Arkain smiled slightly as he topped a large hill overlooking Westbridge. It was a welcomed sight after traveling as far as he did. He had been gone for nearly a year, searching for his elder brother, whom he hadn't seen since they were children, and he l
He trotted down a narrow path leading into the city. He was weary, and in desperate need of food and somewhere to stay for the night. It was late afternoon and hot, even with the sun blocked out by thick cumulus clouds that hung sporadically throughout t
"Ark!" A familiar voice echoed as the slender figure rapidly approached. The spell dropped from Arkain lips, and they parted with a crooked smile.
"Dimitri, my friend." He said with a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you!"
The friends shook hands and quickly embraced. It had been too long since the two friends saw each other, and the reunion was relieving.
"We didn't think you were coming back." Dimitri inquired. "There have been some changes within the guild that you should be aware of."
"New leadership, I presume?" It was a rhetorical question. "I hope you received the letter that I sent while I was away."
"Indeed we have, and we are honoring your resignation. Relic has been chosen as leader, as well as Vandalandius and myself."
Arkain knew that The Hoard leadership had changed since he left. His prolonged absence required it, and it was bitter sweet, but he was ready to pass it on. He was tired.
"You!" Arkain laughed hard. "You have been picked? Oh my dear friend, I couldn't have asked for better people." He nudged Dimitri and they both smiled and laughed as they slowly walked down the trail toward Westbridge
Showing posts with label Relic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relic. Show all posts
Resupply
"We are proud to count you two amongst us as brothers, and I cannot stress enough how appropriate is your timing."
Relic stood in the middle of a hallway on the second floor in the Eastern Wing of the great stone Keep of which he was now a leader. The idea, although several months old, had still not completely taken root in his mind; though he had been doing all he felt he could lately despite the hard times upon him and his brothers.
Before him was a collaboration of two others with whom he shared leadership as well as two recently initiated into the brotherhood. Though they were new, they were very old acquaintances of his, and he counted himself lucky to share a common vision with them once again. It was to these inidividuals, Akihiro and Maezura, to which he now spoke.
"Do not think I mean to speak lightly of the honor we recieve your presence with, however understand that you've come during trying times. There is much going on, much to be done... And we musn't waste any time."
Maezura, an elf, lithe of figure, yet taller than Relic raised an eyebrow. "Waste time? Doing what?"
"I do not wish to rush traditions, yet we must find out where you are to be placed amongst the ranks. You, Maezura, we have been talking about long before you came to us, and certainly long before we knew you would. We have a place we think you would fit well. As for you, Akihiro, we are still undecided, however, over the next few days I do not doubt we will be able to decide. We have already witness some of what you can do."
Akihiro nodded his large head, not saying a word.
"I know you have questions, but all will become clear soon enough. First we must proceed with our sectioning." Relic nodded to Akihiro and Maezura in turn. "If you don't mind, however, I would now have words with my peers."
As they two turned to leave, Vandalandius, a monstrous Titan of a priest spoke up, "By the way... Welcome to the oranization" and let them depart, a grin on his face.
Dimitri, a tall elf wearing a simple robe who nonetheless exuded a demeanor of power, turned to Relic as the other two departed, a look of amusement in his eyes. "We've found something."
The Titan nodded his head in agreement. "You're gonna like this too..." Relic raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm interested now... What've you got?" Vandalandius was the first to answer. "A junkyard."
Eyebrow still cocked Relic responded critically, "A... Junkyard? Of what sorts? Doesn't sound too promising..."
Smirking, Vandalandius said, "A Dwarven junkyard. An ancient... Dwarven junkyard." Though Relic could tell this was not the full story. "And what did you find there?"
Vandalandius looked to Dimitri who responded in a serious tone, "Shells... Podrikev shells."
Relic was startled; this was indeed a rare find. "Does anyone else know? Can you use them?"
The Titan nodded his head while the other shook his. This was all the information Relic needed. "We need to get to work..."
Relic stood in the middle of a hallway on the second floor in the Eastern Wing of the great stone Keep of which he was now a leader. The idea, although several months old, had still not completely taken root in his mind; though he had been doing all he felt he could lately despite the hard times upon him and his brothers.
Before him was a collaboration of two others with whom he shared leadership as well as two recently initiated into the brotherhood. Though they were new, they were very old acquaintances of his, and he counted himself lucky to share a common vision with them once again. It was to these inidividuals, Akihiro and Maezura, to which he now spoke.
"Do not think I mean to speak lightly of the honor we recieve your presence with, however understand that you've come during trying times. There is much going on, much to be done... And we musn't waste any time."
Maezura, an elf, lithe of figure, yet taller than Relic raised an eyebrow. "Waste time? Doing what?"
"I do not wish to rush traditions, yet we must find out where you are to be placed amongst the ranks. You, Maezura, we have been talking about long before you came to us, and certainly long before we knew you would. We have a place we think you would fit well. As for you, Akihiro, we are still undecided, however, over the next few days I do not doubt we will be able to decide. We have already witness some of what you can do."
Akihiro nodded his large head, not saying a word.
"I know you have questions, but all will become clear soon enough. First we must proceed with our sectioning." Relic nodded to Akihiro and Maezura in turn. "If you don't mind, however, I would now have words with my peers."
As they two turned to leave, Vandalandius, a monstrous Titan of a priest spoke up, "By the way... Welcome to the oranization" and let them depart, a grin on his face.
Dimitri, a tall elf wearing a simple robe who nonetheless exuded a demeanor of power, turned to Relic as the other two departed, a look of amusement in his eyes. "We've found something."
The Titan nodded his head in agreement. "You're gonna like this too..." Relic raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm interested now... What've you got?" Vandalandius was the first to answer. "A junkyard."
Eyebrow still cocked Relic responded critically, "A... Junkyard? Of what sorts? Doesn't sound too promising..."
Smirking, Vandalandius said, "A Dwarven junkyard. An ancient... Dwarven junkyard." Though Relic could tell this was not the full story. "And what did you find there?"
Vandalandius looked to Dimitri who responded in a serious tone, "Shells... Podrikev shells."
Relic was startled; this was indeed a rare find. "Does anyone else know? Can you use them?"
The Titan nodded his head while the other shook his. This was all the information Relic needed. "We need to get to work..."
Death's Grasp
Maezura sat under the cover of darkness, staring into the distance. The streets of Makou City is deserted as dusk set in. A platinum coin rolled across the shade's knuckles as he mused about the events in recent days. He knew The Order would come for him. He had spotted three of their acolytes today amongst the crowd.
When the night was darkest, the shade moved quickly through the city's alleyways before reaching a stone pathway barred off by a large wooden door reinforced by mithril. Ravens perched along the walls, staring quietly in the dead of the night. The door opened without resistance and Maezura stepped deeper into the darkness of the keep.
The tunnels ran deep with both ends flanked by portcullises that would drop, trapping invaders. Maezura banked to the west at the end of the tunnel. The walls in the foyer reached skyward with a large silk banner displayed across the back wall of the room.
"Skulls everywhere I go. Heh."
Maezura reached into his pocket, retrieving a platinum coin branded with a skull and hourglass on each side. The opposite end of the room stood an elf wearing plain robes. Maezura tossed the coin at the elf, catching with ease. A quick glance of the coin, and the elf nodded at the shade.
The occupants of the keep appeared from the corners of the room, blocking the entrance. Maezura recognized the two that flanked the plainly robed elf. Relic and Dinin showed a relaxed composure as they stood by. The room was silent as a single word was uttered:
"Welcome."
When the night was darkest, the shade moved quickly through the city's alleyways before reaching a stone pathway barred off by a large wooden door reinforced by mithril. Ravens perched along the walls, staring quietly in the dead of the night. The door opened without resistance and Maezura stepped deeper into the darkness of the keep.
The tunnels ran deep with both ends flanked by portcullises that would drop, trapping invaders. Maezura banked to the west at the end of the tunnel. The walls in the foyer reached skyward with a large silk banner displayed across the back wall of the room.
"Skulls everywhere I go. Heh."
Maezura reached into his pocket, retrieving a platinum coin branded with a skull and hourglass on each side. The opposite end of the room stood an elf wearing plain robes. Maezura tossed the coin at the elf, catching with ease. A quick glance of the coin, and the elf nodded at the shade.
The occupants of the keep appeared from the corners of the room, blocking the entrance. Maezura recognized the two that flanked the plainly robed elf. Relic and Dinin showed a relaxed composure as they stood by. The room was silent as a single word was uttered:
"Welcome."
Current Character Description - Relic Revenu
Pale fully-red eyes contrast spectacularly this Drow's dark ebony skin. Both of these hues darker and more washed-out than the average Dark Elf, quietly giving away a measure of the great amount of time his lifespan has encompassed. Neatly situated above his left eye, in an ink darker even than his skin, though almost faded beyond visibility, are three evenly spaced horizontal bars no more than a half-centimeter in width and twice that in length for the bottom most, somewhat smaller above that as they slightly taper upward. These markings join no others on his face, the rest marred only slightly by lines etched as a testament again to countless years of wear. His deep maroon lips remain permanently in a slight frown, though are otherwise neutral to the words that lay beneath them.
Framing his features, his ears stand prominently not betraying his ancient Elven roots. Though pointed as are most Elves', his left ear is absent the very tip. Defiant to the fact, however, this ear is heavily decorated with dozens of small golden loops, lining every available offering of flesh. Opposite this ear entirely, is home to but one adornment. His right ear bears a single teardrop shaped stud of a light cyan color pierced into his tragus. Between his ears his scalp has been shaved clean, free of all traces of the traditionally white Dark Elven hair. At his back are two scabbards, crossed though narrowly so; the hilts of the swords they contain resting only slightly behind and to the side of each ear, set this way for ease as they are drawn. The worn leather scabbards themselves, having a slight curve in them on the way to their silver-capped base, are adorned simply with the decorations that only battle could offer. The swords inside are rather long, causing the scabbards' bowed midsection to cross each other in the middle before extending back to their respective sides stopping slightly more than two feet from the ground.
On the Drow's feet two rugged black stained leather boots are worn, small iron studs decorating the heels and the toes. Tucked into their brim are, matching in color, a pair of roughly patched, baggy, leather breeches fastened with a thick, brown leather belt about his waist. The belt's buckle is crafted in the shape of a miniature masquerade mask. All along the length, have a dozen small holes been carved through, half on each side of the buckle. Small holsters, each with the protruding hilt of a dagger, have been secured to every opening, save one on the far right where a generously weighted coin purse has a strapping of its own. The Elf's right arm rests gently against this purse as if subconsciously guarding it. This arm and the respective hand are bare, though a long, wispy scar travels from the tip of his elbow in a spiral around the whole length of his arm making a sharp descent at the inside of his wrist down to his palm, where it ends in a crude tattoo of a snake's head filling a large portion of his palm, its red tongue snaking down the entirety of his middle finger. His left hand bears but a single ring on the appropriate finger.
Above his bicep on the same arm a piece of fabric has been tied in a knot, its color blackened due to dirt and grime from having never been removed. His torso is bare of clothing though bears several remnants of olden battle wounds, numerous scars of varying shapes and sizes. These scars are partially concealed by the two straps running across his chest, securing the scabbards and their cargo to his back. Fashioned similarly to his belt, are another dozen daggers fastened to these straps. They are slightly longer than the other in length, but are otherwise indifferent for all visual purposes. Around the Drow's neck is a single platinum chain, bearing a small stiletto as a pendant, resting between his collar bones; a trinket that is as simplistic as the rest of the man and everything he wears. Simple, yet it bears truths that a simple look cannot discern, but can be discovered somewhere in the depths of untold memories locked well behind the gaze of those red eyes.
Framing his features, his ears stand prominently not betraying his ancient Elven roots. Though pointed as are most Elves', his left ear is absent the very tip. Defiant to the fact, however, this ear is heavily decorated with dozens of small golden loops, lining every available offering of flesh. Opposite this ear entirely, is home to but one adornment. His right ear bears a single teardrop shaped stud of a light cyan color pierced into his tragus. Between his ears his scalp has been shaved clean, free of all traces of the traditionally white Dark Elven hair. At his back are two scabbards, crossed though narrowly so; the hilts of the swords they contain resting only slightly behind and to the side of each ear, set this way for ease as they are drawn. The worn leather scabbards themselves, having a slight curve in them on the way to their silver-capped base, are adorned simply with the decorations that only battle could offer. The swords inside are rather long, causing the scabbards' bowed midsection to cross each other in the middle before extending back to their respective sides stopping slightly more than two feet from the ground.
On the Drow's feet two rugged black stained leather boots are worn, small iron studs decorating the heels and the toes. Tucked into their brim are, matching in color, a pair of roughly patched, baggy, leather breeches fastened with a thick, brown leather belt about his waist. The belt's buckle is crafted in the shape of a miniature masquerade mask. All along the length, have a dozen small holes been carved through, half on each side of the buckle. Small holsters, each with the protruding hilt of a dagger, have been secured to every opening, save one on the far right where a generously weighted coin purse has a strapping of its own. The Elf's right arm rests gently against this purse as if subconsciously guarding it. This arm and the respective hand are bare, though a long, wispy scar travels from the tip of his elbow in a spiral around the whole length of his arm making a sharp descent at the inside of his wrist down to his palm, where it ends in a crude tattoo of a snake's head filling a large portion of his palm, its red tongue snaking down the entirety of his middle finger. His left hand bears but a single ring on the appropriate finger.
Above his bicep on the same arm a piece of fabric has been tied in a knot, its color blackened due to dirt and grime from having never been removed. His torso is bare of clothing though bears several remnants of olden battle wounds, numerous scars of varying shapes and sizes. These scars are partially concealed by the two straps running across his chest, securing the scabbards and their cargo to his back. Fashioned similarly to his belt, are another dozen daggers fastened to these straps. They are slightly longer than the other in length, but are otherwise indifferent for all visual purposes. Around the Drow's neck is a single platinum chain, bearing a small stiletto as a pendant, resting between his collar bones; a trinket that is as simplistic as the rest of the man and everything he wears. Simple, yet it bears truths that a simple look cannot discern, but can be discovered somewhere in the depths of untold memories locked well behind the gaze of those red eyes.
Swelling... the Members...
"No, no. Of course you're not being held to anything right now. We just want you to keep it in mind, that's all."
"I still don't see why you're coming to me with this... " "I've never been interested in half the things you and yours deal in. It's not really my thing."
"It's the half you are interested in that we care about. Like I said, don't make a decision right now, think on it."
He nodded at the dark-skinned elf, who looked more a warrior than a merchant; his half naked body riddled scars, and the rest looking as if he were ready to go to war, outfitted with some basic lightweight armor and more different types of weapons than he cared to count. "Will that be all then?"
"Yes, yes of course. I apologize for the inconvenience." The Drow nodded at a large cloaked man who had been standing uncomfortably close to him for the duration of their conversation. Obeying the nod, the man moved forward and, with a knife, severed the ropes binding him to his chair: the decidedly more uncomfortable part about his situation.
Rubbing his wrists where the tight ropes had chaffed his skin, he made a slight bow to the Elf who was still seated in his own wooden chair and skirted around the man towards the door. As he put his had on the knob however the Drow spoke up behind him. "Oh. By the way... Don't tell your friends."
Not a problem, he thought as he turned the knob and left the room behind
***
Relic stood, arms crossed, in a long hallway in the Keep with one of his brothers, a man he had known for generations; a human, several inches taller than Relic, though a bit more wiry. Although he was a fierce strider, by trade, he was the longest standing Vox of the Hoard, and though once a pupil of Relic's, they now sought council with each other.
"And what did he say?" the tall Human asked of Relic, speaking of one of his recent meetings with what they called "The Potential".
"Before or after he shit himself?", Relic replied with a grin.
The strider before him sighed. "Are you ever serious?"
Still grinning Relic said, "He said the same as all the rest, brother: that he would consider it. Which is all we ask in the first place." His grin fading he added, "Besides, we cannot expect to find true brothers by looking... you know this is how it's always been, they must come to us."
"Yes, I know, I know... but we still must get the word out. What about those closest to us? Have they said much?"
"No, they cannot, and will not, betray theirs until it is safe to do so, we can't expect more than that. The whisper, however, has been placed in their ears. All we can do is be patient."
"I hope patience will put coin in our pockets..."
"Stand on the right corner with enough patience and it will." Relic cackled at his own wit.
Rolling his eyes the taller man said, "We've got a lot of work to do, best that we get to it."
"I still don't see why you're coming to me with this... " "I've never been interested in half the things you and yours deal in. It's not really my thing."
"It's the half you are interested in that we care about. Like I said, don't make a decision right now, think on it."
He nodded at the dark-skinned elf, who looked more a warrior than a merchant; his half naked body riddled scars, and the rest looking as if he were ready to go to war, outfitted with some basic lightweight armor and more different types of weapons than he cared to count. "Will that be all then?"
"Yes, yes of course. I apologize for the inconvenience." The Drow nodded at a large cloaked man who had been standing uncomfortably close to him for the duration of their conversation. Obeying the nod, the man moved forward and, with a knife, severed the ropes binding him to his chair: the decidedly more uncomfortable part about his situation.
Rubbing his wrists where the tight ropes had chaffed his skin, he made a slight bow to the Elf who was still seated in his own wooden chair and skirted around the man towards the door. As he put his had on the knob however the Drow spoke up behind him. "Oh. By the way... Don't tell your friends."
Not a problem, he thought as he turned the knob and left the room behind
***
Relic stood, arms crossed, in a long hallway in the Keep with one of his brothers, a man he had known for generations; a human, several inches taller than Relic, though a bit more wiry. Although he was a fierce strider, by trade, he was the longest standing Vox of the Hoard, and though once a pupil of Relic's, they now sought council with each other.
"And what did he say?" the tall Human asked of Relic, speaking of one of his recent meetings with what they called "The Potential".
"Before or after he shit himself?", Relic replied with a grin.
The strider before him sighed. "Are you ever serious?"
Still grinning Relic said, "He said the same as all the rest, brother: that he would consider it. Which is all we ask in the first place." His grin fading he added, "Besides, we cannot expect to find true brothers by looking... you know this is how it's always been, they must come to us."
"Yes, I know, I know... but we still must get the word out. What about those closest to us? Have they said much?"
"No, they cannot, and will not, betray theirs until it is safe to do so, we can't expect more than that. The whisper, however, has been placed in their ears. All we can do is be patient."
"I hope patience will put coin in our pockets..."
"Stand on the right corner with enough patience and it will." Relic cackled at his own wit.
Rolling his eyes the taller man said, "We've got a lot of work to do, best that we get to it."
Bedlam
Faction name: Bedlam
Faction type: Cult
Status: Defunct
According to Relic
An old anti-governmental cult that opposed the Tripower Kingdom and Vectorian Empire. It was interested in the downfall of governments and instating people's governments. It was mostly centered around gang and pirate oriented activities, led by Relic. Bedlam was closely tied to Shadow Thieves, and became almost a direct branch of the clan. A lot of Shadow Thieves "contracts" that dealt with Bedlam's main focus were taken care of by the cult itself.
The phrase "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust" played an important role in cult code. Often with the leader stating "Ashes to ashes", and the return of any Bedlam member would be "Dust to dust". The Bedlam organization was rich enough to have owned at least one airship. (Bedlam One)
According to The Jihad
Bedlam was a group of Cyricists and other maniacal Jenovese that did not believe The Truth. Rather, as the traditional histories claimed, they believed that The Apprentice was indeed insane, and that his world was indeed filled with anguish and strife. Bedlam's aim, like Jihad's, was to find ways of resurrecting The Apprentice- for very different reasons. They believed that when The Apprentice was resurrected, he would fill the world with strife, and Cyric would rise from his throne to assume his true form- as The Apprentice. They believed that Cyric was, in fact, already The Apprentice, and that The Prophecy was a prophecy of Cyric's ascension into Elder Godhood.
Bedlam pursues many paths to achieve their goals. One was to sometimes subvert the efforts of other Jenovese in order to prevent the fall of the RoK- which they believed caused far more strife still aloft in the sky than if it were to fall. Another, is their effort to gather the Four Elemental Swords of Ragnarok and to take them to the Temple of Light- and to use the powerful wish thereby gained to resurrect The Apprentice without the fall of the Rok.
Most, though not all, members of Bedlam did not pursue any interest in the other five Divisions of Jihad- instead, preferring to act independently as an unofficial sixth Division. The actions of Bedlam were not sanctioned by the Jenovese. In fact, when a member of Bedlam was discovered, that member was sent into exile, if not slain outright. Most Jenovese considered Bedlam a fanatical group beyond redemption.
Faction type: Cult
Status: Defunct
According to Relic
An old anti-governmental cult that opposed the Tripower Kingdom and Vectorian Empire. It was interested in the downfall of governments and instating people's governments. It was mostly centered around gang and pirate oriented activities, led by Relic. Bedlam was closely tied to Shadow Thieves, and became almost a direct branch of the clan. A lot of Shadow Thieves "contracts" that dealt with Bedlam's main focus were taken care of by the cult itself.
The phrase "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust" played an important role in cult code. Often with the leader stating "Ashes to ashes", and the return of any Bedlam member would be "Dust to dust". The Bedlam organization was rich enough to have owned at least one airship. (Bedlam One)
According to The Jihad
Bedlam was a group of Cyricists and other maniacal Jenovese that did not believe The Truth. Rather, as the traditional histories claimed, they believed that The Apprentice was indeed insane, and that his world was indeed filled with anguish and strife. Bedlam's aim, like Jihad's, was to find ways of resurrecting The Apprentice- for very different reasons. They believed that when The Apprentice was resurrected, he would fill the world with strife, and Cyric would rise from his throne to assume his true form- as The Apprentice. They believed that Cyric was, in fact, already The Apprentice, and that The Prophecy was a prophecy of Cyric's ascension into Elder Godhood.
Bedlam pursues many paths to achieve their goals. One was to sometimes subvert the efforts of other Jenovese in order to prevent the fall of the RoK- which they believed caused far more strife still aloft in the sky than if it were to fall. Another, is their effort to gather the Four Elemental Swords of Ragnarok and to take them to the Temple of Light- and to use the powerful wish thereby gained to resurrect The Apprentice without the fall of the Rok.
Most, though not all, members of Bedlam did not pursue any interest in the other five Divisions of Jihad- instead, preferring to act independently as an unofficial sixth Division. The actions of Bedlam were not sanctioned by the Jenovese. In fact, when a member of Bedlam was discovered, that member was sent into exile, if not slain outright. Most Jenovese considered Bedlam a fanatical group beyond redemption.
Getting Started.
Relic nodded, "Worth your while, trust me. Everything is going through a third party, I'm simply the procurer, for both sides. You produce the supplies, they produce the money, I'm the middle man." Leaning back in his chair in turn, he allowed his words to be a bit louder, "There will need to be some initial trust, of course. They will need at least the first shipment before they can pay, but you need only place that trust in me."
"I have no reason not to trust you. How are the shipments to be made?"
"We will provide the transportation and the locations for pickup and delivery. As always, we will need to be discrete with this so-" Tim lifted a hand to stop his words, and replace them with his own. "Relic, how long have we been in business? You needn't worry about discovery."
Relic nodded, satisfied. "That's why I came to you. Unfortunately, I have other's I need to visit as well. Scrolls and wands are barely scratching the surface."
"Of course, my friend. I-" A look of recognition came across Tim's face in mid-sentence. "Oh dear, you're going to Torregiano, aren't you?"
Relic smirked in agreement, "I most certainly am. In the morning." He pushed his chair back, standing up, "You can't talk me out of it."
Tim stood up as well, a look of exasperation on his face. "Just don't kill the kid. He was never in the right state of mind to begin, now he's paranoid to the point of being delusional."
Relic laughed, "As long as he can still get me what I want. And I don't expect that's changed." he smiled and extended his hand. Tim sighed and reached across the table, a receipt of their deal. Relic smiled and lifted his hood, "A pleasure doing business, old friend."
"As always, Relic."
At that, Relic turned and left the office, a few seconds later the main entrance to the shop could be heard. Tim sat back down and refilled his glass. He pushed the original scroll he had been writing on off to the side and pulled out a blank parchment. There was work to be done, and lots of it.
"I have no reason not to trust you. How are the shipments to be made?"
"We will provide the transportation and the locations for pickup and delivery. As always, we will need to be discrete with this so-" Tim lifted a hand to stop his words, and replace them with his own. "Relic, how long have we been in business? You needn't worry about discovery."
Relic nodded, satisfied. "That's why I came to you. Unfortunately, I have other's I need to visit as well. Scrolls and wands are barely scratching the surface."
"Of course, my friend. I-" A look of recognition came across Tim's face in mid-sentence. "Oh dear, you're going to Torregiano, aren't you?"
Relic smirked in agreement, "I most certainly am. In the morning." He pushed his chair back, standing up, "You can't talk me out of it."
Tim stood up as well, a look of exasperation on his face. "Just don't kill the kid. He was never in the right state of mind to begin, now he's paranoid to the point of being delusional."
Relic laughed, "As long as he can still get me what I want. And I don't expect that's changed." he smiled and extended his hand. Tim sighed and reached across the table, a receipt of their deal. Relic smiled and lifted his hood, "A pleasure doing business, old friend."
"As always, Relic."
At that, Relic turned and left the office, a few seconds later the main entrance to the shop could be heard. Tim sat back down and refilled his glass. He pushed the original scroll he had been writing on off to the side and pulled out a blank parchment. There was work to be done, and lots of it.
Getting Started.
"Sir, there's someone here to see you."
The old wizard looked up from a scroll he was scribbling on and looked over his rectangular glasses at the boy in his doorway. He was a good boy, though a bit dense at times. Pushing a lock of his wispy, unkempt white hair out of his face he scowled in response. "Don't you know what time it is, boy? We're closed, tell him to come back tomorrow! And don't bother me again! I may be old, but I still have to work for a living." At that, the old man dropped his head, returning to his work. He lifted a hand and waived the boy off. "Shoo now."
"S-Sorry, sir", the boy stammered. "H-He told me to tell you, 'Y-You'd look better if you'd just keep the damn mask on. ' Sir."
The old man looked up immediately, dropping his quill on the parchment, causing some of the ink to splash over his words. "Did he now..." he replied. "Well this is unexpected indeed. Come," meekly pushing himself out of his chair, he raised a hand towards the doorway that the young boy was still standing in, "We musn't keep him waiting."
The boy nodded and turned around, walking through the door only slightly ahead of his master. The two left the small office, walking into the store that lay beyond. Only a single lantern on the counter was illuminated, casting it's faint light on the many bookshelves lining the walls. The shadows from the scrolls which inhabited them stretched back into the darkness of the shop. Standing in the doorway was an uncharacteristically muscular Dark Elf, wearing a long, black cloak, its hood down and still dripping from the rain outside.
After only a moment's pause, the old wizard threw his hands in the air and walked towards the elf. "Relic!!" He exclaimed loudly, startling his store hand into a slight jump.
Chuckling, Relic extended his arms and embraced the old man. "Tim, it's good to see you." The two patted each other's shoulder as they pulled apart. "Still old, I see."
Tim threw a hand up in the air, "Pah! Still as pleasant as ever." He turned around towards the kid still standing near the office door. "Boy, fetch us some water." Tim motioned Relic with a hand over his shoulder,
"Come, let's get out of this drafty doorway."
Relic obliged and followed the man into his office. Tim walked around the table and sat down in his seat, motioning to the chair opposite him indicating his guest to take it. "Sit, sit."
As he took the chair, Tim's store hand walked in the room with two glasses and a pitcher of water. He set them on the table between the two men then scuttled back out of the room, knocking a glass over in his haste. "Grow a pair!" Tim yelled at his back as he picked the glass up, scowling all the while.
Relic chuckled his amusement, "You always had a way with them, didn't you?"
Tim rolled his eyes and filled the two glasses, "They come dumber each time. Hopeless twits." He handed one glass to Relic and lifted the other in cheers, to which Relic returned the gesture. Setting his glass down,
Tim looked up and smiled. "It is good to see you my dear friend. It has been a long time."
Nodding in agreement Relic responded, "Indeed it has. I regret that this isn't merely a visit without purpose."
Tim looked at the Drow scrupulously. "No, I don't suppose you've ever been much the time to stop by and chat about the weather, have you?" He shook his head at his own query and took another sip of water. "What business brings you here, then?"
"Certainly you know of the state of things in this disaster of a city," Tim scoffed in response. "Too well." Relic nodded. "I can't divulge all that I know, the wrong ears could hear the right information." Relic leaned in slightly. "However, what you need to know is that there's money to be made. And in no short supply."
Tim raised an eyebrow, "Go on..."
"I need supplies. A lot... Of supplies. Scrolls, wands, staves, enchantments. Of all sorts too, curative, destructive, creation." Relic lowered his voice, "Enough for an army, and I need it delivered to one."
Tim leaned back in his chair, glancing at the door to his office, still closed tightly. "And the payment?"
The old wizard looked up from a scroll he was scribbling on and looked over his rectangular glasses at the boy in his doorway. He was a good boy, though a bit dense at times. Pushing a lock of his wispy, unkempt white hair out of his face he scowled in response. "Don't you know what time it is, boy? We're closed, tell him to come back tomorrow! And don't bother me again! I may be old, but I still have to work for a living." At that, the old man dropped his head, returning to his work. He lifted a hand and waived the boy off. "Shoo now."
"S-Sorry, sir", the boy stammered. "H-He told me to tell you, 'Y-You'd look better if you'd just keep the damn mask on. ' Sir."
The old man looked up immediately, dropping his quill on the parchment, causing some of the ink to splash over his words. "Did he now..." he replied. "Well this is unexpected indeed. Come," meekly pushing himself out of his chair, he raised a hand towards the doorway that the young boy was still standing in, "We musn't keep him waiting."
The boy nodded and turned around, walking through the door only slightly ahead of his master. The two left the small office, walking into the store that lay beyond. Only a single lantern on the counter was illuminated, casting it's faint light on the many bookshelves lining the walls. The shadows from the scrolls which inhabited them stretched back into the darkness of the shop. Standing in the doorway was an uncharacteristically muscular Dark Elf, wearing a long, black cloak, its hood down and still dripping from the rain outside.
After only a moment's pause, the old wizard threw his hands in the air and walked towards the elf. "Relic!!" He exclaimed loudly, startling his store hand into a slight jump.
Chuckling, Relic extended his arms and embraced the old man. "Tim, it's good to see you." The two patted each other's shoulder as they pulled apart. "Still old, I see."
Tim threw a hand up in the air, "Pah! Still as pleasant as ever." He turned around towards the kid still standing near the office door. "Boy, fetch us some water." Tim motioned Relic with a hand over his shoulder,
"Come, let's get out of this drafty doorway."
Relic obliged and followed the man into his office. Tim walked around the table and sat down in his seat, motioning to the chair opposite him indicating his guest to take it. "Sit, sit."
As he took the chair, Tim's store hand walked in the room with two glasses and a pitcher of water. He set them on the table between the two men then scuttled back out of the room, knocking a glass over in his haste. "Grow a pair!" Tim yelled at his back as he picked the glass up, scowling all the while.
Relic chuckled his amusement, "You always had a way with them, didn't you?"
Tim rolled his eyes and filled the two glasses, "They come dumber each time. Hopeless twits." He handed one glass to Relic and lifted the other in cheers, to which Relic returned the gesture. Setting his glass down,
Tim looked up and smiled. "It is good to see you my dear friend. It has been a long time."
Nodding in agreement Relic responded, "Indeed it has. I regret that this isn't merely a visit without purpose."
Tim looked at the Drow scrupulously. "No, I don't suppose you've ever been much the time to stop by and chat about the weather, have you?" He shook his head at his own query and took another sip of water. "What business brings you here, then?"
"Certainly you know of the state of things in this disaster of a city," Tim scoffed in response. "Too well." Relic nodded. "I can't divulge all that I know, the wrong ears could hear the right information." Relic leaned in slightly. "However, what you need to know is that there's money to be made. And in no short supply."
Tim raised an eyebrow, "Go on..."
"I need supplies. A lot... Of supplies. Scrolls, wands, staves, enchantments. Of all sorts too, curative, destructive, creation." Relic lowered his voice, "Enough for an army, and I need it delivered to one."
Tim leaned back in his chair, glancing at the door to his office, still closed tightly. "And the payment?"
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)