cannot attest to that. After all, it's inconsequential who claims to hold control over this lost cause of a city. ' The man's mouth open and closed not unlike a fish out of water as he attempted to formulate what was certain to be a question to which answers would bear no level of understanding. Escalore simply stood as he set his mind to the task before him. 'Ah coin fer the trouble?' the begger had finally found his voice. Escalore made no attempt to hide his disgust as he left the man behind him, his words lingering as smooth as silk. 'I'll not feed your addiction unbeliever.'
Profit
The rumors had been true: Kefkaburg's North Gate was quite the sight. Five people, all hanging on the gate by the ropes around their necks, Vectorian sentinels standing over the scene on the walls as if displaying goods they were selling. The act itself isn't what surprised Relic, but the manner in which it was done. Ever since Westbridge was taken under Vectorian rule, murder, especially aimed at Espers, had become less of a rarity. Though a public hanging wasn't a mere murder, it was a message. The intended recipient, it seemed, was headed towards the gate at this very moment. Rushing towards him down the path that cut through the northern plains were several rider-ladden chocobos. The grasslands offered small options for cover, though Relic had taken cover behind a small outcropping of rock a bit to the east of the gate itself. He doubted attention would be directed at him anyways, due to the situation at hand. He was too far from the riders to hear any words but shortly after they had stopped one of them, most likely the one in charge, began speaking. Several of them split off in different directions while one turned back the way they had come, kicking his chocobo into high gear. Most likely reporting the scene. These men weren't hard to discern as members of the TriPower. Their leader, now dismounted and peering upwards at the bodies, was armored with the unmistakable red and blue of the TriPower.
Relic smiled slightly. A message of blood, hung directly under the TriPower's nose. He had never cared who ruled what city or why, but as long as power continued to shift, there was money to be had.
He took a deep breath. It had not been since his days in the Brotherhood that his abilities were allowed a true target. This message sent the smell of war a hundred miles in all directions. War created targets, for both sides. It was only a matter of time now, before one of those sides needed a target dealt with, by one means or another.
Smiling again, Relic, keeping low, slipped away along the city's wall. It was time to get wispers in the right ears.
Relic smiled slightly. A message of blood, hung directly under the TriPower's nose. He had never cared who ruled what city or why, but as long as power continued to shift, there was money to be had.
He took a deep breath. It had not been since his days in the Brotherhood that his abilities were allowed a true target. This message sent the smell of war a hundred miles in all directions. War created targets, for both sides. It was only a matter of time now, before one of those sides needed a target dealt with, by one means or another.
Smiling again, Relic, keeping low, slipped away along the city's wall. It was time to get wispers in the right ears.
The Dormant Cell (II of II)
The pilot nodded an apology to the Captain who noted his appearance with a wrinkled nose of disgust and took his seat once again at the helm. Once again he tripped the switch he had just minutes before shut down, noting in satisfaction that this time the warning indicator did not blink as the lift engines whirred to life. Swiveling in his chair to face the command chair he nodded to the Captain. Shes up and running sir. The Pride of Torregiano is ready to depart on your command. The pilot looked hopefully up at the Captain who was leaning thoughtfully upon one arm of his chair. Shall I configure the Munchausen for home port? At a single shake of the Captains head his spirits fell slightly. As no doubt the rest of the crews would when they learned that they must continue to call the confines of their small bunks home for the time being. No. the Captain said, with another shake of his head. We are to proceed to the North Gate of Kefkaburg and hold airborne until further notice. The pilots spirits rose again ever so slightly. Then we are to finally be of use I venture to guess? The Captain scowled deeply in reproach as he straightened in his chair. We have played as large a role as any. Do not forget this. Where do you think our fleet would be without reserves had Vector decided to launch an attack? The pilot turned back to his console chagrined, as the Captain continued. Scuttlebutt has it that The Tripower leaders have enlisted a group of radicals to take a more active approach to the Vectorian scourge. The Eastern Blockade is being recalled at this very moment. We will be joining the fleet at the location I gave you. Nodding his acknowledgement, the pilot pulled gently back on a lever beside the console. Shuddering ever so slightly The Pride of Torregiano lifted from the sodden habitat that it had been lying in wait and slowly took to the skies.
The Dormant Cell (I of II)
A red light blinked steadily upon a polished control console. The pilots eyes turned lazily towards it as he sighed and flipped a large switch beside the light. A low mechanical moaning filled the cabin in testament to an engine powering down at the far end of the vessel. What is it? issued a man sitting in a raised chair amid the cabin. The pilot shook his head trusting himself to take his eyes off the light only when the blinking had ceased. Its hard to say until I go below to take a look. Amphibious lift offs can be tricky in these parts Captain. The pilot waited for the Captain to nod his permission of leave before swiveling out of his chair and swinging deftly down a laddered hatch with the experience of one who had done so countless times before. Slipping through a series of corridors and hatches, the pilot finally found himself standing in one of the many hot engine rooms that the ship housed. Inwardly the pilot cursed himself for having warmed the engines prior to final inspection as sweat began to bead on his face, soon to be rivulets which would render his morning bath useless. He slipped past the side of the engine gritting his teeth against the intense heat radiating from it before finally spotting the red handled access panel he was looking for. Wiping away the moisture that had collected upon his brow he pulled open the panel with a grunt a sudden burst of water and muck which spewed out onto him. The pilot looked down at his now green tinged shirt and shook his head as he reached blindly into the space behind the panel, his entire arm disappearing within it. Aha he exclaimed as he withdraw his arm. He looked down at the red and green colored carcass that swung gently from the long neck that he held firmly in his grip and frowned. Swam too close did you little feller? he mused to himself as he let the half pulped corpse fall to the deck with a wet thump. The pilot slammed shut the access panel and stepped over the small body, flipping the toggle on a communications box against the bulkhead. Alls well Captain, just some of the local wildlife tangled in one of the lift engine turbines. He switched the toggle back off as he made way out of the cramped compartment and made a mental note to have one of the crewman clean the engine rooms the next time they made port.
The Good Life
The birds cry rang out across the wetlands, breaking through the cold morning air in a matter which shattered the silence that was remnant from the dark hours. The white feathers of the swan like animal were stained with the green tint of the water through which she swam as she plodded her way towards the large metallic hulk which seemed the newest addition to her habitat. Floating within the deeper ends of the small body of water which rested nearly dead center of the marshy expanse, the elegant bird called out once again as if to say "Hey! Check it out". But the birds cries were unanswered as she swam closer to the strange mass of machinery which lay dormant in the water. The bird swiftly changed course as her base animal nature of flight kicked in only to realize that the sudden movement that had triggered the reaction was nothing more than a ripple against the metal mountains reflection upon the waters surface. Cautiously the bird resumed her swim towards the metal mountain, coming close enough to it to feel the humming vibrations emanating from it as she glided gracefully alongside it. She drifted in to a large alcove within the odd landform. "Perhaps the perfect place for a nest" called yet another instinct to the bird. It was short past mating season but she could already feel the growth of new life within urging her newfound maternal impulses. She stopped to preen at her feathers, casting out some of the more unsightly ones that had been permanently stained greenish by her regular swims. A sudden and deafening roar filled the alcove, and the elegant bird flapped her wings wildly, seeking escape as something below the water gently drew her in. The roaring intensified, as did the draw from below. The bird had time for one final half cry before she was viciously sucked beneath the surface leaving no trace of her existence save a single feather which hitchhiked its way upon a sudden burst of air which carried it back outside the metal mountain.
Coming to Terms
It had been three hours and of all the boards that made up the ceiling above him, none had done anything interesting. Yet still Nespian had stared tirelessly up from the bed he lay upon, hands behind his head and mind furiously working to figure out what was going on. Nothing he had learned in his studies had prepared him for this. Nothing in the curriculum warned that this may be another elaborate training step in his path to become a full fledged Reaper. No... This was real. This girl...She was real. Funny name though. Mystrus was a disease communicated through unmentionable means by many of the more advanced societies on Gaia. He shrugged internally. Maybe her parents just didn't love her enough. This would explain why she had seemed so angry to his sudden appearance upon the crater. Still the name didn't seem to suit her well.
And why was it that the planet didn't heed his call any longer? He felt naked in the knowledge that he was powerless in a strange city with only one newfound friend to call his name. Issuing a heavy breath he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He would find his way home or the Reapers would find him... Either way. But first he would see to it personally that this girl Mystrus never had to worry about these people coming after her again. Leaving his armor on the ground beside the bed he picked up both of his blades and clipped them to his belt. As large as this city was it must have some sort of training facility. If he could no longer rely on the planet herself to back him he would have to hone his own skills.
And why was it that the planet didn't heed his call any longer? He felt naked in the knowledge that he was powerless in a strange city with only one newfound friend to call his name. Issuing a heavy breath he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He would find his way home or the Reapers would find him... Either way. But first he would see to it personally that this girl Mystrus never had to worry about these people coming after her again. Leaving his armor on the ground beside the bed he picked up both of his blades and clipped them to his belt. As large as this city was it must have some sort of training facility. If he could no longer rely on the planet herself to back him he would have to hone his own skills.
Abducted by...Torilians?
Exhausted, he rolled over onto his back. A think layer of the lifestream still covered his person thus proving to himself that the dark summoners in the crater below were had not been a figment of his imagination. He coughed loudly as his lungs expelled the last of the green luminescent green liquid from it. *What on Gaia has happened to me* he wondered to himself. One second he had slipped off to sleep, the next he was being pulled with fanatical force through... Through what? Only to end up here...Where?
"Mutz al bihir kel raughten?" A fair voice broke through his thoughts. He wiped at his eyes attempting to remove the thin film of the lifestream that covered his lids as he felt a sudden pressure on his chest. Looking up his eyes came to focus on a beautiful young woman standing over him, her boot upon his chest. She couldn't be one of the dark agents that had tried to kidnap him could she? Deciding not to take any chances he willed the very earth to encapsulate here until he could get answers only to find Mother Gaia did not respond to his call. "Mutz - al bihir - kel - raughten?" The girl asked again in the gutteral language, her dark brown hair falling over one shoulder as she glared angrily down at him. "Where am I, who are you?" he asked, looking up curiously. "Et mornis" "Where?" The girl shoved off of him leaning down close to his face. *She could be of the Plains People* he thought, then immediately dismissed the idea. Her clothes were too nice for that, and she didn't smell the part. She issued another stream of nonsense angrily as he slowly rose to his feet, sighing. It was going to be a long day, but hopefully he had found an ally and not one of the unnatural summoners from within the crater.
"Mutz al bihir kel raughten?" A fair voice broke through his thoughts. He wiped at his eyes attempting to remove the thin film of the lifestream that covered his lids as he felt a sudden pressure on his chest. Looking up his eyes came to focus on a beautiful young woman standing over him, her boot upon his chest. She couldn't be one of the dark agents that had tried to kidnap him could she? Deciding not to take any chances he willed the very earth to encapsulate here until he could get answers only to find Mother Gaia did not respond to his call. "Mutz - al bihir - kel - raughten?" The girl asked again in the gutteral language, her dark brown hair falling over one shoulder as she glared angrily down at him. "Where am I, who are you?" he asked, looking up curiously. "Et mornis" "Where?" The girl shoved off of him leaning down close to his face. *She could be of the Plains People* he thought, then immediately dismissed the idea. Her clothes were too nice for that, and she didn't smell the part. She issued another stream of nonsense angrily as he slowly rose to his feet, sighing. It was going to be a long day, but hopefully he had found an ally and not one of the unnatural summoners from within the crater.
Gathering
Vorcet looked down at the drawing on Elbryan's desk before him. It had been a good idea to put his ideas into the form of a symbol. Already several people had asked what its meaning was. The people of the realms were used to seeing crests on peoples cloaks. The old churches had displayed them proudly upon their clothes or armor. Seeing a new one invited questions. Questions Vorcet was more than glad to answer. The crest consisted of a set of scales surrounded by the seven stars of Mystra's faith. On the plates of the scale were the symbols of each elemental deity evenly balanced between the sides.
Approaching Demosthenes about this new group had been easy enough. Even through the language gap of having to use hand signals to communicate Demosthenes had displayed his understanding of this new path and had agreed to its necessity. He had even taken to wearing the same crest on his own clothing.
Interest and one other person were however not enough to maintain a presence in the realms. it was time to begin seeking out those who had shown interest and getting them actively involved. To truly explain the precepts governing this new ideology, to make them understand the necessity of this duty to the world, to share with them how the mistakes of the past had cost them all so much. After all, someone had to be prepared to sound the warning should things tip in that direction again.
The site of the biggest current imballance on the continent seemed a better place to start than any other. Vorcet chanted the words that would whisk him away along the weave to Tim's magic shop in what had once been and was still in most people's minds, Westbridge. He popped into existance in the back of the shop. Tim looked up briefly. if he was surprised he showed it not at all.
"Can I help you today Vorcet?" Asked tim in his customary blank tone. "Just passing through for now, though I may have something of a puzzle you could help me with later." responded vorcet as he remembered the strange book about the ruins of Tru he had recently laid hands on. "I do enjoy a good challenge friend. Very well, be about your business before the guards notice you lingering." Tim said with a slight warning tone to his voice.
Vorcet simply nodded and exited the shop as inconspicuously as he could manage. The vectorian guards were distracted by one of the street cleaners they were busily berating with insults and well placed kicks. Vorcet made his way to the market square and the fountain. Taking quick stock of the people milling about there was nobody of interest.
Vorcet took a table outside of the pub and ordered a glass of ale, he then settled in content to wait for one of the several people who had shown interest to show up in the square even as Demosthenes was likely now doing on the other continent.
Approaching Demosthenes about this new group had been easy enough. Even through the language gap of having to use hand signals to communicate Demosthenes had displayed his understanding of this new path and had agreed to its necessity. He had even taken to wearing the same crest on his own clothing.
Interest and one other person were however not enough to maintain a presence in the realms. it was time to begin seeking out those who had shown interest and getting them actively involved. To truly explain the precepts governing this new ideology, to make them understand the necessity of this duty to the world, to share with them how the mistakes of the past had cost them all so much. After all, someone had to be prepared to sound the warning should things tip in that direction again.
The site of the biggest current imballance on the continent seemed a better place to start than any other. Vorcet chanted the words that would whisk him away along the weave to Tim's magic shop in what had once been and was still in most people's minds, Westbridge. He popped into existance in the back of the shop. Tim looked up briefly. if he was surprised he showed it not at all.
"Can I help you today Vorcet?" Asked tim in his customary blank tone. "Just passing through for now, though I may have something of a puzzle you could help me with later." responded vorcet as he remembered the strange book about the ruins of Tru he had recently laid hands on. "I do enjoy a good challenge friend. Very well, be about your business before the guards notice you lingering." Tim said with a slight warning tone to his voice.
Vorcet simply nodded and exited the shop as inconspicuously as he could manage. The vectorian guards were distracted by one of the street cleaners they were busily berating with insults and well placed kicks. Vorcet made his way to the market square and the fountain. Taking quick stock of the people milling about there was nobody of interest.
Vorcet took a table outside of the pub and ordered a glass of ale, he then settled in content to wait for one of the several people who had shown interest to show up in the square even as Demosthenes was likely now doing on the other continent.
Cheap Thrills
Wednesday, the 15th of Eleint
I've never thought to actually keep one of these. Most of what runs through my head, I wouldn't want to put into writing. Self incriminating evidence and all that. So yeah... It's great not to have to trade tobacco for food from the bottom bunk of a prison cell again. Didn't think I'd run across Sanria again, much less in a city like Waterdeep. Didn't think I'd ever heard word from that fling I had back in the city as well. Rumors fly that the woman killed something like ten civilians. Thank the gods her husband came home when he did, I would hate to be number eleven. Damn... And they put ME in jail?? Much as I hate to admit it, a small part of me is glad to be back home. Though I'm not quite certain what this Lifestream trip that Sanria told me the old man put me up to will entail. For now, I'm supposed to be waiting for the ex-clannie who I am to accompany, but so far nobody has come by since Sanria left. Empty houses are about as fun as empty beds I've learned. Though one or two of the girls on the serving staff that remained behind may see to fixing the last one before the day is over. Well, enough for now. I'm not sure what sort of crap I'm supposed to put in this old thing, only that----------------------
(A long dark pen mark runs across the page)
I've never thought to actually keep one of these. Most of what runs through my head, I wouldn't want to put into writing. Self incriminating evidence and all that. So yeah... It's great not to have to trade tobacco for food from the bottom bunk of a prison cell again. Didn't think I'd run across Sanria again, much less in a city like Waterdeep. Didn't think I'd ever heard word from that fling I had back in the city as well. Rumors fly that the woman killed something like ten civilians. Thank the gods her husband came home when he did, I would hate to be number eleven. Damn... And they put ME in jail?? Much as I hate to admit it, a small part of me is glad to be back home. Though I'm not quite certain what this Lifestream trip that Sanria told me the old man put me up to will entail. For now, I'm supposed to be waiting for the ex-clannie who I am to accompany, but so far nobody has come by since Sanria left. Empty houses are about as fun as empty beds I've learned. Though one or two of the girls on the serving staff that remained behind may see to fixing the last one before the day is over. Well, enough for now. I'm not sure what sort of crap I'm supposed to put in this old thing, only that----------------------
(A long dark pen mark runs across the page)
The Lost Tome...(continued)
Tsabicaran sits at his desk in his personal chambers within the High Hall. With a heavy hand he turns another page careful to not damage it. He looks towards the parchments resting next to him and begins to scribbleupon them. "Hmmm" he says in deep thought. He turns back to the tome turning yet another page. Hours go by and finally the last page is turned. Again looking over to the now many parchments resting next to him he makes his final scribble. He picks up the parchments and begins shuffling into order. Leaning back in his chair he lets out a sigh. "Now to begin studying them properly" ,he says with determination. Flipping thru page after page and at times going back to reread certain pages hours pass. He slams the set of parchments down on his desk and grabs his pipe. He pushes clumps of mixed dried grasses into the pipe and strikes a match upon his cheek. Carefully placing the match over the opening and drawing heavy upon the mouth piece he shutters dropping the pipe and the match. With a blank stare he begins to stand up from his resting position. He quickly snaps out of it and stomps on the match, picks up the pipe and places it on his desk. "Crovax...Psycho...I must inform them of this now." He says with a hurried voice.
The Lost Tome...
Sangraal bursts into the Grand Foyer of the High Hall nearly breathless. He furiously secures the doors behind him and quickly makes his way to the library on the second floor. He throws himself down into a chair. Blood begins to make a small pool on the floor from his many wounds. As he regains his breath Tsabicaran enters the room. Tsabicaran with a concerned face says, "Dear friend I heard the Grand Foyer doors slam and..." Quickly Tsabicaran rushes to the side of Sangraal and begins to heal his wounds. "My bag...it is in my bag," Sangraal says with a heavy breath. "Yes yes it can wait a moment. Please sit still and relax yourself," Tsabicaran says with true concern of his friends state, "We need to get you to the healing room now. Your wounds will mend but not without true proper care." Worried, Tsabicaran helps Sangraal up and walks him to the healing room where priests await to heal him further. As Sangraal is placed on the bed he jolts up and grabs Tsabicaran's arm, "The tome...it is in my bag," Sangraal says has his eyes begin to close..... Sangraal awakens with ease. "The tome Sangraal, where did you find it." Tsabicaran says in a soft voice. "Uh...the tome? Yes the tome! Did you find it?", Sangraals says with fright and concern. "Yes, but where did you find it?" "The Chamber of Intrigue...in the Shattered Keep II." "I see. Do not worry yourself any further my friend you will be fine. Now rest." "But..." Tsabicaran cuts him off saying, "Rest...That is an order." Sangraal nods and lets out a heavy sigh as he begins to fall back asleep.
Closing Doors, Opening Trials
Two entities. One felt relief in the form of a cold focus and realistic nature. The other felt damaged, weakened and hurt as if it had just lost a vital part of it's being. The first twisted darkly through the ethereal essence of it's existance, bearing down upon it's wounded cousin. A brief flare of brilliance exuded from the second entity as it fought to retain it's existence in the ethereal. Fought for a war that had slowly been lost within the avalanche in which time had become. Just as swiftly as the battle had begun, it ended. The first descended upon the second smothering it in it's embrace as if to say: 'Shh, it's okay. You'll find true strength in this.'
The sound of Throm's tent flap rapidly parting woke him suddenly. He blinked several times, the shadows of sleep and...something else slowly receding from his vision. The middle aged man clad in a uniform identifying him as a Lieutenant within the Tripower Army stopped cold in his tracks his mouth agape.
'Yes?' Throm rasped, clearing the sleep from his voice as well.
'Your eyes? I thought? Nevermind.'
Throm frowned as he rolled onto his side, sitting up in his bed. He was certain the man would not have woken him for the mere sake of looking into his eyes. He noted the man's name on the ID plate he wore over his light armor just in case.
'Well Lieutenant...Nils. What can I do for you this fine morning?'
The man looked rather sheepish for a moment causing Throm to wonder if truly the man had burst into the wrong tent accidentally. Suddenly the man seemed to remember where he was and stood to full attention on the spot.
'Sir! Battle Patrol 27 responded earlier this morning to a sighting by Scout Patrol 4 on the North Gate of Kefkaburg. Bodies sir. Hung by their necks from the wall. A family of Espers.'
Throm's frown deepened. The boldness of the Vectorian's had been growing steadily, this much was apparent in the ever increasing taxes and imprisonments without trial. But open slayings of it's citizens was too much. He stood up, noticing for the first time the letter still held in his hand. Last night he had read it once, then twice, then again. Then this morning it's contents no longer brought conflict within him. He casually tossed it into the blazing brazier which burned at the edge of his tent and walked out.
The sound of Throm's tent flap rapidly parting woke him suddenly. He blinked several times, the shadows of sleep and...something else slowly receding from his vision. The middle aged man clad in a uniform identifying him as a Lieutenant within the Tripower Army stopped cold in his tracks his mouth agape.
'Yes?' Throm rasped, clearing the sleep from his voice as well.
'Your eyes? I thought? Nevermind.'
Throm frowned as he rolled onto his side, sitting up in his bed. He was certain the man would not have woken him for the mere sake of looking into his eyes. He noted the man's name on the ID plate he wore over his light armor just in case.
'Well Lieutenant...Nils. What can I do for you this fine morning?'
The man looked rather sheepish for a moment causing Throm to wonder if truly the man had burst into the wrong tent accidentally. Suddenly the man seemed to remember where he was and stood to full attention on the spot.
'Sir! Battle Patrol 27 responded earlier this morning to a sighting by Scout Patrol 4 on the North Gate of Kefkaburg. Bodies sir. Hung by their necks from the wall. A family of Espers.'
Throm's frown deepened. The boldness of the Vectorian's had been growing steadily, this much was apparent in the ever increasing taxes and imprisonments without trial. But open slayings of it's citizens was too much. He stood up, noticing for the first time the letter still held in his hand. Last night he had read it once, then twice, then again. Then this morning it's contents no longer brought conflict within him. He casually tossed it into the blazing brazier which burned at the edge of his tent and walked out.
Preludes to War
The breath of the chocobos and their riders steamed in the cold morning air. Rising up it vanished into the gray sky above, which cast down a gloomy light upon the outskirts of Kefkaburg. It was a quiet morning save the crunching of the morning frost beneath the feet of the birdlike mounts as the patrol moved purposefully towards the North Gate of the city. Atop the walls of the city, magenta armored sentries stood next to their equally magenta banners which sat just as still as their sentient counterparts in the windless skies. No movement came from above, no demands to turn back. The Vectorians wanted the patrol to be there it seemed. Wanted the riders precisely where they were. A single gesture from the foremost rider brought the patrol to a halt just within range of arrow fire, yet still the magenta figures looked down impassively from above. The lead rider, clad in heavy armor of bright red and blue, swung down from the saddle both hitting the ground heavily and eliciting a quiet 'wark' of relief from the chocobo. As he looked up to the gate a small gasp escaped him, echoing through his helm far louder than he had intended.
It was exactly what it had appeared to be according to scout reports, but worse. A man woman, three children, even what had probably been the family pet had been strung up by their necks and left for the crows Espers by the look of them, a Vectorian favorite. Removing his helm in reverence the patrol leader, a youthful looking elf with a copper mane of hair, motioned for the other riders to approach.
'Soran, Julie. Stay behind and keep the crows off of them. Bradin, Tohl. You will accompany me into the plains to look for something to build a ladder with. We're not going to leave them up there. Nils, I want you to ride back to the Blockade as though the Dragon Queen herself were on your heels. Tell them what we've seen.'
The elf stared above the bodies to where the Vectorian sentries still stood as magenta rocks sprouting from the top of the walls.
'yabraguoph'
His eyes suddenly jumped into focus as though someone had placed an invisible telescope to his eyes. Blinking he looked up again, both anger and dread filling his very soul at what he saw.
They were smiling.
It was exactly what it had appeared to be according to scout reports, but worse. A man woman, three children, even what had probably been the family pet had been strung up by their necks and left for the crows Espers by the look of them, a Vectorian favorite. Removing his helm in reverence the patrol leader, a youthful looking elf with a copper mane of hair, motioned for the other riders to approach.
'Soran, Julie. Stay behind and keep the crows off of them. Bradin, Tohl. You will accompany me into the plains to look for something to build a ladder with. We're not going to leave them up there. Nils, I want you to ride back to the Blockade as though the Dragon Queen herself were on your heels. Tell them what we've seen.'
The elf stared above the bodies to where the Vectorian sentries still stood as magenta rocks sprouting from the top of the walls.
'yabraguoph'
His eyes suddenly jumped into focus as though someone had placed an invisible telescope to his eyes. Blinking he looked up again, both anger and dread filling his very soul at what he saw.
They were smiling.
Contingencies for Contingencies
The heavy footfalls of Colin's boots along the wooden floor of the library echoed throughout the room. Throm studied the warrior carefully. Predictably, Colin's rate of alarm had been steadily increasing since he had learned of Sanria's departure. His decision to follow and approach Sanria was already apparent in his body language.
'Where did she say she was going, exactly?'
Throm continued to study the man as he divulged the information that would soon put him on a course to Sanria.
'She'll probably be on her way to Torregiano. After that I believe Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep.'
Colin's frustration was evident in his voice as well as the increased speed of pacing as he glared at Throm, shaking his head.
'Just when things seemed to be coming together. I'm sorry, but there's no way I can just sit up in this house and not care that she's out there by herself with all that we've seen. You convinced me that this threat was big enough to go into the rift, yet you are fine with just letting this happen.'
Throm leaned forward upon the table as he nodded earnestly.
'Shall we pack up the ship, and bring her back by force then?'
Colin waved him off, his frustration clearly mounting as he detected Throm's sarcasm.
'No, don't you worry, you carry on however you want. I can take care of this. Thank you for the information.'
'What would you do?'
Colin turned to Throm, signs of a cool anger simmering just beneath the surface evident even to the sorcerer.
'I told you, I'm going to make sure she's safe. After that... we'll see. It wouldn't be the first time I've been a guardian. But maybe you've forgotten how.'
His comment hit closer to home more so than Colin could have known. He was right in ways he could not have known. Throm was accustomed to moving people about, as pawns on a chessboard, but even in the worst of times he had not made habit of doing so with friends. He had always drawn an invisible line in the fabric of his moral state, separating friendship from the cool calculating voice within him that always seemed to get things accomplished efficiently.
'If you must keep tabs, then do so. I know deep down I would feel better about it. But by blundering in, announcing that you don't respect her freedom to get away. Does that truly serve her...or does it serve you?'
This earned him another angry glance from the larger man.
'I'm not you Throm. I can't just sit back and watch things happen. I also won't slip about following Sanria like some king of thief, and I won't operate based upon assumptions.'
Throm nodded, reverting mentally back to his original plan. Colin was a man of action, Throm could respected that. His concern would lead him not to dance around the issues, but rather to charge directly into the heart of them. Throm knew his own concern was no less, but there was always a plan to be executed. A contingency for contingencies. While both may in truth have the same goals in mind, they were opposite sides of the coin in nature. But it would be both sides that would be needed to see this through.
'I hope you will keep me informed as well. I'll be leaving here as soon as I catch up with Thasmudyan. I will be staying at the Blockade east of the city.'
Colin issued a somber nod which did not necessarily commit to or against doing so.
'Well, time's wasting. I need to make preparations. I have a lot of ground to make up.'
The warrior departed, leaving Throm to scratch out the location of potential hidden caches upon a piece seconds before the man in black slipped back into the room, chuckling in sarcasm though speaking quietly so as not to be overheard.
'Long time no see.'
Throm folded the parchment and handed it to the man returning his comment equaling his tone of sarcasm, in the process.
'It has been indeed.'
The Cetra cast a glance at the doorway after Colin.
'It's good to know I still have friends out there. Ensure he doesn't know you're following.'
'No doubt.'
The man nodded and once more took his leave. Throm sighed, alone to his thoughts once more. He had but one more task to complete before leaving the manor. His gaze drifted to the small necklace that still lay upon the table. He would need to see to it's safety, and for that he would need Thasmudyan.
'Where did she say she was going, exactly?'
Throm continued to study the man as he divulged the information that would soon put him on a course to Sanria.
'She'll probably be on her way to Torregiano. After that I believe Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep.'
Colin's frustration was evident in his voice as well as the increased speed of pacing as he glared at Throm, shaking his head.
'Just when things seemed to be coming together. I'm sorry, but there's no way I can just sit up in this house and not care that she's out there by herself with all that we've seen. You convinced me that this threat was big enough to go into the rift, yet you are fine with just letting this happen.'
Throm leaned forward upon the table as he nodded earnestly.
'Shall we pack up the ship, and bring her back by force then?'
Colin waved him off, his frustration clearly mounting as he detected Throm's sarcasm.
'No, don't you worry, you carry on however you want. I can take care of this. Thank you for the information.'
'What would you do?'
Colin turned to Throm, signs of a cool anger simmering just beneath the surface evident even to the sorcerer.
'I told you, I'm going to make sure she's safe. After that... we'll see. It wouldn't be the first time I've been a guardian. But maybe you've forgotten how.'
His comment hit closer to home more so than Colin could have known. He was right in ways he could not have known. Throm was accustomed to moving people about, as pawns on a chessboard, but even in the worst of times he had not made habit of doing so with friends. He had always drawn an invisible line in the fabric of his moral state, separating friendship from the cool calculating voice within him that always seemed to get things accomplished efficiently.
'If you must keep tabs, then do so. I know deep down I would feel better about it. But by blundering in, announcing that you don't respect her freedom to get away. Does that truly serve her...or does it serve you?'
This earned him another angry glance from the larger man.
'I'm not you Throm. I can't just sit back and watch things happen. I also won't slip about following Sanria like some king of thief, and I won't operate based upon assumptions.'
Throm nodded, reverting mentally back to his original plan. Colin was a man of action, Throm could respected that. His concern would lead him not to dance around the issues, but rather to charge directly into the heart of them. Throm knew his own concern was no less, but there was always a plan to be executed. A contingency for contingencies. While both may in truth have the same goals in mind, they were opposite sides of the coin in nature. But it would be both sides that would be needed to see this through.
'I hope you will keep me informed as well. I'll be leaving here as soon as I catch up with Thasmudyan. I will be staying at the Blockade east of the city.'
Colin issued a somber nod which did not necessarily commit to or against doing so.
'Well, time's wasting. I need to make preparations. I have a lot of ground to make up.'
The warrior departed, leaving Throm to scratch out the location of potential hidden caches upon a piece seconds before the man in black slipped back into the room, chuckling in sarcasm though speaking quietly so as not to be overheard.
'Long time no see.'
Throm folded the parchment and handed it to the man returning his comment equaling his tone of sarcasm, in the process.
'It has been indeed.'
The Cetra cast a glance at the doorway after Colin.
'It's good to know I still have friends out there. Ensure he doesn't know you're following.'
'No doubt.'
The man nodded and once more took his leave. Throm sighed, alone to his thoughts once more. He had but one more task to complete before leaving the manor. His gaze drifted to the small necklace that still lay upon the table. He would need to see to it's safety, and for that he would need Thasmudyan.
Contingencies
Little galaxies, each one containing perhaps hundreds of worlds. Be they symbolic or literal Throm knew not. The only thing he knew was that the necklace they had found within the cave inside the rift was a powerful artifact, and according to Kaliadra may perhaps be capable of travel to other worlds not reachable by standard arcane means. The journey back had been uneventful, the return home more so. Sanria had left after perhaps a day after their return, and Throm couldn't blame her. As glad as he was to have everybody under the same roof, he imagined the manor had become quite stuffy as of late. Even with the knowledge that she would be outside of his immediate protection Throm was secretly glad that she was headed east. It was probably safer there than it soon would be in Westbridge.
Throm stood from the table where he sat within his library and walked slowly over to the map which covered the northern wall of the room. Most of it had been filled in thanks to efforts combined between the topographers at Melancholy's and his own personal travels. He inwardly mused which parts me might fill in next, turning away only at the sound of a polite cough in close proximity. He smiled at the darkly clad man before him
'Apologies my friend, the older I get, the more I tend to drift off into other worlds.'
The man laughed, his leather armor creaking slightly at the movement. Shaking his head so as to neither confirm or deny Throm's statement he spoke in a voice that betrayed years of smoke inhalation and soft spoken words.
'We've been unable to locate her. Thus it may prove difficult to ensure her safety.'
Throm nodded. His eyes scouting over the man to determine the sincerity of his statement. A short time ago, it would have been only a quick word throughout the web the Emirc Dezinagro Syndicate maintained and the information would have been at his fingertips. He turned to the bookcase closest him, and slowly ascended the ladder to the top rung as he searched aimlessly along the upper shelves.
'There may be another way. As we speak a man by the name of Colin Stone searches the manor for either me or Sanria. He will fare better better than you I imagine.'
Again the man laughed. If his feelings were hurt his ashen face showed no sign of it.
'I suppose you'd like me to follow Stone, who will lead me to Sanria?'
Throm frowned.
'His name is Colin, and it's not quite that easy. I will see to it that supply caches are at your disposal in case the worst should befall him. He's still trying to figure out what may be happening to him and does not yet know the full of it.'
The man raised an eyebrow. He ran a hand through a tangled mane of black hair.
'I don't know the full of it, nor the empty of it. What's happening to him.'
Throm shook his head, glaring down from the ladder for a moment before resuming his browsing along the book shelf.
'You don't need to know that. You'll know what to do when the time comes. But for now I'll recommend a hasty retreat, Colin is approaching.'
Throm didn't hear the man depart, but the voice of Colin behind him confirmed his leaving.
'Throm, hello.'
Throm stood from the table where he sat within his library and walked slowly over to the map which covered the northern wall of the room. Most of it had been filled in thanks to efforts combined between the topographers at Melancholy's and his own personal travels. He inwardly mused which parts me might fill in next, turning away only at the sound of a polite cough in close proximity. He smiled at the darkly clad man before him
'Apologies my friend, the older I get, the more I tend to drift off into other worlds.'
The man laughed, his leather armor creaking slightly at the movement. Shaking his head so as to neither confirm or deny Throm's statement he spoke in a voice that betrayed years of smoke inhalation and soft spoken words.
'We've been unable to locate her. Thus it may prove difficult to ensure her safety.'
Throm nodded. His eyes scouting over the man to determine the sincerity of his statement. A short time ago, it would have been only a quick word throughout the web the Emirc Dezinagro Syndicate maintained and the information would have been at his fingertips. He turned to the bookcase closest him, and slowly ascended the ladder to the top rung as he searched aimlessly along the upper shelves.
'There may be another way. As we speak a man by the name of Colin Stone searches the manor for either me or Sanria. He will fare better better than you I imagine.'
Again the man laughed. If his feelings were hurt his ashen face showed no sign of it.
'I suppose you'd like me to follow Stone, who will lead me to Sanria?'
Throm frowned.
'His name is Colin, and it's not quite that easy. I will see to it that supply caches are at your disposal in case the worst should befall him. He's still trying to figure out what may be happening to him and does not yet know the full of it.'
The man raised an eyebrow. He ran a hand through a tangled mane of black hair.
'I don't know the full of it, nor the empty of it. What's happening to him.'
Throm shook his head, glaring down from the ladder for a moment before resuming his browsing along the book shelf.
'You don't need to know that. You'll know what to do when the time comes. But for now I'll recommend a hasty retreat, Colin is approaching.'
Throm didn't hear the man depart, but the voice of Colin behind him confirmed his leaving.
'Throm, hello.'
Faprakk versus the slumbering beast
Cold and windy in the streets of Vector, the young minded halforc Vrakk sprints steadily down the cobblestone path. In his hand is a newly acquired Vaprak action figure, that he carefully guides through the air is if it were flying. "pew pew pew" he emits noises imagining lasers firing from the eyes of the figure as simulates the outcome by stomping bugs with his feet. Approaching the door of a lesser known in the head of the doll pokes curiously around the corner as if investigating the room before proceeding to enter. He continues moving down the halls of the inn, bouncing the figure from wall to wall as if mimicing some heroic leap. He looks to the doll, "Faprakk slay villains!" The comment is followed by a hand gesture, causing the doll to rock back and forth as if it were nodding in agreement. Vrakk carefully sneaks open a door of an inn room, again poking the head of the doll around the corner first, "Shhhh!!!" He says to the doll as she sneak upon an unsuspecting sleeping guest. Vrakk pounces the doll onto the guests head, who is obvious drunkenness only rolls over to his other side, bouncing the figure up and down as if claiming victory over an enemy. Vrakk hmms quietly to himself, as if something weren't right. Slowly he reaches to his side with his free hand, setting free his mace. With a solid swing he smashes into the skull of the sleeping patron, bloody fragments flying about the room. Happily, Vrakk proceeds bouncing the figure up and down into the squishy mess that was once a mans skull. "Victory! Victory for Faprakk. Faprakk strongest!" he squeals, continuing to swim the doll around in pool of blood and brains that previously made up the head of the sleeping man.
Syndrome.
Kashmir looked directly at John. "Men, who's hands be orchestrated by the Gods' will. I am cursed, John. I am cursed as I always have been. My sins lay heavy upon my shoulders, and now... Now... " He looked over and the body of his still wife. His voice
John sat up, "No Kashmir! No! You have devoted your life to searching for the Gods, they could not have been part of this! "
Kashmir looked back, "I have found the Gods, John. I have found them, right here. Amongst the ruins of my life. Our Gods, that we pray to. That we confide in. That we give our lives to. They are not holy beings. They are not the Gods we have believed them to be. How can they be. How can they allow this... "
John moved over to Kashmir, on his knees until he was in front of him. "Kashmir, blame not the Gods for this. Blame not yourself. There is good in what the Gods do. You know there is. "
Kashmir shook his head, tears flowing down his soot-ridden cheeks. "If there is good amongst the Gods, it is losing a battle we know nothing about. It has left me. They punish me for what I am. For who I am. For my existence. "
His voice merely a whisper now, "No Kashmir, you... You aren't right. You're a man, just as anyone else. You have no sin that could have brought this upon you. "
Kashmir began shuddering, his entire body quaking with each breath. The fury had not left his eyes, his voice grew louder, "No sin that you are aware of. Nor a sin I considered not paid in full with the absence of child!! "
John was taken aback, "Kashmir, of what... What do you speak? "
Kashmir stood up, "I am no man John. I am no human as this mask would have you believe. " He pointed to the remains of his wife that he had dropped on the ground. "This is a sign John. A mask, same as I am wearing. A sin from which I cannot escape, but for which I am not at fault. I DID NOT DESERVE THIS!! "
Kashmir placed a finger on his chest, "The Gods have forsaken me. Tortured me, and shown me for what they truly believe me to be. A masked sin in itself. "
John, still on the ground looked up to Kashmir, "No... How, how could they have? "
Kashmir looked down at him, "Because John. The Gods are not the benevolent beings we thought they were. This is now clear to me. They are weak, tyrannical, evil. THEIR OWN HATRED! It is spilling forth from the heavens! Don't you see!? They reject me for what I am! Their compassion better spent on those more deserving! I am a monster to them, a horror! " Kashmir's finger that he had placed on his chest began to glow white. "I will not have it, John! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THEIR INJUSTICE!! " His body began to glow a brilliant, searing white. His skin began to boil and steam, melting off his body slowly, white light radiating from his wounds.
John looked on in horror, moving backwards. "Kashmir! Stop! "
"NO! The syndrome of the Gods will NOT CONTROL ME! " The pain in Kashmir's eyes did nothing to betray the fire ripping through his flesh, screaming through his soul. He tiled his head back and released a howl never before heard by John's ears. Kashmir was engulfed in a white light as his magic tore the rest of his body away, forcing John to cover his eyes.
When the light faded John looked forward, trying to allow his eyes to adjust to the now pitch black sky. Before him, where Kashmir once stood, now was occupied by something unlike any that he ever knew existed. Towering over him, several feet his senior, stood a machine. Gears, pulleys, pistons... All the makings of a machine, formed into a humanoid figure. The flesh that entombed this beast now melted away.
John, horrified could only say "Kashmir... " The machine's head looked downwards at him, it's voice raspy, unkind. "I am done hiding. " Kashmir turned towards the body of his wife and walked to it. Kneeling it reached an arm out, sharp mechanical fingers extended over the body. In a flash, the body caught fire, the ashes raising into the night's sky. "Rest well, my love, " he said in the raspy, mechanical voice. " Standing up, without another word, nor a glance back to John, Kashmir walked off into the night.
John sat up, "No Kashmir! No! You have devoted your life to searching for the Gods, they could not have been part of this! "
Kashmir looked back, "I have found the Gods, John. I have found them, right here. Amongst the ruins of my life. Our Gods, that we pray to. That we confide in. That we give our lives to. They are not holy beings. They are not the Gods we have believed them to be. How can they be. How can they allow this... "
John moved over to Kashmir, on his knees until he was in front of him. "Kashmir, blame not the Gods for this. Blame not yourself. There is good in what the Gods do. You know there is. "
Kashmir shook his head, tears flowing down his soot-ridden cheeks. "If there is good amongst the Gods, it is losing a battle we know nothing about. It has left me. They punish me for what I am. For who I am. For my existence. "
His voice merely a whisper now, "No Kashmir, you... You aren't right. You're a man, just as anyone else. You have no sin that could have brought this upon you. "
Kashmir began shuddering, his entire body quaking with each breath. The fury had not left his eyes, his voice grew louder, "No sin that you are aware of. Nor a sin I considered not paid in full with the absence of child!! "
John was taken aback, "Kashmir, of what... What do you speak? "
Kashmir stood up, "I am no man John. I am no human as this mask would have you believe. " He pointed to the remains of his wife that he had dropped on the ground. "This is a sign John. A mask, same as I am wearing. A sin from which I cannot escape, but for which I am not at fault. I DID NOT DESERVE THIS!! "
Kashmir placed a finger on his chest, "The Gods have forsaken me. Tortured me, and shown me for what they truly believe me to be. A masked sin in itself. "
John, still on the ground looked up to Kashmir, "No... How, how could they have? "
Kashmir looked down at him, "Because John. The Gods are not the benevolent beings we thought they were. This is now clear to me. They are weak, tyrannical, evil. THEIR OWN HATRED! It is spilling forth from the heavens! Don't you see!? They reject me for what I am! Their compassion better spent on those more deserving! I am a monster to them, a horror! " Kashmir's finger that he had placed on his chest began to glow white. "I will not have it, John! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THEIR INJUSTICE!! " His body began to glow a brilliant, searing white. His skin began to boil and steam, melting off his body slowly, white light radiating from his wounds.
John looked on in horror, moving backwards. "Kashmir! Stop! "
"NO! The syndrome of the Gods will NOT CONTROL ME! " The pain in Kashmir's eyes did nothing to betray the fire ripping through his flesh, screaming through his soul. He tiled his head back and released a howl never before heard by John's ears. Kashmir was engulfed in a white light as his magic tore the rest of his body away, forcing John to cover his eyes.
When the light faded John looked forward, trying to allow his eyes to adjust to the now pitch black sky. Before him, where Kashmir once stood, now was occupied by something unlike any that he ever knew existed. Towering over him, several feet his senior, stood a machine. Gears, pulleys, pistons... All the makings of a machine, formed into a humanoid figure. The flesh that entombed this beast now melted away.
John, horrified could only say "Kashmir... " The machine's head looked downwards at him, it's voice raspy, unkind. "I am done hiding. " Kashmir turned towards the body of his wife and walked to it. Kneeling it reached an arm out, sharp mechanical fingers extended over the body. In a flash, the body caught fire, the ashes raising into the night's sky. "Rest well, my love, " he said in the raspy, mechanical voice. " Standing up, without another word, nor a glance back to John, Kashmir walked off into the night.
Syndrome.
As they drew closer to Kashmir's house the plume of smoke grew thicker, the fires that created it still smouldering amongst the ash of that which it burned. Then the odor hit. Rancid, acidic and strong enough to make the two of them begin coughing. They had slowed their pace down to a trot, wary of any danger, and still not knowing from where the fire burned. As they drew closer however, it became apparent to both of them. The smoke's origin lay within his home.
"Kashmir, wait! " John yelled, but he had already broken away, leaving John behind. Urging his horse forward ever faster, digging his heels into the beasts sides. He could see it now, as he sped along the plains. His house, on the outskirts of the village, in ruins, it's life fleeing upwards into the sky on the trail of the black soot. His horse thundered closer, it's hooves pounding the ground relentlessly, it's nostrils flaring as it breathed heavily. John was still shouting from behind him, trying to get him to stop. There was no stopping. He had to get to her, she had to be okay. She had to be.
John had fallen far behind Kashmir, as the man rushed towards his burning home, pushing his horse so hard it's a wonder the beast hadn't collapsed by now. John pushed his forward as well, trying to catch Kashmir, but to no avail. In the distance, he saw the man disappear into the smoke that surrounded the house. John stopped his horse several hundreds yards short, watching, not knowing what to expect.
Silence. Nothing had happened in nearly a minute - suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced his ears, shattering the silence and sending his horse in a panic, throwing him from the saddle. John immediately got to his feet and ran, as hard as his legs would allow it. Breathing harder than he ever had in his life, his feet carried him to Kashmir's house. The house was little more than rubble now, the entirety of the structure had been reduced to ash. It wasn't a large house, but the pile of smouldering wood lay scattered in several directions. Kashmir was no where to be seen. Breathing hard, John made his way around the side of the house. There, beyond the extent of the wreckage, was Kashmir, hunched over on the the ground. John stopped in his tracks as if punched in the gut. To Kashmir's left was a body, lying sprawled on the ground. It went without telling who the body belonged to. John moved forward, cautiously, so as not to startle Kashmir, keeping his eyes fixed on the body next to him. The light from the fading sun was enough to give illumination to what John had wished not to see. The body was blackened, burned in the same manner as the house. But from so far out... It was not from the same fire. Wrenching his gaze off the remains of Kashmir's wife and back to the man himself he continued moving forward, but stopped short again when a voice came from in front of him.
"John. " Barely more than a whisper. "Why? "
John continued to look at Kashmir as he stood up, his hands in front of him, his head down. "Why? " He uttered again, louder this time. "Kashmir... " John said quietly as he moved forward again, reaching Kashmir's back. Putting a hand out and grabbing his shoulder he pulled Kashmir, attempting to pull him around. As Kashmir turned, John jumped in shock and horror to what he saw before him. Kashmir's downwards gaze became suddenly apparent. In his hands, stripped brutally from her head, lie the burnt flesh that was once his wife's visage. John stumbled backwards and fell down, tripping over a rock. He leaned over and emptied his stomach onto the ground beside him. He looked back up at Kashmir, who still held the same pose. His arms fell, dropping the flesh in his hands. Falling to his knees, Kashmir looked up at John. "Why John? Why has this happened? "
John stammered, "I-I-I don't know... I... Kashmir... "
Fury ignited in Kashmir's eyes, "WHY HAVE THE GODS FORSAKEN ME!? " His fists clenched as he yelled into the sky, "Why have you taken all I ever cared about from me!? WHY!? "
John could barely find his voice, "K-Kashmir. This could not have been the Gods' doing. It was men Kashmir... The Gods, they... They could not have done this."
"Kashmir, wait! " John yelled, but he had already broken away, leaving John behind. Urging his horse forward ever faster, digging his heels into the beasts sides. He could see it now, as he sped along the plains. His house, on the outskirts of the village, in ruins, it's life fleeing upwards into the sky on the trail of the black soot. His horse thundered closer, it's hooves pounding the ground relentlessly, it's nostrils flaring as it breathed heavily. John was still shouting from behind him, trying to get him to stop. There was no stopping. He had to get to her, she had to be okay. She had to be.
John had fallen far behind Kashmir, as the man rushed towards his burning home, pushing his horse so hard it's a wonder the beast hadn't collapsed by now. John pushed his forward as well, trying to catch Kashmir, but to no avail. In the distance, he saw the man disappear into the smoke that surrounded the house. John stopped his horse several hundreds yards short, watching, not knowing what to expect.
Silence. Nothing had happened in nearly a minute - suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced his ears, shattering the silence and sending his horse in a panic, throwing him from the saddle. John immediately got to his feet and ran, as hard as his legs would allow it. Breathing harder than he ever had in his life, his feet carried him to Kashmir's house. The house was little more than rubble now, the entirety of the structure had been reduced to ash. It wasn't a large house, but the pile of smouldering wood lay scattered in several directions. Kashmir was no where to be seen. Breathing hard, John made his way around the side of the house. There, beyond the extent of the wreckage, was Kashmir, hunched over on the the ground. John stopped in his tracks as if punched in the gut. To Kashmir's left was a body, lying sprawled on the ground. It went without telling who the body belonged to. John moved forward, cautiously, so as not to startle Kashmir, keeping his eyes fixed on the body next to him. The light from the fading sun was enough to give illumination to what John had wished not to see. The body was blackened, burned in the same manner as the house. But from so far out... It was not from the same fire. Wrenching his gaze off the remains of Kashmir's wife and back to the man himself he continued moving forward, but stopped short again when a voice came from in front of him.
"John. " Barely more than a whisper. "Why? "
John continued to look at Kashmir as he stood up, his hands in front of him, his head down. "Why? " He uttered again, louder this time. "Kashmir... " John said quietly as he moved forward again, reaching Kashmir's back. Putting a hand out and grabbing his shoulder he pulled Kashmir, attempting to pull him around. As Kashmir turned, John jumped in shock and horror to what he saw before him. Kashmir's downwards gaze became suddenly apparent. In his hands, stripped brutally from her head, lie the burnt flesh that was once his wife's visage. John stumbled backwards and fell down, tripping over a rock. He leaned over and emptied his stomach onto the ground beside him. He looked back up at Kashmir, who still held the same pose. His arms fell, dropping the flesh in his hands. Falling to his knees, Kashmir looked up at John. "Why John? Why has this happened? "
John stammered, "I-I-I don't know... I... Kashmir... "
Fury ignited in Kashmir's eyes, "WHY HAVE THE GODS FORSAKEN ME!? " His fists clenched as he yelled into the sky, "Why have you taken all I ever cared about from me!? WHY!? "
John could barely find his voice, "K-Kashmir. This could not have been the Gods' doing. It was men Kashmir... The Gods, they... They could not have done this."
Syndrome.
The trip down the mountain went without incident of outside influence. Once a man nearly slipped down a steep slope, but with a quick spell of levitation, his life was spared. Upon reaching camp, the clamor of another successful excursion burst through the group. One last night was to be spent here, before their return the following day. As the sun faded and all returned to their tents a few remained outside to take in the feeling of accomplishment, Kashmir and John among them.
They stood out on the Eastern ridge of the plateau upon which their trail had begun. "Soon, " John said to Kashmir, "Soon you will be back with her. We are fortunate that we needed only be gone for such a short amount of time. "
Kashmir nodded, "I had promised her I'd return by the week's end, however. " He chuckled, "I am already late, she will have both my ears when I return. "
John scoffed, "Well you would be the deserving recipient for having foolishly promised your timeliness! "
Laughing Kashmir nodded, "As we men always our in our loving wives eyes. "
Yawning John turned around towards the camp, "I fear I must retire. The night is growing late and we've still a few days travel ahead of us. You should think about doing the same. "
John nodded, "I am sure all is well. The world is not a perfect place, so never will it feel so. Especially not to one such as you. Good night, Kashmir. "
As John walked off, Kashmir turned back towards the East. A feeling of pure dread washed over his body. He kneeled in prayer.
As he awoke the next morning, Kashmir left his tent, the rising sun greeting him from the base of the mountain. He had slept longer than he desired but felt quite rested. The negative feeling swimming through his mind had not been extinguished however. There still remained doubt that everything was well.
To his surprise, John was still on the mountain, whereas mostly everybody else had departed before the sun arose. Walking over to him with a smile John greeted him. "Morning! I decided I'd ride back with you today, and you have no say in matter. " Laughing Kashmir grinned, "your presence is always accepted, brother. Is this decision absent reason? "
"Is companionship not reason enough!? " John laughed. "Come, you lazy child, your slumber has wasted much of the day already! "
It had indeed, having wanted to leave long before now, Kashmir was beyond tardy for departure. Wrapping up the last of their supplies and stringing them to their saddles, they both mounted their horses and set off down the mountain. With the Gods' favor they would make as good of time on their return they did on their arrival.
During the entire travel home, Kashmir could not shake his feeling that something was amiss. He only wish through all his wondering and his prayers of the first night on the trip back, that something would reveal the meaning of his worry.
"Kashmir, " John said his name in a low voice, threaded with concern. "What's that, over there? "
Kashmir looked towards the direction of John's outstretched finger, directly in front of them on the horizon. A black cloud filled the sky at the far reaches of their sight, stringing up from the ground and expanding as it reached the clouds. Smoke. For the past few hours they had been on a direct course towards Kashmir's home, John had planned to stay the night with him and his wife, as his residence was another day's march south. The smoke that lay in front of them, lay in the direction of his home and village. Were they burning crops?
"I don't know, " Kashmir replied. "Perhaps the village is burning waste. Around this time of year anything from the harvest that isn't to be used is burned. The smoke is not generally so black though... " He looked over at John, who's expression was riddled with doubt. The same feeling of utter horror washed over Kashmir again. This is what had been nagging at his senses for the past two days.
"John, we must hurry."
With that, the two kicked their horses into a gallop, speeding towards the village.
They stood out on the Eastern ridge of the plateau upon which their trail had begun. "Soon, " John said to Kashmir, "Soon you will be back with her. We are fortunate that we needed only be gone for such a short amount of time. "
Kashmir nodded, "I had promised her I'd return by the week's end, however. " He chuckled, "I am already late, she will have both my ears when I return. "
John scoffed, "Well you would be the deserving recipient for having foolishly promised your timeliness! "
Laughing Kashmir nodded, "As we men always our in our loving wives eyes. "
Yawning John turned around towards the camp, "I fear I must retire. The night is growing late and we've still a few days travel ahead of us. You should think about doing the same. "
John nodded, "I am sure all is well. The world is not a perfect place, so never will it feel so. Especially not to one such as you. Good night, Kashmir. "
As John walked off, Kashmir turned back towards the East. A feeling of pure dread washed over his body. He kneeled in prayer.
As he awoke the next morning, Kashmir left his tent, the rising sun greeting him from the base of the mountain. He had slept longer than he desired but felt quite rested. The negative feeling swimming through his mind had not been extinguished however. There still remained doubt that everything was well.
To his surprise, John was still on the mountain, whereas mostly everybody else had departed before the sun arose. Walking over to him with a smile John greeted him. "Morning! I decided I'd ride back with you today, and you have no say in matter. " Laughing Kashmir grinned, "your presence is always accepted, brother. Is this decision absent reason? "
"Is companionship not reason enough!? " John laughed. "Come, you lazy child, your slumber has wasted much of the day already! "
It had indeed, having wanted to leave long before now, Kashmir was beyond tardy for departure. Wrapping up the last of their supplies and stringing them to their saddles, they both mounted their horses and set off down the mountain. With the Gods' favor they would make as good of time on their return they did on their arrival.
During the entire travel home, Kashmir could not shake his feeling that something was amiss. He only wish through all his wondering and his prayers of the first night on the trip back, that something would reveal the meaning of his worry.
"Kashmir, " John said his name in a low voice, threaded with concern. "What's that, over there? "
Kashmir looked towards the direction of John's outstretched finger, directly in front of them on the horizon. A black cloud filled the sky at the far reaches of their sight, stringing up from the ground and expanding as it reached the clouds. Smoke. For the past few hours they had been on a direct course towards Kashmir's home, John had planned to stay the night with him and his wife, as his residence was another day's march south. The smoke that lay in front of them, lay in the direction of his home and village. Were they burning crops?
"I don't know, " Kashmir replied. "Perhaps the village is burning waste. Around this time of year anything from the harvest that isn't to be used is burned. The smoke is not generally so black though... " He looked over at John, who's expression was riddled with doubt. The same feeling of utter horror washed over Kashmir again. This is what had been nagging at his senses for the past two days.
"John, we must hurry."
With that, the two kicked their horses into a gallop, speeding towards the village.
Syndrome.
A scream caused John to stop in his tracks and quickly spin around. As soon as he had time to turn around, the sound of steel being drawn rang through the air. One of their warriors had drawn his blade in the middle of a commotion in the center of the group where a wolf had attacked one of the monks. The man was lying on his back, his arms crossed over his face as the wolf stood on top of his biting at the man's face. Before John could reach them, however, the man who had drawn his blade had thrust it forward, plunging it deep into the wolf's side. With a loud yelp, the wolf let off it's attack and stumbled to the side. Panting and bleeding it collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily until at last it's last breath fled from it's body.
John ran down to the wounded man still lying on the ground. The warrior that had struck the wolf down sheathed his blade, and amidst deep breaths reported, "it came out of no where John, just attacked this man. "
John waived his hand, "no matter, this man needs attention. " The monk had deep lacerations along his arms and abdomen. The wolf had managed to tear through his robes with it's claws while scoring several bites on the man's arms.
Arriving at John's side Kashmir kneeled next to the man, surveying his wounds. "How's it look, Kash? "
Kashmir reached his hands out, touching the man's cuts on his stomach. The monk squirmed in pain. "They're not beyond repair, but only just. He is lucky." His hands over the man's body, Kashmir began to hum in tones, softly. With no visual indication of what was happening, the man's wounds began to glow white. Nothing much happened at first, until he started screaming in pain. John and the other warrior each held the man down to prevent him from further injuring himself. His wounds began to emit a fine white steam as Kashmir's magic cauterized them shut. It was a painful process, however, it was life saving in every instance John had ever seen it used.
Kashmir nodded when his task was done. "Bandage him, as the wounds may yet bleed. He will be well enough to walk in an hour or two though, the wounds weren't deep enough to cause severe damage. " The wounded monk grabbed Kashmir's hand and looked at him sternly. "Thank you, priest." was all he said before lying his head down on the ground.
Kashmir smiled and nodded. "Rest for a bit, drink some tea and eat. You will recover before long. " He stood up and left the man's side to address the crowd that had gathered. "All is well, everyone. Take a break for now, our pace has been strenuous. Eat, drink, and rest. We will continue in a couple hours. "
The crowd dispersed as the people search for a place to sit and rest their legs, talking amongst themselves about what had just taken place. John left the monk's side as well and walked over to Kashmir, placing a hand softly on his shoulder.
Kashmir turned around and smiled.
"I am sorry, my friend, for my-"
Kashmir cut him off by raising a hand. "Worry not, John. I understand your intended haste, I would have greater need of it myself were I a smarter man. "
John sighed in relief, "Were you yet able to pray? "
Nodding, Kashmir smiled again and replied, "Of course. I believe it the luck of the Gods that that man survived tonight. The wounds were worse than I had admitted to. He will be fine however. "
John returned the smile. "I am glad. Thank you, Kashmir. "
Kashmir clasped John's hand, "I am happy to be along for the ride, friend. "
Midday of the next day saw the end of the first half of their journey. John was the first to breach the summit, followed by a few of the hardier monks and priests. Kashmir arrived last, helping the monk that had been attacked the day before along the last steep incline. The view was breathtaking. There was naught on the top of the mountain aside from their party save the cool air as if breathed from the heavens themselves. This place truly was as close to the Gods as you could hope to reach. And below, through the sporadic cover of wispy clouds, could all the lands been seen. Kashmir looked over to the east, towards his home. Soon, darling. Soon I will return to your arms.
John walked up to Kashmir and slapped him hard on the back. "How about THIS! Is this not a spectacle greater than any you've witnessed before?"
Kashmir smiled warmly, "Almost, John. Almost. "
John took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air of the mountaintop. "Shall we now pray, my friend? I feel we have much to catch up on."
John ran down to the wounded man still lying on the ground. The warrior that had struck the wolf down sheathed his blade, and amidst deep breaths reported, "it came out of no where John, just attacked this man. "
John waived his hand, "no matter, this man needs attention. " The monk had deep lacerations along his arms and abdomen. The wolf had managed to tear through his robes with it's claws while scoring several bites on the man's arms.
Arriving at John's side Kashmir kneeled next to the man, surveying his wounds. "How's it look, Kash? "
Kashmir reached his hands out, touching the man's cuts on his stomach. The monk squirmed in pain. "They're not beyond repair, but only just. He is lucky." His hands over the man's body, Kashmir began to hum in tones, softly. With no visual indication of what was happening, the man's wounds began to glow white. Nothing much happened at first, until he started screaming in pain. John and the other warrior each held the man down to prevent him from further injuring himself. His wounds began to emit a fine white steam as Kashmir's magic cauterized them shut. It was a painful process, however, it was life saving in every instance John had ever seen it used.
Kashmir nodded when his task was done. "Bandage him, as the wounds may yet bleed. He will be well enough to walk in an hour or two though, the wounds weren't deep enough to cause severe damage. " The wounded monk grabbed Kashmir's hand and looked at him sternly. "Thank you, priest." was all he said before lying his head down on the ground.
Kashmir smiled and nodded. "Rest for a bit, drink some tea and eat. You will recover before long. " He stood up and left the man's side to address the crowd that had gathered. "All is well, everyone. Take a break for now, our pace has been strenuous. Eat, drink, and rest. We will continue in a couple hours. "
The crowd dispersed as the people search for a place to sit and rest their legs, talking amongst themselves about what had just taken place. John left the monk's side as well and walked over to Kashmir, placing a hand softly on his shoulder.
Kashmir turned around and smiled.
"I am sorry, my friend, for my-"
Kashmir cut him off by raising a hand. "Worry not, John. I understand your intended haste, I would have greater need of it myself were I a smarter man. "
John sighed in relief, "Were you yet able to pray? "
Nodding, Kashmir smiled again and replied, "Of course. I believe it the luck of the Gods that that man survived tonight. The wounds were worse than I had admitted to. He will be fine however. "
John returned the smile. "I am glad. Thank you, Kashmir. "
Kashmir clasped John's hand, "I am happy to be along for the ride, friend. "
Midday of the next day saw the end of the first half of their journey. John was the first to breach the summit, followed by a few of the hardier monks and priests. Kashmir arrived last, helping the monk that had been attacked the day before along the last steep incline. The view was breathtaking. There was naught on the top of the mountain aside from their party save the cool air as if breathed from the heavens themselves. This place truly was as close to the Gods as you could hope to reach. And below, through the sporadic cover of wispy clouds, could all the lands been seen. Kashmir looked over to the east, towards his home. Soon, darling. Soon I will return to your arms.
John walked up to Kashmir and slapped him hard on the back. "How about THIS! Is this not a spectacle greater than any you've witnessed before?"
Kashmir smiled warmly, "Almost, John. Almost. "
John took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air of the mountaintop. "Shall we now pray, my friend? I feel we have much to catch up on."
Syndrome.
John stood in the front of the large crowd of explorers, preparing to lead them on what they call an excursion. Their company had no name, yet they worked unanimously together. They explored the extreme reaches of the realm in search of higher religious understanding and knowledge. This particular area has been known to be home to several anomalies, thought to be caused by the Gods. Anomalies such a strange lights in the night skies and noises not known to be procured from any man nor beast. These journeys were often dangerous and requires a great amount of care along the way. Violence was not amongst their ideals, however in areas such as this it cannot be avoided at times. Many within the group were skilled warriors and mages. John was one such warrior. His skills honed in the arenas of a land which he has never spoken. His time as a slave was not one he cared to return his memory's eye toward. His freedom he had taken as an act of mercy from the Gods, for he was to die in the pits of the arena's underworld. Since his release he had traveled the world, in search of the hand that graced moved the will to see him free.
A torch in one hand, John turned towards the crowd, lifting it high above his head. His voice boomed out, reaching all ears, wanting of reception or not. "Listen up! We haven't much time. The storms of ice and snow here are not mere legend. The Gods have seen fit to bless us with a few days of relief. We must use this to our advantage! If we march fast, we will reach our goal on the summit of this peak in 2 days time, and another 2 for our return. We will begin in one hour! Pack all you will need and return to this area when ready. We will begin at the break of dawn! "
Lowering his torch, John stepped down off the outcropping of rock that had him hoisted above the heads of his many onlookers. At the bottom he met Kashmir, who was waiting expectantly. Kashmir, along with his pursuit of religious enlightenment, was a man of battle, the same as John. However his gift lie not in the harming of others, but in the healing. His gift of restorative magic had been a welcome presence these past few years. So invaluable were they, in fact, that the past several trips had seen not a single person lose their life, to any sort of attack or malady. His true purpose was not known to any, not even John, for he never spoke a word of his meaning behind his search. Though none asked, as his reasons were his own. "Kashmir! Is there something you needed before we left? "
Kashmir shook his head, smiling. "I am fine John, I just wished to know if we might pray before we departed. We could use all the favor we can get in his harsh climate. "
John looked forlorn at the request, "I am sorry Kashmir, but there is simply not enough time. We must finish preparations if we are to return safely before the weather worsens. I am truly sorry, my friend. " With that, he left Kashmir with a nod and walked towards the encampment now being torn down and packed up for the journey. He still had his own packing to do.
Upon reaching his tent, John looked back before entering to where he had left Kashmir. He still stood in the same spot as before, his head down. A pang of sorrow stabbed at John's heart.
It was noon of the next day. The progression had made good time thus far, blessed with an ever forgiving path. John stayed out front, leading the group towards the summit. Their path had taken them in a winding direction around the peak of the mountain, to avoid the need to scale. Their group was not large, only around 30 people followed behind John, however a vertical climb would be dangerous, and at the very least could slow them down significantly.
John turned his head around for a moment, peering through the faces, checking to ensure all looked well. Kashmir was near the rear of the party, where he always stayed, in order to keep an eye on everybody were something to happen. Turning his head back to the front, John pressed forward, allowing thoughts to run through his head. Thoughts of the previous night and the state in which he had left his friend. Thought they had only known each other for a small few years, Kashmir has been there alongside John since the founding of the missions. It pained John to have turned away Kashmir's request. The man took prayer very seriously, and John knew he had insulted his friend. He would have to make things right as soon as they reached -
"AUGGGHHHH!!!! "
A torch in one hand, John turned towards the crowd, lifting it high above his head. His voice boomed out, reaching all ears, wanting of reception or not. "Listen up! We haven't much time. The storms of ice and snow here are not mere legend. The Gods have seen fit to bless us with a few days of relief. We must use this to our advantage! If we march fast, we will reach our goal on the summit of this peak in 2 days time, and another 2 for our return. We will begin in one hour! Pack all you will need and return to this area when ready. We will begin at the break of dawn! "
Lowering his torch, John stepped down off the outcropping of rock that had him hoisted above the heads of his many onlookers. At the bottom he met Kashmir, who was waiting expectantly. Kashmir, along with his pursuit of religious enlightenment, was a man of battle, the same as John. However his gift lie not in the harming of others, but in the healing. His gift of restorative magic had been a welcome presence these past few years. So invaluable were they, in fact, that the past several trips had seen not a single person lose their life, to any sort of attack or malady. His true purpose was not known to any, not even John, for he never spoke a word of his meaning behind his search. Though none asked, as his reasons were his own. "Kashmir! Is there something you needed before we left? "
Kashmir shook his head, smiling. "I am fine John, I just wished to know if we might pray before we departed. We could use all the favor we can get in his harsh climate. "
John looked forlorn at the request, "I am sorry Kashmir, but there is simply not enough time. We must finish preparations if we are to return safely before the weather worsens. I am truly sorry, my friend. " With that, he left Kashmir with a nod and walked towards the encampment now being torn down and packed up for the journey. He still had his own packing to do.
Upon reaching his tent, John looked back before entering to where he had left Kashmir. He still stood in the same spot as before, his head down. A pang of sorrow stabbed at John's heart.
It was noon of the next day. The progression had made good time thus far, blessed with an ever forgiving path. John stayed out front, leading the group towards the summit. Their path had taken them in a winding direction around the peak of the mountain, to avoid the need to scale. Their group was not large, only around 30 people followed behind John, however a vertical climb would be dangerous, and at the very least could slow them down significantly.
John turned his head around for a moment, peering through the faces, checking to ensure all looked well. Kashmir was near the rear of the party, where he always stayed, in order to keep an eye on everybody were something to happen. Turning his head back to the front, John pressed forward, allowing thoughts to run through his head. Thoughts of the previous night and the state in which he had left his friend. Thought they had only known each other for a small few years, Kashmir has been there alongside John since the founding of the missions. It pained John to have turned away Kashmir's request. The man took prayer very seriously, and John knew he had insulted his friend. He would have to make things right as soon as they reached -
"AUGGGHHHH!!!! "
Syndrome.
"I won't be long, love. 'Tis a swift journey, and a small errand. The week's end shall see my home coming." Kashmir, a man of average build and fair looks yet of exceptional height, stood on his front door step. A slight breeze gently pushing his black, smooth hair across his bronzed face. He stood facing the only woman he need know in his life. His wife was a gift from the Gods that defied all reasoning. Beyond the intelligence allowed most human beings, beauty that he believes makes the days longer, loyalty that could cause a hound to doubt his service, and a humor that jackal's would envy. He could endure the curses of his life if she remained his companion.
She smiled at him, her features marred by perfection. "Your Gods that you pursue, will land you in trouble one of these days my husband. Theirs is not a power to take lightly. " As she had warned him countless times before. Kashmir smiled back, "In this, and this only, I consider your thoughts astray. They do so gift us with happiness. "
At this, a look of sadness crossed her eyes as she brought a hand to her belly. "But they do yet curse us in other ways. Forget that not, dear. "
Taking her hands, he comforted her as well as he could. "The fault lies not with you, 'tis I that bear the curse which holds a child from our arms. "
With a kiss on her lips he said, "Perhaps before my trip is through, the God's will have realized that fact. " Returning the smile to her face.
"Then with bated breath it is that I await your return. "
"I must leave with haste then, lest you wait too long to remember. " With another kiss, he released her hands and turned away down his steps and to his horse that awaited his presence at the bottom. The horses saddle was laden with supplies for his journey. Though it was short, it would be taxing for he must travel into the mountains to the west. The arduous trek required ample preparation. Mounting the horse turned towards his wife and returned the wave she bid him farewell with.
Turning on his steed he set off, leaving his wife and his modest country-side home behind him. The sun just barely having risen greeted his skin warmly.
"KASHMIR! "
He barely had time to dismount his horse than he was embraced in a hug unmatched by any bear. Laughing he returned the hug, "John! I had not thought to see you here on this excursion, was it not only a fortnight ago your wife gave birth? "
Breaking their grasp on each other John nodded, "Yes yes, but Sam can well take care of the little bastard. She has had experience in this, you know! " John newborn isn't their first and most likely not their last, for seven others have preceded the most recent. Their love for children keeps the whole lot of them well cared for, however.
Kashmir chuckled, "I suppose your right. Mayhap the two of you could give me some well heeded advice! "
John slapped Kashmir on the shoulder and laughed, "The only advice you need lies here, my friend. In this mountain. " Beyond his now outstretched arm, the whole of the mountainside lie before them. The wind was chill and the white of the snow reflected brightly the sun's midday gaze. It had taken Kashmir merely two days and nights to reach the destination. The remainder of the expedition were not to arrive until the next day. John's early arrival was a welcome surprise. "Of that you are correct, John, I do pray for our success here in the coming days. "
John nodded his agreement, "Shall we begin to set up the camp? We've a lot of work to do before we can set out. We may as well ready the area for the rest of the group. "
Nodding, Kashmir turned back to his horse and began unpacking the required supplies.
She smiled at him, her features marred by perfection. "Your Gods that you pursue, will land you in trouble one of these days my husband. Theirs is not a power to take lightly. " As she had warned him countless times before. Kashmir smiled back, "In this, and this only, I consider your thoughts astray. They do so gift us with happiness. "
At this, a look of sadness crossed her eyes as she brought a hand to her belly. "But they do yet curse us in other ways. Forget that not, dear. "
Taking her hands, he comforted her as well as he could. "The fault lies not with you, 'tis I that bear the curse which holds a child from our arms. "
With a kiss on her lips he said, "Perhaps before my trip is through, the God's will have realized that fact. " Returning the smile to her face.
"Then with bated breath it is that I await your return. "
"I must leave with haste then, lest you wait too long to remember. " With another kiss, he released her hands and turned away down his steps and to his horse that awaited his presence at the bottom. The horses saddle was laden with supplies for his journey. Though it was short, it would be taxing for he must travel into the mountains to the west. The arduous trek required ample preparation. Mounting the horse turned towards his wife and returned the wave she bid him farewell with.
Turning on his steed he set off, leaving his wife and his modest country-side home behind him. The sun just barely having risen greeted his skin warmly.
"KASHMIR! "
He barely had time to dismount his horse than he was embraced in a hug unmatched by any bear. Laughing he returned the hug, "John! I had not thought to see you here on this excursion, was it not only a fortnight ago your wife gave birth? "
Breaking their grasp on each other John nodded, "Yes yes, but Sam can well take care of the little bastard. She has had experience in this, you know! " John newborn isn't their first and most likely not their last, for seven others have preceded the most recent. Their love for children keeps the whole lot of them well cared for, however.
Kashmir chuckled, "I suppose your right. Mayhap the two of you could give me some well heeded advice! "
John slapped Kashmir on the shoulder and laughed, "The only advice you need lies here, my friend. In this mountain. " Beyond his now outstretched arm, the whole of the mountainside lie before them. The wind was chill and the white of the snow reflected brightly the sun's midday gaze. It had taken Kashmir merely two days and nights to reach the destination. The remainder of the expedition were not to arrive until the next day. John's early arrival was a welcome surprise. "Of that you are correct, John, I do pray for our success here in the coming days. "
John nodded his agreement, "Shall we begin to set up the camp? We've a lot of work to do before we can set out. We may as well ready the area for the rest of the group. "
Nodding, Kashmir turned back to his horse and began unpacking the required supplies.
From the beginning
With a splash, she fell face first onto the rain-soaked forest canopy, an arrow protruding from her back. She lay there, struggling to move, to lift her body up enough to find him, to see him. Footprints thundered past as she weakly gasped for breath, the mud rising to her mouth as the ground gave way to the weight of her body pressing against it, as if attempting to consume her. Her fair Elven skin already masked by the dirt and blood of the battle from which she had just fallen, the mud threatened to hide it forever. Through sheer power of will, she managed to prop her body up on one elbow, barely enough leverage to scan the ground in front of her.
There. Hardly a few feet from her, saved from the trampling feet of others like her fleeing the carnage by Gods she knew not existed, was her son. Not more than a few months old, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket to protect him from the elements. Her free arm reached out meekly, trying to reach him. To hold him one last time. Her strength was gone though, she could not muster enough force to move another inch. The arrow had paralyzed nearly her entire body. She would never see him again. Never see his eyes again. She knew not what lay in store for her people nor her son, she just hoped that he would live to see their survival.
A large boot landed next to the bundle of wool, followed by another on the other side. Two hands reached down and grabbed the child, hoisting it into the air, above her head to where she could not see the fate of her son. Extending the frost-bitten fingers of her outstretched arm, pleading for her child to be returned to her, she sighed her last breath, succumbing to the earth's grasp.
There. Hardly a few feet from her, saved from the trampling feet of others like her fleeing the carnage by Gods she knew not existed, was her son. Not more than a few months old, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket to protect him from the elements. Her free arm reached out meekly, trying to reach him. To hold him one last time. Her strength was gone though, she could not muster enough force to move another inch. The arrow had paralyzed nearly her entire body. She would never see him again. Never see his eyes again. She knew not what lay in store for her people nor her son, she just hoped that he would live to see their survival.
A large boot landed next to the bundle of wool, followed by another on the other side. Two hands reached down and grabbed the child, hoisting it into the air, above her head to where she could not see the fate of her son. Extending the frost-bitten fingers of her outstretched arm, pleading for her child to be returned to her, she sighed her last breath, succumbing to the earth's grasp.
Awakening
Somewhere deep in the ruins of Myth Drannor a scratching can be heard. Slow, rhythmic, and constant, the scratching sounds like an animal or beast clawing at a tree trunk. The demons and other denizens of the corrupted ruins pay no attention as a low mound of earth begins to shift. Suddenly, there is a cracking sound, as if wood were being broken and then a skeletal hand breaches the surface. Pulling itself out of the barrow, the skeletal form of a long dead moon elf drags its bones out of the earth. A low moaning escapes the thing as it rises and begins to lurch forward.
Something has awakened, and its wrath will be terrible.
A Farewell
With a final stroke of his pen, Kineada signed his missive to the Joybringers, and quickly glanced over what he had written. For one so glib of tongue, it was a decidedly short message, thanking the organization for its hospitality, and stating that if they ever had need of his services in the future, merely contact the wu jen and he would be happy to lend his assistance. Kineada rolled up the parchment and pressed one of his magical rings against it, sealing it with his dragon symbol. Calling for a page to collect the letter, he instructed the boy to pass it along to whoever passed for leader of the Joybringers these days.
After casually strapping his blade sheathes behind his back, for Kineada didn't anticipate any sort of martial activity this fine day, he set about gathering his meager belongings from about the room. Once the items were stashed away into his Bag of Holding, Kineada once again turned to regard the three items still remaining on his desk.
A pendant of a moon, surrounded by twelve bluish-white stars, an ornate wooden staff colored a deep shade of royal purple, and a red, silken sash, all recently delivered to him via mysterious circumstances, and all that remained unpacked. Kineada rubbed his chin, and regarded each item intently. He was fairly certain the items had been delivered by divine providence, all showing up on his desk overnight as he was asleep. Of their source, he was certain. None other than the Goddess Sune. Yet as for their meaning, he had no clue. Indeed, it was odd for Sune to be so indirect in her approach.
Shrugging his shoulders, and heaving one more heavy sigh, Kineada gathered up the three items, and placed them into his magical bag as well. With one more glance around the now empty room, Kineada proceeded with the incantation that would whisk him away from the hall, and set him on his latest journey.
Temple of the Brawler
Greetings mortals.
Here me now! I am Kord, your God of athletics, sports, brawling, strength and courage. In my time of need, I require an outlawed temple to be erected far from any form of government land or law. I require worshipers to construct in secret, a Temple to the Brawler in my honor, which would see outlawed fighting thrive and gather more and more support in the days to come. Rewards may be given, battles may be tipped in your favor, should you undertake my offer to follow, and build. Should such a temple be founded, great battles and victories will await those who choose to follow their liege. First off, the finding of such a land. Find me the land, where you believe my Temple would flourish, and then worship me on that land. Worship me by speaking your word to me, and I will answer.
Grab your weapon, and prepare for battle. Grab your fear, and harness its power. Take yourself, and kneel to me, and great battles will await...
Kord, the Brawler.
Here me now! I am Kord, your God of athletics, sports, brawling, strength and courage. In my time of need, I require an outlawed temple to be erected far from any form of government land or law. I require worshipers to construct in secret, a Temple to the Brawler in my honor, which would see outlawed fighting thrive and gather more and more support in the days to come. Rewards may be given, battles may be tipped in your favor, should you undertake my offer to follow, and build. Should such a temple be founded, great battles and victories will await those who choose to follow their liege. First off, the finding of such a land. Find me the land, where you believe my Temple would flourish, and then worship me on that land. Worship me by speaking your word to me, and I will answer.
Grab your weapon, and prepare for battle. Grab your fear, and harness its power. Take yourself, and kneel to me, and great battles will await...
Kord, the Brawler.
An Epiphany
A single beam of sunlight crept its way through the small, high window of Kineada's bedchambers, rousing the ancient wu jen from his light slumber. What was once an easy task for the mage, simply getting out of bed to face the day, increasingly was becoming a chore, and one he did not look forward to.
Swinging his legs off the side of his bed, Kineada slowly lifted his tired arms over his head, brushing his trusty katana and wakizashi hanging from the near bedpost, always at the ready, even in the warm confines of the Joybringer hall. The irony of this caused Kineada to chuckle inwardly, but then take on a more serious demeanor, as he realized perhaps this was the very cause of his current malaise.
Being a member of the Joybringers, despite them being a pleasant enough group of people, was leaving a feeling of disenchantment within the mage, a persistent, gnawing feeling that perhaps he hadn't found the right new "home" since the capricious Apostles of Sune dispersed to spread the word of their Goddess to a wider and more far-reaching number of civilizations unfamiliar with the fiery haired diety.
How fortunate, Kineada mused to himself, that as he was coming to terms with these feelings within his inner being, that several missives to him had recently arrived. Glancing across the room to his desk, Kineada again chuckled, knowing full well this was no coincidence. His Goddess was anything but subtle, and Kineada could see the hand of Sune in the three objects now resting on his otherwise empty desk. Donning his kimono, Kineada crossed the room to sit at his desk, pulling a blank scroll and writing pen from the desk drawer, and brushing the objects to the side. With a sigh, he took the pen to the parchment and began a letter to the Joybringers that had been a long time coming...
Temple of the Brawler
Greetings mortals.
Here me now! I am Kord, your God of athletics, sports, brawling, strength and courage. In my time of need, I require an outlawed temple to be erected far from any form of government land or law. I require worshipers to construct in secret, a Temple to the Brawler in my honor, which would see outlawed fighting thrive and gather more and more support in the days to come. Rewards may be given, battles may be tipped in your favor, should you undertake my offer to follow, and build. Should such a temple be founded, great battles and victories will await those who choose to follow their liege. First off, the finding of such a land. Find me the land, where you believe my Temple would flourish, and then worship me on that land. Worship me by speaking your word to me, and I will answer.
Grab your weapon, and prepare for battle. Grab your fear, and harness its power. Take yourself, and kneel to me, and great battles will await...
Kord, the Brawler.
Here me now! I am Kord, your God of athletics, sports, brawling, strength and courage. In my time of need, I require an outlawed temple to be erected far from any form of government land or law. I require worshipers to construct in secret, a Temple to the Brawler in my honor, which would see outlawed fighting thrive and gather more and more support in the days to come. Rewards may be given, battles may be tipped in your favor, should you undertake my offer to follow, and build. Should such a temple be founded, great battles and victories will await those who choose to follow their liege. First off, the finding of such a land. Find me the land, where you believe my Temple would flourish, and then worship me on that land. Worship me by speaking your word to me, and I will answer.
Grab your weapon, and prepare for battle. Grab your fear, and harness its power. Take yourself, and kneel to me, and great battles will await...
Kord, the Brawler.
The Clue
The thrall's neck snapped back with ferocious force. A small snap was heard seconds before a red crescent moon of a laceration appeared across his neck spewing blood in rhythmic torrents onto the cracked roadway. The thrall's silent screams came as mere sighs through his severed windpipe as a multitude of red slashes appeared across his body from some invisible force. And then as soon as it had started, it ended. The thrall's lifeless corpse slumped into the dark streets of Market Square, blood forming swiftly in a large pool before the fountain. The pool's crimson reflection gave way to a hunched figure silently slipping through the opposite end of the Square approaching the fountain. Covered in fresh sprays of blood, the stooped figure brushed back a lock of dirty, matted hair. His blood red eyes paid no mind the mutilated body as he passed it, kneeling before the pooled blood at the base of the fountain. He dipped his hands into the fluid so warm it nearly steamed in the chilled fall air, the feeling eliciting from him a snarl as if from a wild animal. Swiftly... Deftly... Furiously he worked. Smearing blood upon the base of the fountain like a madman, he worked with the tenacious force of a starving animal feeding. His hands moved smoothly along the fountain's walls, stopping only here and there to soak his hands in more blood below. Finally he stood, the thrall's blood streaming in rivulettes down his arms. Snarling again in satisfaction, he stalked from the fountain and into the night, leaving behind him the carnage of his kill and the crude mural of a totem next to a river painted red upon the side of the fountain.
Awakening
There it was again, that scratching feeling in my eyes. Opening them is worse. I close them again and wipe a hand across my face. Shards of rubble fall from my skin, I rub my fingertips together, it does not crumble. Concrete. I drop my hand to my side and feel around me, a few books, some parchment, and large blocks of rock. I remember now, the lower catacombs of the tower where I was studying? Had I misfired that badly? Drawing in a slow breath I cast the spell that would teleport me back to the Church of Destruction. Nothing Happened. Clasping the insignia I wore I used the magical telepathic link to speak to my brethren, before I had finished, my words had died off, there was no point, the link did not work. The church was gone. It was time to determine who was left, who was in control, and just what exactly had happened. But first, to rub this crap out of my eyes!
To be continued.
To be continued.
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