Aneh sat along the top of the bench, watching the foot traffic as it passed by. A slight frown settled across her face as her eyes stared blankly in one direction. Something wasn't right in the world. She didn't like it. But what was there to do about it? She had no proof anything was going on, really... A chill ran up her spine as she remembered the feeling of being watched the other day at the bakery.
Aneh focused on a small child that had been staring at her, shaking off her problems for the moment. The wide eyed child seemed rooted in place and Aneh felt a tug from somewhere deep inside of her. Something about the child was special but she couldn't quite place what. The child felt familiar, but Aneh knew she had never met the girl before. Aneh rose from the bench and approached the child who stared openly.
"What's your name child," Aneh asked softly, kneeling a foot away from the child. The child swallowed hard and reached a hand out, running her fingers over the odd studs that framed Aneh's features. Aneh closed her eyes at the touch, her world inwardly rocked with feelings innocently transfered from the child to her. She missed the child's name in the mass confusion inside her mind, and barely noticed as a worried parent came to take the hand of the child. "What do you think you are doing??" Aneh heard from the angry parent, as if she was under water. She shook her head to clear it, unable to fully regain her own senses. She sat back on the road, unable to move for a moment as the child was hauled away by the worried mother.
Aneh slowly stood after a few moments, her mind and vision finally clearing. The mother and child were gone, and Aneh was left alone in the dusty roadway, thoroughly confused about the encounter.
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."
Lifting the Veil (1-2)
Colin crouched beside a large tree, peering out from around the trunk at Velentham as the insane celestial tried to bait Gilean out of the warded protection of the cottage. Gilean had reached out mentally to he and Orn then Velentham had shown up, hoping that this would be a chance to force the return of Sanria. Orn had then arrived beside Colin before quickly transporting the two of them to the druid grove. The quickly begged for assistance form the few druids there, and while most where reluctant to get involved, two of the younger ones had agreed to assist.
Now Colin found himself waiting for an opening while Gilean, Orn, and the two druids bent nature and magic to their will, sending animated trees and rays of light at the taunting madman. As two of the trees converged on Velentham, Colin took his chance, rushing from cover and charging toward Velentham from the side.
Colin was met with the battered body of Kaliadra being tossed at him like a discarded ragdoll with minimal effort form Velentham. Colin instinctively dropped his blades and did his best to catch the broken elf, falling to the ground but managing to spare Kaliadra most of the impact. However, he was vulnerable.
Before he could even react, the celestial was inside his mind. Colin could feel the rough tendrils battering their way through his psyche and heard words spoken as if from a distance, 'Oh... this... he doesn't remember? Cousin! You say I'm a monster? What do you say - a man who uses the disadvantage of another to marry his wife?'
Colin grasped the sides of his head futilely. For all of his strength he could do nothing against this mental intrusion. He was completely at Velentham's mercy, and again, the celestial's voice filtered into his ears, 'What do you say? Let's let him remember, shall we?!'
'No!' But it wasn't Colin who said it. Suddenly, with a rough but precise shove, all the gaps were filled. As simply as a switch being flipped, Colin remembered everything. The memories came in a flood: he and Sanria on the beach, carrying Sanria in his arms to be married, years spent with her wandering dark landscapes, the birth of Orn, the birth of Leandra, struggling to be a father and husband while afflicted by instability. It was all back, and for a moment it was glorious.
Then the new memories merged with the current memories, and it was almost too much. Here he had been. He was back. He had even been with Sanria, unknowingly forming a new love for her even without the memories... but Gilean. How could his friend have taken advantage of his condition like this? How could he have taken Sanria, Colin's wife, as his own? No, this was all wrong. How could he?
The crack of stiff wood against body and a howl of pain brought Colin back to the present. He looked up to see Velentham staggering aside from Orn. Orn. His son, who he loved dearly.
The memories would have to wait. The questions would have to wait. The feelings would have to wait. Right now, they needed to take care of this monster. The rest... must come later.
Now Colin found himself waiting for an opening while Gilean, Orn, and the two druids bent nature and magic to their will, sending animated trees and rays of light at the taunting madman. As two of the trees converged on Velentham, Colin took his chance, rushing from cover and charging toward Velentham from the side.
Colin was met with the battered body of Kaliadra being tossed at him like a discarded ragdoll with minimal effort form Velentham. Colin instinctively dropped his blades and did his best to catch the broken elf, falling to the ground but managing to spare Kaliadra most of the impact. However, he was vulnerable.
Before he could even react, the celestial was inside his mind. Colin could feel the rough tendrils battering their way through his psyche and heard words spoken as if from a distance, 'Oh... this... he doesn't remember? Cousin! You say I'm a monster? What do you say - a man who uses the disadvantage of another to marry his wife?'
Colin grasped the sides of his head futilely. For all of his strength he could do nothing against this mental intrusion. He was completely at Velentham's mercy, and again, the celestial's voice filtered into his ears, 'What do you say? Let's let him remember, shall we?!'
'No!' But it wasn't Colin who said it. Suddenly, with a rough but precise shove, all the gaps were filled. As simply as a switch being flipped, Colin remembered everything. The memories came in a flood: he and Sanria on the beach, carrying Sanria in his arms to be married, years spent with her wandering dark landscapes, the birth of Orn, the birth of Leandra, struggling to be a father and husband while afflicted by instability. It was all back, and for a moment it was glorious.
Then the new memories merged with the current memories, and it was almost too much. Here he had been. He was back. He had even been with Sanria, unknowingly forming a new love for her even without the memories... but Gilean. How could his friend have taken advantage of his condition like this? How could he have taken Sanria, Colin's wife, as his own? No, this was all wrong. How could he?
The crack of stiff wood against body and a howl of pain brought Colin back to the present. He looked up to see Velentham staggering aside from Orn. Orn. His son, who he loved dearly.
The memories would have to wait. The questions would have to wait. The feelings would have to wait. Right now, they needed to take care of this monster. The rest... must come later.
Dreamless Dreaming
What is there to explain dreamless dreaming? What darkness can compare to the darkness unseen? Blackness that by its very emptiness doesn't exist while it exists. Void so permanent that all who enter into its caress are lost to even the sensation of being touched. The idea of even knowing one drifts in the inky blackness is lost in the deep folds of nothing. Does one truly exist here? Where, if not here, does one go that gives one inner life while the outer shell breathes?
After a long year in the confines of nowhere, deep in the vast darkness of the dreamless dreaming, Brin's eyes finally reopened and her consciousness came back online.
After a long year in the confines of nowhere, deep in the vast darkness of the dreamless dreaming, Brin's eyes finally reopened and her consciousness came back online.
Absolute Bottom
Sanria leaned heavily against Velentham's chest, her body numb. She wanted to cry, but whatever he was doing in her mind prevented her from shedding tears. Still, the deep sorrow pervaded her muscles, sitting there heavily, spreading apart the very fibers of her being until she felt nothing. There was nothing she could do. She'd seen the look of horror on his face and hoped it would be enough to spare her from bearing his child, but it wasn't. When he looked at her, she'd tried to keep the horror from her own face, but simply wasn't fast enough. Just as suddenly as he was disgusted, he was now in family mode. The idea that it would bond them sickened her.
There were no memories for Sanria to call upon. Her mind was blank as he held her tightly, squeezing her as though desiring to suffocate the life right out of her. At least he didn't smell like cigarettes anymore. Now he gave off a scent of sweat - sharp and acrid. In this moment, she could remember nothing and felt as though all there was in the world was this room and this man. The sensation caused her revolt, she could barely recall just the few moments past when she wanted to use the window to get out.
Sanria found herself pulled onto the bed, still cradled in the crushing embrace of Velentham's arms. He began to chuckle, quietly at first in a way that only shook his chest, then louder, blooming into a maniacal laugh. "What will they say when they find out, love? What will my cousin say when he discovers we've replaced his child with mine?"
The cousin... Sanria closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing a memory to the fore of her mind. Gilean's face came in a shimmer and was abruptly wiped away. "Don't," Velentham's voice said, warning and rancor in his tone. "I don't want you thinking about that man, he's no longer in your life. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good. We need to get home soon. I don't want the product of our love to be born in this hovel."
'Product of our love?' Sanria questioned. She didn't love -
As though she'd spoken aloud, Velentham pushed her back enough to look into her eyes, his own glowing slightly. "You do. And you have more reason than ever to listen to me." He placed a hand on her stomach, his eyes never leaving her own. "We are now bonded completely."
"We're not married," she said. 'Not bonded,' she added mentally. "I will fix that. If it means so much, I will locate one of the mages in this town to do honors. Then we'll be remarried in the eyes of our people." "No -" But he cut her short with a glare. After a moment, he forced a smile. "You need to learn the right way to think, love. You are mine. You belong to and with me. You are bearing my child. We are now a family. Everything I do is for you, for us. I'll protect you, take care of you, and ensure you have everything you desire."
"Then let me go."
"That," he said, holding her tighter, "is absolutely out of the question."
There were no memories for Sanria to call upon. Her mind was blank as he held her tightly, squeezing her as though desiring to suffocate the life right out of her. At least he didn't smell like cigarettes anymore. Now he gave off a scent of sweat - sharp and acrid. In this moment, she could remember nothing and felt as though all there was in the world was this room and this man. The sensation caused her revolt, she could barely recall just the few moments past when she wanted to use the window to get out.
Sanria found herself pulled onto the bed, still cradled in the crushing embrace of Velentham's arms. He began to chuckle, quietly at first in a way that only shook his chest, then louder, blooming into a maniacal laugh. "What will they say when they find out, love? What will my cousin say when he discovers we've replaced his child with mine?"
The cousin... Sanria closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing a memory to the fore of her mind. Gilean's face came in a shimmer and was abruptly wiped away. "Don't," Velentham's voice said, warning and rancor in his tone. "I don't want you thinking about that man, he's no longer in your life. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good. We need to get home soon. I don't want the product of our love to be born in this hovel."
'Product of our love?' Sanria questioned. She didn't love -
As though she'd spoken aloud, Velentham pushed her back enough to look into her eyes, his own glowing slightly. "You do. And you have more reason than ever to listen to me." He placed a hand on her stomach, his eyes never leaving her own. "We are now bonded completely."
"We're not married," she said. 'Not bonded,' she added mentally. "I will fix that. If it means so much, I will locate one of the mages in this town to do honors. Then we'll be remarried in the eyes of our people." "No -" But he cut her short with a glare. After a moment, he forced a smile. "You need to learn the right way to think, love. You are mine. You belong to and with me. You are bearing my child. We are now a family. Everything I do is for you, for us. I'll protect you, take care of you, and ensure you have everything you desire."
"Then let me go."
"That," he said, holding her tighter, "is absolutely out of the question."
Circumstances Convergent
No. This was wrong. He had been so careful before, but in his gloating, in his pride, he had forgotten to be careful. There it was, he felt its brand new spark within her- the promise of life come to fruition. A mongrel. A half-breed, worse than his cousin. The thought of accidentally siring a half-Celestial was abhorrent, yet here, in his woman, was his progeny.
He felt his ire rise and a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he cursed himself. He let her feel the life in her - weeks before her human senses would have known - and only when he saw the mortified look on her face did his tune change. How dare she note want his child? She should have been elated, ready finally to devote herself to him - instead she tried to hide the look of bewildered disgust.
"You are happy, aren't you?" and he watched her struggle for words. She had none, so he put them there...
"Yes, I'm so happy."
"My people will accept it... they must."
"Of course."
"I was careless, but there are ways. My people will accept us."
His mind was stretching in many directions at once. He opened the window for Sanria, keeping the protections in place, satisfying her begging for fresh air. He watched as she sat beside it to read. Her face was silhouetted against the bright sky beyond, and the perfection of her face brought a sudden pang of longing and protectiveness to Velentham. He wanted her undying devotion with a fierce longing, and he would protect his mongrel child and woman with renewed effort. She may not be perfect completely, she wasn't yet Celestial, but that would change. He would take her life and the child in her and they would be reborn properly.
He used magic to slam the window closed and held out his hand in a summons. "Come, that's enough reading. You will spend your time with me now." She looked on the verge of tears as he grasped her to his chest, holding her with a ferocity. "It was early, too soon, but regardless, our family is on the way. This will bond us together," he said, stroking her hair and her mind. "We will petition the child, too, and fix the mistakes of your birth and his - but for now, be happy my love. This is only further proof that this is right."
Velentham kissed away the saltwater that rolled down her face, tasting her tears as she leaned against him. He reached into her with magic, peering at the spark with wonder. This would be fixed, straightened out, and everything would be fine. He kissed Sanria, and she didn't pull away.
He felt his ire rise and a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he cursed himself. He let her feel the life in her - weeks before her human senses would have known - and only when he saw the mortified look on her face did his tune change. How dare she note want his child? She should have been elated, ready finally to devote herself to him - instead she tried to hide the look of bewildered disgust.
"You are happy, aren't you?" and he watched her struggle for words. She had none, so he put them there...
"Yes, I'm so happy."
"My people will accept it... they must."
"Of course."
"I was careless, but there are ways. My people will accept us."
His mind was stretching in many directions at once. He opened the window for Sanria, keeping the protections in place, satisfying her begging for fresh air. He watched as she sat beside it to read. Her face was silhouetted against the bright sky beyond, and the perfection of her face brought a sudden pang of longing and protectiveness to Velentham. He wanted her undying devotion with a fierce longing, and he would protect his mongrel child and woman with renewed effort. She may not be perfect completely, she wasn't yet Celestial, but that would change. He would take her life and the child in her and they would be reborn properly.
He used magic to slam the window closed and held out his hand in a summons. "Come, that's enough reading. You will spend your time with me now." She looked on the verge of tears as he grasped her to his chest, holding her with a ferocity. "It was early, too soon, but regardless, our family is on the way. This will bond us together," he said, stroking her hair and her mind. "We will petition the child, too, and fix the mistakes of your birth and his - but for now, be happy my love. This is only further proof that this is right."
Velentham kissed away the saltwater that rolled down her face, tasting her tears as she leaned against him. He reached into her with magic, peering at the spark with wonder. This would be fixed, straightened out, and everything would be fine. He kissed Sanria, and she didn't pull away.
Legend of Platinum
Faction name: Legend of Platinum
Faction type: Cult
Status: Defunct
Short-lived anti-Radiant Heart group that was created after members were evicted from Radiant Heart. They later joined the Vectorian Empire, dissolving the group naturally.
Faction type: Cult
Status: Defunct
Short-lived anti-Radiant Heart group that was created after members were evicted from Radiant Heart. They later joined the Vectorian Empire, dissolving the group naturally.
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