The Administorum
Battle Related Forums => Board Battle Archives => Board Battles => The Scrap Heap => Topic started by: Cameron on July 29, 2010, 12:29:04 PM
-
Continued from this thread: http://nerdramblingz.com/starforums/index.php?topic=128.0 (http://nerdramblingz.com/starforums/index.php?topic=128.0)
Proceed.
-
Severan again. Severan the corrupter. “Everything comes back to Severan. The reason I can no longer wander as I wish. The reason humanity is in danger. None of us will have any peace until he is dealt with, one way or another. And even then there's still the Adversary. Who knows how much more trouble he can stir up even without his Severan?” I said to nothing, thinking aloud. It seemed like everything was conspiring against me. I felt trapped again. Chained down. I had to break these chains on me. For myself. For humanity.
I stood up suddenly, the ladder-backed chair toppling over behind me. I grabbed my travel sack a little faster and rougher than I intended. I felt like something was chasing me and I needed to move. To get away. I turned to go, but remembered Muse. She had been very straight with me, which I appreciated. Beautiful she was, but she still shared the mind of the rest of the Bulwark.
I looked at her. “Thank you for your ear Muse. I am not comfortable with the idea of leaning on others for help or protection. But, I suppose, like Captain Blood, I don't mind it when others lean on me. I intend to make myself into someone powerful enough to protect everyone. Maybe the path I walk is foolish. Maybe the path I walk is dangerous. But it IS my path and I will walk it.” I shouldered my bag. “I need some space.” I said and walked out the door.
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo sighs heavily and her exasperation seems to melt from her aggravated visage, revealing a much calmer woman. “Cardack did quite a bit of damage when he took off,” explains Cleo. “Fury had never extended him an invitation for the Bulwark, as she could see his general unrest, and the penchant for trouble in his soul. We all tried to aid him, regardless, but our efforts proved to be quite thankless. He was a pacifist who did not truly care for either aiding others or helping in the war effort. Why the Divine saw fit to choose him, I will never know.”
“At any rate, he had been here for about a hundred years when he decided to take off. Though I can’t confirm his reasons for leaving, you’d have to ask him about that, it was surmised that he resented his master and wanted to work on his own. However, he took Dethys’s experiment with him, which created quite a fuss.”
“This, was of course, coupled with his abandonment of Hestia, with whom he had been in an exclusive relationship for nearly half his time year. For Hestia to become involved with anyone was quite a feat, given her enduring love for her long deceased husband. We were all so happy for her when she found joy with Cardack, but coward that he was, he left without even so much as a farewell to her. She’s always guarded herself much closer since then. Though she is still the same Hestia, there is much more sadness to her now.”
She raises an eyebrow and glances towards your book. "She WILL find out you are back, Cardack. But I promise that I will not be the one to tell her. However, if you don't make your presence known to Hestia, I am quite adept at the art of paper folding and will see to it that every page in your book is sculpted into a beautiful swan."
Cleo takes your hands in hers. “I apologize for my outburst. Hestia has always been like a mother to me. I know this is a bit unusual as chronologically speaking she is actually younger in years. But she has always looked out for me, and seeing Cardack, and remembering the pain he caused her, just infuriated me so. I hope you can forgive me.”
@Depheir:
General Fury extends her hand to you in a firm shake, thus welcoming you to The Bulwark. “Well, we need you at your best. You will have to reconvene with your new companions at some point, but for now, you have a bit of down time to pursue your own interests. Speak with Dethys. Tell him what you desire to do in Avalon while you have the opportunity to do so, and I am sure he will commend you to the proper place.”
Dethys is awaiting you in the reception room and offers you a friendly smile as he sees you emerge from Fury's offices. "So... you've decided to join The Bulwark? Welcome to the family, Depheir. Now, if I know Fury she will be wanting you to endeavor to be at your best. What would you like to do first?"
@Sembas:
Smith is wholly sympathetic as he notices the twinge of sadness as you describe your memories of your weapons. “Aye, lad. Thank ye for sharing a bit of yerself with me. Ye’ll find that we are all quite open in Avalon. We don’t keep many secrets. In order to truly trust someone, ye need to know ‘em like the back of yer hand and the front of yer heart. Most of the time, if ye need to truly know somethin,’ all ye need do is ask and ye will be answered.”
“Lad, ye will see your loved ones again. Just because ye are an Ageless doesn’t mean that ye can’t. Ye just have to be careful. Yer position has the ability to put them in danger. When we are out in the human realm, it is much easier for the Forsaken and Adversary to track us. However, if ye be wanting to communicate with yer kin, Dethys can make that happen. If ye be wanting to see yer kin, though it may be only a rare occasion, the General or the Archon will be more than willing to aid ye.”
“Me? My pretty flower and my little lad ‘ave been gone for many a year now. All I have left is my brethren and my smithy, so I spend a fair amount of time with both. Ye know lady, ye look like you could use a drink. Would ye be willin’ to accompany an old smith to the tavern for a fine pint o’ ale?”
-
Dethys greeted him friendly, when he came out from Fury's offices.
"Welcome to the family, Depheir. Now, if I know Fury she will be wanting you to endeavor to be at your best. What would you like to do first?"
"Hmmm... "
Depheir didn't know, what would he like to do first. He had few options in his head and he couldn't decide, which option was the best for him.
At last, after few moments, he said:
"I would like to go to the library first. Then I'll think, what I'll do later."
-
"I never was much for taverns, my friend. But with all the commotion lately a drink would surely be welcome." Faile chatters in protest in his ear, but he waves her protest away. "No, girl, it won't be like harvest day last year. Lewes won't be here passing his home made whiskey around." He adds, with a wink to Smith, "Had a bite of honey in it. Went down smoother than water. Terrible for the morning's watch the next day."
Rolling her eyes, Faile concedes, albeit grudgingly. Chuckling, Sembas points a gloved finger at her. "Don't act like you didn't sneak some out of my glass, either! That was your shortest flight around the perimiter that morning. Either the village proper shrunk overnight or someone was feeling just as well as I was." She dismissively waves his finger away with her wing with a few chirps.
Sembas collects his spear from the wall and looks to Smith, "Now then, lead the way to the tavern, if you will. We'll try and keep the chatter down to a minimum on the way there," He says with a smile.
-
@Sembas
Smith leads you to a fine tavern towards the center of town. On your way there, you pass by Blood and Fury who appear to be making their way back to The Bulwark Headquarters. The latter appears to be extremely upset, and the former is making a concerted attempt to quell her friend’s anger. Smiths shouts a greeting and grants a wave to the General and the Captain who return his gesture.
This tavern is unlike some of the seedier establishments you’ve likely seen upon your travels in the human realm. Though it is quite humble in comparison to some of the more grandiose buildings in the city, it is quaint and comfortable.
The bartender is a slim man with short, light brown hair and green eyes. He has an air of natural pleasantness and he hails the old smith as he seats himself at the bar.
“Hey there, old man.” The bartender claps Smith upon the shoulder. “How have you been? Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”
“Been working on a project,” beams Smith. “It’s going to be a heck of a thing… maybe me best to date!”
“And I suppose you’re not going to divulge any more than that, are you?” questions the barkeep with the raise of an eyebrow.
“Show… not tell,” replies Smith. “As soon as it’s done, I’ll show it to ye.” He claps the man upon the shoulder and looks to you. “Have ye met Sembas and Faile yet, lad?”
The bartender shakes his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well… This strapping young lad is Sembas, and his pretty, winged companion be Faile,” speaks Smith. “This, Sembas, is Galenus Calming. I like to call him me Voice o’ Reason. He could talk the Adversary out of his pants.”
Galenus laughs heartily. “I think I’d rather the Adversary kept his pants on.”
“Haha! Well played!” exclaims Smith agreeably. “Two of the usual, Calming.”
Calming goes to collect Smith’s request and returns with two tankards of some sweet-smelling liquid. It has a dark color to it, and you can just perceive a touch of honey and something that smells a bit like chocolate.
“This be me drink of choice. I used to drink the hard stuff, but this works just as well and doesn’t taste like swill!” explains Smith.
He raises his glass to you. “To new friends, lad!” He touches his tankard to yours, then proceeds to effortlessly down his own.
“So Calming, any news on the Archon yet?” asks Smith. “I’d ask Fury herself, but looks like she has her hands full with Blood again.”
“Yeah…” Calming sighs and a sympathetic look crosses his face. “Blood was in her earlier. She’s a bit worse for wear since Vartan left on assignment. Can’t blame her, really. Poor woman.”
“Aye. She’s a damn honorable woman, one of the best! But I can’t help thinking her duty wears on her a bit. She’s getting run down… I think we all are,” comments Smith, his voice containing a hint of sadness. “But… That’s why we need fresh blood like this lad!” Smith pats you on the back nearly causing you to drop your tankard.
-
@Depheir
Dethys leads Depheir to the Ageless Library, an immense tower that is filled from floor to ceiling with books. One of the uppermost floors contains a collection of books that is exclusively for the use of members of The Bulwark of Heaven. Many of these books were handwritten by Dethys Night himself, and several contain useful spells. You find one in particular, penned in Dethys’s meticulous handwriting. It is a spell regarding perspective, that allows you to see through the eyes of another, under certain conditions of course. (Depheir’s new Spell 9)
You expressed an interest in finding information regarding the Forsaken. Dethys is more than happy to point you in the right direction. There are several tomes that address this subject alone. You know that the primary enemy of the Legion Immortalis is the Adversary, an innately evil entity that serves as the archrival of The Divine. While the Divine stands for creation and all that is benevolent, the Adversary is the host of destruction and abomination. It was he who purportedly corrupted the former Ageless, Severan Deceit, and gave him so much power.
You are also able to learn that the Forsaken have a city much like Avalon. It is called Darastae, and though the Ageless are aware of its existence and where to find it, it is HEAVILY warded and serves as an impenetrable fortress for the forces of evil.
From the notes that Dethys has written in the margins of this tome, you learn that he is currently attempting to devise a way to infiltrate the city and uncover the dark secrets of the Forsaken.
-
"Do not worry, it wasn't me you were angry with." Fenwick smiles a toothy grin and goes on. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'll bring this guy over to Hestia when I can. Probably not after this though, General Fury or Blood or whoever may be giving us our mission soon."
"I also heard about Severan, and what happened between you and him that day..." He slows down slightly, his tone becoming a bit sadder, as if trying to physically take the weight off her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I really should've heard it from you myself. But you know they're all worried about you right? I'm worried about you."
-
@Fenwick:
At your mention of Severan, Cleo’s face becomes ashen and despondent, but she quickly dismisses these emotions from her visage and waves a hand dismissively. “Bah! I’m fine! That was ages ago, you know. You all worry too much!” Cleo forces a smile, but you can tell that it is wholly unconvincing.
“Anyway, the gates are safe. That is all that matters. The Adversary himself doesn’t have a chance of setting foot in this place as long as I am here.” She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly and in some small way, her stubbornness is encouraging. This is a woman who is infinitely committed to her task, which is quite an admirable feat. However, this makes any chance of getting her to see reason quite difficult.
-
Fenwick mentally shrugs and decides it best to drop the subject. As much as he wanted to help, this simply was not the time. "Alright then, if you say so."
Her forced smile, though telling in every way, cheers him up. It was not everyday that you see people attempting to fix something they'd done so diligently. Of course, Cleo had done more than her part. It was about time that she forgave herself, but until then to actively do things would help both her and Avalon.
It was also at this time that he sensed something other than her magic.
"Was there someone else here?" He tentatively sniffs the air. "Doesn't only smell like you around here," he jokingly muses. "I meant your magic of course, heh." Fenwick winks at her.
Then a thought occurs to him. Was she ticklish? Almost experimentally, he reaches out and with his index finger slides it across her neck, almost laughing out himself as he 'feels' her being tickled.
-
Depheir readed rew books about Forsaken.
Now he knows that the primary enemy of the Legion Immortalis is the Adversary, an innately evil entity that serves as the archrival of The Divine. While the Divine stands for creation and all that is benevolent, the Adversary is the host of destruction and abomination. It was he who purportedly corrupted the former Ageless, Severan Deceit, and gave him so much power.
He knows also that they have a city, Darastae, which is now almost impossible for Ageless to find.
He began to wonder.
"So, they have a city much like Avalon. It is heavily warded and it is an impenetrable fortress for the forces of evil. Simple boosting of the Perspective spell will not be enough. Even if I will master it, I will not be able to... or will I?"
Then he asked Dethys:
"I have one question refering to the revealing of secrets of the Forsaken. Are there any chance for me to become a spy?"
-
"To new friends!"
Sembas raises his glass to cheers with Smith. Taking a sniff before drinking, he smells honey and a bit of chocolate. It tastes even better than it smells. A leather glove wipes a bit of froth from his upper lip as he sets the tankard down.
So Blood was in quite a mood. That wasn't surprising. Sembas was happy he wasn't the object of her ire. He raises his glass to take another sip, but not before Smith pats him on the back. Somehow he didn't drop the tankard on the ground. Luckily none of the ale spilled out.
"Well met, Calming. I must say this ale is delicious. I have a bit of a sweet tooth for honey, and the chocolate just sets it off perfectly."
Faile begins to open her mouth in protest when he says the word 'honey,' but she just shakes her head and flaps over to an open window to look outside. She doesn't enjoy hanging about in taverns. Too many times a drunk wanted to touch the 'pretty bird' only to leave with a few scratches from her talons and Sembas's bowie knife pointed at his throat.
Sembas glances over his shoulder at her to make sure she was ok. She looks back at him and gives him a look before turning back out the window.
"Go ahead and stretch your wings, girl. Push that goose Besnik out of his nest while you're at it."
She cackles with laughter as she hops out of the window and flies up into the air.
Taking another sip of his ale, Sembas turns to his barmates again. "She's not much for the tavern crowd." He says, as he points over to the window with his thumb. "I must admit I'm a bit of a lightweight when it comes to the good stuff because of it."
Staring into his ale, Sembas's expression becomes more serious. "Run down, you say. I've seen nothing but grandeur since I've come to Avalon. The past day has been one of the most incredible of my entire life. It's hard to imagine that all of this revolves around a war that has spanned the ages. I have a feeling the gritty reality of our situation will soon become apparent to myself and the other younglings," He takes another sip from the tankard and lets out a sigh as he leans back from the bar, "but for right now I think I'll enjoy the ale and quit worrying!"
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo, having never been tickled before, is absolutely dumbfounded as your undulating fingers slither towards her. She gives an “eep!” of surprise and leaps backward into a defensive position. Where there was once Cleo, there are now three and you see that their palms glow as they ready their magical protective wards.
“What is that? What are you doing?” asks Cleo, wide-eyed and in shock. Her eyes dart from you to your fingertips.
“What did you do to me?” asks another Cleo.
“Stop that at once!” exclaims the third.
@Depheir
Dethys strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Now… there’s an idea. The problem is, we’ve never been able to get anyone inside. The Forsaken can sense us, just as we can sense them… and as for Elders, like me, they know us quite well. However, a fledgling Ageless like yourself might be able to infiltrate if I can manage to somehow make a spell that masks your motivation. I’ve been at it for quite a while now, with no success as of yet. However, no one’s ever really been willing to try it. The risk of you getting caught would be quite high, but if one might be willing to volunteer…”
He claps his hands together. “I can see what I can do. Yes... perhaps that rascal Cardack is the key to all this… If I can just…” Dethys walks off, muttering to himself, and leaving you alone.
@Sembas:
As night begins to approach in the capital city of the Ageless, you find yourself and Calming aiding a rather inebriated Smith back to his abode in the Bulwark headquarters. It is, unsurprisingly, attached to his smithy.
The old smith has an arm draped over you, and one over calming, as he attempts to regain his balance. The fact that he managed to drink half the bar and is still (somewhat) coherent and able to sustain at least a bit of his balance is quite impressive. You suppose that he must be of solid constitution to manage such a feat, as it takes quite a bit to get an Ageless drunk.
When you reach the doors of his abode, Smith thanks you for “a roaring good time” before collapsing onto his bed. Calming seems to find the whole thing quite amusing, and you get the feeling that this has happened before.
“Though not often,” explains Calming. “I’d say once a year or so Smith gets fairly ripped and I end up hauling him back here. I don’t mind really. He works so hard… he deserves to cut loose a bit. Thanks for keeping him company.”
Calming tucks Smith into his bed and pulls the covers up over the old man’s shoulders before accompanying you back outside. “Well, we should probably be getting you back to Dethys. You’ll be bedding there for the night.” Calming’s gaze drifts down to the belt pouch at your hip. “Unless of course… you have somewhere else to go.” He winks at you. “To be honest, it would probably be safer with Archer. Dethys’s ‘experiments’ tend to result in chaos. They’ll be comfortable lodgings, but if you desire some quiet, there’s no finer place than the east side of town. Near Archer’s place and the cottage that belongs to Fury’s boy, Dennan.”
-
“I can see what I can do. Yes... perhaps that rascal Cardack is the key to all this… If I can just…”
Dethys walked off, muttering to himself. Depheir stayed at the library. He began to think about his career as spy.
"The risk of being caught is really high... I will have to be very careful, if I WILL arrive to Darastae."
He took a book from the shelf, but didn't open it. He was concentrated.
"If any Forsaken would... say to everyone that I am not an Ageless, then infiltrating of the city will be very easy. Nearly all of the secrets will be revealed, and... No. I don't think it is possible."
He putted the book where it was.
"But who is that Cardack? I will have to ask about it."
-
Fenwick removes his hand and backs off a little, his hands raised up into the air to 'surrender'. It takes him a while, but as he realises the kind of situation that he's in, he cannot help but start... laughing.
"It's a tickle! It's not--not dangerous--at--at all!" He forces all of the words out while laughing. Yet when he calms down a little, he continues. "Wow! Calm down!! Haha, it's just a tickle. Have you not been tickled in your life of eight hundred years?!? Where did you grow up in?"
He relaxes into a cheeky smile. "Look, look it's simple. It just makes you jump and laugh because it feels really really funny, but it's very fun!" He tickles himself, but of course it doesn't make him laugh. "Well you have to do it on someone else. Try it out on the next guy that comes!!"
But after letting all that out, he still remains where he stands. He wouldn't even dare move a muscle in this situation. Crossing one Cleo was suicidal, but crossing three of them was like armaggaedon all focused on you.
"Say, where did you grow up anyway?" He asks with his eyes looking straight at the original... or at least he thought that was the original... maybe the one the right was... or the left...
Ah well, either way, three Cleos was simply three times the eye candy.
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo’s defenses drop considerably and the trio of Cleos meld back into one. “I am sorry for misunderstanding your… what did you call it… “tickle?” I must admit that I am not acquainted with this practice, and it seems quite peculiar. Perhaps you may show me more of this ‘tickle’ later,” she concedes.
"As for your other question, I told you when we first met that you would ask me about that again, and when you did, I would tell you everything. I am true to my word, Wicky.”
Cleo seats herself upon a pillow on the floor and draws her knees up to her chest. You have seen her perform this simple, child-like gesture before, and realize it is a comforting posture for her.
“As a mortal, my name was Cleominae Kharis and I was raised as a simple peasant girl in a modest village in the east. My mother died in childbirth, leaving my loving father, Zachariah, to raise me alone. My father was both a farmer and carpenter, and I enjoyed aiding him in his work.”
“When I was in the company of my family, my smiles never ceased. I loved animals and would aid the injured and even kept a few pets. I also loved to read. I’d read anything! Whatever meager scraps of texts my father managed to procure for me. When reading material was scarce, my father would make up stories for me. I would hang on to his every word as he told me of far off places and friendly strangers with unusual customs.”
“Anyway, when I was in my early teens, my father remarried. I got along well with my step-mother, Rebecca, and I was quite excited when my father informed me I would be an older sister. When my younger brother, Samuel, was born, I spent every waking moment with him, coddling him and telling him the same stories that father had shared me.”
“We were all very happy for several months, but it seems our joy was not meant to endure.” Cleo’s expression falls and her gaze is distant, her eyes filled with sorrow. “My step-mother was the first to become ill. It was not long before the sickness claimed her and was passed to the other members of the household. I stood by my father as he succumbed to his affliction, and merely days after he passed, I held Samuel in my arms as he, too, was claimed by illness. He was just a baby… and such a sweet child. I often wonder what would have become of him if he had been allowed to live.”
“Of my family, only I was spared. Because of this, the other townsfolk began to view me with suspicion. The illness continued to sweep through the town, claiming countless lives, yet I remained unaffected.”
“Because of the nature of the illness, my family home was burned to ashes, along with all of the belongings within. The townsfolk were afraid that the plague might be spread further if these things were not dispatched. However, I managed to save my little brother’s stuffed bear, Sylvester.” She smiles at the memory, but the sadness does not leave her features. “I carried it with me always.”
“I began to notice some peculiarities in the way the townsfolk treated me. They would cross to the other side of the street whenever I came to town. I knew I was being shunned, and had nowhere to go. I was forced to reflect upon all my father had taught me. I was able to build a small dwelling at the edge of the woods where I lived alone for several years.”
“No other human ever came to visit, but I enjoyed the company of the little animals who would pass through my yard and they became constant companions.” She gives a slight chuckle. “I would address them as if they understood me. Unfortunately, this only furthered the suspicion in the minds of the townsfolk. Whenever I ventured into town for the few meager supplies I could afford, people would point at me and I could hear them whisper the word ‘witch.’ Thus, I visited the town even less, and the loneliness became unbearable. I yearned for company or some minor regard from the other villagers.”
“I was in my mid-20’s when ruin descended upon the town. All of the crops failed and the same plague that had claimed my family swept through the village again.”
“Around that time, I was asleep when I was ripped from my cot and dragged to the town square. I remember that I watched in horror as they burnt my home to the ground. There was no one to aid me, and I cried out for Sylvester, my brother’s teddy bear, as he smoldered in the flames.”
“Next, I was bound to a pyre in the center of the town and I pleaded my innocence as they piled the kindling around me. I watched, powerless to stop them, as they set their torches upon the wood before me.” She absentmindedly rubs at her arms, and you can see the faint scars that mar her skin shimmer slightly in the low-light of the tent.
“I could feel my skin begin to burn and my lungs begin to grow tight; I knew that I was dying. As the flames engulfed me, I remember that I found it ironic that I was finally surrounded by people, I finally had their attention, but never had I felt so alone.”
“Suddenly, my lungs found air and I realized that my bindings were loose. My legs shook as I stumbled out of the fire. I was so confused! As I looked upon my executioners, the flames upon my body disintegrated into nothingness, and the harsh red marks that marred my skin faded considerably, but did not retreat altogether. The townsfolk fled in horror at what they had seen, leaving me alone again.”
“I returned to the ashes of my home, but nothing could be salvaged. I did not know where to go, or what to do, but fortuitously, Dethys Night came to collect me. He told me of my condition, and told me of Avalon, where I might finally be surrounded by people who would truly care for me.”
-
Sembas hiccups as Calming talks about where he was to stay. When he mentions Archer his eyes light up as he wobbles a bit. The falconer's mind wanders as he imagines spending the night with Archer in her tree house. He shakes his head to clear his woozy mind a bit.
"Sleeping in a mage's laboratory doesn't really sit well with me, to tell the truth." Was what he wanted to say, but it really came out as a series of mumbles and chuckles.
"I told you I was a lightweight! But, by the Divine, I'm glad I didn't have as much as ol' Smith here. I think I'll be heading towards the greener part of Avalon for the night. Thank you for 'roaring good time,' but hopefully we don't make it a habit, for our head's sakes the next morning..."
Again, he meant well, but more excited mumbles and loud laughter followed by a couple slaps on the back was all that Sembas could muster. Hopefully Calming was used to dealing with drunkards by now...
Sembas begins walking down the road with a spring in his step, whistling a nonsensical little tune. When he arrives at Archer's tree he fiddles around with the pulley's for a while before getting frustrated from nothing happening. The bushes at the base of her tree seemed comfortable enough. After depositing his weapons on the ground next to him he wraps his cloak around himself and flops down in the bushes.
Soon he's snoring rather loudly at the base of Archer's tree. Faile lands on a tree branch above his head and shakes her head. She covers her eyes with a wing and soon is dozing off herself.
-
@Sembas
Sembas wakes to all of the wondrous smells that are associated with breakfast. You feel the gentle touch of fingers upon your side and someone’s warm breath against your neck. As your eyes flutter open, and your head fervently reminds you of last night’s excursion, you roll over to find a familiar face looking back at you.
“Hello there.” Dennan’s voice comes out in a low rumble, and you are startled to find that he’s spooning with you.
Archer, still clad in her night-robe is leaning in the doorway with an amused expression upon her face. Her simple garment is tasteful, but quite attractive. The silk robe clings to her form like a second silhouette, fitting her perfectly. “Dennan! You’re going to scare the life right out of him!” she scolds playfully.
Dennan’s booming laughter fills the room and he rights himself in the bed, leaning heavily upon his elbows. “Sorry, Gladia. I couldn’t resist.”
You see Faile and Besnik perched in the window. The falcons glance from you to each other and appear to be sharing some personal joke. That’s when you notice the mashed worms in your pocket and the recently deceased fish stuffed in the top of your trousers. Apparently they thought it would be fantastic fun to have a laugh at your expense while you were unconscious.
Dennan deftly leaps out of the bed and turns back towards you. “Archer and I were moonlight fishing last night. When we came back, we found you in the bushes.”
“You must have had quite a time,” comments Archer with a raise of her brow. “Were you aware that your hands tend to wander when you’re intoxicated?”
Dennan shifts uncomfortably. “You pinched my breast…” he says with a frown. “Hard, too.” He rubs at his chest for effect and Archer pats him upon the shoulder sympathetically.
“Dennan, I’ve set out breakfast for us. Think you could fetch us some berries from the treeline?” asks Archer.
Dennan nods obediently and quickly moves to carry out his friend’s wishes.
Archer sits on the bed beside you and reaches out a hand to smooth the hair from your brow. “I hope you slept well. You looked so peaceful out under the stars that I was reluctant to move you, but some of the younger Ageless can get up to mischief from time to time. It’s all in good fun, but I could see Corvus leaving you in the fountain for a laugh. Safer this way.”
“I ran into Calming when I was down at the market and he told me that he doubts you made it to see Dethys. I called upon your mentor and told him that I would feel much better if you remained here for a time. He pouted a bit, but I think he understood. It is your choice of course, but I thought you might be more comfortable here in nature's embrace."
"Besides, that laboratory is no place for a Childer Immortalis. Honestly, his wife should receive some medal of recognition for remaining there, poor dove. She looked well today… for a change. Poor Dethys.” She shakes her head sympathetically then moves to leave.
“Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry. I certainly hope you’ve brought an appetite with you.”
-
The Cleos reform into one and she sits upon the pillow on the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. Fenwick finds another pillow nearby and sits facing her. He listens intently, wincing when she mentions the death of her family, almost suffocating from the isolation that she felt and probably still feels.
Somewhere half way through, he notices that he has taken the position that Cleo has; his knees are curled up to his chest, his head resting in between. He acknowledges this fact, but continues listening.
She finishes, and the scars on her body suddenly seem more prominent, more meaningful. A silence descends over the two for a moment, with Cleo looking at the floor, re-living the brief joy of her childhood, the confusion of isolation, the terror of being ripped from everything she knew and loved.
At last, he speaks. "One second can change a life, so eight hundred years can do a lot of things... You're stronger than before now." He is unsure how much of an effect it'll have on her, but he hoped that she'll understand, just as he was beginning to understand the unbearable guilt and the fear she had for her fellow Ageless.
"You know, the Ageless of Avalon don't blame you for what happened with Severan. There was nothing that could be done about it..."
He wavers in his resolve. Was he just opening the wound that had scarred? It was still there no doubt, but were the tools available to finally heal that wound?
"My parents were murdered by one of the villagers whom I grew up with. I know it's nothing compared to what you've been through, but I know some of the pain you bear. I just..."
Silence again. How could he continue?!?!
Cardack's voice nags him somewhere in his mind, but it seems too distant to be acknowledged right now.
-
Ah, breakfast. The familiar smells of the morning's meal waft into his nose and wakes his senses.
Thats when the headache starts...
“Hello there.”
That was a deep voice, and why is the owner of it spooning with me?
"Dennan!" He shouts as he starts squirming away from the large man. His fuss quickly stops when he notices Archer in her night-robe.
But that is also when he notices the mushiness in his pocket. "There's a fish in my pants..."
“You pinched my breast…”
He face turns bright red. "I... I'm sorry I don't recall..." He presses the palm of his hand to his forehead hard, trying to rub off the headache.
Archer's hand smoothing out his hair calms his head for a moment.
"Yes, this is much better than a fountain..."
She goes on to say that he would be welcome to stay here. Smiling, he nods to her.
"You're right. I would be much more at ease under your roof than that mage's contraption of a building. I think he nearly blew it up the day I arrived here..."
“Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry. I certainly hope you’ve brought an appetite with you.”
"I'm starving! But first, allow me remove the fish from my trousers... and oh," he shoots a look at Faile and Besnik sharing a laugh in the window. "Care for some worms, you two?"
-
@Fenwick:
You wonder whether or not Cleo is taking your words to heart, but her expression betrays little.
You can practically feel Cardack sneering as he witnesses the exchange from the confines of the tome. “You aren’t very smooth, you know that? She’s going to burn both of us to cinders now!” He communicates these sentiments to you telepathically in his typical wet-blanket manner. This guy is certainly a buzzkill!
Cleo is silent for several moments, but the thoughtful expression present on her consistently unreadable visage rewards you with a smile of regard. It is weak in its constitution, but nevertheless, you find her response a bit encouraging. After all, she is LISTENING to you, and that’s a start. Up until this point, she has been so clouded by her own guilt that she has refused to acknowledge the plaintive entreaties of her brethren. While she has dismissed their worries and concerns for her, she seems comforted by your words.
“You’re right, you know,” she says softly. “I know that my people hold nothing but the highest regard for me. I know they’re worried. I guess I never realized how much my own burdens were burdening them. They have enough to worry about without me wallowing in my own self-pity. And then there’s you, Wicky.”
Her smile broadens and she leans her head upon your shoulder.
“See?” grumbles Cardack. “She’s obviously going in for the kill! These are woman-tricks! Lulling you into a false sense of security then WHAM! Zappy-thing!”
But there is no zappy thing. Cleo does not seem to be cross with you for bringing up the past, and rather, seems significantly more hopeful.
“Hmph!” mutters Cardack. “That’s disappointing. I would have enjoyed seeing you zapped. I always wondered how she did that thing. Wouldn’t mind studying it a bit. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to irritate her so I might get a better look at it… You know… when it isn’t being used on ME.”
Cleo’s hand rests upon yours. “I’m sure you’ve undergone quite a bit yourself. I think we all have. It does not benefit the future if one is so entangled by their past. Perhaps it’s time I let this go.” She sighs heavily and runs a slender hand through her beautiful, blonde locks.
She looks up at you with sparkling blue eyes, and you notice a glimmer of happiness that was not present there before. It appears you have finally gotten through to her. That is a rather considerable accomplishment as you have managed to do what so many of her brethren could not. You can feel deep inside that this will only increase her regard for you.
“Thank you, Wicky… sincerely. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you have come back… and how much you have managed to do for me in such a short amount of time. You see? I told you that you were… special.”
You become painfully aware of the proximity of her lips to yours.
@Sembas
Besnik and Faile politely decline your offering of worms and disappear through the window again.
Archer, paused in the door, shakes her head. “I don’t know if I like the two of them being in cahoots. Singularly, they are each a force to be reckoned with… But together… I’m fairly certain they’re unstoppable. Perhaps we should warn the worms and fish. I should like to keep MY trousers free of unwanted guests.”
She steers you to the dining area where Dennan has seated himself. He looks longingly at the fresh honeycomb before him, and it is at this point that you notice his constant companion, Fensten, is mimicking the yearning expression of his master.
“Go on, you two!” laughs Archer.
Both Dennan and Fensten begin to dig into the food with gusto. Archer seats herself beside you and hands you plate after plate, each simply burgeoning with inordinate amounts of food. As you watch the General’s son and his friend gorge upon the spread before them, you realize why Archer prepared so much. It had appeared to be more than anyone could ever rationally eat, but these two are up to their elbows in food and seem to have no intention of stopping.
“So, Sembas,” begins Archer as she takes a sip from her mug of cool, spring water. “I’ve asked Bran to invite everyone to the falcon race. It will be held this evening at sundown, if that is to your liking.”
-
After cleaning up the worms and fish in his pants Sembas follwos Archer towards the dining area. Shaking his head at Faile and Besnik he sighs.
"I think I'll be steering clear of Calming's tavern for a while." He says as he sits down heavily next to Archer.
"And I fear those two will be giving us all kinds of trouble. Perhaps we should team up just to keep them under check!" He says with a wink.
He takes a bite of toast and nods at Archer as she mentions the race. "I imagine you have some sort of course for them to fly though? I'm very interested to see how Faile matches up. Sundown works well for me, gives me time to work of this damn hangover... Maybe some practice with the weapons Smith gave me yesterday, if I'm not too woozy..."
He finishes his toast and grabs a mug of spring water. "Boy, those two sure can put it away..."
-
Fenwick struggles to concentrate on Cleo. With his new found companion however, things weren't doing so well. Cardack's voice was constantly buzzing around in his head. At this point however, it sounded more like sandpaper on skin or cracking your bone against something. It just really hurt.
But everytime Cleo looked at him, Cardack's voice seemed to dull more and more. The ironic thing was that Cardack was right. There was a zappy-thing, but it was an emotional one. She was picking herself up, finally releasing all that burden... and it felt really really good.
Her face close to his, she speaks again. “Thank you, Wicky… sincerely. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you have come back… and how much you have managed to do for me in such a short amount of time. You see? I told you that you were… special.”
He can somewhat register the words, but all he could hear was music, what he could see was pure beauty, pure as the universe was at a time long long ago. It was alive and still breathing within the Soothsayer's eyes.
Then she stopped. Then a different feeling took over... he wasn't sure what it was... it was as if he was him but he was not him at the same time. He knew the cause though, for he found that his lips were touching Cleo's, kissing her. Had he moved? Did she initiate it? It didn't really matter.
She sure could kiss for one so lonely for so long.
-
@Depheir:
As per your request, you are allowed to pass back through the headquarters of The Bulwark of Heaven. The gate guard, who introduces himself as the General’s son, Corvus Virtue, informs you that his mother is in the courtyard discussing strategy with Lieutenant Fierce, of The Fierce Legion and will gladly see you as soon as they have finished attending to their matters.
You are shown to the grand reception hall until you can be seen. You do not have to wait long when a fair, red-headed woman, who introduces herself as Muse, tells you that the General will see you. She bids you to follow her into the courtyard where General Fury is seated at a table with a large, well-muscled man with gray hair that falls over his shoulders. His eyes are an unusual, striking shade of blue and he glances at you impassively as you enter. He strokes his salt and pepper goatee, and you can see that his attention is firmly focused on the woman in front of him.
“Ah… Depheir.” Fury stands to greet you. “This is Lieutenant Cedric Fierce of The Fierce Legion. He is one of the finest commanders in The Bulwark of Heaven. Cedric, this is Depheir Kogthar, one of our newest recruits.”
Lieutenant Fierce gives a low grunt to acknowledge your presence, but this seems to be all he is willing to grant you.
Fury crosses her arms over her chest. “So... What can I do for you?”
@Sembas:
After breakfast, Archer leads you outside and shows you the free-floating hoops that the falcons will attempt to dive and race through during the anticipated race later in the evening. These, fine golden hoops levitate in mid-air, and Archer tells you that they were a gift from Dethys that she often used when she trained Besnik. There are many of them spread throughout the east side of the city, and you can see the entirety of the course before you.
Despite her falcon’s familiarity with them, Archer also tells you that these are set at far more difficult areas that he is typically used to, hence he should not have an edge over Faile.
Though Faile asserts to you that she knows exactly what to do, Dennan insists that he demonstrate the proper technique for the sake of the two participants. He shifts into his falcon form and easily navigates through all two dozen hoops before landing upon Archer’s outstretched gauntlet.
“Feel free to get some practice runs in, if you wish,” suggests Archer. “Besnik cleared me out of fish this morning, and after that little prank he pulled, I think I’m going to make him work off his mischief. We’ll be down by the lake if you need anything.”
Dennan shifts back into his human form and gives you a firm clap on the back before he and Fensten head back towards their cottage, leaving you and Faile to work on your art.
@Fenwick:
Fenwick wakes the next morning. His thoughts are scattered and his head aches slightly. He remembers fervently kissing the Seer, and he recalls that she eagerly returned his affections. As he moves, he realizes that he is quite stiff and his body aches considerably, reprimanding him for his interactions the night before.
Most curiously perhaps, is what he finds when he opens his eyes. There is a Cleo nestled beside him on his right side. Her head rests upon his shoulder and her eyes are still closed; she looks quite at peace. This, in itself, is not all that irregular. Most men certainly would not mind waking beside a beautiful woman. But then you realize there is another woman resting on top of you, her blonde hair haphazardly scattered across your bare chest. This, too, is Cleo. There is stirring to your left, and much to your surprise, you find a third Cleo.
All three of them appear very comfortable… and very naked. No wonder your body aches so badly!
“It’s about time you woke up!” A fourth Cleo enters the bedroom and you realize that she is carrying a tray of delicious breakfast foods. The tray is absolutely laden with all manner of meats, tarts, spreads, and breads. There are mugs of fresh juice, accompanied by a pitcher of hot tea.
The Cleo to your right wriggles as she smells the food. “Oooohhhh. I’m famished.”
“Me, too!” exclaims the one to your left.
The Cleo upon your chest stirs and looks to her counterparts. “Now, now. You’ve had your fun.”
“Oh come on!” exclaims Right Cleo.
“Yeah!” agrees Left Cleo. She looks up at you with sparkling blue eyes and gently runs her hand through your hair. “He looks like he is ready for another round!”
The Cleo on top of you glances at the one carrying the breakfast tray and motions for her to place it upon the bed. The Cleo carrying the tray nods obediently as “Chest Cleo” snaps her fingers. The extraneous Cleos disappear, leaving only the one who is resting upon your chest.
She rolls to her side and wraps her arms around you. “Good morning,” she says as she grants you a light kiss upon the lips.
“Hmm… You look tired. I probably should have warned you before… you know… When two Ageless do… well… it’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before. However… when two Ageless do it, who are also magic-users, things become a bit more complicated. Last night, not only were both of our needs sated, but you also inherited a bit of my power.”
She gestures to the pale, red rune present on your chest, just over your heart. It looks as if someone has tattooed this odd symbol into your skin, but you feel no pain there. Cleo gently touches the spot with an outstretched finger. “It’s a Sigil of Summoning. That will let you summon me to your side, should you desire to see me. Use it sparingly though. I do have to attend to keeping the gates clear. I’ll be able to send at least a part of myself to aid you, should you require my assistance.”
-
I walked away from the tavern, my mind set on my goal. My life of wandering was over and my life of war was begun. I was going to have to be good. I was going to have to be good without the help of anyone here. That meant watching. Watching and copying and practicing. Lots of practicing. I had to watch these Ageless and do what they do, move how they move. And practice it. The Song I'd have to work out on my own. I'd seen many wonders of magic since coming to Avalon. Perhaps I can find my own way to duplicate the effects.
I marched down the paved street, the afternoon sun sinking toward the horizon. A street over I saw Sembas with a burly, bald man with a short beard. Probably heading to the tavern I just left. Good to see the others making new friends. I needed space. Enough space to not hurt anybody. Enough space to avoid people. Shouldn't be too hard. This was a very large city for only having a hundred people in it. Almost seemed lonely in a way. Avalon needed more people.
I strode through the empty streets toward what appeared to be a wooded area. A large wooded area. This was inside the city walls? I couldn't even see the walls from here. It seemed as good a place as any. The afternoon sun made bars of golden light that slanted through the treetops, creating a patchwork of light and dark on the forest floor. Nearby I saw what appeared to be a house set up in a tree in the fashion of a ranger.
I continued to walk deeper into this overly large forest inside the city. After a few minutes of walking I happened upon small clearing, the forest floor covered with lush ferns. The earth here was good, black soil, like that you might find in old growth forests. Everything had the clean smell of wet earth and wood.
I dropped my bag and listened. I had adapted a Song effect from my travels to grant me some shelter from the rain and snow. I Sang to the Song in the air which allowed me to make physical things out of the air. I Sang and a cube appeared on the forest floor. The cube was about chest high on me, about the same size in all dimensions and looked like it had been carved out of pure mist or fog. Now the hard part. I altered the pitch of my Singing. A small hollow appeared in one side of the cube and continued back, widening and hollowing out the cube. What stood before me now was my “air tent”, a hollow cube with a “door” in the side. Sweat began to bead on my forehead at the end. Maybe with more time this would get easier. At any rate the tent would last me until the morning, when it would dissipate into mist.
The sun was setting now so I tried to work quickly. I gathered what little firewood I could and Sang to the pile of it. A few seconds later sparks burst from it and flames leaped up. The fire would provide me with heat and light for the last few evening hours. A stream nearby, (how was there a stream in this city?) gave me a chance to bathe. Being out in the desert for a week had really done a number on me. I was pretty sure I was sun burnt in a few areas. Scrubbing told me this.
Night had fallen when I was finally finished with my chores and had eaten what was left of the food in my pack. I had eaten what was polite while in the Seer's tent. There wasn't any point in being more rude than I had been. All I had left was a bit of stale loaf and some hard cheese, the usual travel rations. I mused as I sat and ate. The firelight cast strange shapes and phantoms at the trees around the clearing. They may have seemed ominous or frightening to people not used to them. These were my traveling companions. They came with me everywhere I went. The same with the Song. But the shadows said nothing and that was fine.
Depending on how much time I was afforded here I could spend some time growing plants into a more permanent shelter. I'd need to do lots of training to gain that level of control. I could grow trees into supports and leaves into a roof. Might as well try, it seemed like I was going to be living here a while, or at least using Avalon as a base of operations. When everything was said and done, it could just go back to being part of the forest. Hopefully erasing the fact that I was here.
I stood and dabbed the last very crumbs of dinner into my mouth. No sense wasting good food. I stood apart from the fire and Sang. A ways off in the shadows, around 40 years off, a block of the same material my tent was made of appeared and sat on the forest floor. While rectangular, it was about the height, width and depth of a man. There was a Song in the fireplace, a few different ones but I chose one in particular. I Sang to the Light and a beam of light the thickness of a hair appeared between the fire and the block of mist. A minute passed. Two. I was thankful I didn't have to keep Singing to maintain an effect. Three minutes. Finally at about five minutes smoke began to form in the block of mist. A few more minutes passed and the beam of light had passed completely through the block. That was the easy part. Now I Sang again and the beam tracked slowly upward, bisecting the block. Slowly the block split over the course of a half of an hour. Finally the block evaporated from too much damage and I let the beam vanish.
I sighed. I had my benchmark I guess. The Song of Light was everywhere. It was a reliable weapon when another Song was far away. I pictured being able to spear enemies with sunlight with a word. Maybe there was more I could do with it. I wondered if I could make solid objects out of light. Light had a flashiness I appreciated, and it was everywhere. Other uses for my power had been popping into my head. Armor made out of hardened air. Using plants to grab my enemies. Making a man weightless enough his own footsteps could launch him into the sky.
I Sang again and another block of solid air appeared where the last one had evaporated. I began again, hoping to be faster this time. Hours went by and the night deepened. Once or twice I thought I heard the sounds of footsteps in the forest in the direction of the creek I had bathed in. A heavy set of footsteps and the light sound of someone VERY woodcrafty. Some Ageless out for a moonlight stroll? Doesn't concern me. When I had gone through eight blocks I stopped, exhausted. I could get it going a little faster now. But not fast enough for combat. If I had the time, days maybe, I could possibly get it to burn through a man in a second, hopefully less than a second. I could use the sun or a torch as my weapon.
I knelt on the forest floor. Time for bed. The moon shone full overhead. What stars I could see shone undimmed through the canopy above. My fire was starting to die and the crickets had gone to sleep. I made sure my fire wouldn't spread to anything during the night and I climbed into my cube. I was going to make this thing look better dammit. Another thing on my “to-do” list. I stripped off my clothes and got into my bedroll. Sleep found me quickly despite getting comfortable with those ear muffs on.
I'm glad I can never fully remember my dreams. What I can remember usually has me waking in a sweat. Sometimes this is the case, but most time my Air Tent serves its dual purpose as an alarm clock. I was dropped a good four inches onto the forest floor when the tent finally gave out and dispersed into mist. I sat up blinking blearily and waving my arms around to clear the remaining mist. The morning was cool and dewy. A light thin fog clung to the forest floor and played among the ferns. The sky was a light blue, the sunlight was in the treetops but hadn't come down to the floor yet. Morning birds sang in the trees. This place was fairly peaceful. A contrast to the dreams I had.
There was a darkness in the shape of a man. I was running and he was chasing me. Fairly generic stuff, but I remember being seized with dread and cold. It was all freezing me and making me slower. Slowly killing me. Avalon stood in the distance, radiating warmth, but I saw that a cage waited for me in Avalon too. The cage was flanked by Sembas and Fenwick wearing guard uniforms. I turned away from Avalon to find another way. Still the darkness pursued me. I saw people all around me on the ground. They were being strangled by tendrils of black fog. I tried to loosen the fog around their necks but they shouted at me and pointed toward the cage. I don't remember much after that.
Maybe that one was more vivid than most. My dreams had been different since becoming and immortal. Well, virtual immortal anyway. I stepped out of my bedroll and stretched. I found my faded red shirt and grey pants where I had hung them on a stick planted in the ground the night before and put them on after a shake to evict any insects who decided to take up residence inside them.
I stretched some more, concentrating on my legs now. I Sang a certain Song quickly and felt myself get slightly heavier. I limbered up under the new weight and then set off at a run. As I ran through the brush I heard the small song of Momentum I had trained myself to hear. I quickly reached the stream and jumped. A quick note to the Song of Momentum increased my movement through the air, carrying me further than my jump could alone, clearing the stream with ease. I jogged on, jumping over obstacles and rolling under others. I broke the through the forest and saw that odd tree house again. As I looked, two large birds took to wing out of a window. They spiraled together across the treetops and passed out of my sight. The air around the tree house carried the scent of breakfast cooking. My stomach rumbled but it would have to wait.
I entered the city proper and jogged through the streets. I sought out obstacles where I could, jumping crates and barrels using my own power as much as I could, pushing myself hard. I wasn't going to get any breaks from the Forsaken. I think I may have surprised some of the Ageless in town. I doubted these people expected to see me jogging though town at this hour. I veered away from restricted areas and tried to hug the walls as much as possible. If I had a choice I'd jog on top of the walls, but I didn't want ruffle any feathers. I circumnavigated Avalon and came back to the forest. I was winded but I figured I could do it again. And so I did.
Upon my second return I saw Sembas out in front of the tree house with an enormous BEAR and an Ageless I recognized from yesterday. Archer, I think her name was. That must be her house in the trees. They were watching three of those large birds fly a course through some golden rings floating in the air. One of the birds flew down and transformed into that hulking man, Dennan. He slapped Sembas on the back and took off with that bear into the woods. Welcome to Avalon, where the weird is normal. I had seen a lot of Sembas, I wondered where Fenwick has gotten to.
I ran to the stream where I flopped onto the ground. I dunked my head and drank deeply. The water was cold and sweet. I sat to regain my breath. The sun had climbed to mid morning and my stomach was insisting that water wasn't going to be enough. I sighed. This wasn't going to be fun. I had to head in to town and ask for food. I had to ASK for food, not BUY it. This was going to be the worst part of my day, but I had the feeling I'd get over it. I had to play ball here to survive.
Once I had cooled down enough, I Sang and released the extra weight from myself. I strode toward town and decided to follow my nose. I found myself outside the best smelling shop I ever smelled. A few Ageless were floating out with pastries in their hands and either their noses buried in a book or in deep conversation with each other. I walked in like a mouse heading into a trap to get some cheese. It looked like this place was mostly serving Ageless who didn't want to take the time to cook or conjure food for themselves. Everything looked and smelled mouth watering. I tried to keep from drooling. I looked around quickly for something that looked low quality and spied some simple looking rolls on the bottom shelf of a display case.
“E-excuse me?” I said to the person who was tending to some delicious looking confections, “Um.. ahem.. could I get a few of those?” I said pointing at the simple rolls.
-
@Faran:
The man tending the cart is a massive gourmand with a dark complexion and a pleasant disposition. Unlike many of the other people in the city, he makes no attempt to converse with you. You get the feeling it is not due to unfriendliness, but rather, because he senses that you want to be left alone.
Another Ageless appears beside you as the hulking gentleman wordlessly hands you the rolls. You recognize the man beside you as Calming, the barkeeper.
“Morning, Philosophy,” greets Calming. “Could I get a basket of those rolls? Some of my patrons are reeling from last night. Smith was carousing last night with that Sembas fellow and all parties involved seem to have had an excellent time. There are a few blokes in there who are STILL having a fantastic time, and I think they’d benefit from something in their stomachs.”
The vendor, Philosophy, laughs and his enormous sides shake. He reaches into his cart and produces a basket of warm rolls. “Here you are, Calming.”
“Thanks, Jonas,” Calming replies. “Come by later for a pint, will ya? I don’t see enough of you.”
Philosophy’s laughter is rich and rumbling. “I can’t fathom how you don’t see enough of me. There’s plenty here not to miss!” he chuckles, gesturing to his own gargantuan form.
Calming turns to leave. He glances at you and narrows his eyes, as if looking for something. He glances towards Philosophy who merely shrugs in reply. Neither attempts to converse with you; Calming departs for his bar and Philosophy continues to tend to his offerings.
-
Fenwick awoke to the mixed scent of sweat and perfume and a lot of headaches. The sight of three Cleos brings back the memories of last night and he mentally smiles at the thought.
Breakfast is brought in by... Cleo, who is ordered to put it down by... Cleo. His ego and Manhood is praised by... hey! Two Cleos!!!
Then One Cleo snaps her hand and Cleo joins together with Cleo again.
Cleo. What a name.
He lets out a small groan as she kisses him, as if released from something. He shifts into a more comfortable position and hugs her.
She mentions something about sharing magic and looks down to where she points. A red sigil glows and he realises that it resonates with the blue sigil on his forehead, which glows along with the red one.
"How often will be often?" He asks in response to her statement. It was never a crime to be sure of things. "Oh! That means I got everything from you and you didn't get anything back from me? Do you have a sigil on your chest?" His eyes dart down to her cleavage just as they had when they had first met. Seeing no difference (Wait... was that a slight bruise?), he frowns slightly, before grinning and shrugging, obviously joking and not expecting anything different with her.
Somewhere among the pile of clothes, a muffled voice seems to call out. "Get-----out----- here!!!"
Cardack.
-
Sembas watches in awe as Dennan turns into a falcon and flies through the rings. He imagines what its like, finding himself wiggling his fingers under his crossed arms. Upon Archer's mention of getting some practice in Sembas nods.
"Yes, we haven't had time to train since we left for our journey to Avalon. I think it would do us both good to go through some exercises."
As Dennan claps him on the shoulder Sembas chuckles at the large man. "You must show me how you do that!"
His new friends depart, leaving Sembas and Faile to themselves. The falconer tightens the gauntlet on his arm and deposits his spear and bow and arrows at the base of a nearby tree. He had left his old militia issue weapons in Archer's house for safe keeping until he has a place of his own. The Blue Steel and the diamonds sparkle in the morning sun. His hunter's knife, or course stays strapped to his hip. He adjusts his cloak about his shoulders and flips the hood up over his head.
Faile, who was circling overhead as he was preparing, lands softly on his outstretched arm. She looks at him expectantly. The two stare into each others eyes for a moment, their minds connecting on a deeper level than usual.
Sembas thrusts his arm upwards and Faile takes off into the sky. He chants under his breath for a moment before taking off in a run. Faile begins to grow in size as she swoops down behind him. At the last moment he leaps high into the air and lands on her back. Crouching low and holding on with one hand, Sembas cheers as she lifts higher into the air.
"Lets do a lap, girl. I'd like to see Avalon from your point of view."
The two streak through the sky, Sembas's green cloak flaps in the wind behind him. He spots the lake where Archer and Besnik were going through their own exercises. A mischevious grin spreads across his face as he pats Faile on the back.
"Lets see how they like our cannon ball, eh girl?"
They circle the lake once, before Sembas leaps off Faile's back from seemingly too high in the air. But due to his great athletics prowess he merely rolls as he hits the ground and springs up. He is a little dusty, but unscathed nonetheless.
Waving at Archer and Besnik from the other side of the lake, he begins to chant under his breath. Moments later a large rock solid Faile spashes into the water like a boulder falling from the sky. Water splashes out of the lake and catches Archer under the spray.
Sembas laughs uproariously as Faile springs out of the water, surrounded by a faint glimmering shield. She quickly snatches him up with her talons. Grasping onto the back of his armor and cloak she lifts off into the air. He sticks his tongue out at Archer and Besnik and waves as he is carried away.
She lets go when they are over a clearing and he flips to the ground landing in a crouch, his leather armor groaning in protest from the impact.
Faile shrinks back to normal size and does flips and acrobatics in the air. Sembas tosses rocks at her for her to dodge. In an instant she is careening towards him and in a flash he quickly dodges out of the way. The two look like they are dancing as one ducks and the other weaves out of each others talons or rocks.
Their dance goes on for quite some time before Sembas takes off into the forest surrounding them in a sprint, leaping over stumps and fallen branches and weaving through the tall trees. Faile follows, dodging tree branches and leaves above him.
Finding another clearing, Sembas collapses on the ground breathing heavily. Faile comes to land on his chest, breathing heavily throuh her open beak.
"You're getting slow, girl. Too many of Archer's honeycakes, eh?" He says to her as he ruffles her feathers.
"You're one to talk! I don't remember you weighing quite so much last time I gave you a ride... Your armor's fitting a little tighter than usual, eh big boy?"
The two share a laugh as Sembas stands up, Faile perched on his shoulder.
"I think we're going to need to step up our training, girl. Tossing rocks and running through the forest won't cut it anymore. We're not going to be dealing with foolish bandits or stubborn animals anymore. More like that night we almost..."
Faile nods deeply, all too aware of the scars on her body from the magic arrow. Sembas rubs his ribs, feeling the memory of the pain as well.
"Come on, lets go see if Archer has dried off yet..."
Faile grows again and Sembas leaps onto her back as she takes off. He collects his spear and bow and arrows and straps them to his back before they lift off again in search of Archer and Besnik. As they fly though the air Sembas imagines spreading his own wings and flying next to Faile. He lets out a sigh as she banks to the left and he is jolted back to reality.
-
Depheir arrived the grand reception hall, where he had to wait until General Fury ended discussing strategy with Lieutenant Fierce. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long, because a fair, red-headed human came to him and told him to follow her. She introduced her as Muse.
"Nice to meet you, Muse. I am Depheir Kothgar, but you can simply call me by name."
She leaded Depheir into the courtyard where General Fury was seated at a table with a large, well-muscled man with gray hair that fell over his shoulders. His eyes were an unusual, striking shade of blue and he glanced at you impassively as you enter.
“Ah… Depheir.” Fury stood to greet him. “This is Lieutenant Cedric Fierce of The Fierce Legion. He is one of the finest commanders in The Bulwark of Heaven. Cedric, this is Depheir Kogthar, one of our newest recruits. So... What can I do for you?”
"Hmm... There are other things to do besides asking for that Cardack.", he thought to himself and few seconds later, he said to them.
"I have already planned that I will become a spy for the Legion. Thanks to that I am newly recruited, The Forsaken may not recognize me as their enemy, and my reports may result in immense tactical advantages. I have already told my plan to Dethys and he is creating a spell to aid me in my task."
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo grins up at you as her index finger lazily dances across the middle of your chest before skimming upwards and poking you gently on the nose.
“Use your best discretion. Call when you need me most. As I’ve said, I do have my duties here to tend to, but should you find yourself in danger or in need of me, do not hesitate to use it.”
You notice that there is no mark on her chest to display any exchange of power, and you correctly surmise that you have likely benefitted more from this exchange of the arcane arts than she has. However, she does not seem to mind in the least and seems perfectly content to remain at your side and dote upon you.
From your position on Cleo’s bed, you see an unusual light spark to life somewhere in the main area of this massive tent. You immediately recall that this distinct light seems to be the same pattern that was emitted from the orb.
“Mistress Cleo?” calls a male voice.
Cleo raises an eyebrow, but soon, recognition dawns upon her face. She snaps her fingers and both of you are instantly dressed. She grabs you by the hand and leads you into the main area where you find yourself greeted by Bran Thane, General Fury’s youngest son. Noting your disheveled hair and Cleo’s glowing disposition, he immediately begins to blush and stammers an apology.
“I-I’m sorry, Mistress Cleo… I did not know you were… uh… entertaining company,” speaks Bran. He avoids looking at both of you and his gaze is firmly upon the floor.
“Oh, Bran! It’s alright, dear! Wicky and I were just sitting down to breakfast! What can I do for you, sweetheart?” She speaks to him lovingly, like a doting older sister might regard her little brother. This is not surprising to you as Cleo has already mentioned how much she esteems her kindred.
“Mistress Archer asked me to invite all of our people to a display of falcon athletic prowess and great feats of dexterity,” explains Bran. “She and Master Sembas would very much like for everyone to attend. It will be held on the east side of town, near the great tree, at sunset. Will you be coming?” His expression is hopeful, and you gather that he has likely made similar invitations to her, but has left with little more than a negative response.
Cleo glances up at you and she squeezes your hand tightly. “Yes… I do believe that would be most agreeable.”
“Okay… I understand… I…” Bran moves to leave, but suddenly turns toward her, his eyes wide with excitement. “You will?! That… that’s excellent! I’ll let her know!” Bran gives a quick wave before hurrying back through the portal.
She watches as the portal closes behind him, then returns her attention to you. “I can leave myself in charge while I’m gone. She snaps her fingers and Cleo #2 appears in the corner of the room next to the orb. “Do you hear that? I’ll be stepping out with Wicky tonight.”
Cleo #2 crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “But what about me?”
“Bah! Don’t pretend like you want to go. “You and #3 can fight over who is better at chess again!” Cleo snaps her fingers and Cleo #3 appears beside #2.
“Hmph! I look forward to beating you again!” gloats #2.
“So you think!” refutes #3.
Cleo smiles up at you. “Now… where were we?” She snaps her fingers again and you find yourself disrobed in front of the three women.
Cleo takes you by the hand and leads you back to her bedroom.
“What about us?” calls Cleo #2.
“Yeah! It’s not cheating if we’re all you!” chimes in Cleo #3.
But Cleos #2 and #3 receive no answer save for the closing of the heavy curtains that lead to the bedroom, and the plethora of pleasurable noises that follow.
“Well… that stinks!” grumbles Cleo #2.
“Chess?” asks Cleo #3.
“Indeed!” agrees Cleo #2.
@Sembas:
You walk back to the area where you left Besnik and a sopping wet Archer, but find that the two have since moved on. Perhaps they have concluded their training for the day and…
A loud screech pierces like an arrow through the morning sky as Besnik swoops down and seizes you with his talons.
“Think you’re clever, eh?” grins Archer from her place upon Besnik’s back. “Well, if I must endure wet leathers, so shall you!”
Besnik swoops over the top of the lake and you descend like a rock as he drops you from his grasp and unceremoniously dumps you into the lake. As your body hits the water you find that it is the perfect temperature. It is cool and refreshing, but as you make your way towards the shore, you are reminded of the irritation of wet leathers. The joints of your armor creak audibly and this just makes Archer and Besnik laugh harder. Even Faile is having a pleasant laugh at your expense… until Besnik dips his beak into the water and proceeds to shoot a stream of it towards your unsuspecting companion.
Faile looks at him disdainfully and begins to preen her feathers.
Archer lithely dismounts from Besnik’s back and you notice that her sopping clothes have made her armor cling to her body even more so than usual, thus revealing her curved hips and lean, athletic form.
She takes you by the arm. “Come now, my mischief-maker. Let us put on something drier, shall we?”
She hooks her arm through yours and leads you back to her treetop abode. She bids you follow her to her bedroom to go in search of dry garments. She kneels at a chest near the foot of her bed and begins to rummage through the contents before finding something suitable.
“Here… they’re rather old, but VERY comfortable.” She hands you a white, long-sleeved shirt that is soft to the touch and has a rather silky feel, a pair of dark brown pants, a pair of dark brown leather boots, and a brown, quilted doublet.
“Those should do it… Now… Take off your clothes.” It dawns on her how that must have sounded and she clamps a hand over her mouth. “I mean… uh… oh dear.” She is terribly flustered and blushes a deep crimson. “Your leathers… I’ll see that they are oiled and hang them out to dry.”
@Rethagos:
General Fury and Lieutenant Fierce exchange glances.
“Dethys is intending to what?!” exclaims Lt. Fierce. “Fantastic! That man has finally lost what little remnants of his mind that he had left! And now he’s convincing Childer Immortalis to partake in his insanity.”
“Cedric,” speaks Fury gently. “Dethys knows what he’s doing. It seems that Depheir has agreed upon his own volition, and at this point, I’d be willing to try just about anything to find out what Severan’s up to.”
“But what if he is caught?!” demands Lt. Fierce.
Fury sighs heavily. “That must be a chance he is willing to take. Cedric, Dethys is a very powerful man, and I do not doubt he can come up with something suitable. A spell to mask Depheir’s motivations should be able to…”
“But they have powerful mages on their side! Not to mention, Fortuna is still unaccounted for! I have no doubt she is working with the Forsaken, and someone like that devil-witch would certainly be able to see through a spell like that, even if cast by the formidable Dethys Night!” argues Lt. Fierce.
Fury is silent. She crosses her arms over her chest and appears to be contemplating something. “Cedric… Severan knows us… None of us would ever be able to pull of this ruse. But you know that he has been heavily recruiting from newly-made Immortalis, and Depheir might be able to give us the break he is looking for.”
“Deya!” exclaims Lt. Fierce. “Surely you are not considering this madness!”
“We’ve had Severan and his ilk on the defensive for centuries… but now the tide is starting to turn. You’ve been on the front lines! I don’t think I need to tell you all this. Every day, the Adversary’s power grows. We cannot continue to allow Severan and his people to aid in furthering their master’s agenda. Something must be done, Cedric.” There is a certain finality in Fury’s voice, and in hearing this, the disbelieving Lt. Fierce quickly succumbs to silence.
He nods numbly. “As you will it, Deya. After all you have done for me, I would never disagree with your decisions. If you believe this may work, than that is good enough for me.”
“Thank you, Cedric.” Fury puts her hand on her companion’s shoulder. “I am in agreement with Dethys’s decision to facilitate this plan, Depheir. However, you should bear in mind that he is easily distracted. Let me send someone with you to keep him on task.”
Muse is sent with a message and moments later, a striking woman with brown hair and gray eyes appears in the room. She is wearing a suit of chainmail and has a stern authority in her expression that nearly chills your blood. If she did not look so unapproachable, you are certain that she would be quite beautiful.
“Blood…” says Fury to the new arrival. “Dethys is working on a spell for Depheir. Could you please ensure that he remains on task.”
Blood grins wickedly. “My pleasure.”
“Blood…” speaks Fury warningly. “You are not to harm a hair on his head. No submission holds, no hiding his books, no calling him an egghead, none of that.”
Blood sighs. “Very well. Then what am I supposed to do to ensure he does what he needs to?!”
“I have faith in you… you’ll think of something,” Fury replies simply. “Now, Cedric and I have some matters of business to attend to. I expect we will see both of you at the Falcon Race tonight. Please remind Dethys to make an appearance, Blood.”
Blood nods obediently. “Yes, General Fury.”
“Thank you for making me aware of your intentions Depheir. You seem quite anxious to carry out this task, so we will do our best to ensure that Dethys remains on task for you.” The General shakes your hand and bids you farewell.
Blood leads you back out of the building that houses The Bulwark of Heaven and the two of you begin to make your way towards the unusual home of Dethys Night.
She is silent for some time, and seems to prefer it that way, but Blood eventually speaks to you. “Dethys is a very intelligent man, but he is easily distracted,” she explains. “He was supposed to work on an item for the Archon, and proceeded to teach his potted plants how to speak some useless language. Then there was the time he was to work on a temporary invulnerability spell for Lt. Fierce and instead figured out how to make pies into bombs that explode on impact. Then there was the time I asked him if he could enchant my armor and he turned it into a home for orphaned mice who had lost parents to his EXPERIMENTS.”
She shakes her head and sighs. “So you understand the need to keep an eye on him when something important must be done?”
-
“Dethys is intending to what?! Fantastic! That man has finally lost what little remnants of his mind that he had left! And now he’s convincing Childer Immortalis to partake in his insanity.”
Exclamation of Lt. Fierce surprised Depheir a bit.
"What did he... ah yes. Creating new spells may be very unstable, but why does Lieutenant panic so much?"
Depheir listened to conversationo between Fury and Fierce and he became more scared every second as he reminded every danger that may occur in his task.
Several minutes later, Fury told him:
“I am in agreement with Dethys’s decision to facilitate this plan, Depheir. However, you should bear in mind that he is easily distracted."
Depheir , scared a little when Fury told that, thought to himself:
"So, we will have a problem here. Creating spells needs very much concentration. He CANNOT be distracted."
"Let me send someone with you to keep him on task.”
Muse was sent with a message and moments later, a striking woman with brown hair and gray eyes and wearing a suit of chainmail, appeared in the room.
“Blood... Dethys is working on a spell for Depheir. Could you please ensure that he remains on task.”
Blood grinned wickedly. “My pleasure.”
Depheir was a bit interested with woman that came. She looked very good, but she looked so unapproachable...
“Thank you for making me aware of your intentions Depheir. You seem quite anxious to carry out this task, so we will do our best to ensure that Dethys remains on task for you.” The General shook his hand and bid him farewell.
Blood lead him back out of the building that houses The Bulwark of Heaven and they begun to make their way towards the unusual home of Dethys Night.
She was silent for some time, and seemed to prefer it that way, but Blood eventually spoke to him. “Dethys is a very intelligent man, but he is easily distracted,” she explains. “He was supposed to work on an item for the Archon, and proceeded to teach his potted plants how to speak some useless language."
"Oh my...", Depheir thought to himself. "Distraction can lead to very strange things, but I've never heard about that before."
"Then there was the time he was to work on a temporary invulnerability spell for Lt. Fierce and instead figured out how to make pies into bombs that explode on impact. Then there was the time I asked him if he could enchant my armor and he turned it into a home for orphaned mice who had lost parents to his EXPERIMENTS.”
Depheir chuckled. These histories were funny, but dangerous, as he thaught a moment later.
NO DISTRACTION, when there is something important to do.
“So you understand the need to keep an eye on him when something important must be done?”
"Heh, yes. Let's go to his house."
-
All of you received the word-of-mouth invitation to the Falcon Race from General Fury’s youngest son, Bran Thane, and are aware that the bout between the falcons will occur at dusk.
However, as each of you draws near the location, it is unlikely that any of you could have fathomed what an enormous draw the Falcon Race would be. The Ageless spend the majority of their time protecting cities and people in the human realm or fighting the Forsaken on the front lines, thus, when there is cause for celebration, they tend to go above and beyond. What was intended to be a simple race has been transformed into an elaborate public spectacle.
The typically peaceful streets of the city’s east side are lined with nearly half of the Ageless population. Everyone is in high spirits and thanks to Calming’s preparations, many of them also HAVE high spirits in hand. Philosophy, too, has helped to enhance the grandeur of this affair by preparing a smorgasbord at the far end of the street. The immense table is laden with all manner of fresh meats (recently hunted by Dennan and Fensten,) soft rolls, scrumptious vegetables and juicy fruits (care of Hestia’s gardens,) succulent soups, delectable desserts, and small fountains, filled to the brim with ciders, sparkling spring water, and honeymeade.
All of the Ageless that you have met so far, and many more that you haven’t, are in attendance. General Fury and her sons are near the starting line. The boys are laughing and joking around, and even their grim parent manages to crack a smile at their gleeful antics.
Armen Smith has his arm draped around Aloysius Keeper and the two friends appear to have already indulged in the honeymeade. Smith whoops at intervals in support of his new friend, Sembas, shouting encouragement to the falconer at the starting line.
Muse and Hestia are within the large crowd. Muse speaks animatedly while Hestia nods and offers advice as the younger woman questions her about garden plants and their response to music. Serenity and her brother, Constancy are nearby, squabbling over some task that Dethys has appointed to them.
Lieutenant Fierce, still clad in his heavy battle armor, is surrounded by a large collection of women of varying ages. They range from their late teens to their late 60’s, and each of them smiles up at Lieutenant Fierce, elated to have him home.
This race serves as a pleasant distraction for the Ageless, and each and every one of them are delighted to share each other’s company and make merry in the streets of Avalon.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The noise is simply overwhelming, and even with the “Magical Earmuffs” that adorn Faran’s head, the magic-user may be a bit unnerved by the intermittent crescendos of the Song that surround him.
As Faran makes his way through the streets, he spots Muse who offers a wave and a smile. Hestia, happy to see her patient about and quite recovered, gives a nod of acknowledgment.
These greetings are quickly lost upon Faran as he sees the hulking form of Jonas Philosophy lumbering toward him with purposeful stride. Philosophy’s eyes are firmly locked on his, and the lack of expression on the gargantuan man’s face is quite intimidating. Jonas stops in front of Faran and slowly reaches to the unusual satchel strapped to his side and utters one word as he removes something from the opening.
“Kabob?”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Depheir has spent the better part of his afternoon in the company of Blood and Dethys. The former has the latter by the shoulder and is strategically steering him through the crowd.
“Come on, Adia!” insists Dethys. “Just a few more minor alterations and I think I can figure out how to make potted plants fly.”
“I can, too,” replies Blood drily. “It’s called throwing them. The only reason I even let you entertain that ridiculous experiment was because you told me it would help you with Depheir’s spell.”
“It did,” responds Dethys. “If I turn Depheir into a potted plant, I can make him fly.”
“Stop stalling. We’re eager to see if this harebrained scheme of yours will actually work. Would it kill you to put a bit more effort into it?” asks Blood.
“Ugh…” groans Dethys. “I’ve been at that blasted spell all day… It’s just not working! Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to mask Depheir’s intentions? Severan and that bastard Cauter can see through just about everything. They could scent my alterations a mile away.”
“I’d be more concerned about Fortuna,” mutters Blood. “That witch has always had your number.”
Dethys pales considerably at the mention of this new name. “I would appreciate it if you would never mention that name again. That woman is the most evil, vile, malicious creature to ever walk the earth.” He quickly changes the subject. “Anyway… I’m trying… I just don’t know if it can be done.”
“Adia is right, dear,” agrees Dethys’s wife, Carina. She is holding their young son, Laertan, and looks up at Dethys with hopeful eyes. “If anyone can manage it, it’s you, Dethys. I know you can. You simply have to apply yourself more.”
Dethys wraps his arm around his loving wife’s shoulders and looks down upon her with adoration in his eyes. “Well, my dear… if you think so, then it must be true.” Dethys tenderly kisses his wife while Blood feigns disgust.
“Get a room, will you?” mutters Blood.
“Don’t be jealous, Adia. I’m sure that you will one day find a marvelous ogre to cavort with yourself,” retorts Dethys with a smirk.
Blood ignores him and changes the subject. She spots Lieutenant Fierce in the crowd and points him out to Depheir. “There is Lieutenant Fierce. He was speaking with the General when you arrived at the Bulwark Headquarters earlier. See all those women? There are twelve of them. They’re Fierce’s daughters. He has a soft spot for mortal women and has been married several times. The gray-haired one is his eldest, Emina, and that girl in her late teens is his youngest, Aella.”
“Fierce is one hell of a warrior,” speaks Blood. “When he was a mortal, he was known as Cedric Alexei. He was the king of all the barbarian tribes in North Vighardur. His personal army was comprised of berserkers, men who were driven to frenzy in battle. The Fierce Legion, his company, fights in much the same way.”
She then turns to Depheir. “So… Are you enjoying Avalon so far, Depheir?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fenwick and Cleo make their way through the throng of people. The Seer has her arm hooked through yours and appears quite comfortable in your company. She leans her head against your shoulder as you walk, and this openly friendly gesture draws quite a bit of attention from her kindred, all of whom are ecstatic to see her out and about again.
As you pass by Hestia, she gives Cleo a hug and whispers something in her ear. Dennan, too, graces your lovely lady with a hug of his own, while his brother Corvus claps you on the back and offers you a knowing wink. The twins are in the company of their younger brother, Bran, and are joined by their mother who happily welcomes Cleo back to Avalon.
The General then pulls you aside and heartily shakes your hand. “Thank you for your help, Fenwick. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have Cleo back with us… and happier than ever at that.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The race course is suspended overhead, and these self-sustaining, hovering hoops whirl, move and dance about at intervals to make the course more difficult for the participants. Archer and Sembas stand at the starting line, their respective falcons upon their training gauntlets.
It is nearly time for the race to begin and Archer glances over at Sembas, offering him a gentle smile.
“I know the crowd must be rather daunting, but any respite from the ardors of war are a cause for celebration. There are fewer and fewer reasons to celebrate these days.” Archer’s expression is tainted with sorrow, but she quickly dispels this unhappy thought back to the recesses of her mind. “Well, we shall not disappoint them then.”
Both falconers stand ready as Dennan, who will judge the race, makes his way towards them. He gives a slight bow to both participants, then proceeds to pat both falcons upon their feathery heads.
“I’ll be following behind you,” Dennan informs Faile and Besnik. “Easier to determine the winner this way.” He raises one arm into the air and everyone in the crowd turns to face him, their attention firmly directed towards the proceedings of the race.
Dennan’s low, rumbling voice announces the start of the race. “On your marks… Get set…”
Both Faile and Besnik drop into their starting stances and prepare to take flight.
“GO!”
Dennan stretches his arms out to his sides and the entirety of his form erupts in a flash of golden light as he assumes the form of a falcon, so that he may better follow the race.
Faile and Besnik explode in simultaneous action, propelling themselves forward and towards the 1st ring. It is difficult to determine which one has the advantage early on, as they appear to be neck and neck. Their handlers follow behind them, reminding them of the correct motions and cheering on their charges.
The crowd begins to shout encouragement and both falcons seem to respond to the urging, pushing themselves faster and farther than either has ever managed before. The 5th ring requires a quick vertical ascent, and it is here that Besnik manages to overtake Faile. The male falcon careens by his opponent, which only causes Faile’s determination to increase.
Faile desperately attempts to gain an advantage over Besnik, but the latter is unwilling to allow her to pass him. The 8th ring is a steep descent, followed by a quick turn through the ninth ring. Though Faile gains ground, she is still unable to overtake her rival.
Besnik voices a shrill cry of joy in response to his current position, and Faile retorts with a reply of her own. Besnik seems amused by this, as he has managed to increase his distance ahead of her. The two birds make their way towards the 12th ring and both Sembas and Archer raise their bows. Each of them releases a flurry of six arrows for their charges to catch. Besnik manages to catch all of Archer’s arrows, but Faile struggles to field Sembas’s as her master’s arrows are considerably less accurate.
Down through the 13th hoop, the two birds complete for control of the race. Both drop their arrows into the awaiting baskets below before beginning the climb towards the next hoop. Besnik playfully taunts his opponent and Faile shrieks in defiance. Her wings propel her further towards the hoop, and as Besnik passes through, he finds that his lead is quickly decreasing.
By the 18th hoop, Faile has managed to close the gap. As they rocket through the nineteenth hoop, near Archer’s tree, Faile explodes past Besnik, leaving her rival to cry out in shock as he attempts to regain his lead.
There are only five hoops left, and Faile is determined to best Besnik yet again. However, Besnik has grown stronger and faster in Faile’s absence from Avalon, and at the 20th hoop, regains the lead. Faile, not to be outdone, manages to overtake him at the 21st, but her lead is short-lived as Besnik reasserts his dominance at the 22nd. Faile refuses to relent to Besnik and shoots past him at the 23rd ring, but the 24th and final ring promises to be the most challenging. This ring sits atop the lake, and even a minor miscalculation can result in the falcons careening into the drink.
As they near the last ring, Besnik and Faile are on even ground, and the crowd watches in anticipation as the falcons glance towards each other, shouting one final challenge, as they make their way towards the 24th ring.
-
Fenwick sighs, content. Cries of 'Check!' and 'Checkmate!' had rung throughout the tent during their second session, but it did nothing to douse the passion between the two.
Sunset was coming, so said the sundial outside (being in a desert did have its advantages!). After reluctantly putting on his robes again, he tidied his hair up and ensured that Cardack was somewhere within.
*Had a lot of fun didn't you? I stopped caring after a while!* Cardack had cried with dignity right after being picked up. *Only have half a body. Oh I miss the days.* He sighs at the thought.
Cleo snaps her finger and one of the clones disappears, leaving the second clone behind to guard the gates. Satisfied, she opens the portal once more. Except that this time, she followed behind Fenwick...
...And came out right next to the great tree.
The change was defeaning. From a quiet tent to one of cheers of anticipation and gay laughter. A few lightweights giggle and hiccup, but it is obvious that nothing would fully distract them from the race at hand.
In the distance, he sees Sembas and quickly waves a 'hello!' to him, after which he moves to join the crowd, not wanting to distract his friend.
Cleo's arm was hooked through his with her head on his shoulder. She was strangely quiet, but when Fenwick looked to check if she was fine, he saw a gentle smile on her face, as if she was simply allowing everything to flow around and into her. Yet, when she was waved at, she would respond by widening her smile, occasionally coming some by name. Fenwick, being new, can do nothing but smile and be silent.
He looks around and can just barely spot Faran, wit a huge man walking... lumbering towards him. Yet he cannot see what happens after as Ageless continuously walk across his line of sight.
Not that this was a bad thing of course. Moments later, they meet up with Muse conversing with Hestia. Hestia gives a slight gasp as she sees the couple before giving Cleo a big bear hug, which is returned in kind. Something is whispered into Cleo's ear, which Cleo replies to. But their catching up is cut short by Dennan, who also hugs Cleo. As Fenwick watches this, Corvus claps him on the back and winks at him. Fenwick rewards this with a blush and his smile tightens, giving perhaps a little too much away.
He is then yanked away by the general, who shakes his hand and thanks him for bringing Cleo back.
"Oh, it was nothing... I mean, it's not a problem." Being thanked like that by someone with so much authority throws him off track and he is unable to continue.
He is however, saved by a sudden hush over the crowd. Fingers point and whispers propogate among the crowd. The race course has presented itself in its entirety at last. Dennan stands somewhere below those rings ith the two falcons (How'd he get there so fast!?!).
*Get me out, I want to see what's going on!!*
Obligingly, he pulls the tome out and lays it on his head and Cardack's ghostly image rises out. Yet moments later, Fenwick feels a tiny pop and pulls the book down. 'What happened?' He asks the ghost.
*Hestia...* is the reply.
Although wanting to help their relationship, he knows now is not the time. He hugs the book gently with his right arm as he always had, while Cleo rejoins him and takes her position on his left.
A thunderous 'GO!' is heard and three falcons take flight. Confusion reigns on his face for a while until he realises and remembers that Dennan could shapeshift. He was probably the judge of the race.
Fenwick watches eagerly as the birds fly through hoop by hoop. Rooting for Faile, he grits his teeth in anticipation as his abdominals tense up, willing her to catch up as she falls behind. Arrows suddenly shoot up and while the other falcon, Besnik, catches his arrows without any effort whatsoever, Faile struggles a little and this costs her a little more time.
Fenwick looks away, as if he had failed somehow. But a slight nudge from Cleo entices him to watch again.
Somehow or another, she manages to catch up with her opponent. The earlier screeches and taunts have died down as the two competitors struggle to win. In his eyes, both the birds were subtly dancing with each other and his jaw drops slightly at the sight.
*Here it comes!!* Cardack whisper-shouts in his mind. Apparentely he was watching it too... somehow.
And as they pass through the 23rd hoop, time seems to slow as Fenwick anticipates the final dive...
-
Sembas throws his bow on the ground in frustration. He just couldn't match Archer's skill with directing an arrow. Against his nature, he had thrown his hood back in such a large crowd in order to aim better for the volley, but it didn't help him too much. His hood bounces against his back as he runs below the two falcons, keeping stride with Archer.
"Keep flat!"
"Don't push against the wind, use it!"
"You can dive faster than that! Dive, Dive!"
He yells from below. Through the bond he could feel Faile's determination. There wasn't a speck of nervousness or fear coming from her at all. Atta' girl... He couldn't help but marvel at her strength and grace. Once again he was reminded of the magnificance of his companion. He glances at Archer. Faile was matching a falcon trained by an Ageless. The pride he felt from this was overwhelming. But he didn't just want them to match Archer and Besnik, he wanted to win! Even though this was just a friendly competition, Sembas and Faile would never give less than their best. Their pride and determination was pushing them on, driving them forward.
He can practically feel the wind on her feathers. The ring is sitting precariously atop the lake. One wrong move and she would be taking a swim. He wills her on. If he knew how to give Faile some of his energy through the bond, he would be doing so right now. He wanted to push her, to give her the strength to win this competition. The strength to be better. He sprints ahead of Archer, cheering Faile on feverently.
Besnik was right next to her, she cries out in challenge at him. Memories of their old races flash through her mind. Memories of beating him. She would not allow him to beat her after all these years.
Faile could feel Sembas's feelings coming through the bond in waves. His faith in her and his determination was pushing her that much harder. She could almost feel his hands at her back pushing her faster. Feeding off his emotions, she pushes herself harder than she has before. With a loud cry she pushes faster, quicker.
The last ring was mere meters in front of her. She could smell the fresh water of the lake. Her trajectory was perfect. The crowd was gone, the cheers might have been miles away. Avalon was all but a memory. All that she saw was the ring, suspended in the air. Sembas's and her thoughts were practically as one. His muscles strained as he ran along the shore of the lake. Her body was tense and straining against the wind on her descent.
The ring was right in front of her, she was nearly there. Sembas's thoughts were coming through like a torrent. With inches left she cries out in determination, the world a blur around her as she speeds through the air.
-
As the falcons thunder towards the final ring, Sembas can hear Archer, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. Her whispered encouragement for Besnik, though hushed, is accented by a hint of excitement.
“Come on, Besi… You can do this.”
It appears that Besnik has taken the lead again. His form begins to pass through the ring, just ahead of the determined Faile. However, a slight miscalculation on his part results in him careening towards the ring at an awkward angle. There is an audible crunch as Besnik’s right wing connects with the side of the ring. Archer gasps as a sharp cry cuts through the air, silencing every onlooker in the vicinity.
“Besnik!” Archer cries out to her fallen companion and begins to race towards the surface of the lake as the fowl lands hard in the water, sending a wave splashing upwards.
Sembas feels Faile’s fright; though she and Besnik are rivals, you can feel that she is deeply concerned for his well-being. You see your beloved companion rapidly change her trajectory. She manages to pass through the ring, but swoops low, seizing the injured Besnik in her talons. She pulls away from the water and flaps valiantly, carrying the weight of Besnik, who cries out miserably for Archer.
To everyone’s surprise, Faile continues on her course, directly towards the finish line. The red, breakaway paper is severed in two as Faile and Besnik cross the line simultaneously. Faile gently places Besnik upon the ground, and you can hear her vocalizing her encouragement and attempting to comfort him as both you and Archer arrive on the scene.
“Besi!” Archer scoops Besnik up into her arms. “Are you alright?” She examines him from beak to talons and glances down in dismay as she realizes that his wing is broken. “Oh, Besi.”
She cradles him to her chest as Hestia arrives at her side. Dennan, who has reassumed his human form, looks on with concern.
“Let me see him, dear,” says Hestia gently.
Archer nods and places her companion in Hestia’s waiting arms.
Hestia silently examines her patient and offers Archer a reassuring smile. “It’s a clean break. I can fix this right up and he’ll be back to himself in no time.”
She holds Besnik with one arm as the fingers on her opposite hand are enveloped in a soft amber glow. Besnik ceases his pitiful cries as Hestia sets the bones and aids him with a magical mend. You can see the bones fuse back together, and Archer strokes the feathers upon Besnik’s head to comfort him.
“There,” speaks Hestia. “Right as rain. It might be a little tender for the next few days, but I can guarantee that this race won’t be his last.” She winks at Faile who cries out in agreement.
Hestia hands Besnik back to Archer, but the falcon refuses to stay put. He expresses his wish to be put down and struts over to where Faile is standing. He presses his beak to the back of her neck and begins to preen her feathers in a gesture of thanks.
Faile seems quite pleased by this gesture, but jests at the recovering Besnik.
Her words are inaudible to all but Sembas and Archer. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. I demand a rematch.”
“Granted,” comes Besnik’s simple reply.
After a few moments, Faile flaps upward, landing upon Sembas’s shoulder. The crowd has been silent, each and every Ageless watching the scene unfold, but as Besnik vocalizes his appreciation for Faile’s deed with a raucous call, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
-
Silence.
Then, a sickening crunch.
Several Ageless wince, others breathe in sharply, while more still cover their gaping mouths in shock.
Fenwick did none of those. The crunch seemed nothing but distant, and all he could register was Faile diving straight down...
...and through the ring.
Time resumes, along with the meaning of the crunch. Fenwick gasps, startling Cleo a little. In his mind, a quick *ooooh* is heard from Cardack. Soon after, a huge splash is heard.
But the race is not over. There is still the finish line. Unfazed, Faile swoops in and picks Besnik up with her talons, straining a little from the extra weight, but clearly making quick progress towards the finish line.
Then, the paper is broken.
Yet, the crowd remains silent. Concern had, not surprisingly, shifted from questions of who was to win to those of whether Besnik was fine. Dennan returns into his human form and can only look while Hestia does something. There is a small glow and Besnik quietens from his cries.
Besnik is returned to Archer, but he appears determined to strut over to Faile and, once reaching her, prunes her. Cleo's grip tightens slightly around Fenwick at the sight and her head leans harder on his shoulder.
A call from Besnik, along with a few flapping of wings.
And the crowd goes wild!! Cheers, applauses, and whistles are heard. Fenwick rejoices too, not only in the victory, but in the display of sports-bird-ship.
A few memories of him playing with his friends flash through his mind.
But they do not seem to dampen the mood as he grabs Cleo by the hand and twirls her around before taking both her hands and jumping around in something that appeared to be a dance.
Cardack falls to the ground with a thwack and is shortly picked up by a huffing Fenwick.
*Do that again and I'll...* He trails off, realising that he cannot do anything.
'Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy the race though!' Fenwick replies.
He puts the tome back in his robes and extends his arm to reach Cleo's shoulders, holding her close to him.
-
I took the skewered snack of steak from the enormous man's meaty hand. I hadn't seen it's like before. The little cubes of meat looked like they had been run through with a straight bit of wood and cooked over an open fire. It was so simple and smelled good. Food and fun. I took a bit of the spicy meat off the end. It was delicious. My eyes widened involuntarily. I looked at the man who towered another foot above me and nodded my respect and thanks. Someone who could cook this well commanded my respect above any general.
I meandered through the crowd, fascinated by this different side of the Ageless. The entire party was on the green near Archer's tree house. I found a nearby tree and with a quick note to the Song I leaped up into one of the sturdier low branches. I munched thoughtfully on the... “kebab” and observed the crowd of Ageless below. The way they had all gathered, it seemed like any festival gathering you could find in any common village in the world. Everyone milling about socially, laughing, eating and drinking.
No. Not quite like one. One thing was missing: children. Yes, General Fury's own boys were up to young men's antics, but they had all seen combat. In a normal village setting around half of those in attendance would be youngsters under fifteen summers. Children's happy, carefree, innocent laughter was something people take for granted in normal life. It's background noise people ignore, but register subconsciously. Now when you're expecting it and don't hear it, you miss it. It helped to underscore the underlying sadness that surrounded the Ageless, who normally cannot bear children, and drove home the fact that they... we, were at war.
The start of the race brought me out of my reverie. As was “par for the course” in Avalon the falcon race was like nothing I had seen. They were using those odd suspended rings I saw before and the falcons were flying through them in some sort of sequential order. More than a race it seemed to be a sort of dance in the sky. They caught arrows too. These birds were either very well trained... or somehow supernatural... super-falcons. I couldn't really tell who's bird was who's, so I simply watched the spectacle. I winced with the rest of the crowd at the audible crack when one of the bird took one of the rings wrong, and was impressed when the other bird caught the injured one and carried it across the finish hoop. Tricks were one thing, but sportsmanship elevated these animals higher. Almost human in fact.
I watched the outpouring of sympathy for the injured bird. It had only been a full 24 hours since arriving in this city and in that time all of my perceptions of the Ageless had been turned around. I had been greeted with paranoia and pain when entering the city, but now I had seen a full range of emotions from these people and for the most part they had been welcoming. Why did they have to demand an immediate answer of me when they asked if I would join them or not? How could I make a decision that could effect the rest of my existence based on a first impression? Couldn't I have taken some time to get to know them? To trust them before making my choice? I didn't like military or government organizations, but the Ageless didn't operate like them. Maybe if I had known these things I could have made a different decision. Maybe.
I picked my teeth with the sharpened end of the stick. Listen to yourself Faran, worrying over “what might have been” and “what if”. You did the best you could have with what you had been given. Walk your road, man. Besides, I had heard Dethys's comment about turning someone into a flying potted plant. The man was clearly insane, despite what he claims.
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo looks quite comfortable in your embrace and you notice that she hasn’t stopped smiling since she came back to Avalon. Though much of that may be attributed to her reunion with her kindred, and her return to the only true home she has known in centuries, you get the suspicion that a good portion of her elation is due to your kind intervention.
Across the street, you can see Hestia make her way towards you and Cleo. Someone else notices this as well, and you know that if Cardack still had access to his mortal heart, it would be thundering in his chest.
“What is she doing? Why is she coming over here? What if she notices me? Maybe I should let her notice me… Oh Divine, no! She’d stick me on a pyre and leave me there to burn! Or maybe she’ll just tear my pages and use them for toilet paper! Oh for the love of all that is good and holy, Fenwick! Don’t let her know that I’m here!”
“That was quite a race!” remarks Hestia, as she stands beside of Cleo.
“How is Besnik? He will be okay, won’t he?” asks Cleo with concern in her voice.
“He’ll be just fine, dearie, just fine.” Hestia clasps Cleo’s hand in hers. “Cleo, I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am that you’ve returned. Your home is just as you left it! I’ve been looking after it for you! You won’t believe how enormous those white rose bushes are!”
They begin to talk about some alterations that Hestia made to the little garden at Cleo’s home, but you can scarcely hear the conversation as Cardack is still screaming within your mind.
“AHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!! She’s right here! Right next to me! What a fool I was! How could I have ever left a creature as miraculous as she? Do you see the way those pretty robes cling to her body?”
You are reminded that Hestia is one of the kindest old ladies you have ever met, but she is quite old in every sense of the word. Not just chronologically, but physically as well. She might have been a looker in her day, but now she looks more like someone’s grandmother.
“You would not BELIEVE how well-preserved she is for her age! And boy, could she go all night! I’d stumble out of her house feeling like I’d tilled an entire field! I’d be tuckered for weeks!”
This conversation has just taken a turn for the awkward.
“I left that gorgeous woman and now she will NEVER forgive me! AND ALL FOR THIS STUPID, STUPID, STUPID BOOK! DETHYS WAS RIGHT! I SHOULD HAVE JUST BEEN MORE PATIENT! BUT NO! I WAS ALL ‘I’M CARDACK AND I’M A BIG, STUPID GIT! I’M GOING TO DO EVERYTHING BY MYSELF AND DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES!’ DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!!!”
Cardack’s voice explodes in a fit of obscenities. Luckily, you're the only one that can hear him right now. You can tell that he is VERY agitated and one can’t help but pity him for the remorse he is showing right now.
-
As much as he wanted to win. As much as he wanted to prove the skill of Faile and himself, he didn't want this to be the result. As focused as he was on Faile, the folly by Besnik resounded deeply within his heart.
He immediately stopped running. A cloud of dirt sprung up from the ground as he dug his heels in. Faile's fright mixed with his shock at Besnik's poor broken wing. Without a thought he knew what Faile was going to do. As much of a rival as Besnik was, he was still a friend. Glancing over at Archer, his heart went out to her. It was terrible to see your closest friend in pain.
He was right behind Archer as she scooped Besnik up in her arms. Muttering words of encouragement he watched helplessly as she cradled him in her arms. He thought of trying to use his mending technique that he uses on Faile, but he was unsure it would be of any use.
Thankfully Hestia was able to use her healing to fix his broken wing. Knowing from his own methods, Besnik would be tender for a few days. But the worst was over.
He beams with pride as Faile flaps over and lands on his shoulder. No words are passed between the two of them. His emotions were enough to convey his feelings. The exchange between the two falcons brings a huge grin to his face.
"May you have a swift recovery, Besnik. It would be a shame to have a fine bird such as yourself grounded. It seems both Faile and I have a thing or two to learn from you and Archer, as much as I hate to admit it. I look forward to our next competition." He finishes his statement with a grin towards Archer.
The crowd erupts in cheers as Besnik makes his appreciation towards Faile known. Sembas finally realizes the focus on he and Faile and quickly flips his hood up to hide a deep blush. He pats Faile on the head and she leans into his hand. The two share a moment together before they turn back to Archer and Besnik.
"The bond between falcon and human, Ageless or not, is a wonderful thing. I'm glad to see that you share such commitment and love with Besnik that Faile and I have with each other." He walks over and places his hand on Archer's shoulder. "As much as I hate crowds, I fear that we're in for a long night." With a shrug he throws his hood back, his golden eyes full of admiration towards a fellow falconer. A beautiful, amazing, fellow falconer...
-
@Sembas:
Archer smiles up at Sembas, allowing him to see the mixture of emotions upon her face. There is relief over Besnik’s current condition, but it is tainted with traces of worry for him. She seems gratified by the reactions of her kindred to an exceptionally exciting race, but perhaps, a slight bit disappointed by the outcome. The competitive streak in her would have loved for Besnik to finally emerge as a victor after all these years, but she was more concerned for his well-being than his pride.
Her heart is still racing in her chest and the adrenaline still courses in her veins with nowhere to go. It is at times like these that people make impulsive, if not unusual decisions. She reaches out her hand to shake yours, in recognition of a well-done race, but as her fingers clasp yours, she pulls you forward and moments later, you can feel her lips pressing against yours.
-
Faile opens her beak to object to Sembas being pulled out from underneath her. Her mouth hangs open as she slowly glides to the ground next to Besnik. Remembering herself, she shuts her beak and stops staring. She mutters something to Besnik before rolling her eyes.
This is better than honeycakes. Better than the ale Calming makes. It beats the heck out of any new shiny weapons. Sleeping in the bushes under the stars couldn't hold a candle to it, even if he did get to wake up next to Dennan...
By far, this moment was his favorite part of Avalon. He returns the kiss, although his legs were going weak.
It's over much too soon. He wobbles a bit as they part. His cheeks are burning with a blush. Nearly out of breath, words are lost for the moment. All he can do is smile as his eyes meet hers...
-
Cardack's whining and random screaming crescendoes when he sees Hestia and berates himself for being an idiot.
Fenwick had to agree.
As much as he wanted to finally force Cardack to contront his past, now was, still, once again, as always, not the time.
He was simply annoyed by his ramblings, until he made mention that Hestia had 'well-preserved' herself.
Of course. He was also a two faced rabbit which grew a lion's tail. Wow, he thought. Cardack's got some standards.
"Hestia! How are you?" Fenwick asks her, delibrately drawing the book out, feigning trying to put it in a position more comfortable than before. That elicits a few glances from Cleo.
*What are you doing!?!! SHE'S THERE!!! Wrong direction!! That waaaaaaay!!!!!* Cardack cries out, as if clawing his way through.
"Sorry, the book's a little heavy. Don't mind me. How'd you find the match? And what's this... white robe bushes?"
Success. He had to interrupt them, but he had probably successfully integrated himself into the conversation.
Now for the hard part, trying to bring up Cardack without ruining the party.
-
A crisis had been averted and the collective relief felt by all manifests itself in unadulterated glee and merriment. All around you, Ageless celebrate the simple pleasure of being near their kindred. They smilingly call out to one another to joke and chat, or help themselves to heaping plates of food and fine drinks.
Philosophy, Calming, and a few volunteers pour themselves into the task of filling the bellies of their brethren. Serenity and Constancy are two of the kind souls who have offered their aid, and run back and forth carrying trays of food or pints of ale.
Keeper, Smith, and several others are playing some unusual form of drinking game. Occasionally, a cry will come from that direction, indicating that someone had rolled the cup of dice very well or very poorly.
Nearby, Corvus has withdrawn to a place of quiet contemplation. With an expression of longing upon his face, he sits upon a large boulder and looks up at the night sky. His mother notices his discontent, and she joins him, protectively wrapping her arms around him. He gazes up at her and manages a weak smile, more for her sake than his own. She whispers something into his ear, and whatever it is, it is enough to raise his spirits, at least for the time being. He returns to his typical demeanor and begins to laugh heartily as he realizes what Dennan and Fensten are up to.
Bran finds himself surrounded by several young Ageless women. As the son of the Archon and the General, he possesses the innate charisma of his parents, though he is usually far less outgoing than his brother, Corvus. For the night, it seems that he and his elder sibling have switched roles. While Corvus is comforted by his mother, Bran looks uncertain and slightly embarrassed over the attention that is being given to him. Due to his parentage, his youth, and the fact that he is one of the few mortals in Avalon, many of the Ageless find him simply intriguing.
He smiles politely as a young woman puts her hand upon his shoulder and whispers something into his ear. Whatever it is, it is enough to make him blush and he quickly excuses himself so that he may be red-faced and bashful elsewhere.
Muse is engaged in conversation with a handsome young gentleman who wears the colors of the Fierce Legion. Her lute is upon her lap and she is tuning the instrument to a setting that is more to her liking.
Everyone seems quite at ease, and despite the general noise and exuberant behavior that abounds in this area, the atmosphere is relaxed and comforting.
@Sembas:
When you part from Archer, you find Besnik looking up at you with his beak agape and, if it is at all possible for a falcon’s eyes to grow wider, the most stricken falcon eyes you have ever seen. He glances towards Faile who merely rolls her eyes again and shrugs, an oddly human behavior for a fowl. Besnik shakes his head as if dispelling the vision from his mind and begins to strut back and forth as he squawks his disbelief to Faile in “Falconese.”
Faile gestures to a low branch nearby and Besnik gestures to his recently injured wing. Faile rolls her eyes again, suspecting that Besnik may be one to milk his injuries, but acquiescing to his request out of pity. She picks him up in her talons once again, and you see the two make their way towards the branch where they might share a laugh at you ridiculous humans and your silly spit-swapping.
“I… uh… I’m sorry… I… don’t know what came over me… I…” She laughs nervously and offers an embarrassed shrug. “Dear me… you must think me awfully forward. I assure you I’m no common bit of smut, I just… we have a great deal in common, and me and Besnik and… and you and Faile… I just.”
She bites her lip and you can tell that she is contemplating what implications, if any, might result from that recent moment of indiscretion. A dismissive shake of her head is accompanied by a slight smile. “Oh the hell with it!”
She kisses you again, but your moment of passion is interrupted as you and Archer find yourselves doused with freezing, cold buckets of water.
“What the-!” Archer glances upward and shakes her fist at the culprits.
You see Dennan, in his bear form, and Fensten holding empty buckets in their razor sharp teeth.
“Dennan!” shouts Archer.
Dennan shapeshifts back into his human form and laughs so hard that the mountainous man nearly falls out of the tree. Fensten, too, lets out a playful roar, and you realize that poor branch is noticeably bowing in the center.
Dethys arrives beside you and tsk-tsks at your sopping appearance. “My, you two look quite the mess.”
He is accompanied by his wife and son, Captain Blood, and another gentleman that you do not recognize.
“Here. Let me take care of that for you,” offers Dethys. A simple wave of his hand results in you and Archer being alleviated of the soggy condition of your clothing. You find yourself in perfectly dry clothes.
Blood smirks at Archer knowingly, and the latter blushes slightly.
“Birds of a feather, eh?” poses Blood.
Archer smiles shyly, and quickly attempts to draw the topic of conversation away from the topic of her interest in you. “So, Dethys, who is your new friend?”
“Ah!” exclaims Dethys. “Archer… Sembas… This is Depheir Kogthar. Sembas, Depheir , like yourself, has been recently Chosen. He’s a Childer Immortalis who has just accepted General Fury’s offer to aid the Bulwark. I’m sure you two will become quite well-acquainted.”
@Fenwick:
As you attempt to engage yourself in the conversation, you notice that Hestia abruptly stops talking in mid-sentence. She raises her head to the air, as if sensing something that cannot be perceived with the eyes.
“Hestia?” speaks Cleo. “Are you alright?”
“It’s… nothing… it’s just… I thought I felt something,” responds Hestia, her voice accented with confusion.
Cleo frowns and shoots you a knowing look before returning her attention to Hestia. “What was it?”
“I just thought…” Hestia shakes her head as if dispelling some troubling thought. “I’m sure it’s nothing, my dear. Just my mind playing tricks on me.”
You hear Cleo’s voice within your mind, and you quickly realize her message is being directed at Cardack. “I swear to you, Cardack Silenus, if you upset this poor woman…”
“I don’t intend to!” exclaims Cardack. “Damn it! She must have sensed me here.”
Knowing that you might not understand, Cardack explains. “Those of the Legion Immortalis can sense each other. If you bond with another of our kind, the feeling is even stronger. Hestia and I were quite close. Even though she does not actually KNOW that I am here, part of her can feel me. Luckily, she probably thinks I’m dead, so I doubt she will further investigate this matter.”
Hestia rests her hand on your elbow. “Oh, yes! Cleo has an amazing home, not too far from mine actually. She has the most darling little garden. I’ve been watching over her abode during her absence, and it has not lost any of its beauty. You simply must see it, Fenwick, especially now that its mistress has returned!” Suddenly, Hestia’s smile dissipates. “You… you are staying, Cleo… aren’t you?”
Cleo smiles, but there is a touch of sadness there. “I don’t know if I can, Hestia… Not yet, anyway. I still have to guard the gates.”
“But there are others who can guard it,” insists Hestia. “We can help you! Dethys, Fury, me-”
Cleo shakes her head. “It is still my responsibility. However, if I can solidify my ability to divide my person, I might be able to come up with a more permanent solution. However, for now at least, I’m afraid that I shall have to return to the gates after tonight’s festivities. But I promise I will come back soon!”
Hestia nods her understanding. “Well then… We shall just have to make the most of tonight, shan’t we?”
Cleo glances up at you with her devastatingly radiant smile. “I intend to.”
-
"No, yes... in common. Leather and falcons... We kind of-"
"Oh the hell with it!"
They kiss again. The galaxy spins around his head and fireworks send colorful sparks raining down around him.
"Cold!" He shouts as the freezing water hits them. Dennan and Fensten, two mischevious bears, have empty buckets in their mouths. As Dennan shifts back into human form and laughs, Sembas can't help but laugh with him.
Thankfully Dethys dries their clothes for them. He was also thankful that Archer was able to divert the conversation from themselves.
"Depheir, a pleasure to meet you! Cleo mentioned there would be others coming. I'm glad you made it to Avalon safely! That is my companion, Faile, in the tree over there. She is the smaller, and faster of the two." He says with a wink and a nudge towards Archer.
-
Fenwick freezes when Hestia senses a disturbance. He was sure Cardack would be too scared to reveal himself. How could she--
*Those of the Legion Immortalis can sense each other. If you bond with another of our kind, the feeling is even stronger. Hestia and I were quite close. Even though she does not actually KNOW that I am here, part of her can feel me. Luckily, she probably thinks I’m dead, so I doubt she will further investigate this matter.*
Oh.
To Cleo and Hestia both, he asks, "Do we go now? Or do we stay and linger a while longer? It's up to you. I don't mind crowds, I'm used to them." Indeed he was. As a travelling merchant, one had to become accustomed to many things.
'No matter what happens, Cardack, you've got to face her.' He tells the anxious spirit.
-
@Fenwick:
"Says you!" grumbles Cardack.
“I’d love for you to see my place, but I’m sure you’ll see plenty of it before the night is through.” Cleo directs a wink at you. “I think I’d like to remain here for a bit if you would find it suitable.”
“Well… You two are certainly getting on quite well,” remarks Hestia with a smile
“Wicky is quite special, Hestia,” speaks Cleo.
“Wicky? Wicky is it?” Hestia chuckles good-naturedly.
@Sembas:
“Is that not the case with most creatures? Is it not the smaller and faster that usually manage to gain the advantage.” Archer stands upon the tips of her toes as if to emphasize that she is smaller than you, albeit not by much in regards to height.
“However, perhaps the we can put this theory to the test,” suggests Archer, the beginnings of a smile creeping into the corners of her lips. “I do believe that some sparring is in order. How about tomorrow, Sembas?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the Ageless continue to engage in the festivities that this impromptu celebration has to offer, dulcet tones, accompanied by an exceedingly pleasant voice, permeate through the surrounding area, capturing the attention of all who are lucky enough to bear witness to the performance. Each Ageless turns to examine the source, though many already know from whom these captivating sounds emanate.
Muse stands upon a small stage that had been quickly, yet sturdily, erected by several of the younger male Ageless. Captain Lurien Honor, Lieutenant Fierce’s second-in-command, and the same gentleman that Muse had been entertaining discussion with for the majority of the night, stands near the front of the stage. His arms are folded over his chest and he watches the woman intently as she plucks the strings of her lute.
Cedric Fierce soon joins him, along with the Lieutenant’s numerous daughters. One by one, each Ageless makes their way towards the site where such unparalleled beauty is being translated into song. For all of you Childer Immortalis, some of the words in the song are undecipherable, as they were originally intended for a language that has long been forgotten.
However, Muse has taken the liberty to translate it, and what you hear, is a tale of enduring love and unsurpassed loyalty. It tells of two souls, so intricately entwined with one another, that not even the intervention of the Adversary, or the hand of death itself, can part them.
Muse’s voice fills the air, calling to the hearts of all of her brethren. It feels as if she is speaking to the very center of your souls, and you can almost feel her attention upon each of you, both individually and collectively as she performs.
However, during this strikingly divine ballad, her attention lingers just a bit longer upon one man in the crowd, someone who hears her song with far more understanding than anyone else could. Each ambient melody and every intonation of her alluring voice calls out to you, joining with the Symphony that already exists around you.
As the final chorus is borne upon the lips of every Ageless in attendance, you can hear the words as clear as day.
“We shall not be parted
Nor severed in twain
Though our bodies be broken
Our souls will remain
Abounding with passion
Enamored with truth
So kept by your essence
My love pledged to you.”
“And the hallowed hand of Heaven
The glory of the Divine
Shall guard and protect you
Your heart remains mine
No, death shall not claim you
No soul can dissever
The heart that beats for you
Love endures forever.”
As the final notes of the song drift through the space between each of you and the living Muse that stands before you, you feel your hearts swell with happiness unlike you have ever experienced before. It is as if each word infiltrates the entirety of your being, uplifting you and reassuring you that all will be well in the world.
Muse humbly bows as her kindred lavish cries of acknowledgment and resounding applause upon her. Despite her experience with such an atmosphere, you all notice that she blushes slightly as she dismounts from the stage.
-
"Oh, some sparring? Well I know you can already best me with a bow, but I'm interested in seeing if you're as skilled in a melee. Sure, little one a sparring match would be fun!"
Muse's song melts his heart. The words paint a picture of love and loyalty. Sembas is nervously aware of Archer standing next to him. After a moments hesitation, he slips his arm around her waist and waits to see if she leans into his embrace.
Faile, also appreciating the song, offers a question to Besnik. In a sweetly mocking tone she queries if such a beautiful song was just another ridiculous human display.
-
@Sembas:
Archer smiles shyly as you slip your arm around her waist. She leans against you as the song reaches its culmination and applauds and whistles loudly when Muse leaves the stage.
“I wish I had her talent,” says Archer quietly. “To share such beauty with the world must be quite a feeling.”
Faile’s question is greeted with a rather long tirade from Besnik about the differences between falcons and humans. He believes that it is the duty of every falcon to circumvent the stupidity of their human companions so that they do not doom their entire race. He goes on to say that if humanity ever fails, surely falcons will take over the world. He notes that they may receive some challenge from the owls, as they are self-absorbed and quite presumptuous, but feels they can surely overcome these petulant babies in bird bodies.
Faile eventually tunes him out and looks to you imploringly, as if to say, “Please… Save me from this idiot.”
Archer notices that Besnik is engaged in one of his all-too-common rants and turns to her companion. “Really, Besnik! Could you cease being a malcontent for even a few short moments? Honestly!”
Besnik puts his wing over his beak in a gesture of shame.
“Come on, Besi. Why don’t you show Faile your treasures? I’m sure she will appreciate them,” suggests Archer.
Besnik looks to Faile and the two make some kind of exchange. Faile gives a slight nod, agreeing to follow Besnik to the site of his stash.
Archer glances up at you. “Besnik, like most birds, loves shiny things. He picks them up wherever he goes. He’s always careful to make sure they don’t belong to anyone first, but he’s found some rather spectacular items: a few precious gems, an old key, a silver ring and a gold necklace, a few silver buttons. He’s always looking them over and asking me if I will give him a bit of oiled cloth so that he might polish them. He’s quite an odd one, my Besi.”
The stars have taken their places of honor in the night sky, and Archer looks up at them with a wistful expression upon her face. She takes you by the hand and leads you along behind her.
“Come on,” she says softly.
She leads you through the expansive stretch of land behind her tree, and you realize you are heading towards the lake where you saw her practicing with Besnik earlier. You pass this pristine body of water, and it sparkles in the full moonlight, entreating you to come closer, though Archer continues, indicating a dip in the lake will have to wait for another time.
You follow the creek that feeds into the lake, and after some time, you hear rushing water somewhere ahead of you. In the distance, you can make out a waterfall. It, too, looks quite inviting, but Archer leads you onward.
Finally, after several more minutes, you can see a large field where the lavender dances in the soft breeze.
“This is one of my favorite places to view the stars,” confides Archer.
She plops down upon the ground, sending a spray of purple petals upward where they are borne to other places. The lavender is so high here that when she stretches out before you, you are sure that no one could see her without a considerable vantage point. She pats the ground beside her, bidding you to take your place there, and when you do, she rests her head upon your shoulder and snuggles close to you.
She points out all of the constellations you’ve ever heard of, and many more you were unaware of. With each one is a story, and she shares a few of these with you. She tells you of Amatus, a great hunter and a servant of the Divine, who was so skilled at tracking, that he managed to find his way into the home of the Adversary. He proceeded into the lair, and managed to encounter the Divine’s mortal enemy. However, despite his great strength, he was killed by the hand of the Adversary.
“So beloved was he of the Divine, that when he was slain, the heavenly One collected his ashes and tossed them into the sky, preserving his memory forever,” explains Archer.
She tells you of Klimek, a wise king, who showed his enemy, Akar, mercy, but was turned upon by the same. As punishment, the Divine struck Akar down and turned him into a throne. He placed the throne in the sky, then set Klimek upon it, so that he might look upon his subjects and grant them peace.
“One day, though it may be hundreds of years away, when the Divine sends for me to come home, I hope that he makes me a star, so that I might look down upon the beauty of the world and bring joy to all those who roam the wilderness by lighting their path and showing them the way home.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The party is still in full swing, though several prominent Ageless have retired for the evening. Dethys and Carina have opted to take their young son home for the night. Carina, too, looked quite exhausted, the bags around her eyes becoming much more prevalent as the night wears on. Dethys puts his arms around her and speaks to her gently before waving goodbye to Blood.
“I’ll be back over there at first light,” informs Blood. “So don’t get any funny ideas! If I find out you’re working on that spell when I’m not there, I’ll flay you alive, I swear it.”
Dethys laughs in reply. Such threats are quite common from Blood, but as the two are close friends, Dethys knows she would never make good on them.
All around you, the Ageless continue to enjoy the festivities. Perhaps you even partake in some of them.
-
Fenwick nods in response to Hestia. "Yes. Wicky it is. I was hoping for Fen, or Wick, but Wicky's a fine substitute."
Music floated over from somewhere to Fenwick's left... or right... or behind him... from everywhere! While he turns his head around attempting to locate the source, Cleo and Hestia have already easily accomplished the task, and Fenwick finally finds enough sense to follow their line of sight.
He finds Muse standing upon a stage, singing a song with a few lyrics Fenwick could not decipher. Unlike other times when he would get frustrated when he could not understand the words of a song, he simply felt at peace. The melody seemed beautifully haunting, so incredibly touching, silent yet loud at the same time... both a dirgeful moan and a celebratory piece of joy.
But the song repeats itself again, but this time with english words that could be appreciated by even the Childer Immortalis. A song of love and loyalty, of two souls bound together...
Fenwick had to stiffle an inappropriate chuckle. All Cardack ever accomplished was being bound to a book.
As if on cue, he hears Cardack sigh in his head and, although Cardack still hides in his safe confines, Fenwick can imagine him just longingly looking over at Hestia. With a sudden impulse, Fenwick does turn his head and look at Hestia.
The woman appeared stoic, her features betraying nothing, but her arms were crossed and her face was tilted slightly to the ground, though her eyes remained on Muse. At this moment however, he feels a small push at his hips and Fenwick looks down to find Cleo staring into him, her eyes sparkling with concern both for their future and for Hestia.
The chorus plays, and although Fenwick is still worried about Cardack and Hestia, the moment belonged only to him and Cleo now. As the chorus finishes, he feels another silent connection with Cleo, as if an oath had been taken, and he leans in to kiss her.
Then applause permeates the air, and Fenwick is brought back into reality and he joins the clapping, cheered and impressed by Muse's skill.
His attention then returns to Hestia, and he begins to pull out his book, intent on revealing Cardack to her. Now was as good a time as any.
"Hestia, I've got someone I'd like you to meet again..."
-
"I've often gazed at the stars. On more nights than I can count it was Faile and I by ourselves in the wilderness. The soft grass at my back and a canopy of stars as my blanket was all I needed."
He shifts slightly as he moves his arm and pulls Archer a little closer to him.
"Have you heard of the Two Lovers? It is a tale of a prince and princess from rival kingdoms. Their parents, knowing the chaos such a union would cause, forbode their love. Even the gods demanded their separation, wishing to avoid the turmoil and strife their being together would cause."
"But the two could not deny their feelings. In secret, they met and were wed. Once a month they would meet under the stars. Before long, they were found out by the gods themselves. The gods told the royal families of their children's union, and the two were immediately seperated. War broke out between the two kingdoms, each blaming the other for the affront."
"The Two Lovers couldn't stand being apart, despite the war. At the end of the third month they arranged to meet at night, like they had before. But it was the wet season, and the small stream by their meeting place had turned into a raging river. Weapons of fallen soldiers littered the water, making it too dangerous to wade through."
"They had been followed and soldiers attacked in the dark, not realizing who they were. Hopelessly, the Two Lovers ran towards each other through the water, the soldiers hot on their heels. In their last breaths they reached out for each other, tears in their eyes. Their fingers barely touched as they were struck down..."
Sembas extends his free hand to the sky, mimicing the Two Lover's last gesture.
"The gods took pity on them, for such devoted love is rare, and elevated their souls to the heavens. They stand on either side of the milky way, reaching for each other hopelessly across a great unpassable river. They say that once every three months the gods grant them a night together. The sky shifts and their fingers..." He slowly brings his hand down towards Archer's. "Their fingers brush against each others." He touches his fingertips to hers. "The tears in their eyes are gone, replaced with blissful smiles. That one moment's embrace is all they need for all eternity."
He spreads his fingers and slowly slides them along Archer's. Soon their hands are clasped together, and he stares intently into her eyes.
He leans forward and presses his lips to hers in a kiss...
-
@Fenwick:
Fenwick’s innocent statement of "Hestia, I've got someone I'd like you to meet again..." is met with some degree of hostility by Cardack.
“WHAT THE BLEEDING PISS ARE YOU DOING?!” demands Cardack. “Are you out of your mind?!”
Cleo’s eyes widen and she covers her face with the palm of her hand. Hestia notices this gesture and becomes quite confused by your meaning.
Despite Cardack’s vehement insistence that this is an awful idea, he begrudgingly manifests as you produce the book in front of Hestia.
Cardack’s ghostly torso extends from the front cover. There is an embarrassed expression upon his face and you can sense the depth of his anxiety.
“Uh… um… eh… hi there, Hesti…” stammers Cardack. “Y-you’re looking as r-radiant as ever. M-moreso perhaps.”
Hestia is frozen in shock, her mouth agape and her form absolutely motionless. However, her startled expression is quickly replaced by one of immense hurt.
Hestia shakes her head in disbelief. “You? How could you? Have you any idea what I endured in your absence? Wondering where you were and if you were still alive?”
“Hesti… darling… I-” Cardack seems to be at a loss for words and he gazes at you desperately, imploring for some direction on what he should do.
“DON’T YOU DARE ‘DARLING’ ME!” exclaims Hestia, her anger rushing to the forefront of her tangled emotions.
The exchange has drawn quite a bit of attention and all around you, the other Ageless are turning to see what could possibly have the infinitely patience Hestia Hearth so very agitated. Whispers of “Cardack Silenus…” ripple through the crowd as they realize one of their departed brethren is in their midst. There is shock upon all of their faces, but as your gaze passes over General Fury, you realize that her face is devoid of the surprise that all of her brethren are feeling. It’s almost as if she was expecting this.
“TWO HUNDRED YEARS I WAITED FOR YOU!” cries Hestia.
Cleo puts her hand upon her friend’s shoulder to comfort her.
“Hestia, my love! Please! If you will just let me-” begins Cardack.
Hestia shakes her head. The tears are already welling in her eyes and the expression upon her face is that of a broken woman, one who has been defeated by the pain of her own heart.
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Save it, Cardack…” Hestia turns and begins to make her way back towards her home. The crowd parts to allow her passage, and each of her kindred offer sympathetic glances or whispered words of kindness to strengthen her broken heart.
Cardack, a helpless look upon his face, watches her go, and all in attendance turn their eyes towards him. Without a word, the book falls from your hand and lands heavily upon the ground. Cardack uses his transparent arms to drag himself forward, after his fleeing, forlorn lover.
Bran steps forward to pick him up and aid him in his quest, but his mother puts her hand upon his chest and shakes her head slightly, indicating that this is a journey Cardack must make alone. You, too, know that it would be better to leave him to his task rather than attempting to interfere in any way.
Cardack disappears down the street, his ghostly appendages dragging his torso, and the book, behind him. Once he is gone, Jonas Philosophy and Galenus Calming do all that they can to get the part back on track. However, despite the revelries, there is a certain somberness to the atmosphere that seems to affect each Ageless differently. Even you feel this, and sensing that you might be wondering why, Cleo explains.
“Empathy is a powerful thing. When one of us grieves, so do we all,” says Cleo quietly.
As the night wears on, the crowd begins to thin and many of the Ageless begin to retire to their homes. At one point, you are quite certain that you see Faran (perhaps shockingly) enjoying himself amidst the company of the Ageless. At Muse's urging, he engages in a dance, and even offers his services to Jonas Philosophy in preparing food and carrying trays.
Awhile later, Cleo indicates it is time to turn in for the night. She agrees to remain in Avalon until your departure, but confides that she plans to return back to the Wastes when you are deployed on your first Bulwark missions. She seems to believe that she can regulate her other selves to the extent that she can remotely operate the gate, though not for great amounts of time.
She takes you by the hand and leads you to her home, a rather large house with a wraparound porch and decorated with numerous white rosebushes. There is a porcelain birdbath in the front where several small, white birds are perched. The look up as Cleo approaches and all of them appear infinitely pleased to have her back home. One lands upon her shoulder, letting out a pleasant trill in acknowledgment of their dear friend’s return.
Cleo’s home is quite impressive, and what is even more interesting is that she made the entire thing herself.
“Remember how I told you my father was a carpenter?” asks Cleo. “Well, 800 years is a long time to hone your crafts.”
She shows you through her house, which consists of a large kitchen, a dining area, a considerable size study, a personal library (the collection isn’t nearly as large as that of Dethys Night’s, but still impressive in its own right,) two guestrooms, a master bedroom, and a studio.
It is the last room that seems to be particularly important to Cleo. It is decorated with all manner of canvases, paper and parchment. There are charcoal drawings, beautiful pastels, inspiring oil paintings, and even a few woodblock prints that have been impressed upon fine silk. Though the subject matter varies (landscapes, animals, and Avalon being just a few,) the single piece that holds the place of honor in the room is a beautiful pastel piece of an infant, clutching a teddy bear in his tiny hands. There is a smile upon the baby’s face, and it appears as if his little eyes are looking right at you.
Cleo crosses to the fireplace where the portrait has been lovingly displayed for centuries. There is a look of longing upon her face and you realize the true meaning of empathy.
-
@Sembas:
The gentle rays of the early morning sun stir you from your slumber and you find yourself quite exposed, your clothing having been cast aside during the previous evening’s indulgences. You can still feel Archer’s lingering touch upon you, but as you turn to face your newfound lover, you notice that she is missing.
You are alone upon a bed of lavender and as you sit up, you notice that your body aches slightly, though not in a painful, afflicting way. Rather, the dull ache of your muscles serve as a sweet reminder of a pleasant night with a beautiful woman.
Your clothes are nowhere to be found, though the lavender is certainly high enough to hide your unmentionable areas from any prying eyes. That is… unless those prying eyes are upon the heads of two falcons, perched in a nearby tree.
Faile smirks at you and offers a wave of her wing in greeting. She is still in the company of Besnik who points his wing towards you and whispers something about “the biggest worm he’s ever seen.” Faile nudges him and gives him a warning look to keep quiet. Faile assures you that they have only just arrived and were not privy to anything that did, or did not, happen the previous evening, though your constant companion gives you a knowing look. She goes on to point her wing in the direction of the waterfall you passed last night.
You can hear the rushing water not far off, and you make your way towards it, knowing that you will likely find Archer there. Your assumptions are confirmed as fact when you see the gorgeous, dark-haired woman bathing in the waterfall. Her soaked tresses fall over her slim shoulders in waves. Her hazel eyes lock on yours and she offers a pristine smile as she leans back into the crystal clear waters of the pool that collects at the base of the waterfall.
She bids you come closer. The water is cool, but not too cold, and feels quite soothing. As you draw near her, Archer wraps her arms around you. She plants a soft kiss upon your lips and begins to massage the taut muscles in your back.
“I hope you slept well,” says Archer quietly. “I know I did.” She smiles, blushing slightly at the recollection of last night’s romantic interlude.
“And even if you didn’t, I hope you know that I am not going to take it easy on you today. As soon as we get back into the city proper, you have a sparring match on your hands,” she reminds you.
You spend some time in this quiet, secluded place, simply communing with nature (and perhaps, once again, each other.) When it is time to depart, Archer gestures to your clothes, which she has neatly folded and placed upon the shore of the pool. The two of you dress and begin upon your way back to the eastern road in Avalon.
-
Hestia's fury instantly makes freezes Fenwick. Suddenly, the whole thing didn't seem like such a brilliant idea after all.
"Gotta do this. It's gotta come someday anyway. Better now... better now..." He whispered to himself, assuring himself that it had to be done sooner than later. Might as well make it now.
Hestia turns around and walks off. Just as Fenwick decides to chase after her, the tome somehow becomes ten times heavier and he is forced to drop it to the ground, rubbing a strained back at the sudden weight. Bran steps forth, but is stopped by his mother. Fenwick does the same, somehow feeling that it was up to Cardack for this one.
He had better not scratch the book in the process.
Yet his attempt to lighten his own mood fails as he still feels something wrong...something that had... changed. It tasted sad, smelled disheartening, felt uncomfortable.
“Empathy is a powerful thing. When one of us grieves, so do we all,” says Cleo quietly.
Empathy. Who would've thought? After so many years of being alone with no one around, empathy seemed so foreign and strange, yet here it was, smacking him straight in the face. Worse still was that this was his doing.
"Just like for magic, you must endure hardship... It is necessary..." He tells to no one in particular.
The night thins, Fenwick decides to take a walk with Cleo to nowhere, enjoying how the place looked at night. The gold and ivory did not sparkle as brightly, but they shimmered and seemed to flow under the stars. Cleo mentions her decision to return back to gatekeeping the next day, saying that her other selves can take care of the gate.
Of course they would. They're her. But if they're her, then one day she would cease to be her, and...
This complicated thought process is interrupted when he is gently tugged over by the hand and led by Cleo through a specific path. Small white birds sit perched upon a white porcelain birdbath, somehow managing to show emotion upon seeing Cleo return, where one of them even seemingly conciously lands upon her shoulder and lets out a pleasant thrill.
“Remember how I told you my father was a carpenter? Well, 800 years is a long time to hone your crafts." She says simply. Impressive.
"He'll always be with you, especially since he passed down his gift straight to you." Fenwick replies, wondering exactly what his parents gifted him with.
There is the typical things you see in big mansions. Big dining area, huge kitchen, A wonderful study, a library (A library!!!!), a master bedroom, a studio (A studio?), two guestrooms. The guestrooms didn't seem any smaller either.
The last room consists of various portraits and other artsy material. There is a portrait hung on the wall and as Cleo crosses over to it, he realises who it is.
"Your... brother?" He says slowly, as he feels intense sadness and infinite longing.
And it is not only for her brother now. He is suddenly flooded by memories of his parents, of the time when he was young, before he was travelling. He wanted his parents back, wanted it the way it was before... before...
He falls to his knees as tears start welling up within him, but simply lets it out as he allows the emotions to overwhelm him.
-
Sembas's eyes flutter open as a ray of sun wakes him. He shields his eyes with a hand as he sits up. His hair falls loosely on his shoulders, dotted with purple lavendar petals. Blinking away sleep, he notices Faile and Besnik perched above him.
He gives a tired shrug and waves back at them, smiling sheepishly at Faile. Sometimes the bond can be a bit too telling for his liking... After a knowing look, she points towards the waterfall. With a nod and a wink he makes his way to the water.
Seeing Archer's form in the waterfall's pool is like stumbling upon some sort of Goddess fallen from heaven.
The water soothes his muscles. It's touch on his skin washes away the rest of the world.
Her arms around him seals off their seclusion.
The kiss on his lips sends memories of the night's embraces tingling through his skin.
Her massaging hands rub the memories deeper into his body and sends his heart beating faster.
She mentions their sparring match once they get back to the city.
"Why wait until we arrive at the city? I think a little wrestling is in order..."
The walk back to Avalon seemed longer than he remembered. Or maybe his legs were just tired from... ehem... wrestling. The shining gold of the city was strangely a welcome sight. He didn't think he would ever have enjoyed a place like this. But the longer he stays, the more he doesn't want to leave.
-
“Come on, Adia! Just a few more minor alterations and I think I can figure out how to teach potted plants to fly.”
"Oh my..." Depheir thought and made a gesture, like he wanted to cover his face with his palm.
“I can, too.", Adia replied drily. "It’s called throwing them. The only reason I even let you entertain that ridiculous experiment was because you told me it would help you with Depheir’s spell.”
"Exactly." Depheir thought again. That "experiment" began to irritate him already. Made a simple gesture and casted his Telekinesis spell on the plants, making them hover few feet above the ground. However, a moment later, he put them where they were.
“Ugh…” groaned Dethys. “I’ve been at that blasted spell all day… It’s just not working! Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to mask Depheir’s intentions? Severan and that bastard Cauter can see through just about everything. They could scent my alterations a mile away.”
“I’d be more concerned about Fortuna,” muttered Blood. “That witch has always had your number.”
Dethys paled considerably at the mention of this new name. “I would appreciate it if you would never mention that name again. That woman is the most evil, vile, malicious creature to ever walk the earth.” He quickly changed the subject. “Anyway… I’m trying… I just don’t know if it can be done.”
"So, he stopped this experiment just because he doesn't know if it can be done? I think he needs some assistance." Depheir thought.
“Adia is right, dear,” agreed Dethys’s wife, Carina. She was holding their young son, Laertan, and looked up at Dethys with hopeful eyes. “If anyone can manage it, it’s you, Dethys. I know you can. You simply have to apply yourself more.”
Dethys wrapped his arm around his loving wife’s shoulders and looked down upon her with adoration in his eyes. “Well, my dear… if you think so, then it must be true.” Dethys tenderly kissed his wife.
Depheir and Blood ignored them and she changed the subject. She spotted Lieutenant Fierce in the crowd and pointed him out to Depheir. “There is Lieutenant Fierce. He was speaking with the General when you arrived at the Bulwark Headquarters earlier. See all those women? There are twelve of them. They’re Fierce’s daughters. He has a soft spot for mortal women and has been married several times. The gray-haired one is his eldest, Emina, and that girl in her late teens is his youngest, Aella.”
“Fierce is one hell of a warrior,” spoke Blood. “When he was a mortal, he was known as Cedric Alexei. He was the king of all the barbarian tribes in North Vighardur. His personal army was comprised of berserkers, men who were driven to frenzy in battle. The Fierce Legion, his company, fights in much the same way.”
She then turned to Depheir. “So… Are you enjoying Avalon so far, Depheir?"
"Huh... yes, but I feel that I won't stay here for long. Every day I stay here raises chance that Forsaken will notice me as spy.", Depheir told to Adia, then turned his head on Dethys."I feel that you need some assistance. May I help you with that spell?"
-
@Rethagos:
When you utilize your telekinesis to make the plants fly, Dethys rolls his eyes. “Please! That’s child’s play! Anyone can do a simple telekinesis spell! I’ve been doing that bit hundreds of years before you were even a glint in your father’s eye!” To illustrate this, Dethys gives a dismissive wave of his hand and causes a nearby mansion to levitate several dozen feet off of the ground.
“There’s a difference between just making things fly and TEACHING them to fly. Honestly! You young ones are going to give me grays!”
Dethys raises an eyebrow when you offer your services to aid with the spell. “That would be a bit counterproductive, lad. If you aid me in constructing the spell, your fingerprints will be all over it. Ever caster has a unique imprint. Some of us Elder Ageless can mask that imprint so others cannot perceive it.”
“ For example, if I cast a spell in the middle of this party, and not attempt to hide my identity, all other casters in the vicinity would likely know that it was me. I happen to have a very recognizable imprint.”
“So, the long and short of it is, you’re a Childer Immortalis. If your thumbprint is on this spell, if you actively aid in forming the magic behind this spell, they’ll be able to see your imprint. There are certain Forsaken, terrible, nasty ones that can actually track a mage via their imprint. You, lad, are too inexperienced to hide yours.”
“So, while I appreciate your offer, and would be more than willing to listen to any suggestions you can make, the actual construction of the spell must be done by me. Until I find a way to make this spell flawless, you must just be patient and keep your knickers out of your nooks.”
The rest of the night progresses quite rapidly, and you stay for awhile to enjoy the festivities. Eventually, your mentor departs with his wife and child, leaving you and Blood to linger awhile longer. At some point in the evening, Blood walks you back to Dethys’s home where Serenity, one of Dethys’s apprentices, shows you to the room you will be staying in.
It is an exquisite room with a tall, canopy bed, handcrafted bookshelves and a small table with a vase of fresh flowers. There is a large tapestry on the wall with some unusual, intricately woven design depicting a rune that you are unfamiliar with. The room is quiet and cozy, and allows you some much needed sleep.
The next day will be quite busy for you.
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo protectively wraps her arms around you in your moment of weakness. Cleo is keenly aware of the pain that you are feeling right now and presses her fingers to your temples. You can see a thin veil of white light wash over you and as it envelopes your form, you find yourself feeling considerably more at peace. Where there was once sadness and longing, your mind’s eye offers you a glimpse into your past.
You are at a small table in the humble abode that you recognize as your childhood home. Your mother is at the fireplace preparing something that smells exquisite, and you are watching her as you both wait for your father’s return. Your mother looks up and smiles at you, and you are reminded of her beauty and grace.
Suddenly, you hear footsteps outside the door and you leap to your feet to welcome your father home. He steps through the door and you can see two rabbits in his hand. His hunt was successful and there will be juicy bits of rabbit in the stew tonight.
Your mother, the lovely Arabella wraps her arms around her husband, Letholdus in a warm embrace, and he kisses your mother gently upon the lips in reply. You are reminded of the deep, all-encompassing love that was shared by your parents, and perhaps this thought brings you some peace.
Your father scoops you up into his arms and you giggle and laughs as he tickles your stomach and twirls you around in the air before setting you down upon the table.
“Fenwick, I have a favor to ask of you,” says your father quietly. “After I hunted these rabbits, I noticed their hole nearby. Something moved within it and as I approached, it did not attempt to flee.”
Your father reaches into the small pouch upon his belt and removes something small and furry. He places the tiny creature in your hand and you see that it is a baby rabbit.
“It’s still too young to fend for itself and I thought you might be able to take care of him for me. His parents gave their lives to make ours a bit more fit, and I think it’s our duty to see that this little fellow is taken care of. Could you do that for me, Fenwick? Will you take good care of him?”
In your mind’s eye, you can see your miniature nod as he cradles the little rabbit to his chest. Your father ruffles your hair with his outstretched hand and you realize that the current Fenwick, the one sobbing pitifully upon Cleo’s floor, is comforted by this memory.
Cleo uses her slender hand to wipe the tears from your eyes and helps you to your feet.
Cleo’s voice is soft and comforting. “As distant as they may seem, they are always with us. It is our duty to honor their memories through our actions and find comfort in the fact that, though it may be far off, we will one day see them again.”
Cleo takes you by the hand and leads you to the master bedroom. She holds you close to her and you sleep soundly in her arms.
The next day, you are both awakened by the sound of a doorbell, and despite the ardors you are about to endure, you feel quite well-rested.
-
@Faran:
The following day, Faran wakes up to the smell of sizzling bacon and warm biscuits, fresh from the oven. He’s not 100% sure where he is, or how he got there, but remembers actually enjoying himself the night before during the Ageless festivities.
As he sits up, he finds himself abruptly met by an immense, metal cleaver. Though his first instinct might be to prepare some type of defense, he realizes the cleaver is not getting any closer and seems perfectly content to remain in the doorway where it is clutched in the hand of its owner.
“You are awake! I thought you might sleep the whole day away. Come on! Up you go!” Jonas Philosophy lumbers towards you. He reaches down and tips over the entire bed with one hand, sending you towards the ground. You land lithely upon your feet and he replaces the bed before gesturing for you to follow him to his kitchen.
“You were quite tired last night. Practically fell asleep upon your feet. Apparently you have not yet adjusted to many of the unique forms of endurance that our people enjoy. I love it! Sometimes, I will just cook for days and nights without any sleep! Baking, filleting and grilling from sunrise to sunset. I get lost in the cooking. I like it that way. Allows me to focus… and hone my crafts.”
“Now, EAT! Then I will give you the grand tour!”
Whether you are hungry or not, you doubt that this man would ever allow you to even politely decline his food. You watch as he dices some fresh vegetables with nearly impossible speed that he is a man who certainly knows how to put that cleaver to good use; it would be most unwise to refuse his hospitality.
After feasting upon a considerable spread of eggs, breakfast meats, biscuits, fruits and vegetables, and some warm, brown liquid that tastes like liquid chocolate and topped with fresh cream, Jonas indicates he would like to show you around his home.
You find that the kitchen accounts for a great portion of Philosophy’s home. In most places, the living room would be the largest place in the house, but every other room is simply dwarfed by the size of his kitchen. This seems to make sense as this is likely the room that he spends the most time in.
His dining room, too, is exceptionally impressive. The walls are painted red and decorated with large lengths of bamboo and tribal weapons. There is a carpet upon the ground that appears to be the skin of some incredibly large beast you’ve never even heard of before. Upon it is a very long table, but it appears unusual as it is not even two feet off of the ground. Around this table are large, plush red pillows, trimmed with gold, that look perfect for sitting upon.
“You like, no? It took me many years to put this place together.”
As Jonas speaks, you realize he has an unusual accent. This, coupled with the unique décor present in his abode, tell you that wherever he hails from is nowhere you’ve ever set eyes upon.
Jonas scarcely finishes showing you his home when there is a heavy knock upon the front door. Philosophy grins broadly.
“Ah! It seems we have company! I do enjoy good company!” He laughs jovially and his enormous belly shakes in response.
-
@Sembas:
As you make your way back to the central section of Avalon, Archer rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… Perhaps we should collect your companions. I would venture to guess that they could certainly do with some practice themselves.”
Fenwick and Depheir are relatively easy to find as the former has bedded down with his new amour and the latter has remained in the company of your collective mentor, Dethys Night. Faran, however, is not so easily found. After asking around, Archer learns from Calming that an exhausted Faran was taken to the home of the massive chef, and butcher of both fine meats and Forsaken, Jonas Philosophy.
Once your party has assembled, Archer leads you to the sparring circle on the north side of town. This is a rather peculiar area as it consists of a stretch of earth that is surrounded by a large wooden fence. This, in itself, is not so strange, but as you draw closer, you realize that the entire section is covered in protective barriers and runic wards as not to allow the combatants to disturb the other Ageless in the area, nor to inflict any wounds on unsuspecting passersby.
Archer had sent Besnik and Faile to collect a few onlookers for these bouts, mostly Elder Ageless who might be able to aid you by offering pointers. When you arrive, you find Corvus, Dennan and Bran leaning upon the fence posts and patiently waiting for all of you. Jonas has accompanied Faran to this place, and Dethys, Blood, Serenity, and Constancy have followed Depheir. Muse, too, responded to the summons, and Hestia has been called to tend to anyone who might be wounded during the event.
Hestia holds in her hands a certain book, from which a familiar form extends. She and Cardack exchange sheepish glances and Fenwick knows that he will have to find some time, perhaps after the sparring, to quiz Cardack on exactly what happened between the two last night and whether they had managed to make amends.
“Alright, Sembas,” speaks Archer. “Time to test your mettle. Shall we?” She leads you into the sparring ring and Dennan signals for both of you to take your positions.
Archer puts her bow in hand as Besnik lands softly upon her shoulder. She looks up at you with a smile as she assumes a defensive stance.
She gestures for you to begin you first attack. “Well. Show me what you’ve got.”
-
Faile circles the ring and lands on the wooden wall behind Sembas. Her talons grip the planks tightly as she leans foward, focused on Archer and Besnik.
Sembas is donning his armor and cloak once more, having changed once they returned to Archer's house. It was a bit tight from having dried out, but still as flexible as he liked it. His new spear was slung on his back and his new hunting knife was strapped to his hip. Archer's enchanted arrows were left at her house. He had a few of his own arrows in his old quiver and his shortbow for now.
"I must admit, I did not expect to be sparring with you, Archer. Not that I doubt your constitution, mind you." He performs a deep bow towards her. "May our muscles never grow weary, and our bruises heal quickly."
He leans his quiver and bow against the ring, noting their position for later. His new spear is unstrapped and he runs his fingers down the shaft, getting used to the weapon. Lazily, he turns the weapon between his hands and fingers, spinning it in slow circles. He leans it against his shoulder as he pulls his hunter's knife out of the sheath and weighs it in his hand.
It is quickly jammed back into the sheath as he grins. "Sorry, they're new. Had to get used to the weight..."
Faile sits calmly on the top of the fence, her excitement seems to have waned.
Sembas begins to spin the spear in his hands. Soon its form is blurred, looking like a propeller of an airplane its turning so fast. It comes to an immediate halt pointing straight at Archer as he holds it in both hands.
He closes the distance between them quickly. The spear quickly spins one revolution before being thrust at Archer's midsection, but the tip would never reach her. Sembas quickly pulls his spear back and spins the butt around to catch Archer on the shoulder. He anticipated her dodging the initial thrust and he was hoping to catch her off guard. The blow from the butt of his spear isn't a strong one, but it is enough to leave a good bruise if it isn't dodged or deflected.
Regardless of if his attack hits, he prepares to flip backwards from Archer or Besnik's counterattack, ready to put his great Athletics and Dodge skills to use.
Faile grumbles audibly on the sidelines. It seems that Sembas chose to go without her for the time being. He was used to sparring without magic and never against women, especially ones he likes...
"You better not hold back, she'll toast you before you know it..." Faile warns in Sembas's mind.
-
@Sembas:
Archer patiently waits as you accustom yourself to the feel of your new weapons. She, too, has donned her dark leather armor, but has cast aside her cloak for the sake of better mobility. Seeing that you have left Faile out of your actions, she motions to Besnik who begrudgingly lands upon Dennan’s shoulder and watches the match from said perch.
As you thrust forward with your spear, the tip trained upon Archer’s mid-section, there is a rush of movement, and where Archer once stood is now nothing more than vacant space. You had been prepared to strike her upon the shoulder with the blunt end of the spear, but you find there is nothing there to strike.
Archer is nowhere to be seen and while you may wonder what has become of her, any mental inquiries into her position are answered with a deluge of arrows. However, rather than being aimed to inflict physical harm upon you, you find that these arrows arc in such a way that all dozen or so firmly embed in the bottom of your cloak, pinning you into position.
You see Archer standing upon one of the fence posts. Her trusty bow is in hand and there is a faint smile playing across her lips as she anticipates what you might try next.
-
Archer's disappearance threw him off. He was ready to jump back from a quick rebuttal, but there was nothing to jump back from... Until a barrage of arrows pins him to the ground.
Sembas frowns over exaggeratedly as he leans against his stretching cloak. He thrusts his spear into the ground and unties it from around his shoulders, allowing it to fall behind him.
"I see..." He says with a smirk and he wiggles the tip of his spear out of the ground.
Crouching down low, he raises his spear in front of his head horizontally. He springs into action, much faster than before. With a mighty grunt he launches off the ground, making sure to keep his spear between he and archer. When he is nearly on top of her he moves the spear to the side and grabs out with his legs, trying to wrap around her waist.
If he latches on to her he will bend backwards and try to toss Archer back into the ring using his skill in wrestling. If he misses he'll end up doing a flip and land on the post that Archer was occupying. His spear is ready to deflect any arrows coming his way by spinning blindingly fast horizontally in front of him.
He was focusing more this time as well, hopefully his golden eyes could keep up with her speed...
-
@Sembas:
You barrel forward to wrap your legs around Archer’s waist, thus attempting to throw her into the ring. However, her lithe body moves with amazing celerity, her form shifting quickly until her body appears almost insubstantial. Though your companions will not be able to see what the huntress is doing, now that you are focusing your attention solely upon your target, you gain better insight into her movements.
You land gracefully upon the fence post that was previously occupied by Archer and your golden eyes lock onto her fleeing form. She hurtles across the yard, kicking up a cloud of dust as she goes. Three more arrows come your way, but by spinning your spear in your hands, you manage to knock them away from you.
However, as your attention has been drawn to deflecting these projectiles, this is the perfect opportunity for Archer to attempt to gain an upper hand. Apparently, these arrows were merely a distraction as you notice her sweeping towards you. She holds a silver shortsword in each hand as she draws closer to you with unfathomable speed.
She trains the blades towards your torso, but just as it appears her blades will strike home, she diverts her path to your right side and leaps into the air. This does not appear to be much of an attack… until you realize the wake that has followed at her heels. A gust of air knocks you off the fence post and you land hard upon your back.
-
The noonday sun shone overhead as I leaned against a wooden post that supported the fence of this sandy arena. I kept my arms crossed and tried to look casual but observant at the same time. Inside I was excited. Finally, some action. Unexpected action, but all the same.
Beside me stood the dark-skinned mountain of a man: Jonas Philosophy. I was quite surprised to be waking in his company and glad I did not make a fool of myself by landing on my face when he dumped me out of the bed. (The man lifted the whole bed with one hand!) Years of sleeping in my Air Tent had conditioned me to associate falling with wakefulness. It comes in handy now and then.
I reflected on the previous evenings party, glad I could let myself go a bit. I looked on the evening like a normal village festival, albeit the villagers were a little odd in their way. It was difficult to refrain from too much drink, but the need to guard my tongue closely around these Ageless took importance over my own fun-seeking. I was still sore about Dethys invading my private conversation the day before. These Ageless were becoming more and more human to me, but I still needed to watch myself. I had also had the opportunity of having the newest Ageless here pointed out to me. While I hadn't had the opportunity of meeting him officially face to face, Depheir Kogthar was tall and lanky like myself with either black or dark brown hair. He went about hooded in a brown robe with strange markings on it. He looked like another handler of the, “Art” as most people unfamiliar with the Symphony liked to call it. He carried some weapons and I wondered if he knew how to use them.
The waking and breakfasting had been a whirlwind for me and Jonas had said something interesting. I had thought on Jonas a bit during the previous evening and I had an offer for him. I was going to voice this offer but was cut short by the summons to the sparring field. Now seemed like a decent time to ask, but in the company of other Ageless I had to pick my words carefully. I had some things I wished to say, like how I respected his ability to cook more than the abilities of the other Ageless, or how his skills were more important in some ways than tactics or marshaling troops. Too many ears here though. Maybe nowhere was safe to talk But, he mentioned his art gave him focus for his skills. These were skills I could benefit from.
“Jonas,” I said, retaining my aloof body language. “I've been thinking on something. I am impressed by your skills and not just those that make food taste good.” I said eyeing the cleavers that hung at his waist. “You mentioned focusing and honing your crafts in the kitchen. I've been around this world a little, very little compared to yourself and others, but enough to know one thing. Food is a common language among people no matter where they are or who they are. Good food sings to all people. I'm going to need to learn much more if I hope to pull my weight in this war. I'm going to need skills when my Song fails me. I.. wish to be your apprentice, if you'll have me. You may work me as hard as you want, I'm used to a farmer's life and hours.” There. That was as much information as I was willing to say. I needed to learn, and do it quick.
Meanwhile Archer was toying with Sembas, poor bastard. He was really trying hard, but he was outclassed by Archer in perhaps every respect. It seemed today that the new guys would get a sound trouncing to show us how much we needed to learn, to prepare us for combat. I was of two minds on the subject. On the one hand I was outraged that they chose a public forum to humiliate us. On the other hand this was really very important for us. We needed all the pointers and help we could get. The Forsaken would certainly show us no mercy.
Archer had drawn some swords and hurtled toward Sembas at unfathomable speed, only to turn at the last moment and let the shockwave blast hit him instead. My eyes widened slightly. She could have killed him if she wanted to just then... Okay not killed, that whole deathwound thing prevented that, but still! I had figured those two were a bit sweet on each other, but I wondered if Sembas didn't feel a little insulted that she was going easy on him.
I began to wonder if all us “newbies” had to fight today. Maybe Sembas was the first? Or did he request to spar with someone? My anxiety and excitement rose. Did I have to fight? Could I choose who to fight? I wondered how I would stack up against some of these elders. Obviously not at all, but it would give me something to measure myself against. I began to entertain wild and morbid thoughts of being blown to bits by Dethys. I know he wouldn't kill me, but I'd want him to throw all his power against me. If he respected me at all, he would. More than likely he knew all of my tricks. Dethys's “Tome of Knowing What Underpants I'm Wearing Today” more than likely told him the strengths and weakness of all Ageless. Hopefully, today the Tome would give him no answer on me, for I'm not wearing any underpants!
-
Dreams of bunnies and rabbits kept Fenwick company as he slept soundly in Cleo's arms, but the dreams quickly turned to nightmares as they died off almost suddenly, caused by an extremely loud bang. He wakes, gasping, but the haze quickly clears off. A rabbit. His dad really did give him a rabbit. But what had he done to it?
Cleo wasn't around, or simply not the bedroom. Fenwick hears the ringing of the doorbell and realises that he had found the murderer of those cute little animals. He mused at thoughts of torturing and destroying a doorbell, after which, he walked out of the bedroom...
...And now, after a quick breakfast, he found himself here, outside a wooden fence. His attention upon arrival was drawn towards Cardack and Hestia. A quick glance told him that no harm of any sort had befallen the precious pages and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
They had come for sparring, a one-on-one. Fenwick quickly ran through the spells available to him and realised that he was at a distinct disadvantage without any spells that could actually hurt something. Wasn't his fault, he thought, he didn't know he had to face beings much older and much more experienced than humans. The spells he knew were gravely inadequate.
But he was sure he would win. Just a bit of cunning...
Sembas had taken the challenge first, going up against Archer.
Fenwick could not help but gasp at the speed at which Archer moved. The sharp, elegant movements resulted in Sembas' cloak pinned to the ground and him being thrown back onto the fence. He had heard Faran mention something to Philosophy, but he wasn't listening hard enough to absorb anything.
If he was to face Archer in battle, he would have to learn her moves. He took a deep breath, held it for a while, then let it out. Everything was just a bit more clearer now.
It is with these eyes that Fenwick continues to watch the battle with, his hands tucked neatly away into his robes...
-
Faile, still on the fence, starts pacing back and forth. She was getting annoyed with Sembas's stubborn insistence on sparring alone. Her thoughts came through the bond more clearly than words.
Sembas barely stopped spinning his spear by the time he noticed Archer sweeping towards him. Her two shortswords are a worry as he realized he won't have time to dodge both of them. Thankfully she leaps past him to the right, not attacking at all. Still prepared to attempt a block from her shortswords from above, the gust of air hits him full on. The unexpected push knocks him onto his back and he lands with a grunt. His spear clatters on the ground next to him, having slipped out of his hands upon landing.
Faile stops pacing and is staring intently at Sembas. He realizes that he won't be able to match Archer by himself, but he doesn't want Faile to get involved. If she does, then Besnik will probably join in also. He is worried about him overdoing it on his wing so soon, a thought that puts Faile in a sour mood.
If she wasn't able to physically join in, she'd help him by using her Essence of the Falcon spell.
Sembas immediately feels a surge of energy. Faile's presence in his mind comes through in a torrent as she gives him more of her enchantment. It was like waking up from a haze when she does this. His eyesight sharpens and he can see the individual stitching of Archer's armor as she leaps away. His muscles become more powerful and the weight of the world seems lifted. His reflexes quicken and time seems to almost slow around him.
He leaps to up and with a diving roll snatches his spear. When he comes to his feet he hops up onto the fence and pushes off into the air. Smoke is trailing out of his mouth during his short flight. Upon landing he swings his spear behind him and his mouth erupts in a cloud of flames aimed directly at Archer (Wisdom Spell - Fire Breath).
The cloud won't engulf her. The edges will merely lick the air in front of her.
As the cloud dissipates Sembas comes charging through the remnants of the flames. He swings his spear, aiming to whack Archer on the backside with the shaft of it.
After his little fire breathing trick he knows he'll be in for some pain, so he wanted to get a playful tap in before his head was knocked off his shoulders...
-
@Faran:
Jonas is quiet as you make your request known to him. He absentmindedly drums his fingers upon the handle of one of the cleavers sheathed upon his belt (it is a wonder that anyone could make a belt that large.)
“Hmm…” His other hand comes to rest upon his chin and he strokes at the stubble as he contemplates his response.
“Your reputation precedes you, Faran Beshral. Dethys has told me you are not one to willingly accept the tutelage of your Elders. Would you really humble yourself so in exchange for what I have to teach you? To admit that, perhaps, you are not as wise, nor as world weary, as your mind professes you to be? Would you truly take my advice to heart? Or would you scorn it because it is the experience of another and not your own?”
“You, Faran, are a man who bases a great deal upon his personal interactions with both the world and others, and at times, I believe this is a disadvantage to you. It creates an inherent bias towards those who would help you reach the pinnacle of your abilities. You seek to do it on your own, because this is the only way you know. There is nothing wrong with independence, but much can be gained through the learning of others.”
“As children, we do not simply emerge from the womb and know how to walk. We must see others do it, and emulate their example. Does this mean that children lack independence and are incapable of their own destinies? Not at all. What it does mean, is that a helping hand can go a long way.”
“Do you not wonder why you were not granted the invitation of the Bulwark? It is certainly not due to lack of ability. You are easily on par, if not surpassing, your companions. No, the reason you were not asked is because you are not one to simply accept things as they are. You must see the world for yourself.”
“When the General explains to her recruits how the Bulwark functions and the ambitions of the Forsaken, they accept it as truth. This is not gullibility, but rather, a test of faith. You, Faran, lack faith in what you cannot perceive. To understand the Ageless, we simply could not tell you of our nature...you had to see Avalon for yourself.”
“Perhaps, one day, the invitation will yet be extended, and perhaps, you will join our ranks. However, know that in asking to be my apprentice, you have already taken the first step towards joining the Bulwark: you have accepted that there are still things you can learn, and thus, you have perceived that I have something worthwhile for you to learn.”
“A wise man once said, ‘When the student is ready, the master appears.’ Once Archer and Sembas are finished, let us see if you truly are ready to learn.”
-
@Sembas:
Perhaps Archer underestimated you, or perhaps she lapsed in her defenses. Whatever the case may be, your Fire Breath spell managed to catch her off guard. She stumbles backward in surprise, but manages to maintain her balance.
However, the end of your spear catches her off guard and she lets out an “Eep!” of surprise as your weapon firmly connects with her backside. She narrows her eyes, and you are correct in assuming she will attempt to make you pay for your antics.
She shoots a single arrow into the sky, but what began as a simple shot results in a deluge of arrows that seem to multiply even more as they draw near you. You may notice, with dawning horror, that each and every one of these several dozen arrows are making a beeline towards YOUR backside.
-
A devilish grin plants itself on Sembas's face as his spear connects with Archer's rump. The arrow springing into the air fades his grin as he tilts his head in confusion. She was just standing there after shooting her arrow. There must be...
His golden eyes widen and his jaw nearly unhinges when he sees the arrow split into dozens more. Faile lifts a wing over her face and starts laughing. Sembas's head whips over at her, fear clearly marked in his eyes.
"No, no, no! Not now!!" He yells pleadingly at her. He looks noticeably more tired than moments before. The smoke is all but gone from his mouth. Faile lowers her wing and winks at him, before full on laughing, nearly falling off the fence.
Compared to before, he was moving like a slug. He moves his feet as fast as he can while swinging his spear behind him. His agonizingly slow footsteps soldier on and try and pull him away from the dozens of arrows. He was still sprinting as fast as he could, but Faile withdrew her Essence of the Falcon spell.
If they are mundane arrows, his mix of Athletics skill and Dodge ability should pull him away from the majority of them and he should be able to knock the rest away with his spear. But if they are magically seeking out his bum, then... Well lets just say Hestia might need to patch him up in a few short moments...
-
@Sembas:
As dozens of arrows rain down upon you, your abilities in Dodge and Athletics allow you to avoid becoming a walking pincushion. Several of them nick your armor, but none of them manage to damage you too badly.
There is a pause as Archer contemplates her next action, allowing you to see that many of the arrows have embedded in the ground and have perfectly formed the shape of the letter A. There is a low, rumbling sound, and the ground beneath you begins to shake.
You realize that a single arrow is at the epicenter of these unusual vibrations. The shaft of the arrow rapidly begins to grow upwards, expanding drastically as it reaches towards the sky. The rest of the arrows are unceremoniously tossed aside as the ground beneath them begins to contort and shape itself into a rather large mound.
Where the arrow had landed is now an enormous weeping willow tree. Before you can effectively reflect upon what is happening. A dozen tendril-like branches snap towards you. Two latch onto your legs, wrapping themselves tightly around your ankles. Two more seize you by the wrists and begin to haul you towards the top of the tree. The rest wrap around your stomach and torso, holding you firmly in place.
You find yourself suspended by your feet, your body dangling from the uppermost branches of the willow. Faile and Besnik land beside you, both of them incredibly amused at your current state. A single tendril reaches towards your unprotected bum and draws itself away from you in a dramatically exaggerated motion.
You can hear Archer’s amused voice from below. “Eye for an eye… Bum for a bum…”
The whip-like branch snaps forward, cracking you sharply on the buttocks. It stings quite a bit, but other tha injured pride, you find yourself no worse for wear.
The tree begins to recede back into the ground and you find yourself free of your bindings and deposited at Archer’s feet.
She shakes her head. “My, you’re a fresh one aren’t you? Popping a lady on the bum like that!” She sticks her hand out to you and helps you to your feet.
“You know I wasn’t going to do that, but you’re a bit sharper than even I thought.”
-
Sembas gives a heavy sigh of relief for having not become a pincushion. Why hadn't Archer followed up with another attack yet?
The rumbling in the ground beneath him answers his question. As the enourmous willow tree bursts from the ground he gasps as the branches latch themselves around his limbs. He bites his lower lip as the branch winds up behind him, knowing what was coming.
“Eye for an eye… Bum for a bum…” Archer chimes from below.
He gives a, "Hmph!" Before being cracked on the backside by the branch.
“My, you’re a fresh one aren’t you? Popping a lady on the bum like that!”
"Just a bit of jest during a friendly competition." He says with a smile as he clasps Archer's hand and rises to his feet.
“You know I wasn’t going to do that, but you’re a bit sharper than even I thought.”
"Ha! Thank you, I guess. I'm that sharp when Faile allows me to be. I must admit, that last bit with the fire was done with her help. I can't do that on my own." Faile lands on his shoulder and gives a nod to Archer. "Maybe if I stick around the Bulwark long enough I'll be able to wield our spells by myself. But for now she needs to give me more of her enchantment for me to be able to breath fire or call down lightning. But I ramble..."
He offers his hand for a handshake, "It was an honor to test myself against a powerful member of the Bulwark of Heaven such as yourself. I see I have a lot to learn. You move faster than I've ever seen. And I have a feeling that tree was just a hint of your magic. I am humbled."
-
Midday.
Depheir Kothgar arrived the sandy arena. He saw the battle between brown-haired falconer and Ageless, which he hadn't met before.
"Falconer..." He recalled in the memory, when Cleo told him about the falconer."His name was... Sembas Filden?"
He sat on the ground, watching the battle and wondering, with who will he fight.
"Perharps with someone much more experienced than me. Or more skilled. Nevermind. It WILL be a tough battle, with whoever will I fight."
-
@Sembas:
Archer accepts your handshake. “You are humbled? Then we are even. I showed you a few new things, and you showed me a few new things.” She winks, an obvious acknowledgment of your performance the previous evening.
She elbows you playfully. “In all seriousness, the pleasure was mine, Sembas. I am quite impressed with your abilities, and perhaps, through your continuing work with our people and the Bulwark, you will best me yet. Until then, anytime you would like to be whipped into shape, you need only let me know.”
@Faran
As Archer and Sembas depart from the sparring area and take up positions behind the protective barrier, the mountainous Jonas Philosophy looks down upon Faran with a large smile. He gestures towards the ring and bids you follow. He escorts you to your starting spot and you watch as the human giant lumbers in the opposite direction.
From across the sparring ring, Philosophy leans upon one of the fence posts that clearly mark the sparring area. He reaches into his pocket and you see him extract one of the long, bamboo skewers that you have seen him use for his delicious kabobs. He begins to prod at his teeth with one of the pointy ends and continues to nonchalantly lean upon the fence.
The sun is high in the sky and the area is quite warm today. Beads of sweat are already pouring down Jonas’s brow, allowing wet rivulets to flow down his dark brown cheeks. He runs his fingers across his large, white, handlebar mustache and appears to be completely relaxed, despite the fact that he is about to enter combat. Then again, Jonas seems equally unflappable all the time.
“Well, lad, whenever you’re ready then.”
It appears that Jonas is allowing you to have the first blow. You get the feeling that you should probably ensure it is worthwhile. Jonas seems to be a man who is not easily impressed, and if you truly desire to be his apprentice, you are going to have to pull out all the stops. In addition, you are intelligent enough to guess that unlike Archer’s treatment of Sembas, Jonas will not be taking it easy on you.
-
My pulse was racing out in the sun baked sparring area. Jonas was my opponent? Maybe he knew a little more than me when I asked if he teach me. This wasn't going to be good. I had to remember that I was here to lose, but I had to do the best that I could here. The big man had years of experience over me and right now, facing down the cleavers this man had yet to draw, I was glad I was virtually immortal. I might be missing a few limbs after this was over.
I attuned myself to the Songs around me, ready to use them at a moments notice. Even through the earmuffs they rang clear in my ears. Nice thing about this place, I wasn't limited to how strong a particular song was. I wanted one I couldn't hear though. If I could hop into the next dimension over I could come out at Jonas any way I wanted. As began pacing left and grinning slightly, keeping my eyes on Jonas, my boots crunching in the sand that covered the arena. I began to Sing to the hidden song... (Intelligence: Spells – Song of Dimension)
..and rebounded as if punched across the face. Some kind of electric force stopped me from passing into the next dimension. I was seeing double. I raised my hands to my head trying to steady the world. Of course! The Ageless would have security measures in place to keep people from popping in and out of realities. Why didn't I think of this before!? Sweat popped out of my brow. My guard was down! If Jonas attacked, the only thing I could rely on my own resilience.
((Constitution – Soak) If attacked, Faran's skin turns dark, spotted with points of light like stars in the night sky, in the area the attack hits. This cosmic energy hardens his skin and protects him from damage, like an unconscious point defense.)
-
@Faran:
Your miscalculation results in some degree of amusement for Jonas and you hear the enormous man chuckle from across the sparring area. He shakes his head, leans back upon the fence and discards his skewer/toothpick with a flick of his fingers.
His hands come to rest upon his belt, and you watch as they close upon one of his cleavers and a chef’s knife. He tosses the cleaver into the air and catches the flat of the blade upon the point of the knife. The cleaver balances perfectly on the tip of the knife and begins to whirl with great speed.
At first glance, it would appear that he is ready to begin an attack. However, you quickly realize that he has ALREADY attacked. The unremarkable skewer that he flicked towards the ground barrels towards you, expanding rapidly as it careens through the air. It suddenly changes directions and begins to hurtle towards the sky before making a quick descent towards your form. The point nicks the back of your neck, but your Constitution enables you to deflect the damage.
However, you can feel the point of the skewer tear through the back of your shirt and your pants as it continues downward. Again, a quick change of path on the part of the skewer results in you being swept off of your feet. You are facing the ground and having difficulty determining where you are going. Then you feel the point of the skewer slam into a fence post, effectively leaving you like a boar upon a spit.
You hear Jonas’s heavy footsteps as the lumbering giant comes towards you. From your position, you can see him flick his fingers again and you feel the enormous wooden skewer turn in such a way that you are now facing upward, towards the sky, as well as Jonas’s amused expression.
Jonas shakes his head. The meat cleaver is still spinning upon the point of the chef’s knife. A slight movement of his hand causes it to stop and he flips the knife into the air, catching it by the blade.
“You look like a boar I once knew. Well… I’ll be waiting over here whenever you are done sunning yourself. For the record, you should attempt to be a bit more aware of your environment. Avalon is not the only place surrounded by protective wards. You must know not only your personal limitations, but those in the very earth and sky that surround you.” He taps you upon the forehead with the handle of the knife.
Jonas makes no move to un-skewer your form. He turns around, heading back towards his leaning spot at the far end of the sparring ring to await your next show of skill.
-
I hung securely to a now oversized wooden skewer that had ripped holes in my shirt and the ass of my pants. Not to mention bent nearly double upward. I'm pretty sure I heard someone muffling some laughter somewhere. Pain, I had been expecting. Humiliation, not so much. Luckily my feet could touch the ground. As Jonas walked away I strained against the pole and the fabric of my own clothes, but I couldn't break them. There was also no way to jump high enough to free myself of the pole without using the Song. I was stuck to this pole by my clothes.
A thought occurred to me then. I rolled my eyes heavenward. Well, I've come this far, might as well go all the way. Besides, you can't take dignity away from a man when he doesn't have any left to lose. I quickly unlaced my boots and stepped out of them, the hot sand burning my bare feet. Now the part that was going to suck, but the man HAD humiliated me and I was NOT going to hang here like a spitted “boar”. I unbuckled my belt and stepped out of my pants, my earlier thoughts about not wearing undershorts today was ringing clear in my mind. The pants slumped and dangled on the pole. I threw my arms up and ducked out of my shirt which now slipped down to join my pants.
I was in a crouch now looking at Jonas's back, the newly makeshift clothesline behind me. He was much more subtle than I took him for. I had expected him to come at me with his knives. Lesson learned for the day: always expect the unexpected from these Ageless. I stood up still looking at the retreating man's back. Allow me to be equally subtle, I thought. You won't know what's hit you until it's hit you. I Sang out to the Song that connects all of us. It had a folk-ish twang to it but the notes were all sour, reflecting my intent.
((Wisdom: Spiritual Magic – Song of Man) If the spell succeeds Jonas's immune system is dramatically lowered. There are no visual or tangible effects to this spell and only those with great healing talent (Hestia perhaps) will realize what's happened to him. Cuts suffered will become infected and fester quickly. Any diseases picked up will manifest symptoms within an hour instead of a day The effect will last for days, but individuals with Constitution: (anything) will regain their immune system faster)
I stood now in the baking sun, bracing myself against any reprisal (Con: Soak) and hoping I don't get a full body sunburn out of this.
-
@Faran:
Jonas seems impressed by your tenacity and willpower. As he leans against the fence, he nods approvingly as you manage to maneuver yourself out of your clothing.
As Faran calls upon the Song of Man, Jonas raises an eyebrow with interest. “A good choice, perhaps, Faran. However, let me let you in on a little secret.”
On the sidelines, Hestia shakes her head and slaps her forehead against her palm. “I’m afraid that was a mistake, dear one. You seem to have forgotten one of the simple truths about the Ageless. We are immune to disease, we are impervious to illness.”
Jonas chuckles. “It is always wise to learn as much about your foe as possible. For example, one should not attempt such nasty little spells against someone who trains others on how to use exceptional fortitude.” Jonas crouches into a low position, and as he does so, you see his entire body begin to pulse like the beating of a heart.
He taps his cleaver against his chef’s knife, and as he does so, you begin to see a sickly green light form around him. With a wave of his hand, the green, vaporous cloud hurtles towards you, slamming you in the chest and knocking you backwards.
Faran’s immune system is dramatically lowered. There are no visual or tangible effects to this spell and only those with great healing talent. Cuts suffered will become infected and fester quickly. Any diseases picked up will manifest symptoms within an hour instead of a day The effect will last for days, but individuals with Constitution: (anything) will regain their immune system faster.
Jonas has reflected your own spell back at you. You are intelligent enough to surmise that this is some unusual Constitution effect. Perhaps it is even one that you might be able to learn at some point.
Jonas begins to strike his cleaver and the chef's knife together, causing his weapons to spark considerably. While you attempt to deal with the effects of your own spell, you see that Jonas is already thundering towards you.
-
My heart sank at the commentary on the sidelines. Immune to disease. Great. And they somehow expected me to know this? My first thought was petulance. I guess I wasn't around when they handed out the instruction manuals on being Ageless! Calm down Faran, calm down. This line of thinking won't help you now. “Here to lose”, remember?
I marveled as Jonas reflected my own spell back at me. I very nearly panicked in revulsion until I remembered that I was Ageless too. I wouldn't get sick like a mortal would. So potent was the reflection that it had staggered me backward, my bare back scraping across the oversized skewer that still stuck into the post behind me. Jonas began thundering toward me like a charging bull, his knives flashing in the sun. I was going to be skewered in the flesh this time if I didn't do something.
I heard the Song of Jonas's motion following him, the temporary song that follows all movement. I remembered an event somewhat like this one from a few years ago. A small, scrawny man had laid out a large and strong man by using the strong man's own weight and motion against him. He used his own body like the fulcrum of a lever to channel the strong man's speed downward instead of forward, putting him on the ground. I had no such intention or skill to even get near Jonas without being severely hurt, but I had to make the best of the situation. I Sang out to the Song that followed Jonas, encouraging it and multiplying it.
((Wisdom: Spiritual Magic - Song of Momentum) If successful, the song multiplies the force behind Jonas's charge several times. The force acts in one vector only, making stopping or changes in direction very difficult but not impossible.)
I was never very good at moving quickly but I hurled myself, ungracefully, out of the way at the last second, hoping Jonas's charge will slam him into skewer, fence and all behind me. I just hoped I didn't underestimate something about him AGAIN.
-
@Faran:
Your Song of Momentum effectively multiplies the force behind Jonas’s movement. Much to your surprise, Jonas makes little effort to change directions or stop himself. Rather, he seems quite at ease with this turn of events. His expression betrays nothing, but you perceive him to be surprisingly... relaxed. Furthermore, you can't help but to think he might be saving up for something big.
He slams into the skewer with full force, and as you wait for the satisfying sound of the wooden stake penetrating his flesh, you are instead met with the sound of the skewer harmlessly crunching beneath him. This man must have insane command over Constitution.
The fence, being magically protected, avoids being smashed by the force of the charging gourmand. Jonas digs his feet into the ground. His shoulder slams into the protective barrier and he bounces back.
You watch as his form begins to pulse again. Jonas slams his weapons against one another, and you realize that he is shrugging off the effects of your spell. Your intuition tells you that he is using a Wisdom spell that allows him to dispel magic.
“Now you are beginning to understand,” remarks Jonas approvingly.
He crouches into a low position and charges forward with amazing celerity. You have never seen anyone so large move quite so quickly, and it appears he is using some kind of Skill similar to the one you saw Archer using against Sembas.
Jonas flies towards you in a flurry of motion. His weapons are aimed to strike, and it would be wise to take preventative measures before you find yourself cleaved in two.
-
I rolled my eyes in exasperation when Jonas rebounded off the fence. NOW I was starting to panic. His blades were aimed to strike. I glanced over to where my pants lay, the lump in the pocket my one actual physical weapon I owned, now out of reach. I was running out of tricks. I searched for any kind of metal on his body but only saw the knives. They would have to do. I could only hope that they were made of at least some metal and not entirely ceramic.
I rolled up from my prone position, attuned myself to the song inside all metals, made sure I had lots of room behind me and jumped as I high as I could into the air. It wouldn't do me any good to do this while on the ground, not at this angle. I Sang to the Song in the metal but also held my arms in front of me, in a boxer's guard in case he was able to dispel this as well, despite it not being directly cast at himself. I could only rely on my own fortitude (Constitution: Soak) to have a prayer of not being gutted.
((Intelligence: Spells – Song of Magnetism) A direct interaction between Faran's center of mass and the metal in Jonas's knives. Depending on which is greater: Faran's weight or Jonas's grip on his knives, one of two things can happen. If Jonas's exerts more than 150lbs (about Faran's weight) of grip force on his knives, Faran flies away from the knives on a vector depending entirely on their position at the time of casting. If the opposite is true, Jonas's has less of a grip on his knives than that, the knives will fly out of Jonas's hands, either into himself or clattering harmlessly to the ground behind him.)
-
@Faran:
Faran’s Song of Magnetism violently expels Jonas’s knives from his outstretched hands. The cleaver and the chef’s knife fall to the ground, sending up puffs of dust as the land heavily at Jonas’s feet. You have luckily managed to avoid the ends of Jonas’s blades.
However, as Jonas looks to the ground, then back up at you, you realize he is smiling, a large grin plastered upon his face. Pain rips through your shoulders as a phantom cleaver slams into your back. Luckily, your Constitution is quite advanced, so this wound will only take days to heal rather than weeks.
The force is great enough to knock you forward and your face slams against the ground before you. Your head throbs and you find yourself quite stunned. Jonas reaches down, taking his weapons back into his hands. He seizes you roughly by the hair, hauling you to your feet.
He hoists you into the air over his head and his hands begin to maneuver quickly. You can feel his fists churning under you, as if you are the dough he is preparing for a succulent humble pie. Faster and faster you spin and a lesser man would violently lose his lunch at this point.
Perhaps you can think of a way out of his grasp before he launches you somewhere unpleasant.
-
I landed back on the ground, a smile of triumph plastering my face. I had actually disarmed him! I didn't think that would work. Then he smiled at me and the only thing that proceeded the searing pain in my shoulder was a chill down my spine. I couldn't help but scream, to my shame. Whatever force it was dragged me down to the ground.
I must have blacked out for a second, because the next sensation I felt was being picked up by my hair. Symphony, it felt like my entire left side was both numb and on fire at the same time. In my daze I was being hoisted up, hands gripping my extremities tightly. The world spun. Someone, Jonas I could only surmise, was spinning me. What was I, some kind of toy? I quickly considered my options and found myself lacking, short of anything suicidal. I had to get away from him, but how? Only a shock of some kind could get him to drop me. So a shock it would have to be. He was impervious to too much so I had to take a different approach.
As I spun, I sucked in a lungful of air. I needed quite a bit so as not to black out from this. Using as little air as I could, I Sang to the air around both of us, pushing it all away until there was nothing. In a ten foot radius around us the air turned white for a brief moment, where all the air had been pushed before equalizing. I felt a shock to my own system as all the air in my lungs was ripped out of me. My ears popped and rang and I felt very queasy. I just hoped Jonas was having as a horrible time as I was, he didn't even have any warning.
((Wisdom: Spiritual Magic – Song of Air) Faran pulls all the air out of an area, creating a vacuum. If the effect is successful Jonas drops Faran to the ground, the effect like having the wind knocked out of you. Side effects include symptoms of prolonged high altitude sickness: popping ears, nausea, headache, nose bleed, etc.)
-
@Faran:
Jonas stumbles backwards as he begins to feel the effects of Faran’s Song of Air. His dark face begins to flush a slight shade of red and as he attempts to regain his breath, he glances up at Faran, his mouth open wide.
Faran’s attempt to be released from Jonas’s grasp works, but not in the way he expects. As Jonas stops spinning him above his head, and attempts to keep his balance, he calls upon his natural abilities over strength and constitution, and with one simple, yet powerful, motion, he slams Faran into the ground.
Faran’s body embeds deep into the earth, leaving a large trench around him. Thankfully, Faran’s Constitution manages to absorb some of the damage, however, he can likely sense that several of his ribs are cracked, and a few might even be broken.
Jonas stumbles out of the area of effect and thwaks himself upon the chest with a clenched fist, as if jump-starting his lungs again. Chanting something under his breath, he kneels down and slams his fist into the earth. Shockwaves erupt through the central area, launching Faran into the air as Jonas readies his weapons again.
-
The ground came up to meet me with a crashing *thud*. Pain the likes of nothing I had felt before coursed through my body, making Cleo's little eye zapper a pleasant memory. I saw only ground and I was face down in it. Then I remembered to breathe... and wished that I hadn't. The mixed pleasure of breathing again and the searing fire of pain in my chest made me wish I'd never been born.
My left arm was folded under me. I couldn't move it. That was more than likely broken. In a few places. I think one of my legs was broken too. Not to mention a few of my ribs were now cracked. Every breath was agony. I saw spots in front of my eyes, more than likely from the lack of air I just had. I lay there breathing dust and fire.
What are you doing Faran? You're beat. Just give up. You knew you were going to lose, it was inevitable. You gave it your best shot and that's all you could do. Hey you've got it pretty good right here. At least you're not in the hands of Forsaken. Maybe they'll let you stay in Avalon and be safe. You can hide here while all of them take care of the Forsaken. You're not a hero, remember?
Images flashed though my mind. A burning village. Screaming. Murder. Rape. The same questions entered my mind then. Nations, peoples all have their petty little squabbles. They happened over and over again. The little guy was always the one hurt by them. Did I make any difference then? Could I hope to make any difference now, as weak as I am? I'm no hero.
...Screw that.
I clawed at the ground with my right hand and dragged myself out of the crater I was occupying. I looked around me, still face down in the dirt, in time enough to see Jonas slam his fist into the ground. A shockwave roared toward me and launched me into the air. It felt like I flew forever but it must have only been a few feet. The landing aggravated every broken bone in my body and I moaned through gritted teeth. I opened my eyes and saw my pants laying in front of me.
My pants! I dragged myself closer and fished through my pockets with my good hand. I pulled out twenty silver marks. Well, not really silver. A nation really couldn't get by financially if they made their currency out of actual silver. But they would more than do. Last trick, and I doubt they've seen this one. I drew myself up in a kneeling position and held the coins loosely against my waist. Jonas was now regaining his weapons. I hurt so much, but damned if I was going to take this lying down. I let out one shrill note and the coins flew from my hand with a ringing sound. Twenty silver pieces, shining in the afternoon sun, fanned out and flew with deadly force straight toward Jonas.
((Intelligence: Spells – Song of Magnetism) The shotgun. Twenty metal objects are flying with, generally, the speed of an arrow, on individual vectors in a spray pattern toward Jonas. Muck like a shotgun.)
I watched as the coins flew away from me in slow motion. I could feel blackness creeping in the edges of my eyes. Symphony... this was only the sparring match!
-
Sembas was out, Faran was in. Fenwick didnt' think it would get any tougher than Sembas' battle, with the flying and the shooting and all the fake supposed pain.
He was terribly, terribly wrong.
Faran was soon forced to get out of his clothes to untrap himself. How he did that without giving himself a wedgie, Fenwick didn't really want to know at this point.
Faran's songs rang out shrill and loud at times, others appearing a more desperate scream, but at times, Fenwick could just make out the words of a magic spell chant. At least, he thought he did... It was kind of hard to tell with Faran being swung around and around... Then a white light flashed around their area and for a moment, he couldn't be sure what had happened, the only indication of anything happening being a very, very loud slam to the ground.
Fenwick flinched, silently thankful that he was not the one up against the butcher alone.
'It is over' he thinks. 'I would have given up if I were him.' Yet, to his horror, the butcher slams his fists down and Fenwick can almost swear that he had his own air knocked out of him despite the barrier.
Then, out from the crater was a hand.
May he have mercy...
Faran flew up...up... and the landing was less than graceful. There was a moan from the naked body, but, insanely, almost against odds, he opens his eyes...
Seeing his pants, he drags himself closer... Was he giving up? Was he going to just put on his clothes? Fenwick hoped he did. Faran had already done a lot more than he had expected. Yet, all he did was pull out twenty silver marks. Frowning, Fenwick wondered what he would do with those things.
He is answered quickly by a note that appeared to command the coins. All of them flew out in a large area, yet their target was clear. The butcher would feel pain, or at least some pain.
In his excitement, his calm demeanor is shattered as he shouts out in joy for Faran. A loud 'Yes!'. Yes, he had been an idiot when they first met, yes, he was a stubborn little fool at times, but all of those seemed to be helping him at this one point of time... perhaps to the point of suicide.
Cardack turns over, looking a bit startled by the loud exclamation. It seemed that he too had been watching intently.
After the butcher... what was his name? Faran had said it earlier on... a bit blurry... Joe... it sounded like Joe... Oh, Jonas! After seeing Jonas' counter, or even whether he'll try to counter it, Fenwick moves over to Hestia's side to speak to Cardack, although Hestia can clearly hear what is going on.
"When I'm up there, do I get to carry you along? I mean, I remember my spells, but I've had...er... your pages for quite a while now."
He doubts he'll be allowed it, given a real life simulation where his book was missing... still, worth a shot. Yet, he could not help but wonder...
...Who would he face and lose to?
-
Sembas was in good spirits after he and Archer's match. Her words sent him beaming with pride as they walked to the other side of the fence. Faile left from her perch on the ring and was grumbling in his ear over the match while sitting on his shoulder.
As soon as Faran and Jonas begain sparring he could tell that the result would be far different than He and Archer's match. Jonas didn't carry the same mood as Archer at all. The calm baker seemed out for blood...
Sembas cringes as Faran is slammed down hard on the ground. Rubbing his back where he fell from the fence, he can only imagine how the Singer feels at this moment. Drumming his fingers on his spear, he whispers over to Archer.
"I'm certainly glad you took it easy on me. As modest as you were once we finished, I know I'd be in Faran's position right now. Jonas moves very quickly too, for such a large man. Is there some secret to the elder Ageless' speed? That would prove immensely... useful..."
-
@Fenwick:
Cardack’s eyes grow wide. “You want me… to go out there… with you… against Divine knows what?”
Hestia gives him a sharp look and he sighs heavily. “Well, I suppose I have to, don’t I. If I’m to make amends with my past and blah, blah, blah-”
Hestia gives him another warning look and Cardack ceases his whining and raises his translucent palms defensively.
“Fine. Fine. Whatever. I’ll go with you. But I swear on my… cripes… what do I even have to swear on anymore. Can’t swear on my soul… It’s in this damned book. I’d swear on my heart or my left testicle or something but the former hasn’t beaten in ages and the latter-”
“Not there anymore?” asks Bran from nearby.
“No!” shoots Cardack with irritation. “They are perfectly intact, albeit a bit on the milky, white, see-through side, but I assure you that they work perfectly fi-” Cardack throws up his hands in exasperation. “WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS DISCUSSION?!”
Hestia smirks. “Well… they worked fine on me last night,” she quietly comments.
“There! You see! Perfect working order!” shouts Cardack. “You fleshy types looking down on me for my lack of tangible limbs! Well, I’ll tell you one thing young man! Some things still work just fine after you’re dead… again… dead again! Anyway! I swear on… this book! I swear on this book that if you get me mangled in your little practice slap-fight here that I am going to beat you with this entire volume until you cry.”
You suddenly realize that Cardack’s pages are a bit sticky. This conversation has gotten immensely uncomfortable, and you’re afraid to speculate as to WHY those pages are sticky.
@Sembas:
Archer smiles up at you. “Was I taking it easy on you? I hadn’t noticed.” She winks at you and Besnik, perched atop her shoulder, rolls his eyes.
“As for your interest in our use of speed, yes, it is something that is exceptionally useful, and can even be taught to others. Most of the Elder Ageless possess this skill, and perhaps, with time, I might even be able to train you to acquire the skill.”
“Besides… I need to give you some way to keep up with me, don’t I?” She nudges you good-naturedly. Anyway, if you were impressed by my skills, or even those of Jonas, wait until your first time on the front lines. Watching the Elders in action, especially General Fury and the Archon is quite a sight to behold.”
@Faran:
The coins are launched at Jonas with astonishing force due to the use of your Song of Magnetism. However, Jonas makes no attempt to dodge out of the way. Rather, you see him hunker down into a wide stance, his large legs forming a perfect arch as he flexes his arms at his sides.
Just as your projectiles are about to embed in Jonas’s flesh, the mountainous man lets out an earth-shaking roar, and you can practically see his skin thicken as he calls upon another of his Constitution skills.
The coins slam into his torso, neck and biceps, but you can hear a sharp metallic clink as they bounce off of his body. Before they have the opportunity to drop, with amazing speed, Jonas plucks each and every coin from the space in front of him.
“To truly know your enemy, Faran, you must experience their power.” Jonas’s low, rumbling voice fills the area. “To fight the Forsaken, you must inure yourself to the pain that they will surely inflict upon you. I only hope you are ready for this.”
Hestia gasps and Muse appears quite panicked.
“Oh, Divine,” breathes Archer. “Surely he’s not going to-”
“Jonas!” shouts Dethys. “Come to your senses! He is too young for this!”
Jonas’s eyes lock onto those of Dethys. “You know as well as I that the Forsaken care nothing for age or experience when fighting us. They do not see a Childer Immortalis… they will see a victim. If he gets used to the pain now, when he crosses paths with them, perhaps he will not be so terribly affected.”
Without another word, and despite the protests of his brethren, Jonas launches the coins back at you. As they grow closer, they expand rapidly, and in the space of a breath and a blink, all twenty silver coins have transformed into twenty razor-sharp cleavers.
Constancy covers his sister’s eyes and Hestia gasps as she clutches Cardack to her chest. Blood’s expression is impassive, but Cleo’s eyes have widened, and the sons of the Archon and the General look absolutely shocked at this turn of events. They all know what is coming.
A single word erupts from Jonas’s lips and is carried to your ears. “FLAY!”
The first cleaver brings mind-numbing pain as it rips the skin off of your shoulder. The second brings agony as it tears the skin off of your neck. The third cleaver swipes across your abdomen, taking the majority of the skin that once protected it, and a fourth quickly, but brutally, removes the skin from your eyelids. The fifth pulls at the thin skin between your toes, as the sixth slashes down your back, leaving your raw flesh exposed to the sun above. Another provides you with a torturous circumcision so devastating it would kill a normal man with the shock from the pain it brings. Yet another carves the skin off of your ribcage, letting it fall to the ground in one long, bloody strip.
As each cleaver continues to rend your skin from your flesh, you become acutely aware of the sand that digs into the wounds, and how the breeze has been transformed into a relentless lash.
Across the field, tears stream down the eyes of Jonas Philosophy, and he collapses to his knees in pain. So great is this man’s empathy, that every blade that bores into your skin brings him the same agony.
-
The blackness receded momentarily. There were voices. Someone was shouting. The pain was not so great somehow. I was possibly delirious. I got to my feet almost automatically. Jonas looked serious. Very serious. Scary in fact. He frightened me. I hadn't feared anything since I was a child. This man... was he..? He was serious. I heard his words. I felt somewhat elated. He respected me enough to show me the truth.
"FLAY!” and then there was PAIN.
My own coins returned as scythes likened to those carried by the angels of hell. They swung and chunks of me flew. Ripping. Biting. I saw my own intestines spill from my abdomen. I closed my eyes to the horror, but another slash skillfully removed my eyelids. Blood ran into my eyes and everything was red. A blade slashed lower than my abdomen and I began screaming harder than I had ever screamed before. Something felt as if I had been kicked in the groin harder than anything I had ever felt. I didn't want to think of what had just happened to my manhood. Why wasn't I unconscious yet? Why could I still feel everything? The blades were intelligent. Poking, pulling every vulnerable part of me, every pressure point. The wind bit me as hard as the blades and the sand pelted me as thousands of tiny arrows. I had no more skin. I was swallowing blood. It pooled beneath me in a lake of red.
One of the blades knocked the earmuffs off of my head and the sweet sound of the Symphony flooded my ears. Drowning out my screams. Oh so sweet. I longed to join in, to escape my fate worse than Hell. I continued to scream and scream and scream. Seconds turned to minutes, into hours and into days. The Song my only comfort.
And at last IT was over. I saw through the haze of red, a red Jonas on his knees, in the red sand. Crying. He hurt himself to show me Truth. Was he once... one of them? I could not longer stay standing. I saw him, looking at me and I met his eyes.
“Thank you.” I said, though it was more of a bloody gurgle than anything else. I fell over into the pool of my own blood.
I didn't wake up for a long time.
-
"Haha, I kept up fine last ni-"
Sembas is cut off as Jonas roars, causing the coins to bounce off without effect. The chef's next move causes him to gasp. His skin crawls as he watches Faran get flayed by the many cleavers. He grips his spear tightly in his hands and clenches his teeth.
"I understand that preparing us for battle is necessary." He says as he pulls his hood up over his eyes. "But that was not!"
He turns on his heels to leave and goes so far as to take a few steps before stopping. His body was trembling.
"Such a grotesque display. I finally see the horror of our war. The reality of it sits heaped upon one of our comrades skin..." He says, with a shaky but determined voice. "I... After that..." He sighs and rubs the back of his head. "Allow us a moment, please. We've had enough of this for today..." His words trail off as he exits the sparring grounds, his hood hanging low over his head. Faile looks back at the others over his shoulders, her eyes wide with shock.
-
Jonas roars, the marks stop flying, Fenwick asks his question, gets a response of fear (He was just asking for the book! Not like he was going to throw it away or anything...). Somehow, the book had some substance on it. He wasn't sure what it was and doubted anything happened back in Hestia's place, but in this place anything could happen. He would have to clean it up soon enough...
There was some sort of commotion. Nearby, Dethys shouted for Jonas not to do it, whatever it was. He turns his head around, trying to find answers in the faces of the others. Only shocked responses, fear, outrage. Nearby, Hestia gasps, grasping Cardack closer to her chest.
"Flay."
He wasn't sure whether he wanted to see this. Something about that one word, along with the bullets that he held in his hand that seemed to be a very uncomfortable mix...
Faran is cut into bits and pieces, his eyelids neatly cut off. The Ageless couldn't die, that was a blessing. Yet, to balance it out, the pain they were doomed to feel seemed a heavy price. Fenwick saw all of this as blood started to first trickle out from every possible orafice, before it turned into something of a river. Soon after, with what seemed like all his skin torn off him and some open wounds in his abdomen, there was silence, save for the crying of the butcher, of Jonas.
Even from here, Fenwick could feel his pain. He didn't want to feel it, especially after all of that, but he did. It didn't affect him terribly from here, outside the field. Lucky him he thought.
A gurgling came over from where Faran stood. Though his mouth was bloody, they visibly moved enough to allow anyone to see that they had formed the words 'Thank you'. He then fell into his own pool of blood.
A voice calls from nearby. "I understand that preparing us for battle is necessary, but that was not!"
Sembas.
Although the display ahead was disgusting, his defiant cry caught Fenwick's attention. He sees the man, Faile on his shoulder, walk a few steps before stopping. Fenwick's body echoed Sembas', although for a different reason.
He would be next. He would feel pain.
Sembas says something, but his back was towards Fenwick. Losing his interest, he turns around only to see Faran still lying on the floor. Of course, what else did he expect? He had expected Faran to stand, to shrug it off like he shrugged off insults, to simply walk off the field. No. Not even the stupid, stubborn-to-a-fault, I-won't-take-your-orders Faran could stand up against that onslaught.
But there was another feeling that festered and grew. A type of joy. Jonas had managed to do all that with one simple word. He was old, centuries old, but one day, Fenwick would be able to command such magic. He would be able to make his tormentors suffer. His parents' murderer, or murderers, would lay bloodied just as the wretched Childer Immortalis currently was.
The murderers were mortal, or at least he figured they would be mortal. They may not be able to feel this type of wrath, and the thought was a bit of a downer, but his own power could grow.
He had molded his magic and spells around such suffering and pain, around fear. One day, his enemies would bow to him.
-
@Sembas:
“Sembas!” cries Archer. Concern clearly marking her face, she hurries after Sembas.
However, Blood impedes her progress, thus blocking her path.
“No,” says Blood quietly. “Let me handle this.”
Archer reluctantly agrees and Blood follows after Sembas.
“You would walk away from this place?” questions Blood. “Just because that sight affronts your eyes? Do you think it will be so easy to walk away when the Forsaken turn their gaze to you? Do you think you’ll just be able to leave the battlefield?”
Hearing no immediate response from Sembas, Blood sighs in exasperation. “Who are you to judge what is appropriate and what is not? Though we might not like it, Jonas wouldn’t have done it if Faran couldn’t handle it. Did you even hear what Faran said? He said ‘thank you.’ Did it occur to you why someone would just thank the man that ripped his skin from his body? Faran now realizes the horror that we all face. Jonas respected him enough and believed in him enough to push him to his limits, and in the process, he somehow managed to get through that walnut-thick skull of Faran’s!”
“Yes, the pain that Faran must feel is excruciating, but you have no idea what that man-” she gestures to Jonas, who is still upon his knees and sobbing. “Has given to teach him this lesson. His pain is no worse than the agony the Forsaken have forced upon each and every one of us. We all bear the scars of the Forsaken!” Blood’s fists are trembling with anger, and Archer quickly attempts to intercede so you do not fall victim to one of Blood’s tirades.
“Adia… I’m sure he does not mean to judge Jonas too harshly. But imagine what this poor man must be thinking right now.” Archer puts her hand upon your shoulder.
Blood shakes her head, a look of disgust present upon her face. “Gladia… You know this better than most… You know what it is like to fall victim to the Forsaken.”
“Yes…” Archer’s gaze becomes distant. “And I am sure that it will haunt me every day of my being. But perhaps it was a bit much too soon.”
“We do not have the luxury of time, Gladia. We can’t just keep them in Avalon forever. Sooner than you think they will be back out in the world, and there will be a target upon each of them, just as there are targets on each and every one of us. We are hunted, Gladia! And so shall they be! Do you wish for your babyface boyfriend to be tortured and killed by the hands of Severan and his followers?”
Archer’s face pales considerably at the thought of harm befalling you.
Blood runs her hand over the top of her head. “Look, I empathize with you, Sembas… Really, I do, but if you react this way now, how do we know you’re not going to fall apart when it actually matters? You must steel your resolve now, for by the time this is over, you will see spades worse than this.”
-
Sembas stops as Blood addresses him. You can clearly see he is gripping his spear tighter than ever, although he has stopped trembling. The Falconer stands stock still until she finishes speaking, allowing every word to sink in.
He pulls back his hood, and turns to face Blood. No tears, no visages of horror or pain mask his face. Stern reslove beams from his golden eyes as he meets Blood's. His leather glove moans as it grips his spear tighter yet.
"I hold no ill will towards Jonas. I know why he did that, and why he had to. My heart goes out to each and every one of you, you Ageless who have whitnessed such torment through the Forsaken. Immortality steals away the quick release of death. It makes me sick to think of what has happened, and what will happen because of this war."
Sembas runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes. Opening them, he continues and begins pacing forward.
"The night before I fully enlisted to my village's militia, I spent in the mountains. I knew through my service in protecting the people I would have to harm others. In the mountains Faile and I made a promise to each other to never hesitate. Never hold back a blow for the sake of a person who would harm my friends and family. With Faile by my side there was no one to contest us, and we took comfort in the knowledge that we could protect those close to us."
He pauses for a moment, before adding, "I have killed and mutilated men before. That is not my issue."
Sembas is standing directly in front of Blood now. He stares directly into her eyes, the two of them being nearly the same height.
"Yes, Faran and Jonas's sparring, if you will call it that, sickened me. I wanted nothing more than to leap the fence and come to Faran's aid. But as I watched, I realized I would be just as helpless as he. Through battling with Archer and watching Jonas, I realized just how helpless I am against the Forsaken. The fact that I am so weak to protect the ones I care about..." He glances at Archer, Dennan, Fenwick and Faran, before marking everyone else present and returning back to Blood. "That is difficult for me to accept..."
Breaking his stare he hangs his head.
"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect to Jonas and Faran."
-
@Sembas:
The crimson that washes across Blood’s face evaporates into nothingness, and you see her fists relax at her sides as she hears what you have to say. Perhaps you have struck upon a nerve, as when you mention feeling helpless, Blood turns from you and faces towards the sparring arena again, her arms crossed over her chest and a thoughtful look upon her face.
She says nothing else, but simply parts company with you and Archer. You watch as she makes her way towards the sparring area and kneels beside Jonas, who is having difficulty rising to his feet due to agony. Tears continue to stream down his face, and perhaps for the first time since the flaying of Faran Beshral, you notice that Jonas does not merely weep the tears of a man in pain, but tears of blood that sting his eyes and tear at the fibers of his heart.
Drops of sanguine roll down his cheeks and stain the front of his typically spotless baker’s attire. Every time you have seen him, his garb has always been in an impeccable state. Despite the fact that he wears white pants, a white shirt, and a white button-up jacket, you’ve never seen a blemish upon his garments… until now.
Blood offers her arm to him, supporting his bulk with all of her strength. He gratefully rises, his feat unsteady beneath him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, Hestia has knelt beside Faran and is quickly attempting to cease his bleeding. He is a pitiful, pulpy mess, and it is certain that his wounds must be tended in a hurry if he is to make a speedy recovery.
Blood helps Jonas to Faran’s side, and the Philosopher of Light, who was once known by a much darker name, the Butcher of Darastae, kneels down beside his would-be apprentice. His arms still trembling slightly, Jonas calls upon every ounce of willpower he has to suppress the pain that is impeding him. Wordlessly, he carefully takes Faran into his arms, holding him to his chest as one might carry a sleeping child.
There is a silent exchange between him and Hestia, and the healer motions for Jonas to follow her and take Faran to the recovery area where she may properly tend to his healing.
Muse stands nearby, and there is a look of sorrow upon her face as she watches Jonas carry Faran off. Her gaze settles upon the “Magical Earmuffs” she had given to Faran not so long ago. She picks them up from the dusty ground and slowly begins walking behind Jonas.
Blood, too, takes her leave, likely heading for the Bulwark Headquarters, in order to inform the General of what just transpired. Given Fury’s uncanny powers of observation and her ability to perceive and anticipate far more than she lets on, it’s quite possible she already knows, or perhaps has always known, what would happen upon this day. However, decorum suggests that Blood file the report anyway as injuries of such severity, especially at the hands of another Ageless, are often logged.
There is silence around the sparring area and no one can be moved to speak for several moments.
Finally, Dethys clears his throat. “Well then… That was… gooey…” With a look of disgust, he glances as the discarded piles of Faran skin that litter the sparring area. “Eww…”
Quite suddenly, there is a loud, whirring sound, as if some enormous, magnificent gear has been wound into place. The sound echoes throughout all of Avalon and around you, you begin to see the scenery change. Since you arrived, Avalon had been as a desert, which made a great deal of sense given the location of the gates.
However, you all remember that it had been mentioned Cleo has the ability to change the location of Avalon at will. As such, you can see enormous, snow-capped mountains and gigantic trees looming in the distance. The air has been affected with a sweet smell that brings to mind fresh, spring water as it trickles down the hillside into an awaiting pool where, cool and refreshing, it might be drunk by passersby.
There is the faint smell of honeysuckle carried upon the soft, wafting breezes that pass through the sparring arena, and a few, well-placed clouds provide some shelter from the sun’s rays.
This change of scenery appears to affect everyone’s moods for the better, and draws their attention away from the macabre sight that still stains the sparring ring. While the rest of you marvel at this change of place, Dethys snaps his fingers, dispelling the lumps of Faran into… well, you probably don’t even want to speculate where he’s sent that mess.
-
Faran is taken away from the arena, the whole process seeming as if he was being disposed of. Excellent, not only was he beaten to a pulp and the injuries grieved for, he'll also heal and wake up and fight another day... probably being beaten to a pulp. Again.
Ah the joys and wonders of being an Ageless.
Blood and Archer had apparentely talked some sense into Sembas, or Sembas had talked some sense into them. Fenwick had overheard them, that being the only thing left that could take his mind his soon-to-be pain.
Blood had mentioned something about steeling themselves soon or else face death. Fenwick had near burst out laughing. Jonas himself was crying, and upon taking a closer look, they looked like blood. Such is the empathy that they feel pain of the others. Such is the empathy that, on the battlefield, would also immobalise a whole unit of Ageless. Perhaps it could be controlled, but oh such pain they would have to before and after. He was amazed that none of that had been driven insane yet.
Dethys breaks the ensueing silence with his antics. That was a refreshing change, as refreshing as...
...What was that sound?
Avalon had moved, or the world had moved for Avalon. It seemed to be more of the latter though, as Fenwick had not felt anything during the change. The air smelled sweet, a clear contrast with the dry, hot air that had permeated the desert. Speaking of which, clouds had suddenly appeared and blocked the sun's rays, making everything a shade darker. Fenwick was not sweating, but he did appreciate the change.
He is a bit disorientated however, and more than a little light headed from the sudden change. Just a little bit of time would fix that though.
Dethys snaps his fingers and the arena is cleared. Fenwick goes over to Dethys.
"I guess I'm probably up against you?"
-
@Fenwick:
Dethys’s eyes widen. “Me? Dear boy! Why ever would you think that? What? Is it because I’m a mage, too? Is that it? That is stereotyping and I don’t have to take it!”
Bran rolls his eyes and nudges his perpetually amiss honorary uncle. “Uh… Uncle Dethys. I think he believes you are to be his opponent because you are his mentor.”
“Oh! Right! Mentoring! Hmm…” Dethys taps his foot upon the grassy ground. There is no evidence that this place was ever a desert, and one can’t help but to be thankful for this change in scenery. “Well... I just got these robes pressed, and I really don’t want to blemish them. I mean, look at me! I’m absolutely charming in these things. Look at them!” Dethys poses so that you might admire his freshly pressed robes.
“Couldn’t you just have them pressed again?” questions Bran.
“Bah! That’s too much work!” grumbles Dethys.
“You have magic,” Bran offers.
“How many times must I tell you, boy? Magic is-” begins Dethys.
His two apprentices finish the phrase from memory. “Never to be used for frivolous pursuits.”
“Ah!” beams Dethys. “Serenity! Constancy! You were paying attention! Anyway! No, you won’t be facing me. I think I’d rather just observe your abilities from here. However, I’m sure we can find you a worthy opponent.”
Dethys claps Dennan upon the back. “Dennan!”
“Yes, Uncle?” comes Dennan’s low, rumbling reply.
“Why don’t you put Fenwick here to the test?” suggests Dethys.
Dennan nods slowly. “As you wish, Uncle.” He turns to his bear companion, Fensten, and whispers something in the creature’s ear.
Whatever he says, Fensten whimpers and moves to follow his companion
“No, Fensten. You wait here. I’ll be alright.” Dennan scratches the bear between the ears and the enormous creature nuzzles his hand.
Dennan gestures for you to enter the sparring area and proceeds to lumber to the far end of the ring. His expression is unreadable, but he appears as calm, relaxed, and wholly unflappable as always.
Like the other Ageless, he is polite enough to allow you the first blow.
-
Dennan agrees to the competition in such a steady, calm, controlled voice that Fenwick is unnerved.
He steps into the ring, being allowed, as the others were allowed, the first move. Unsure how to start, Fenwick does the polite thing and does a slight bow. Politeness politeness!
Yet as he does so, he recalls everything about Dennan. Calm. Uses a greataxe... will probably read everything that Fenwick does... if necessary, can shapeshift. In other words, he's screwed. Yet there was one thing more that he needed to know...
Breathing in deep, Fenwick mumbles a few words under his breathe. As he does so, he feels ten, probably a hundred, times stronger than he does. Every single muscle in his body seemed to have bulged by just a little, but the magic that courses within him would allow him to punch a hole through a brick wall if necessary. [(Wisdom--Spiritual Magic: STRENGTH)]
It was a risky move, but he had to try. He made a beeline for Dennan, his eyes constantly focused on Dennan's. The plan was such: He would strike out with his right arm, aimed for the left side of his face (his left, or Fenwick's right), after which he would bring up his left arm to block the counterattack which would most definitely come from Dennan's right arm. After that, Fenwick would knee him straight in the privates and, with his right arm, elbow his head straight down. With that done, he would jump back and return to his position. Dennan's counterattack would hurt...
If he doesn't find out whether Dennan is right or left handed, he would at least be able to deal some form of damage to him.
-
As you barrel towards Dennan, you notice that he makes no attempt to dodge out of the way. You draw back your right arm to connect with his face, however, as you near him, you see him slam his fist into the ground.
An enormous wall of rock and earth explodes out of the ground, serving as a one foot thick barrier between you and your target. Your fist slams into the wall, sending searing pain through your knuckles, and you hear a few bones fracturing from the force of the blow. You stumble backwards as Dennan stomps upon the ground , causing the wall to retreat back into the earth.
Dennan takes several steps back, faces you, and crouches into a low position, causing him to appear more animal than man. His calm, emotionless visage is replaced by a wild, feral look that strikes fear into your heart. No matter how you attempt to steel your nerves, you cannot help the hesitation that grips you, and your intelligence allows you to conclude that whatever is going on is some kind of fear effect produced by Dennan calling upon one of his Charisma skills.
(Note: Effect- The user’s presence creates fear in his opponents. During the opponent’s next post, they are so overcome with their trepidation that they simply cannot will their body to near their target. No physical attacks can be taken for this post. Ranged and magical attacks are still available to use, however, their potency is much reduced. This effect lasts for only one turn, unless the user chooses to continue the effect, thus sacrificing their next action.) Dennan will only be using this for one turn.
-
As Fenwick runs closer and closer to his target, he senses something amiss, but, shrugging it off, he continues on.
But as Fenwick draws closer and has his right arm cocked and ready. He fires... and a huge wall of rock rises and protects Dennan. Fenwick's eyes widen as he sees this, but it's too late. His arm does connect, but it is with the rock wall. There are a few audible cracks and Fenwick nearly screams from the pain, only to be stopped by Dennan's stomp, throwing Fenwick off on the ground and causing the wall to return to where it came from.
The pain is nearly unbearable, but it is not as bad as the humiliation. He had forgotten! These were Ageless, these were trained. They had both magic and blade.
With this in mind, he watches warily as Dennan simply steps away from him and crouches down. Their eyes were locked again, allowing Fenwick to see the visible and sudden change as Dennan appears to metamorphose from Ageless to Animal. His eyes had a feral glint, he seemed to be a wolf, about to tackle him...
'He hasn't changed! He's still the same!!' His logical side shouted at him. 'Control! Be in control!'
Alas, he cannot return in control. Drowning in fear, Fenwick attempts to step back, but instead falls and lands on his bum. Instinctively, he throws out his right arm behind him for support, only to be rewarded with another jolt of pain similar to the first.
Yet he feels nothing as he pushes himself back with his legs, his eyes unwilling to move away from the terrible visage before him. He swings out his left hand frantically, as though it could push it back.
Moving away far enough, he manages to obtain some semblance of control. He controls his shaking (He was shaking?? When... when...) and takes a deep breath. Dennan is an Ageless.... Fear is simply an emotion... stay calm... calm...
The shaking lessens and he manages to look away. A spell directed at Dennan was out of the question here, since it would require looking at the monstrosity, but he could work his magic on himself.
Mumbling to himself, the adrenaline and fear drains away, causing the dull ache he feels on his right hand to creep back at him. He casts the spell and instantly feels safer, protected. (Wisdom--Spiritual magic: SOOTHSAYER)
He turns back and finds himself now able enough to watch out for any of Dennan's attacks, although not necessarily look at him directly for an extended period of time. His arm would have to be treated, but right now he prepares himself to roll out of the way if Dennan decides to seize this opportunity.
-
Dennan wastes no time. You see him jump vertically into the air, and much to your surprise, he simply keeps rising. As you gaze overhead, you see that the talented shapeshifter has transformed into a giant eagle, easily large enough to carry a human rider.
The creature begins to circle the sparring area and gathers speed as he swiftly moves in smooth arcs. The sight would be quite beautiful and majestic, were it not for the fact you see him rapidly change directions. He points his enormous beak towards the ground and begins to plummet towards you, letting out a shrill cry as he descends upon his prey.
-
The eagle that is Dennan dive bombs straight for Fenwick. He wasn't sure what would happen, but Fenwick guesses that he'll be moving too fast to change direction in the last minute.
With quite a bit of effort, Fenwick manages to push himself up to a squat. He would wait. At the moment right before Dennan can crush his bones, he'll jump off to the right, curling off into a roll to disperse the shock.
Hopefully Dennan can't cast magic in animal form...
-
Closed for length.