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.
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.
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