*A rolled parchment appears in the air before you and settles into your hand. It unseals itself and opens to the words within.*
Kineada and Vorcet,
There are a few issues I need to discuss with both of you and given our schedules, I feel a missive will be best for preliminaries. As you are both aware, Westbridge has been under Vectorian occupation for some time. Though TriPower had once geared up for an assault on the backward government, with Throm's demise and the seeming retreat of their armies, it has once again been left to the citizenry to fight for themselves. It is no surprise that the oppressed have grown accustomed to their treatment, too afraid to make a bid for their freedom, as Vector's punishments are brutal and swift.
I feel it is left to those of us who aid in keeping balance to restore Westbridge back to what it should be - an open hub for all, a diverse city where many races can freely travel, and many governments and clans as well.
It falls to us, then, to begin a crusade to squash the occupation, but I must have the agreement of both of you before we begin seeking out others who will readily aid us. This in itself will be difficult, as where I see numbers, other clans see affiliations and may not readily work side by side to garner support and free Westbridge. However, this is a secondary issue to the primary. Do we feel the obligation strongly enough to embroil our clan with the political mixings of Vector?
My vote, of course, is an unequivocal yes. It is important, people need help... I feel it is time to bring about balance for Westbridge once more.
Sanria
Thunder Crash
Sanria tried to focus on the letter on her desk. She clenched the pen in her hand and pressed hard, her hair continually needing to be pushed back as she wrote. She had gone home and talked to Colin about what her plans were only to be met with a desperate plea for her to stay out of political affairs. "Send someone else! There has to be someone else!" Colin had growled. He was angry at the Keepers, as though they somehow had put her up to the plot. He was just angry. Sanria knew that the black makou in him was at fault, but it had gotten increasingly difficult to do the job she had signed up to do while Colin wanted her closer and closer to him. It was stifling. When she told Colin she had terminated her most recent... mistake... she watched him do everything short of tear down the cavern. Nioma now sat in Sanria's office, laying on her back, playing in quiet contentment with her magical toys. Safe from the rampage back home.
The truth was, Sanria hadn't done anything yet. She hadn't done anything but try to push Colin away, push him to the brink, make him want to leave her side. She'd acted on nothing. She shook her head. It was no one's business what was going on with her body. No one needed to know, not yet. There were reasons, she knew, for Colin's desperation. A singular one, more than the others, that lay cooing to herself on the floor. A child that he didn't make yet was raising. Sanria shook her head again and pulled in her focus.
"Kineada and Vorcet, There are a few issues I need to discuss with both of you and given our schedules, I feel a missive will be best for the preliminaries."
Sanria paused again. Her throat closed up, her eyes burned. The last thing she needed was anyone doubting her capacity to lead and make decisions. She clenched her teeth, forcing every emotion that roiled within her to the back of her mind.There was business to take care of now that would get her every attention.
The truth was, Sanria hadn't done anything yet. She hadn't done anything but try to push Colin away, push him to the brink, make him want to leave her side. She'd acted on nothing. She shook her head. It was no one's business what was going on with her body. No one needed to know, not yet. There were reasons, she knew, for Colin's desperation. A singular one, more than the others, that lay cooing to herself on the floor. A child that he didn't make yet was raising. Sanria shook her head again and pulled in her focus.
"Kineada and Vorcet, There are a few issues I need to discuss with both of you and given our schedules, I feel a missive will be best for the preliminaries."
Sanria paused again. Her throat closed up, her eyes burned. The last thing she needed was anyone doubting her capacity to lead and make decisions. She clenched her teeth, forcing every emotion that roiled within her to the back of her mind.There was business to take care of now that would get her every attention.
Rain
Rain clattered on the roofs of Emerald street, engulfed in the blackness of the night. It was autumn and lately the wind had turned cold and vicious. Winter would soon be on the doorstep of Westbridge. On Penny Lane a young boy, dressed in rags, was scavenging coins from the large white marble fountain that gushed forth. Further up, on Emerald street, a dog barked. The sound of gnarl-like chattering of the Vectorian speech became audible and the boy raised in alarm. But alas, Penny Lane was a dead end, and the light of the Enforcers had caught him in the act.
From the shadows, another ragged beggar watched as the Vectorian Enforcers had their fun with the boy and beat him up until his skull collided with the marble of the fountain's edge. Before the Enforcers left, the boy was kicked in the gut twice and then left to rot as the garbage they thought he was. The puddles around the boy were tainted red, as were the coins in his clutched fist. It was a Westbridge mentality these days. What I find is mine, and I keep what I find. For under Vectorian rule, life was harsh. Death for coins, coins for food.
After the Enforcers left, the other beggar rose up from the shadows and walked over to the boy. He evaded the puddles as he went, and kneeled next to the boy. The lad was still alive, but barely. With ease, he pried the fist open and took the coins from him. And then, surprisingly lifted the boy up in his arms, and retreated into the shadows with him as the rain washed away the blood.
From the shadows, another ragged beggar watched as the Vectorian Enforcers had their fun with the boy and beat him up until his skull collided with the marble of the fountain's edge. Before the Enforcers left, the boy was kicked in the gut twice and then left to rot as the garbage they thought he was. The puddles around the boy were tainted red, as were the coins in his clutched fist. It was a Westbridge mentality these days. What I find is mine, and I keep what I find. For under Vectorian rule, life was harsh. Death for coins, coins for food.
After the Enforcers left, the other beggar rose up from the shadows and walked over to the boy. He evaded the puddles as he went, and kneeled next to the boy. The lad was still alive, but barely. With ease, he pried the fist open and took the coins from him. And then, surprisingly lifted the boy up in his arms, and retreated into the shadows with him as the rain washed away the blood.
The Blueprint
As he ascended the stairway into the tree, memories flooded back to Ror. Inside Ror saw that the furniture had long ago decided to fall apart and decay, and nature had taken over. He used a stick to brush the many spider rags aside, and concluded that his home would need extensive work to make it habitable again. After some time, he worked his way into what was once a living room. Gliding with his hand over the carving in the wall, he smiled, triggered by the happy memories. Ror continued his inspection and eventually found the study, and surprisingly, there was an intact box of makou crystal sitting in the rubble of what once had been his desk. Of course, thought Ror, as he kneeled and touched the crystal. How could I have forgotten? A faint click was heard under Ror's touch and he grinned. "You were expensive, but worth the money. And if you are still here," whispered Ror, "are your contents as well?" He pushed open the lid and then smiled broadly. Unharmed by the passing of time was a scroll he had cared for quite a bit. He took it out, and unrolled it in his lap. The ink had not faded, the blueprint had survived.
Answers, and more Questions
"I thought I might find you here Garlech." Vorcet said as he strode up beside the tall golden Rilmani at the edge of the balcony overlooking the island.
"I spend much of my time observing, it is our purpose." responded Garlech as he turned toward Vorcet. "What can I do for you?"
"A series of nagging questions regarding what the Black Church did to silence the gods here." Vorcet began carefully. "As I am sure you know all forms of contact with the gods has been cut. No answered prayers, no manifestations. Rumors fly as to what this means. Are the gods dead? or are they simply unable to interact with the prime material plane?"
"I believe this is the most I have heard you speak since you took up residence here Vorcet." Garlech responded with a ghost of a smirk on his face.
"I've lived a long life by human standards, I have learned the value of a carefully guarded tongue when it becomes necessary." Vorcet responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Still, when there is something that is uncertain, such as the fate of our gods.... Im unable to help myself."
The slight smile slipped from Garlechs face as it fell back to the practiced expression of neutrality that was his norm. A few moments passed before he responded. "We know not the fate of the gods. However, were I an experienced wielder of magic, I might bend my time toward learning extra-planar travel."
Vorcet pondered that for a moment as he looked out over the lands beyond the island. "Planeswalking magics have been lost to us for hundreds of years." Vorcet mused more to himself than anything. "There has been the rare exceptions, but their secrets have always died with them."
"Are you so sure of that Vorcet?" Garlech responded carefuly. "The Netherese were planeswalkers. How much of their knowledge has been preserved?"
Silence fell on the balcony as the wheels started turning in Vorcet's head. "I believe my work here is done, and I can say no more." Garlech said as he slipped through the doorway with his unnatural grace.
"I spend much of my time observing, it is our purpose." responded Garlech as he turned toward Vorcet. "What can I do for you?"
"A series of nagging questions regarding what the Black Church did to silence the gods here." Vorcet began carefully. "As I am sure you know all forms of contact with the gods has been cut. No answered prayers, no manifestations. Rumors fly as to what this means. Are the gods dead? or are they simply unable to interact with the prime material plane?"
"I believe this is the most I have heard you speak since you took up residence here Vorcet." Garlech responded with a ghost of a smirk on his face.
"I've lived a long life by human standards, I have learned the value of a carefully guarded tongue when it becomes necessary." Vorcet responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Still, when there is something that is uncertain, such as the fate of our gods.... Im unable to help myself."
The slight smile slipped from Garlechs face as it fell back to the practiced expression of neutrality that was his norm. A few moments passed before he responded. "We know not the fate of the gods. However, were I an experienced wielder of magic, I might bend my time toward learning extra-planar travel."
Vorcet pondered that for a moment as he looked out over the lands beyond the island. "Planeswalking magics have been lost to us for hundreds of years." Vorcet mused more to himself than anything. "There has been the rare exceptions, but their secrets have always died with them."
"Are you so sure of that Vorcet?" Garlech responded carefuly. "The Netherese were planeswalkers. How much of their knowledge has been preserved?"
Silence fell on the balcony as the wheels started turning in Vorcet's head. "I believe my work here is done, and I can say no more." Garlech said as he slipped through the doorway with his unnatural grace.
Discussions
The clanning of Kronk and Orn was complete as Sanria sank behind her desk. She was happy to have her son among the ranks, happy to have Kronk finally given a home, but her concerns had nearly immediately turned to Ror again.
It had been some time since she'd spoken to the elf, a fact which didn't bother Sanria by any stretch. The less she had to speak to him, the better. It meant she wouldn't have to dredge up Throm again. But when they had spoken about Westbridge, her mind turned. She had been content to remain out of the fight, but lately her comfortability had begun to wane. Her answer was not sufficient. Knowing people were suffering still under the oppression of Vector, that she was content to sit back and do nothing, it sat heavily on her mind.
She breached the topic with Kineada, who was eager to hear the outcome of her conversation with Enmach - when she had it. But his question as to how they would manage such a feat strummed in Sanria's ears as she waited for her Argenach counsellor. In a flash of silver, Enmach appeared and bowed deeply. "You called, Lady Sanria?"
"Enmach, thank you so much for coming."
"Of course. What is it you wished to speak about with me?"
"Westbridge."
"The settlement to our east?"
"The same. It is overrun by Vector. TriPower had once deigned to clean up the city - had mounted forces to free the people of the tyranny there, but-"
"It has not come to pass. I am aware. And what would you determine to do?"
"I'm not certain, but... I do not believe it is a balancing force to have a government bent on oppression in power over such a diverse city."
"I would incline to agree, but are you speaking war?"
"No... not war. Just, an end to the tribulations."
Sanria watched as Enmach bowed her head, her fingers steepled at her lips. "This will require far more hands than what you have amassed, and this particular fight would be yours alone - the Rilmani could not step in to give aid."
"Why?"
"For the same reason we brought you here in the first place, Lady Sanria. Your Keepers are to help us maintain the mortal side. The... ah..."
"The fights too small for you to concern yourselves with," Sanria said pointedly, watching as Enmach merely bowed her head. "I see. But I don't even know where to begin."
"I suggest you call a meeting of your fellow leaders. Determine their mindset on the issue. Beyond that, you will need help, and lots of it. The potential for bringing disaster on yourselves is great."
"Nice to know you're honest. By the way... Sir Kineada sends his regards." Sanria chuckled inwardly as Enmach's face scrunched slightly.
"No. My answer still stands. I have no interest in his bedchambers."
"Suit yourself," Sanria shrugged. "Just know that he is quite tenacious."
Enmach scoffed and shook her head. In a flash she was gone, leaving Sanria to stare at her desk with a deep sigh. The time for doing nothing was gone, a comfort she could no longer afford. She would gather Kineada and Vorcet and determine their next course of action. It could no longer wait.
It had been some time since she'd spoken to the elf, a fact which didn't bother Sanria by any stretch. The less she had to speak to him, the better. It meant she wouldn't have to dredge up Throm again. But when they had spoken about Westbridge, her mind turned. She had been content to remain out of the fight, but lately her comfortability had begun to wane. Her answer was not sufficient. Knowing people were suffering still under the oppression of Vector, that she was content to sit back and do nothing, it sat heavily on her mind.
She breached the topic with Kineada, who was eager to hear the outcome of her conversation with Enmach - when she had it. But his question as to how they would manage such a feat strummed in Sanria's ears as she waited for her Argenach counsellor. In a flash of silver, Enmach appeared and bowed deeply. "You called, Lady Sanria?"
"Enmach, thank you so much for coming."
"Of course. What is it you wished to speak about with me?"
"Westbridge."
"The settlement to our east?"
"The same. It is overrun by Vector. TriPower had once deigned to clean up the city - had mounted forces to free the people of the tyranny there, but-"
"It has not come to pass. I am aware. And what would you determine to do?"
"I'm not certain, but... I do not believe it is a balancing force to have a government bent on oppression in power over such a diverse city."
"I would incline to agree, but are you speaking war?"
"No... not war. Just, an end to the tribulations."
Sanria watched as Enmach bowed her head, her fingers steepled at her lips. "This will require far more hands than what you have amassed, and this particular fight would be yours alone - the Rilmani could not step in to give aid."
"Why?"
"For the same reason we brought you here in the first place, Lady Sanria. Your Keepers are to help us maintain the mortal side. The... ah..."
"The fights too small for you to concern yourselves with," Sanria said pointedly, watching as Enmach merely bowed her head. "I see. But I don't even know where to begin."
"I suggest you call a meeting of your fellow leaders. Determine their mindset on the issue. Beyond that, you will need help, and lots of it. The potential for bringing disaster on yourselves is great."
"Nice to know you're honest. By the way... Sir Kineada sends his regards." Sanria chuckled inwardly as Enmach's face scrunched slightly.
"No. My answer still stands. I have no interest in his bedchambers."
"Suit yourself," Sanria shrugged. "Just know that he is quite tenacious."
Enmach scoffed and shook her head. In a flash she was gone, leaving Sanria to stare at her desk with a deep sigh. The time for doing nothing was gone, a comfort she could no longer afford. She would gather Kineada and Vorcet and determine their next course of action. It could no longer wait.
The Return
Walking through the forest, Ror placed his hand on a tree every few feet. As he closed his eyes, he concentrated. Where was it? It had been a long time, and the forest was a living thing. Living things
changed. Ror tapped into his memories and compared them to that of the trees. Gradually he came closer to what he was looking for.
Ror looked up at the wall of plants before him that blocked his path. "It's here."
With a single step, he stepped forward and pushed himself through the plants. The greenery swallowed him, and before he knew it, he was at the other side. He placed his foot on one of the many small rocks
in his vicinity and looked up at the giant tree that still grew here. Ror pressed on, climbing the rocks up towards the tree trunk.
He smiled as he noticed a weathered, wooden sign. The letters had faded, but he knew what they had said, once, they had spelled out "Welcome".
"I'm home."
changed. Ror tapped into his memories and compared them to that of the trees. Gradually he came closer to what he was looking for.
Ror looked up at the wall of plants before him that blocked his path. "It's here."
With a single step, he stepped forward and pushed himself through the plants. The greenery swallowed him, and before he knew it, he was at the other side. He placed his foot on one of the many small rocks
in his vicinity and looked up at the giant tree that still grew here. Ror pressed on, climbing the rocks up towards the tree trunk.
He smiled as he noticed a weathered, wooden sign. The letters had faded, but he knew what they had said, once, they had spelled out "Welcome".
"I'm home."
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