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Battle Related Forums => Board Battle Archives => Board Battles => The Scrap Heap => Topic started by: Faidth on July 10, 2010, 11:20:00 AM
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You cannot fathom why someone would put a Soothsayer in the middle of the desert, but that is where she is, so that is where you are going. Upon learning of your newly acquired condition, you were left a message, though how it came to you without anyone to deliver it is a bit suspect. Fenwick “Beatrix” Hux found his within the confines of his coveted book. How it got there, you will likely never know, but the instructions that the message bore were quite clear.
You were advised to make your way to the Wastes of Faranas, an uninhabited, barren land that consists of little more than coarse sand, blistering sun, and more coarse sand. There is little water to be found, so you are glad that you managed to pack at least a few light provisions for yourself. However, by the seventh day, your waterskin is likely empty and you are beginning to feel your first pangs of thirst.
It is at this time that you realize that you are being followed. As you look above you and squint your eyes towards the midday sun, you note an enormous black bird of some sort. You surmise that it is likely a vulture, but if the creature is waiting for you to keel over so that it may delightfully feast upon your rotting remains, it will be sorely mistaken. You’ve already died once, and thus far, there has certainly been no rotting.
Both the sand and heat are unforgiving, but you were told in this message that you cannot stop for any reason. No rest, not even for a moment; the message was very clear about that. So, you continue your journey south, hoping to see some signs of civilization, but the endless expanse of desert is the only thing that greets your eyes.
You stumble forward, your feet growing heaving under you, and you nearly trip over IT. You manage to catch your balance, and as you correct your posture you find that you have walked directly into the wall of a small tent. You’re positive that it wasn’t there a moment ago; you would have easily recognized such a thing in the midst of all this emptiness, but there it is. You reach out a hand to determine if this is merely some mirage, a cruel figment of your sun-addled mind, but you are assured that it is indeed there.
A chastising, female voice calls out from somewhere within the confines of the tent. “Are you just going to stand out there all day?”
You cautiously enter the tent and your eyes need a moment to adjust to the darkness.
“Well, I suppose you have spent a bit too much time in the sun,” remarks the voice, a hint of amusement present in her tone.
There is a brilliant flash of effervescent light that explodes from the center of the room and spills outward, affecting everything that it touches. You realize that this room is far greater in size than you imagined, and what appeared to be a rather unremarkable little tent actually has enough space to fit an entire house, maybe even two.
The woman gives you an even stare, and you find that she is much like you expected. She is a hunched over, wizened, little old woman. Strands of gray hair hang across her forehead or congregate in clumps upon her brow. Wrinkles affect every corner of her face, and she has the look of someone who is very well-travelled.
She is seated at an elaborately carved wooden table in the center of the room, and it is from there that the soft, blue light continues to emanate in undulating waves. She snaps her fingers and the motion of the light instantaneously stops, each azure curl frozen in time as she slowly makes her way towards you.
“Hmph. I should have known that you would be the first, Mr. Hux.” She reaches up a withered hand, tilting her craggy face as she places her palm upon your forehead.
Despite the unbearable heat of the desert outside, you find that the tent is quite cool, and you shiver a bit as her cold hand presses against your skin. After several moments of this, she narrows her eyes and you feel that gaze is exploring the depths of your very soul. You feel strangely exposed and she grins in response to your obvious discomfort.
“Hmph. All that for a book, eh? You’re either very brave or very foolish… Truth be told, I would bet my money on the second, but I suppose time will tell. Well, just one more thing to check. You’ll want to hold still for this.” She presses her thumbs against your eyes, and without warning, she jams them hard into your sockets.
You feel as if your eyeballs will pop, but you find that you can tolerate this pain. However, the searing agony that comes next is enough to nearly bring you to your knees. Though you cannot see it as your vision is obscured, you hear the crackle of lightning as it explodes from her fingertips in a deafening roar. You howl in pain as you find yourself paralyzed. You quickly think of some course of action to stop this madness, perhaps a spell to protect you, but as you move to intercede on your own behalf, the pain stops and you fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. You find yourself dizzy and unable to see. Your mind is swimming in the vestiges of the dull ache that permeates through your skull.
The soothsayer extends a hand to you and pulls you to your feet before helping you into a luxuriously soft chair near the wooden table. She presses something squishy to your lips, and as she does so, you find your former mental clarity, balance and vision restored.
Before you can utter a word, she raises a hand to stop you. “I am terribly sorry, I do not delight in these dealings. You will be glad to know that such a jolt would have killed any human, but you… you, sir are indeed an Ageless. I suppose I should explain myself, but before I do, now that I have confirmed who you are, I can take my true form.”
The entirety of her body is enveloped in a shimmering white light and the wrinkled flesh begins to physically melt away. Her gray hair slithers from her skull before joining her flesh in landing in lumpy heaps upon the floor. There, the remnants of her former appearance evaporate into nothingness. What is left in the seat before you is likely the most alluring woman you have ever seen. Her long, blonde hair falls across her shoulders in golden waves, and her piercing blue eyes sparkle with a delighted glint.
“I must say it is so good to have company again. There haven’t been many of us lately. The last was about eight months ago.” She pats your hand sympathetically. “Again, I’m so sorry about that. I know how painful that must have been for you, but it had to be done. Awhile back, the Forsaken learned of my whereabouts, and because this place is warded against them, they began to send humans posing as Ageless. There were enchantments on them that enhanced their abilities and certainly made them seem like Ageless. One of them managed to get by me… a very convincing glamour they had on that one… but luckily, Blood was able to stop them at the gates.”
“Since then, I’ve had to go out of my way to make sure all of you are who you say you are. But, this should be at least a little amusing for you. When the rest of them come, you’ll get to see them flop around just as you did. Sometimes they drool and writhe, and I must admit that despite myself it is fairly entertaining to watch. Oh my! Where are my manners! My name is Cleo Seer. Appropriate isn’t it? You’ll get a name like that soon enough. The Archon always knows what will suit us.”
She sighs heavily as she realizes that she has been rambling for several moments now. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s been awhile since I’ve had company. I’ll get you something to eat and drink if you like. We’re going to have to wait for the others. You are the first, Mr. Hux, but you will not be the last today.” She glances down at your hands. “Perhaps in the meantime you would like to know your future? It’s fluid you know… dynamic… always changing… but perhaps I can offer you a glimpse? Or perhaps there is something else you would like to know?”
The prospect of telling you a bit of your future seems to excite her and she eagerly awaits your response.
-
Dazed and utterly confused, Fenwick sorted out what he had learned ever since he entered the tent.
An old lady had just figured out what he drowned for just by touching his skin, pretty much near-punctured his eyeballs and shortly afterwards shocked the life out of him.
Okay, well, she nearly did, but that was close enough!
Instinctively after she had applied that thing to his lips, he had begun mumbling his spell, SPIRITUAL MAGIC--LIFESAVER as she confirmed that he was an 'ageless' (that word in the note. hmm...). But as she metamorphosed, he simply stopped. The blonde haired, blue eyed woman was beautiful, but more than that, he sensed that she could be trusted, with his life perhaps. Maybe all that time bargaining had paid off...
...Or maybe he was just a sucker for beautiful women, regardless of how much he wanted to deny it. Maybe a mixture of both.
Yet it was the magic that had emanated from her that he wanted. Within this being, he knew there was much that he could learn, things that the book would not have told him. Suddenly, looking down at his precious tome, he realised that the lightning spell she had casted could be duplicated by mixing a few 'ingredients' together. Storing that information away, he realised that she was still talking. A bit embarrassed, he tried to pick up on what she had said...
...Something about Forsakens and them sending humans to do their work... then a certain Blood had stopped them... Perhaps valuable information later on. Again, he archived that away, though he placed less importance on it.
"Perhaps in the meantime you would like to know your future? It’s fluid you know… dynamic… always changing… but perhaps I can offer you a glimpse? Or perhaps there is something else you would like to know?”
Immediately after hearing those words, Fenwick quickly processed the possibilities. Condition: Future was always changing. Possible action: A glimpse of the future. Possible outcomes: By knowing the future, there may be a 'self-fulfilled prophecy', something mentioned in the book. Yet, the future was always changing. Maybe it didn't matter...
"Erm... the guy who killed my parents. I'll find them right? Along the way or after I finish 'my way', whatever it is? However! If I can only choose one vision, I'd rather just get a glimpse, with or without the murdering lout." His words grew sharp and loud right before 'murdering' and he realised that this may not be good for his health.
"Oh, and one more thing... Just call me Fenwick. Or just Fen, or just Wick. Choose one, I'm not picky." He adds as a final note.
As he waits for her reply, the thoughts of seeing others fall before hiim interested him. Perhaps he could study her technique as she did so...
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Upon hearing your response, Cleo seizes your hand and pulls it across the table towards her. There is a greed in her expression and you would not be incorrect in estimating that the ability to practice her arts tends to get a rise out of her. Perhaps, to some degree, you can even relate to the insatiable need that she obviously feels in having a willing audience.
She glances at your palm, attempting to decipher something, but what that might be, you have absolutely no idea. Suddenly she clears her throat and expels a large, wet, glob of saliva into the palm of your outstretched hand.
Before you can protest, she dips her long, dainty fingers into the minute puddle upon your hand and begins to stir it. You notice that as she does so, the pool begins to widen and expand, and soon it envelopes your entire palm. Perhaps more curiously, it begins to shimmer with a purple glow. She swishes her fingers around even faster creating a veritable whirlpool within your palm. The churning fluid begins to expand upward until its volume has expanded so much that she can place her hand in it up to her wrist. Loud swooshing sounds emanate from the liquid, and despite its size, it never spills over the confines of your palm. It crackles with electricity and Cleo smiles as she finally finds what she was looking for.
You feel a sharp pinch in the palm of your hand as Cleo begins to pull her fingers upward, and quite suddenly, the whirring stops. The whirlpool begins to fall away like a curtain, and what had begun as a wad of saliva and transformed into a mini tsunami, is now the haunting image of your mother and father.
"Hmm. Nice family. Do you wish to see their deaths? Some people find closure in that!" she says excitedly. However, this remark is followed by a frown and she shakes her head. "Perhaps not."
The image of your parents disappears, and a blinding light erupts from the center of your hand. It is so bright that it forces you to shut your eyes, but Cleo seems undeterred. When you regain your sight again (what is it with this woman and blinding you?) there is a handful of runes in your outstretched hand. They are carved into small brown and gray rocks, and each feels much heavier than they should rightfully be.
Cleo collects them from you and takes a deep breath. She quickly examines the runes, chucking several onto the floor until only one remains. This one looks different from the others. “Are you sure you want to hear this? Of course you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have asked. You won’t like the answer, Mr. Hux… uh… Fenwick… Fen… Wick… Wicky… WIIIICCCCKKKKKYYYY. Wicky. I like it. Nice ring.”
You get the feeling that this woman’s seclusion may have a tendency to wear upon her.
“Back to business then.” She offers you a stunning smile, and for the first time, you realize there are long, ragged scars that extend across all of the exposed parts of her body. You’re not sure what they are from, but it is quite clear that the way they were inflicted must have been quite painful. She has gone to great lengths to disguise it, but you know a great deal of the magical arts, and when she turns her body just so, you can catch glimpses of them.
She begins to speak. “You won’t find the one, or ones, that are responsible for the deaths of your parents, Wicky… But they will find you, and when they do, you will be unable to exact your revenge upon them. You will lose more than you ever knew you had before you gain anything at all, and one day… that book that you risked your life for will betray you. You have great power… extraordinary power, Wicky.” She licks her lips hungrily. “So much… potential… But your true power shall always elude your grasp unless you can find the solace that your parents so want for you.” She holds the white rune aloft. “This… is from them… to protect you.” [see OOC]
“That is how your future stands now … But we make our own destinies… Remember that…” She rises to her feet and crosses over to you, placing her delicate hand upon your shoulder. “So… much… potential, Wicky. Can you see it? Can you see that in yourself?”
You suddenly find yourself rising out of your chair, though you don’t remember willing yourself to stand. Some unseen force turns you toward her and you find that she has become uncomfortably (or perhaps comfortably) close.
“I’ve been alone for so long, you know… No one ever visits… As if Avalon is that great! Hmph!” Her hand caresses your cheek and you feel a shiver ripple through your body. “You know, Wicky… I could show you some things. I am a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to magic… I like to sample whatever I can… And it seems that you have a lot to offer. Perhaps you could offer me a… taste?”
She leans her lips close to yours. You feel paralyzed. You’re not certain if you want this, or even if you want her, but it seems you are no longer in control of your own body. She snaps her fingers and you are shocked to find that you are no longer looking at a beautiful woman but rather a beautiful, NAKED woman. Your body is paralyzed, and as much as you might want to, you still can’t will yourself to move.
“SSSEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR!” A loud voice erupts from the corner of the room.
Cleo’s eyes grow wide and she turns in the direction the voice had come. “Uh… Keeper! It’s you! How lovely to hear from you again!”
You realize that the voice is coming from a glowing, gold orb in the back of the room. It is covered with dust and cobwebs, but as the voice erupts through it again, all signs of disuse are expelled from it and both the dust and cobwebs are violently sent to the floor.
“CLEO… HAVE THEY ARRIVED?”
“Uh… Just the one, Keeper. Just Wicky.” She quickly corrects herself. “Uh… Fenwick Hux.”
“AH… I SEE THAT…” Right on cue, you see two eyes appear in the orb. They do not appear unkind as they look upon you, but as they pan over the Cleo, they narrow considerably.
“WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES?” the voice demands.
Cleo’s face becomes scarlet and she snaps her fingers again, thus magically replacing her clothes. “Uh… I don’t know what you are talking about… They’re right here… You must have been imagining me naked… You dirty old codger!”
“NO, NO!” The eyes within the orb grow wide with indignation. “NO! I WOULD NEVER! I’M A RESPECTABLE MAN, YOU KNOW THAT! ANYWAY, I JUST WANTED TO CHECK ON YOUR PROGRESS. WHILE YOU WAIT FOR THE OTHERS, WHY DON’T YOU LOOK INTO THAT… THING… THAT I ASKED YOU ABOUT.”
Cleo rolls her eyes. “Very well, Keeper. I will begin working on it immediately.”
“GOOD, GOOD. WHEN DO YOU EXPECT THE OTHERS WILL ARRIVE?”
“Soon enough, Keeper,” replies Cleo. “I’ll send them to you immediately.”
“GOOD. I GUESS I’LL LEAVE YOU TO IT THEN.”
The orb seems to shut off, and whoever had been there has promptly left. Cleo sighs heavily and crosses to the far corner of the room. She plops down on an enormous pillow and reaches over to a pile of dusty books nearby. She selects one and pulls it onto her lap before beckoning you to come sit beside her.
“Keeper,” she says glumly. “Such a hardass… Do this, Cleo… Do that, Cleo… And does anyone ever say ‘thank you’ or feel the need to stop by and say hello. Of course not! Why? Because I’m in the middle of a desert! Who was the genius who decided to put a soothsayer in the middle of the desert?! It was probably Keeper!”
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A rune. She had carved out runes on his hands. How exciting! Perhaps runes were simply an innate property within the body! Yet, Fenwick reminded himself, this was a crazy, beautiful (Or beautifully crazy... She did have nice hair....) soothsayer. It could be that she was simply conjuring them up at will.
He continued to listen to her, but something caught his attention.
"You won't find the one, or ones..."
Many? More than one? Plural? Not-singular? Fenwick had not guessed that the possibility of masterminds had existed. No revenge yet? It worked out for him he thought. At least he would still have the chance to ambush, surprise, and torture them slooowly to death in the future.
But the book! The book couldn't betray him! Impossible! He had risked his life--died-- to get that book. It was why he had stayed 2 months longer than he needed to, the reason why he even currently existed. But there had been a rule that he had picked up. 'Be the master, do not let the magic master you'. Maybe it had something to do with that?
His thoughts are broken as he scrutinizes the white rune she hands to him though, and he feels the rune, absorbing its power... yet feeling as though it had not yet been completed [Character Creation Sheet update 1]
Fenwick's absorption is interrupted again (First she blinds me, then I'm interrupted again and again...) as he is forced to stand and approach her. She is that much closer to him and he cannot help but look down at her cleavage as she complained about Avalon and carassed his cheek. Fenwick shivered as she did so--they were so round, so beauif--no snap out of it. He forced his eyes back up to hers.
"You know, Wicky... I could show you some things."
He gulped. Things?
"I am a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to magic... I like to sample what I can... And it seems that you have a lot to offer. Perhaps you could offer me a... taste?"
Oh, whew. Yes, magic. But he didn't seem to be as good as--
Her lips come closer, closer... it was too early. Too early! He couldn't enter a relationship with an almighty Soothsayer before he even mastered his spells! But he leans over still, closing the distance...
Before she snaps her fingers and becomes absolutely naked.
Fenwick stops, paralyzed. He wasn't sure it was because of her doing, or because it was him trying to drink in every nook and cranny of her body. Instead, he tries to roll his eyes and--
"SSSEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRR!"
Interrupted. Again.
The ensuing conversation makes Fenwick chuckle as Cleo 'puts on' her clothes again (Much to his unacknowledged disappointment) and he studies the... er... orb. He wasn't sure what it was that he was feeling, though he did feel warm and safe. Or was it the aftermath of being that close with a beautifully crazy naked woman? Fenwick looks away, breathes, and looks back at the orb. Nope, couldn't be. It still flooded him with warmth and safety.
"...THING... THAT I ASKED YOU ABOUT."
Thing? What thing? Magical thing? Fenwick's heat leaps as he considers the prospects of a magical item... his very own magical item!
He had hoped that Cleo would immediately talk about this... thing. But he understands as she once again complains about her state. Perhaps this was a good time to ask some questions before dwelling into this 'thing'. He sits beside her, staring at the book and refusing to look at her.
"erm... Hello. Thank you for the rune and the... er... view." He blushes. "I do have many questions however. For example, Who was that orb? Why are you out here? Why am I an Ageless? What was that orb? If there are others, when will they arrive? Finally, how long have you been out here? How old are you? How--"
How old are you?
He coughs, realising that he was asking too much.
"Forgive me. I realise that some of the questions are personal."
He waits for her response, drawing comfort from the magic around her and the fact that there was a book on her lap (Focus on the book... focus on the book... Curses. Back to the book...).
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Cleo blinks at you, rather taken aback by the flurry of questions. She appears pensive for a moment, as if determining which questions she should answer for you. You see that her eyes flash with light, for only a brief second, before returning to their normal state. She frowns, but after a moment, sighs heavily.
She gestures to the orb. "That... was Keeper. You will be meeting him soon enough. He's like the welcoming committee of Avalon. He's a decent fellow, but a bit high-strung sometimes, and right now, he keeps pestering me to work on this... THING... for him. I can't really explain what it is. It's a bit of a secret. But eventually, you'll come to know that, too. You'll learn many things, Wicky..." Her expression wilts, and a look of sadness comes to preside upon her face. "Perhaps more than you should. At any rate, the orb is a device used for communication. It’s Keeper’s way of checking up on me."
"As for your other questions... as for why I'm out here... I wish I knew." She shakes her head. "Really, Dethys is just as capable as me, but I was the one selected for this position... by the Archon himself, at that... Like I could say no to the Archon, even if I wanted to. No one can deny him anything. You'll come to see that, too. It's not like he made me accept it, but I knew that I couldn't refuse him... There's just something about the way he... soothes you. When he says it will all be alright, you believe him. I think I needed that. It has been so long since I've felt that everything would be alright."
Again, the network of faint scars upon her body glimmers. Given your wealth of general knowledge, you come to the conclusion that these scars resemble burn marks. Cleo looks as if she is about to weep but quickly manages to repress her emotions, condemning them back to whatever deep well they had briefly managed to spring from.
“I’m not really sure how long I’ve been out here… I’ve lost count, you know. It’s been several hundred years at the very least… and no one comes to visit. A few decades ago, Fury and Blood came by to see if I was holding up well. I acted like I was, but I think General Fury knew I was lying… She’s like that. She can see through just about anything. She suggested that perhaps I should come back to Avalon, but the Archon entrusted me with this task so I wasn’t about to leave, as much as I wanted to. Every hundred years or so, Dethys comes to drop off books.” She gestures to the enormous piles of book that take up a great majority of this room. “It helps to keep my mind off of things.
“You know…I would never admit it to any of them, but it does get rather lonely. Sometimes I make my own company.” She snaps her fingers again and another Cleo Seer, a perfect replica appears on your other side; you find yourself sandwiched by sorceresses. Cleo waves to her other self. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m a decent conversationalist. Sometimes we play games.” She gestures to something that resembles a chess set.
“I always win!” beams the second Seer.
“You do not!” argues the true Cleo.
“Do, too!”
“Do not!”
“Do-”
Before the second Seer can finish perpetuating this squabble, the true Seer snaps her fingers again, dispelling her second self. She sighs again. “I can be so very disagreeable sometimes. I irritate myself.”
“As for why you are Ageless… Well, that is a question that is probably best-suited for Dethys. He knows more about that kind of thing than I do. He’s spent at least a thousand years researching the condition. He’s written numerous books about it, too.” She pulls a book from the bottom of one of the stacks and smiles as the rest of the books remain in their neat order. She turns to hand the book to you when the stack suddenly collapses.
“Drat!” She dismissively waves her fingers and rights all of the books again. She hands you the tome and you see that the title is, “Prominent Ageless of Our Age” by Dethys Night, First Scribe of the Sacred Order. [Note: The contents of this book will become the NPC thread]
“You’ll get some use out of that. Dethys seems to know everything about everyone. I’d tell you to seek him out when you get to Avalon, but since you are a magic-user, Dethys will find you. I’m sure of that… I’ve seen it. No matter where the path divides from here, there are certain points in our futures that seem to stay static… that is one of them. Dethys Night will find you…” she repeats with certainty.
“The others should be here soon enough. I glimpsed them, though I must admit, I know less about them than I’d like to. You’ll get to know them quite well. Perhaps even come to rely on them. As far as when they will get here… well, “when’s” are also dynamic. The flow of time changes. All I can tell you is that it will be soon.”
“You were the first, Fenwick… The first in months… So many have been swayed by the Forsaken… so many have been lost upon the journey here… but the journey is necessary. Few mortals could ever hope to even make it this far. I suppose THAT is why they decided to stick me in the middle of a desert. Really, I should be used to it. I spent almost the entirety of my mortal life alone… Why should it stop now? Maybe they figured since I was already accustomed to it, it wouldn’t be such a big deal that I was out here alone.”
She twirls a golden lock in her fingers and you correctly guess that this is a bit of a nervous habit for her. Despite her infinite power, she seems strangely vulnerable to you. “You know… I wouldn’t tell any of the others all this, but you… you’re special, Fenwick. I can see that… Clear as day.” She seems lost in thought for a moment and she offers you a weak smile.
“You asked me how old I am…” She giggles a bit. “Well, as far as chronologically old… I’ve been here hundreds of years… My best guess is about 800. Are you opposed to older women, Fenwick?” She drums her fingers upon her book. “Now… my body is a different story. That is one of the perks to being an Ageless. I was in my mid-20’s… about 26 or 27 when I… passed.” Her gaze becomes distance and she falls into silence. You get the feeling that those glimpses of scars you see go far deeper than she is willing to show you. “One day… you will ask me about that, too. And when you do… I will answer you. But today will not be that day.”
“As for the rune and the… view…” She blushes considerably. “You owe me no gratitude. They were never mine to begin with… Both of these things were already yours. Some things are static.” She smiles slightly and her gaze shifts back to the book upon her lap. She feigns concentration on the pages before her, but you know that her attention is still firmly focused upon you.
-
Dethys, Blood, Fury. They had some odd names for Ageless. Fenwick hoped that he wouldn't be forced to pick something like that. Fenwick seemed to be good enough to him.
But he could understand what she meant. Even the representation of the Keeper made him feel like a little baby about to curl up and sleep, just what exactly would the other beings be like? He blinked. How could anyone really want to join the wayward Ageless?
He notices her repression, but does not say anything. There was a time for words and a time for being quiet, this one for being quiet.
She talks about the generals, about her refusing to abandon her post. Admirable traits, condemning one's interests for society, but she deserved to be able to go wherever she wanted to didn't she? As he's about to reply, she makes mention about making her own company... before a second Cleo appears right next to him, body and all.
Amazed, he almost jumps back and would've done so if the seat had not prevented him. Fenwick notes the chess set, but before he could inspect and feel how real this second her was, the second Cleo suddenly exclaims,
'I always win!'
'You do not!' The first Cleo had said.
He turns his head to each one as they speak, hearing no difference in their voice. Their gestures were almost identical, save for the final snap after which the second Cleo disappears.
"I can be so very disagreeable sometimes. I irrate myself."
Really? Right now she seemed very agreeable to him. Especially since he had never considered the possibility of a second self before. Thinking of the possibilities, the images of he, himself and him, sitting about a campfire, reading all the magical books and lore, drinking some tea. Then the idea of killing his clone seeps in. Would that be suicide or murder?
She makes mention of Dethys and how he can help, saying that some paths were static. She tells him how the others would come, admitting that she knows little about them herself. She explains why they were currently in the middle of the desert. Fenwick frowns at the last explanation. Seems stupid enough to walk across thousands of miles only to get shocked to near-death again.
Yet he does not dwell for too long as he notices her twirling again. She seemed just like a little girl, sitting there with a children's book. "...You're special, Fenwick, I can see that... Clear as day."
Totally special. Who in their lifetime would have a chance to meet an old woman in the desert who shocks them turns them into a beautiful woman and then appears naked only to stop when an orb appears.
He gasps slightly. That was a long thought.
But that had not stopped him from keeping track of the conversation. She was 800 years old! That was like dating his great-great-great-great-super-great-grandmother. But her body was just about right, not too old, not too young. A perfect combination of mature soul and tender flesh.
Mentally, he slaps and punishing himself for thinking these. But her next statement lessens his self punishment. Afterall, if it was in his future that he would see a lovely 800-year-old-woman-with-a-20-something-year-old-body flash herself to him, what could he do about it?
He sees her waiting for his response. Thinking back, he remembers the near-emotional outburst she had and attempts to move his arm across her shoulder. She was lonely, just like he currently was. She had given up everthing she had to maintain her post, just like how he had given up his whole damned life for one book...
Fenwick nearly tears up at that thought. The book that would betray him.
However, one more thought crosses his mind. With his arm still hovering behind her shoulder, he asks: "So if I can alter the future save for some points... and you said that today isn't the day you'll tell me about those scars... but what's stopping you?" His face turns to her square in the eyes as he smiles. "How'd you get those scars?"
-
Faran Beshral had been in the company of the mages for nearly four years when he was visited by the creature. It could have easily passed as a cat when viewed at a great distance, but its unnatural blue fur would have quickly betrayed it as being something else. The small beast slinked through the shadows with the grace of something that required neither light nor direction to easily find their way; it knew exactly where it was going.
The mages and their constant companion had stopped to rest for the night when the creature finally caught up to them. Its gaze scanned the area around the small campfire, and the beast could see the recipient of the message seated upon a log. The man’s head was cocked to one side as if he was listening to something and his eyes were closed in silent reflection.
The cat-like interloper frowned… as much as a cat-like interloper can frown. Truth be told, had anyone looked upon the creature in that instant, its expressions would have appeared suspiciously human in nature.
The cat quickly approached the camp and made its way towards its target. It stopped just beside the log and looked up at the man with irritation.
“What is that?” spoke one of the mages.
“Is that a cat?” questioned another.
“Not any cat I’ve ever seen.”
Faran opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the small, furry creature that had sidled up beside him. He had always possessed an affinity for animals, but when he reached down to touch the beast, it opened its mouth, emitting a soft “meow.”
However, this typically benign display had an interesting effect upon the mages that had gathered around the campfire. As soon as the creature’s inky black lips had parted, each and every person, save for Faran, had fallen over where they stood.
Before Faran had the opportunity to do or say anything, the cat-like creature looked up at him with annoyance clearly displayed upon his furry face. “You’re late,” said the cat irritably. “I’ve been tracking you for almost four years, you know? Have you no decency? Have you any idea how hard one must work to move their stubby, furry little haunches to keep pace with a group of magic-touched humans? No… I don’t suppose you would, now would you? Ugh…”
The cat-like beast rolled its eyes and lifted a paw to its lips. It began to lick furiously, and as it did so, something white began to work its way to the surface of his fur. When finally it stopped licking itself, a small envelope with a wax seal slowly appeared in its glossy, blue fur. It shook its entire body and the envelope dropped to the dirt to be collected by the intended recipient.
“There! Message delivered! Good luck to you and all that. The journey won’t be easy, but I hear the Witch of the Wastes is a gracious host.” The cat turned back in the direction it had come. “Don’t worry about your friends there. They’ll awake thinking that they had a fantastically good time. ” As the cat began to saunter away, it stopped in its tracks, as if pondering something. “And do me a favor, will you? Message for a message? If you… when you, see Dethys Night, you tell him that Cyan says we’re even.”
With that, the creature vanished, leaving Faran to wonder after him.
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You’re not exactly sure how far you have travelled. There is little use for any measurements when all you can see before you is endless stretches of coarse, grating sand. Though you can still feel the leylines, the further you venture into the Wastes of Faranas, the more difficult it becomes to perceive them. Though each song still resonates deep within you, there is at least a small part of you that fears somehow their melodies have become muted in this abysmal place.
Days and nights have passed uneventfully, and as much as you would like to stop to rest, the note instructed you that you should not stop for anything until you reach your destination. Oddly enough, the note didn’t exactly tell you what you were even looking for, only that you would know it when you saw it.
As the sun begins to set on the seventh day of your journey, you find yourself suddenly rooted to an unremarkable spot upon the earth. As much as you attempt to will your feet forward, it is as if something is grasping you in its unrelenting clutches, unwilling to let you pass.
You notice the sand around you begins to churn in a clockwise fashion, and as its motion becomes faster and faster, you find that you are still unable to move. The sand begins to creep up to your ankles, but it does not stop its ascent. It reaches your knees… your thighs… your waist… and you begin to feel yourself sinking into the depths of the desert.
As the wandering Wastes begin to close upon your neck and engulf your face, you find it unusual that you can still breathe perfectly. Though it seems the earth itself is swallowing you, you feel strangely at peace in the embrace of the endless desert.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Within the tent, Cleo pauses, considering what Fenwick has just said. She rubs at her arms self-consciously as she reflects upon how they must appear to him. Surely he must think her far less beautiful for the fine, red lines that contort her nearly perfect complexion.
“I suppose that is a valid statement… But I fear we are doomed to be…” She cocks her head to one side as if listening for something. A smile creeps across her lips and she looks at Fenwick with excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Interrupted…There… The Singer draws near… ” informs Cleo.
She quickly rises to her feet and as she does so, her back begins to curve uncomfortably, giving her a hunched, decrepit appearance. Her pale, smooth skin becomes saggy and liver-spotted with the typical blemishes of advanced age. Her beautiful blonde hair loses its luster and fades to a dull, unremarkable gray. Even her vibrant, blue eyes lose their sparkle, their color muting to an understated hue.
However, now that you have seen her form, her craggy skin looks more unnatural to you, seeming more a mask than a true face. Perhaps that is the only flaw in her glamour; once you have seen the truth, it is much more difficult to conceal one’s true identity.
She turns her eyes to the roof of the tent and frowns. She pulls a chair over to her and points a finger skyward. In the direction she had gestured, a swirling mass of purple light begins to manifest in the roof of the tent. Moments later, a body falls through the small portal and is deposited into the waiting chair.
A paralyzed human looks up at you, his face frozen in a look of surprise. Cleo places her hand upon his forehead and she closes her eyes in concentration. Quite suddenly, she pulls back her hand and gazes down upon her fingertips. “Cold…” She glances back towards Fenwick before returning her attention to the new arrival.
“Sorry about this, Singer. Though you have great control over your songs, I have seen in you a predisposition to lose control. I cannot risk you injuring me. Again… I’m sorry.” She presses her thumbs into the man’s eye sockets and Fenwick knows what is about to transpire. Shocks of spider-web lightning are expelled through her fingers and into the man’s eyes. Despite the fact the man’s body is still paralyzed, the entirety of his form begins to convulse violently before collapsing to the floor in a twitching heap. After several moments, his body goes still and blood begins to pour from his lips.
Cleo sighs heavily. “Damn it! Not again! I’ll have to send a report back to Avalon. It appears the Forsaken are onto this place again.” Cleo moves to rid the tent of the corpse, but before she can summon the appropriate spell, another person is conveyed through the portal and into the chair.
Cleo sighs. “I hope it really is you, Faran Beshral… And if you are you… Well, I apologize for this, but your power is far too great to be taken lightly.”
Cleo quickly repeats the same process, but as this stranger ends his unwilling dance of twitching and writhing, he blinks rapidly and pulls himself into a sitting position.
Faran Beshral finds himself in a tent with a young man and a craggy-faced old woman. The woman looks down upon you and presses something moist to your lips. You find that you instantly regain control over your body. As you regain your faculties, Cleo snaps her fingers, dispelling her disguise, and you are met with the visage of a comely, young blond woman with dazzling azure eyes.
“I am glad to meet you, Faran. I am Cleo Seer. This…” she pauses to gesture to the young man nearby. “This is Fenwick Hux, and he will be your traveling companion. Again, I’m terribly sorry for the… well… the shocking you to death… though you’re not actually dead, so I suppose it really wasn’t shocking you to death. If you would have been a vile, evil traitor like this fellow…” she gestures to the still warm corpse of the Forsaken operative. “Well, then I guess it would have been shocking you to death. Anyway... sorry.”
-
"Apology.. um.. accepted." I said as my eyes darted quickly around the room. The eyes that has just burned with nigh unbearable pain when the old hag had pressed her tumbs to them. I tried to take in as much as possible and try to put as many pieces together as possible.
Let's see: I had just been in a desert. The Symphony was enticingly loud there. Must have been a nexus of leylines. Whatever was there had held me in place, the sun baking me where I stood. I had stood there for maybe ten minutes. Then without warning I was dumped unceremoniusly into a chair in a rather spacious and comfortable tent. Still paralysed and confused we continued onto the aforementioned eye pain. A dead man lay on the floor to my right, a live man sat in a chair to my left, a young woman who obviously wielded intense power stood over me.
In the few seconds I'm sure it too me to process things, I thought them over. If either of them wanted me dead I'd already be dead. I'd already been in their power long enough for that. Being Ageless I knew there was only one way to kill me. They either didn't know it, or they did know it and were going to hold it over me. She had said this “Fenwick” was going to be my travelling companion. I could only guess he was an Ageless too. Was she holding the same thing over him? Out of the corner of my eye he looked calm. Perhaps a bit contemplative. That brought a bit of ease to my mind. If he looked nervous or paniked I would know something was up.
Attacking was out of the question. I was far outclassed here. I heard the Song when this woman pressed her thumbs to my eyes. The Leyline of Cosmos responded to her. I could barely hear that Song as far away as it was. But I remember hearing it once many years ago when my story began. Yes, I was FAR outclassed here. I wanted to be gone from here. FAST. Too many unknowns.
I heard all the Songs here. Which was rare. Which explains why this woman, Cleo, was able to operate in this place. I heard the Song of Soul which could protect me from her, marginally. I focused on it, but made no attempt to Sing to it. Any attempt to protect myself might be seen as potentially hostile.
“There is no need for you to fear from us, you are among friends.” She said suddenly.
THAT got my attention. Could she read my mind? No, she may have read it on my face. She was smiling at me! She knew that she had thrown me off balance! Was this woman trying to infuriate me!? She was enjoying the position she had me in. Distraction. That's what I needed. Change the subject... The man lying on the floor next to me.
“Who is- was this man?” In my mind I added 'Was he “displeasing” to you?'. If she really could read my mind, let her chew on that.
“Ugh, a pawn of the Forsaken, “ She said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He was made up to be like you, so they can infiltrate this meeting.” She sighed. “That's why the..” she waved a finger in a circle around her own eyes “.. eye thing.”
That made me hesitate too. Now I noticed it, this man was slightly cold. Noticeable even at this proximity. The Forsaken knew me. I had read extensively about the factions in the Ageless. The Forsaken were the ones who wanted to enslave humanity. It chilled me that the “enemy” knew who and what I was. They knew my skin was chilled, did they know that it was my weakness? Was I exposing myself by coming here? What kind of securtiy were these so called, “Bulwark of Heaven” running anyway? For someone fighting a war these didn't seem entirely competent if even a country bumpkin like me could notice these holes. Heh, I had her now.
“You say this man was made up to be like me. How do the Forsaken know who I am well enough to know that it's cold around me? The, being, that brought me the message mentioned it took four years for it to find me. In that time, the Forsaken have learned that I was invited, learned nearly everything about me, made an operative to be like me AND got him here before I arrived.”
I paused. “Now, I don't want to sound confrontational, “ Okay that part was a lie. “But it sounds like you're at a serious disadvantage. The Forsaken know more than you do and they're faster than you. It sounds like there are holes in your organization. “ I paused again. “Now I don't like the idea of the Forsaken. Personally, I'd like to kick all their asses.” I smiled. I certainly would like to kick their asses. Anyone who victimizes the weak should be put down. HARD. “But I'm feeling a bit exposed here. If your organization isn't secure, I'm going to show myself the door. I can fight the Forsaken on my own.” I stood and turned toward the exit, but paused to see if this Seer had anything to say.
-
“Hahahaha!” Cleo grabs her sides and tears begin to well in her eyes as she laughs uproariously. “My, my, ye of little faith! The Ageless at a disadvantage? Faran, the visions informed me you were intelligent! I have never known them to be incorrect.”
“The fact of the matter is I knew the impostor would be here. Really, it was just a subject of when. Though I must admit their doppelgangers have become increasingly more intricate. I am impressed despite myself.” She nudges the corpse with her foot. “It was really only a matter of time. Of course they knew who you are; hey know who all of us are. Severan Deceit is one of the Elders… at least he is since he slaughtered the Elder Council…” Cleo becomes silent for a moment and her gaze becomes distant.
She shakes her head as if dispelling a memory. “Just as the Archon receives his gifts from the Divine, so does Severan Deceit acquire his through the Adversary. Severan is recruiting, and the ranks of his Forsaken are swelling to terrifying numbers. Why? Because they are young… they are skeptical… just like you… He preys upon their vulnerabilities and convinces them that his way is the only way, and that is why, in the end, nearly all of them will fall for the second and final time. They never had the chance to reach Avalon and look upon the face of the Archon so that they may know peace, and have the honor to live amongst the Elders. Thus, Severan can easily devour their hopes… it is a meager task for him to bend the Young Ones, the Childer Immortalis such as you and Fenwick, to his will. I may not be able to promise a complete victory for my people, but I do know that legions of the Young Ones will die before the war is over.”
“I have seen a glimpse of your future, Faran, and I can tell you with complete certainty, if you leave this place, within a year’s time, Severan Deceit will personally come to collect you. He takes a special interest in you, because of the unusual way in which you wield the Arts. You would make quite a prize for him, I’m sure.”
“Yes… you are exposed. Severan has allocated a great deal of resources to learning more about you… even going so far as to capture a few of those villagers that you tried so hard to protect. Do not worry; they are safe. Blood went to collect them some time ago and it seems Severan is still seething over their release. And of course they knew you would be here. All new Ageless are sent here. That has always been the way of it.”
“I can tell you this much… if Dethys had not the forethought to grant you his protection, Severan would have found you already.” Cleo holds a mirror up to you and you are surprised to find that there a faint, glowing blue sigil upon your forehead. “It is a Sigil of Shadow. I discovered your creation when you were Chosen, and Dethys used the orb to place his mark upon you.” Cleo gestures to a darkened orb in the corner of the room, the same orb that Keeper had spoken to her through.
“It has allowed you to remain hidden from those who would seek to harm you. It is a remarkable ward really. Even the recipient doesn’t usually know it’s there. Fortunately for me, I know the handiwork of Dethys Night.” Cleo presents her wrist and you see the same faint, glowing sigil upon her wrist.
“When I first arrived in Avalon, Dethys was my master. Eventually I became his equal and was given my own tasks, but I spent a great deal of time in his service. ‘So that none may see the Seer…’ That’s what he said anyway. It’s worked nearly perfectly.” She frowns, looking down at the corpse again. “But I see that Severan is up to his usual tricks. That’s alright. I’ve decided not to get rid of this body. Rather, I think I shall send Severan a gift.” She makes a quick gesture with her hand and the man upon the floor slowly crawls to his feet. She places her hand upon the creature’s forehead. “Take this to Darastae and give it to your Lieutenant.” She places a small rune in the animated corpse’s outstretched hand before banishing him from her presence. He disappears in a flash of light, and there is no further trace of him.
Cleo grins wickedly. “I may not have passage into the Darastae, City of the Forsaken, but surely one of his minions would. This will set Lieutenant Cauter back several weeks.”
She returns her attention to Faran. “As for your weakness, that is easy to figure out. A simple tap upon your furrowed brow was enough to tell me that. As for your message, and its subsequent tardiness, that can be easily explained. If memory serves, that message was entrusted to a certain fellow named Cyan. Why Dethys entrusted HIM with it I will never know. He is infamous for his procrastination, and though I’m sure he lamented that it took forever to get to you, I am willing to bet that he’s only actually been traveling about a week, that wretched lout. One should never trust a Cath-Palug with an important message.”
Cleo looks at Faran, studying him closely. “You were at least wise enough to keep your Songs under control. I have no desire to kill you, but yes… you are severely outmatched. I have been granted over 800 years to learn my Arts. Personally, I find your wretched hubris appalling, Faran. You honestly think that you, in your meager few years, know more of the security of our organization than I do? Such a thought would be an affront to the greatness of the Archon. It is HE who asked me to come here.”
Her eyes flash red and you get the feeling that your challenges against the security of the Ageless have greatly angered her, likely because the woman before you is THE primary security system of the Ageless. “I could flay you where you stand before even a word of the Song could pass your lips.”
You become strangely uncomfortable, and you feel all of the leylines to which you are attuned tremble terribly. This is a being of immense power, a creature unlike any you have encountered before. You feel the song within you crash against your very soul like tumultuous waves being sent to weather the shore.
“Do not mistake me for some mere conjurer, Faran Beshral. I guarantee… It will be the last thing that you do. The door is there: stay or go. What you choose to do is of little consequence to me, but once you leave this place, I can assure you, that you will never find your way to this place again. If you wish to fight the Forsaken on your own, then do so. I only hope we have time enough to wrest your soul from the Adversary before he consumes it."
"I have fulfilled my task, Faran. You have found your way here, I have verified your identity, and whether you choose to go to Avalon or fall victim to the Forsaken is entirely up to you. I suggest you make your decision quickly. Once the others arrive, I will open the gates to Avalon, and once they have passed, your chance will go the way of the winds.”
-
The laughter made me turn. The insult slapped me in the face. Her explanations chilled my marrow. Her threats made me fear and her power nearly turned my bowels to water. Yeah, I definitely underestimated her. I took an involuntary step back from her and braced myself against the invisible and intangible onslaught of her mere presence. The Songs crescendo-ed around her, louder than anything I had ever experienced. I feared my ears would burst on account of them. I grit my teeth and flinched away.
A trap. That's what this was. A trap and I fell into it. If I left, I'd fall victim to this Severan guy. If I stayed I'd be protected. Go and die, stay and live. But wait, what was it she said? I had been marked since I became an Ageless? So it was a trap from the beginning. From the moment I had been given a second chance these guys had me by the balls and I knew it to my very core. They didn't need to know my weakness, all they had to do was withdraw their protection and wait.
But, if you looked at it another way the Bulwark had yet given me a third chance. I had little reason to doubt this woman, this being's, words. I saw she was not lying to me to keep me here. They were giving me a fair chance to fight these Forsaken assholes. More than a fair chance if this sigil protected from whatever mental influence this Severan wielded. Hmph, so I guess I owed them one. A weak favor to owe seeing as how it wasn't a gift I asked for. But I owed them one none-the-less.
Wait. Shit. I owed them two. They saved those villagers who were kidnapped. Dammit. The words those people spoke when they drove me out had come true. I had brought misfortune worse than death to them like they said. The torture must have been worse than anything I could imagine. They would suffer still if I allowed the Forsaken to have their way with the world. I felt conflicted now. I was happy they were safe, mad at everything and myself for making them suffer on account of me. Madder still that I owed someone for cleaning up a mess I couldn't fix myself.
Still the Seer's angry power lashed at me while she waited for my answer. She certainly had given me a lot to chew on. In her short tirade she had doubled the knowledge I had gained from the dusty books the mages kept. I knew the score now and I had definitely got it in the quickest way possible. Archon and Adversary. Dethys and Severan. Symphony, if the Seer was this strong the power of Dethys and the Archon must be unimaginable. The same probably goes for this Severan and the Adversary. No wonder they can warp people's minds into losing hope. Wait, “affront to the greatness of the Archon”? She reveres the Archon as a god then. Mental note: Try not to piss off god. Post Script: Try to avoid meeting god altogether. I'd take this Archon's orders but I draw the line at worshipping him.
So it came down to eating a little crow. With each passing minute I disliked this Seer chick more and more. It irked the hell out of me that I had to bend my neck to her. She had insulted and threatened me. I forced myself to meet her eyes. Those blazing angry eyes. They made me want to flee in terror, to run to the farthest corner of the world and just Sing for the rest of my life. But I still had my pride. I forced myself to smile. I think it may have come off more like a sneer though. A smile through gritted teeth. Gritted to keep them from chattering.
“I find your, arguments,” I said, forcing as much sarcasm into my voice as possible on 'arguments', “... to be rather compelling.” When did I turn into such an insolent asshole? I guess being cornered and bullied factored into it.
Oh yeah Faran, that was smart. You just HAD to mouth off again. In a way I felt accomplished that I had gotten on her nerves. Setting my new-found smugness aside I had to continue.
“It seems I have little choice but to join with the Bulwark.” I said. “If I wish to live.” I added as an after thought.
Yes. I would join with them. Yes, I'd be their hound. Their caged wolf. To be released when the hunt was on. To enjoy the hunt, yes, but to go back to my cage when it was over. I just hope that they remember that a caged animal still has teeth and, if abused, can BITE.
-
Since the entrance of this new man, Fenwick had kept quiet. The seer did her job--twice--and Fenwick observed her--twice. The technique itself was simple: stab the eyes, course lightning through them, profit.
But the reaction of this man, this Faran, had shocked Fenwick. Moments after accepting Cleo's apology, he had questioned the security system of the place. How dare he! No organisation, no individual, was perfect!
Still, he could understand. If he had found a body of himself on the ground, he would've felt the same way... just not up to that degree.
The things they said really puzzled him though. Something about songs and villagers being saved. Her following rage showed about her, and Fenwick drank at the magic, while simultaneously fearing for his own life. He himself had underestimated so much about her, and the vulnerability he had sensed earlier on had simply disappeared. They were non-existent, as if the Cleo he knew was someone else enitrely.
"I find your, arguments, to be rather compelling."
Fenwick whacked his palm on his face, a small groan emitting from his throat.
"It seems I have little choice but to join with the Bulwark, if I wish to live.'
Selfish. Arrogant. Annoying. And HE was his fellow companion? Fenwick groaned again.
Suddenly, the magic around her just vanished, and she had once again changed back into her beautiful self. The smile she had painted her an entirely different colour. As he reached out to Cleo's shoulder, he felt something from Faran, and struggled for a moment to identify it.
"Are you okay?" He asks Cleo, finally risking a hand to her shoulder, eyes full of concern shifting past her and turning passive as he locked eyes with the newcomer. Fenwick studied him as if he were a prey. That Faran fellow may be older, but at that moment, Fenwick could feel nothing but pity for him. He knew what he felt now. Faran seemed so...animal. But he attempts a smile, and says, "I am Fenwick Hux, as Cleo told you. I hope we'll be able to get along."
Then a thought strikes him. There was something about a rune mentioned inside. Cleo's one had been on her wrist. From what he gathered from the conversation, Faran seemed to have been Ageless for longer than he had... and he had a rune. Suddenly in his own world, Fenwick starts pulling back on his cloth sleeves as he tries to find any signs of a rune or magic.
-
Cleo looks back at Fenwick and smiles as she notices your protective hand upon her shoulder and the look of concern upon your face. Fenwick feels a wash of something warm, a deep inner radiance enveloping you, as if every care that had ever bore upon you was disintegrated from space and time.
When she apologizes again, it is to Fenwick and not Faran. “I must apologize, Fenwick,” she says quietly. “I am the Lady of the Mists and the Guardian of the Gates. For one to challenge my abilities just makes me so…” Her face flushes again, and she shakes her head to dispel her feelings of annoyance. “I can promise you this, Wicky… I will never become so angry towards you… ever. Please… I do not wish for you to fear my power. Perhaps... perhaps even one day I might share a bit of it with you.”
She noticed that Fenwick was examining himself for some sign of the Sigil of Shadow and she places her hand upon your shoulder. “You do not bear the Sigil of the Shadow, for there are other powers that kept you hidden from the Forsaken.” She points to the book. “You died for that tome… I suppose it owed you a favor. You, Wicky, may be in need of a Sigil in the future, but should you acquire one, it shall not come from Dethys Night.” She smiles slightly and as she goes to remove her hand, her fingertips trail along his shoulder, leaving a slight tingle in their wake.
Cleo returns her attention to the impertinent new arrival and raises an eyebrow at Faran. “No one is twisting your arm, Faran. If you wish to go to Avalon, it must be of your own volition. It is of no consequence to me what you decide to do.”
She rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Furthermore, I do not know how you are aware of the Bulwark, but you are quite remiss in believing that you may simply ‘join.’ As if you are made to choose!” Cleo snorts. “The Bulwark does not just accept any Ageless, Faran Beshral. You must prove yourself worthy. In the end it will be General Fury who decides whether or not you are to be accepted into their elite ranks, and if you show her the same insolence that you have shown me, you will likely wish that you were never born. The Raven-Wing Knight is the Archon's bride and beloved. She will not endure any disrespect towards her, or her people.”
“Even more than she, perhaps, is the Archon. He is our leader, and it is he who is the conduit of the Divine. The Divine- whatever he, she, it, or they are- speaks through the Archon and offers him guidance so that he may properly lead our people. It is the Divine that chooses us to become Ageless, and it is the Archon who fosters us, who shepherds us, who keeps us safe, and leads the war against the Forsaken, those who have turned a blind eye to the Divine. But Dethys is the authority on the history of our people, and also one of the few amongst us to know the secrets of the Forsaken.”
Suddenly, she smiles, and a look of genuine happiness affects her face. She raises her eyes skyward and grins. “Is that really you, old friend?”
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Sembas finds the message tightly clasped in Faile’s beak. Though your beloved falcon finds many ways to communicate all manner of things to you, she betrays nothing as to when or where it had come. She merely drops the envelope into your hands and turns her body in the direction of the Wastes of Faranas. You know little of the Wastes: only that no one ever goes there, and the few who are foolish enough to venture in that direction never return.
This thought makes you a bit uneasy, but Faile rubs her feathered head against your hand and you find yourself comforted by this small gesture. She has always seemed to know more than she rightfully should, and you know in your heart she would never willingly lead you into danger.
Like the others before you, you make your way into the endless desert, and for seven grueling days, you journey through the Wastes. There is little to be found there; there are no plants, no animals, and no evidence of any kind of life. You have already used all the water you had brought with you, and you were kind enough to gift the last few, meager drops to Faile, who laps them up thirstily with her parched tongue.
You travel a bit longer and desperately want to stop, but Faile encourages you to continue onward. At dusk, Faile suddenly begins to circle around your head in swooping arcs of unbridled glee as you hear a voice upon the wind.
“Is that really you, old friend?”
You have seen Faile happy before, but this is easily the most joy you have seen her experience in quite some time. Where the voice came from, you do not know, but you are quite certain you are about to find out.
A few paces ahead of you, the air begins to shimmer, and what had once been a vacant place in the sand instantaneously becomes occupied by a tent. The flap of the tent is thrown open and a gorgeous, long-haired blonde woman emerges from within. She does not look at you at first as her gaze is firmly set upon Faile. However, as the woman dashes towards your companion, you do not feel threatened by her as her outstretched arms and genuine smile tell you what you need to know.
“Faile!” The strange woman wraps her arms around the bird and you see Faile nuzzle her beak against the woman’s neck. “It’s been so long! I see you finally made it to your Master! I am so pleased that you finally found someone, my dear girl! Look how you’ve grown!”
Something passes between them and the woman turns her gaze to you. “Sembas Filden… I am pleased to meet you. A friend of Faile’s is a friend of mine. I am so elated to see you both. I knew she would get you here safely. I haven’t seen her since she was but a hatchling and I cannot compliment you enough for taking such care with her. When she passed over the Wastes, she was barely out of her egg, but she was strong and resilient. I knew it was only a matter of time before she would find the Master she sought. It is so rare for a wild falcon to choose a Master you know; they are fiercely independent creatures.”
“Come.” She beckons you to follow her into the tent and when you enter, you see two young men already present. “These are Fenwick Hux and Faran Beshral. You will come to know them soon enough.” She pats you on the back. “I am so glad that I may avoid the authentication with you. These two had a rather bad time of it, but since Faile is with you, there is no mistaking you.”
-
There is no cover in the desert. If anyone was watching they could see us from miles away. Sembas thought to himself, drawing his hood over his eyes as a gust of wind blew sand in his face.
For the umpteenth time...
He felt silly in is green cloak. Had he known they were going to be in the desert for so long he would have found a tan one to match the landscape. Another gust of wind cakes his mouth with sand. Instinctively he reaches down to the water flask at his hip. Only to grasp it in frustration when he remembers that they had finished it the day before. Faile was as happy as a pig in mud, flying ahead of him. She wouldn't let on about where they were heading, no matter how much he prodded. Sembas only knew that she was in a very good mood ever since she dropped off that small letter.
Faile's happiness was coming through in waves now. Sembas couldn't help but smile also. The sun was setting lazily in the west and the desert was beginning to cool from the day's heat. He was about to ask what she was so happy about, but before he could he heard a voice on the wind.
"Is that really you, old friend?"
That was not Faile's voice... Sembas's head snaps up to the sky, scanning for any other birds in the area. Nothing. His eyes dart from here to there, scanning the seemingly endless stretch of sand around him. His bow is already unslung and his hand is fingering an arrow when the air begins to shimmer before him. A tent pops into view a few paces in front of him. A beautiful woman steps out and dashes towards Faile. He felt no unease from his falcon, and the woman did not seem to have any ill intent. Sembas drops the arrow back into the quiver and slings his bow back over his shoulder as the woman and Faile embrace. He never knew Faile to tolerate strangers. It took even his father a few months before she would let him touch her.
The woman explains their friendship. Sembas grins at the word master, and outright chuckles when she says that falcons are "... fiercely independent creatures."
"Sometimes I'm not sure which one of us could be considered the Master of our pairing." Sembas says, as he follows the woman into the tent. Once inside Faile flaps over and rests on his shoulder. She was still visibly excited from seeing an old friend and refused to sit still. Sembas pats her head and she settles a bit. With a smile he turns to the men in the tent with him.
"Gentlemen. Nice to meet you." He says with a nod. "It seems fate has drawn us to the middle of nowhere together."
Turning to the woman, he continues. "I must admit this is all rather new to me. I'd wager that you were the one who gave the message to Faile that she delivered? I've never known her to be so secretive." He says, with a glance at Faile. "Whatever this authentication process is... I suppose I'm greatful that I was able to avoid it. If it is bad as you say." He pauses for a moment, contemplating. "You already seem to know my name, miss. May I ask yours?"
-
A smile stretches across Cleo’s face as she tenderly strokes the feathers beneath Faile’s chin. “I am Cleo Seer. The first is my own name, and the second is the name the Archon granted me. To be truthful, I am not sure if he chooses the names based upon our innate merits, or if we become the name after he has imparted it upon us. It is quite peculiar.” She appears thoughtful for a moment as she contemplates this.
“At any rate, I am ever so pleased that you and little Faile…” She pauses for a moment and tenderly pats Faile upon her head. “Well, I guess you aren’t so little any more, my dear.” She chuckles and the tinkling laughter that is emitted from her pretty lips brings warmth and comfort to all who are willing to embrace it.
“The visions told me that you would be coming, Sembas Filden, and that Faile would be accompanying you, but the message was not my doing. Dethys Night is in charge of that kind of thing. I am just simply tasked with getting you to where you need to be. You have an exceptional guardian in Faile here, though I would have expected no less of her. As for her silence about your journey here, well… I don’t think I need to tell you this, but one would be surprised by the secrets a falcon can keep.” She winks at Faile and the bird shudders with delight, as if amused by this statement.
She turns to the gentleman beside her. “Gracious… I have been an awful host, Fenwick,” she says apologetically. “You have all had such a long journey and I have not yet offered you sustenance.” Cleo busily bustles about the tent to gather plates and utensils. She begins piling these things on a tray as she says, “What I can offer here is quite meager compared to the feast you will surely enjoy in Avalon.”
She puts the tray upon the table in the center of the room then raises her arms into the air. As she does so, her fingers begin to make unusual pulling motions and you notice that she begins to extract various items from the air itself. You are likely surprised to see her pull an entire roasted turkey, saucers of fruit jams, exquisite pies, succulent cuts of what appears to be beef and lamb, and several mugs of strong ale and cider. Wordlessly, she sets all of these upon the tray for your use, allowing you to take whatever you please.
She snaps her fingers and a plate of fresh fish appears in her hands. Smilingly, she offers this to Faile before seating herself upon an enormous plush pillow and helping herself to a turkey leg. “Hmm… This is almost everybody, I believe. We shall give the others just a bit more time, and if they do not make it by the time day breaks again, I shall simply have to send you to Avalon on your own… those of you who wish to go anyway.” She raises an eyebrow in Faran's direction before digging in to her meal.
-
Fenwick smiles at Cleo's words. "No, I don't fear your power. Don't worry Cleo, I know you won't be... as long as I don't do something like that." He grins a little, but it quickly disappears as he realises that Faran might take that as an insult. Cleo's indirect suggestion of the book protecting him adds more weight to his growing burden. In a short span of time, perhaps even less than an hour, he had learned that his book, perhaps, had a mind of its own. He wasn't sure if he felt more surprised or more scared. A guardian? Or a contract? It didn't seem to matter though, with Cleo around him, but as soon as her fingers left him, he felt alone and heavier than before. If that feeling was magic, he didn't mind it. In fact, he wanted it even more than anything else.
Fenwick stores the information that she tells Faran, noting that the Divine had not been identified. But this Archon and her wife--general Fury?--would be interesting to meet. Her sudden cry to the heavens startles him though and he jumps slightly with her sudden change in mood. Moments later, a hooded man walked in, though strands of his brown hair could be seen. Again, he withdraws into his introverted self, observing and noting everything that happens. The most obvious aspect was that this new man wouldn't be shocked.... sadly. But this one had more manners than the previous ones, and Cleo was now talking to the falcon, calling it 'Faile'. Images of himself talking to his book swam into his mind temporarily.
"Gracious... I have been an awful host, Fenwick". His shoulders droop a little when she used his full name, but he quickly, silently forgave her. He suddenly recalled her talking to Faran about him not needing to worry and mentioning outright that he was outnumbered. Perhaps she could mind read? He hoped that she didn't, or well... part of him didn't. The other part of him screamed for her to do so, to join with him mentally.
The mention of food and drink reminds him of the seven day journey he himself had undertaken, along with all the hunger pangs and thirst associated with it. But Cleo's next move strikes him as strange. Why had she not just conjured the plates and spoons and other food stuff? Attempting silent communication, he thinks, 'Cleo, you can't conjure up the utensils?', and augments the thought by staring at her face... or tried to. His eyes just kept wondering to her body. He wondered if she could read his subconcious thoughts too. Now that would be scary.
For now though...
Turkey! Jam! Pies! A feast that he hadn't had in a long time! The merchant life had been simple, humbling, disciplining. Fenwick's stomach let out an embarressing growl and he smiles sheepishly. But he holds his appetite back for a little longer as he studies the newcomer as he had done with Faran. As he does so however, something at the back of his mind brought him to study the falcon too. She was majestic, and He, Sembas, beautiful and handsome at the same time.
Smiling, Fenwick extends his right hand out, stepping forward to Sembas. "Greetings...erm... Sembas was it? I'm Fenwick. Pleased to make your acquaintance." With his left hand, he gestures slightly to Faile, who was now devouring the plate of fish. "She's a beauty. I've never seen such a graceful thing." Except Cleo of course. Maybe he was getting attached to her too fast. He hoped that he wasn't. Things like these were like magic: If the foundation's weak, the entire structure would collapse.
Then again, with her age and experience, she might as well be magic.
"Oh, and just so you know, it's a bit disappointing that you didn't go through the authentication process. It's a... shock of a lifetime. Worth experiencing once." He chuckles at the thought and smiles warmly to Sembas.
-
As Cleo was bustling around the room to gather the necessary components, she stopped suddenly, raising an eyebrow and looking towards Fenwick who was gazing at her with a great deal of intensity.
“Cleo, you can't conjure up the utensils?” he had said.
Cleo offers him a slight smile before giving her reply, but the rest of the party is not privy to this conversation. “Why waste magic when you have what you need at hand? Magic is not an abuse of power, Wicky. We use it to supplement what we need, not to take what we don’t. Besides…”
Interrupted by your straying thoughts, her eyes widen as she looks down at the slightly exposed cleavage that peeks out of the front of her long, white gown. “Apparently you are feasting on other things as well… Feel free to take your fill.” She offers you a wink before settling down upon her pillow.
“In case you are curious, I won’t simply invade your mind. That is a betrayal of trust and I take pride in preserving my honor. Unless the circumstances are extenuating, I won’t enter unless I am invited. So feel free to think whatever diabolical schemes enter your mind without fear of reprisal.” She smirks slightly and as she does so, adjusts the shimmering cloth around her bosom to further tease you.
She makes conversation with Faile as you begin to speak with Sembas.
-
Sembas smiles back at Cleo as she introduces herself and explains a little more about the situation. The Archon, names, this Dethys person. She seemsd to know a great deal. Sembas's head is spinning with all of the sudden commotion. Mere moments ago he was wandering the endless desert. Now he is sitting in a fancy tent with three other people. They all must share his condition, that of undeath. He didn't see any travelling gear, and no one except him was wearing anything fit for travelling. At least, not any travelling in the places he was used to.
Faile is calm, at ease even. She is usually the more alert one, always on the lookout for prey or dangers off in the distance. But at the moment she is the most relaxed he's seen her for quite some time. Any worries and reservations Sembas would have had about the situation are put to rest. He trusted Faile more than anything, and if she was comfortable here there was no reason for Sembas to be uneasy. As Cleo mentions her Sembas beams with pride.
"She is quite an extraordinary individual, yes." Sembas remarks. "She is an even better friend, save for a few secrets, it seems..." Faile pecks at his gloved hand playfully.
Cleo begins pulling a feast out of the air. Sembas is quite surprised at the amount of good smelling food that simply materializes out of nothing. Faile glides over to the plate of fish and dives right in. Sembas pays her no mind as Fenwick introduces himself. Sembas shakes his hand and returns the smile.
"Nice to meet you as well." He says as he pulls his hood down off his head. He blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the light. His hair is pulled back into a short ponytail behind his head. A few strands are loose, having been blown out of place by the desert wind. Now that his hood is down and his face isn't covered everyone can see the striking gold color of his eyes. Turning back to Fenwick, he continues, "Thank you for the compliments. Faile always enjoys to hear people talking so fondly of her. I believe she's beginning to get a big head over it..."
Faile picks her head up from the half eaten fish and gives an annoyed chirp, eyeing Sembas. He chuckles at her and you could swear that she rolls her eyes before she gets back to eating.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you over the authentication. Shocking, you don't say? Well, I've been know to call down the occasional bolt of lightning, if its any consolation." He says with a grin. "Excuse me a moment."
Sembas unstraps his spear and lays it against one of the support beams of the tent. He lays his bow and arrows next to it. With a rain of sand, the takes off his cloak and hooks it over the spear. He's wearing a set of worn leather armor, nothing special to speak of. There are a few patched tears and dried old bloodstains at random. The gauntlet on his left arm is thicker than the rest and has a myriad of scratches covering it. He leaves his long bowie knife strapped to his hip. It was a pain to reattach the sheath once it is taken off.
"Now, Faile isn't the only one with an appetite!" He says, as he piles a plate with meat. With a sigh of relief, he sits down on a chair close to Faile and begins shoveling food into his mouth.
It had been a while since he had last eaten. The hunting was good around his village, but having someone... cook? ...for him was a treat. He takes a sip of cider and lowers the cup slowly. The pain of starvation was receeding. Yet another reminder of his newfound immortality. This would take some getting used to...
"So Fenwick, what talents do you have? As you can see I am a falconer, by trade. I am also an active member of my village's militia... Or was, at least, until about a week ago..."
-
The arrival of the newcomer had given me the break in the tension I needed desperately. My annoyance at the Seer rose even more at her waiver of the test for this Sembas. Because she knew this bloody BIRD? I wanted desperately to call her security into question again, but restrained myself. Security was obviously a sore point for her and I didn't feel like being extra crispy today.
"No, I don't fear your power. Don't worry Cleo, I know you won't be... as long as I don't do something like that."
You'd better fear her power her power pal, I thought. She could fry you to a cinder before you could take your eyes off that bosom you're oogling. Wait, “..like that”? Was he taking a shot at me? That-! I needed to cool off before I did something stupid. At last I gave in to my instinct to flee just a little and retreated to the furthest corner of the tent I could. I heard the Seer introduce me as I was walking away. I gave a small wave of my hand without turning around. Didn't want to seem too off-putting. I may have to work with these people in the future, and I had nothing against them.
I sat on the carpeted floor and tried to relax my thoughts and my body. It had been a hell of a walk and a hell of a reception. I concentrated and emptied my thoughts until the only thing in them was the Song. It was relaxing. I was only there for a minute or so before I heard the Song react to something. I opened my eyes to see the Seer conjuring food out of the air. My stomach instantly rumbled, but I willed myself to stay put. After being so antagonistic to this woman I wasn't about to eat her food. Not that I thought it was poisoned or anything. It was just the principle of the thing.
So, they carried on as if they were all old friends. Fenwick and Sembas sat and ate hungrily, like I wished to do. The Seer fawned over that bird. A falcon I think. It seemed overly intelligent for a bird of its kind. Fenwick flirted and the Seer flirted back. The food smelled great and I sat in my corner.
I won’t simply invade your mind...” The Seer said. ”...I won’t enter unless I am invited.”
Oh is that right? I stared at her until her gaze swept over me again. When it did I nodded to her and cast a thought her way as our gaze met. Yes, I will go to Avalon. But I'm only in this to fight the Forsaken. Not to join the Order. I'm your ally not your toadie. Once this war is over I'm out.
-
Cleo stops munching upon her turkey leg long enough to reply to Faran, who had willingly contacted her. She glances back at him, her mind effectively expressing her thoughts.
“As you wish. But I should warn you, Faran, the whole ‘winning the war’ concept may take longer than you are willing to commit to. Fighting the Forsaken requires the entirety of your will, not to mention your cooperation. The former I know that you have in spades… The latter is yet to be determined. However, I know that the others will likely benefit from your company. When the time comes, I will see that you, too, find your way through the gates.”
Cleo returns her attention to the turkey leg in her hand, using her teeth to rend another juicy bit of meat from the bone. She flicks her fingers skyward and you find yourself levitated into the air and deposited into a chair in your corner of solitude. A small table appears before you, followed by a rack of lamb that nearly clobbers you as it descends from the air and lands upon the newly-arrived plate before you. The mouth-watering meat is quickly joined by a heap of roasted potatoes and a platter of bread pudding. A frothy mug of rich, apple cider is added to the array and a candle in a silver holder is placed in the center. A fine, white, linen bib is stuffed into your lips but quickly rights itself around your neck. You correctly guess that your bib mishap was likely intentional. The Seer has obviously recognized your intentions to needle her, but despite your general obstinance, and her annoyance with you, she isn’t about to let you starve.
-
Fenwick, though in conversation with Sembas, periodically sneaks peaks at Cleo and her adjusted clothing. He felt as if he was admiring a work of art, and that he was the only one allowed to admire it. But it wouldn't be a fair trade if he was teased without teasing back! It just wasn't fair business. Now was not the time though. He would do so when the time was appropriate. Besides, Faran seemed to be communicating with her right now, and she was trying to be a good host as Faran is seated upon a conjured chair with food on a conjured table. It wouldn't be civil to interrupt.
He focuses on the conversation with Sembas, hearing his comment about the occasional bolt of lightning. "Haha! That feels like child's play now. A simple flash before it disappears. The authentication process however, now that was discipline mixed perfectly with skill... albeit painful." He winces slightly at the memory, but a huge smile now hangs on his face as he watches Sembas unstraps his spear and uncloaks himself. Fenwick's eyes widened slightly when he saw the golden eyes, as sharp as the falcon itself, but quickly hid his surprise and tucked into his food with knife and fork.
"So Fenwick, what talents do you have? As you can see I am a falconer, by trade. I am also an active member of my village's militia... Or was, at least, until about a week ago..."
After a very slight pause, Fenwick answered. "I was a merchant. But my personal hobby is magic. I am self-taught, with a book that somehow managed to fell into my hands." He points at the book which lay next to him casually, yet the hint of reverence is clear on his face. "It contains all the components required to make your own spells. I am fortunate and blessed to have such an item." He takes a bite off his food and downs a bit of tea. "Though perhaps, not as fortunate as you who has a living being as company. I was away from my parents for the duration of my apprenticeship, and my return was not what I imagined..." Fenwick's eyes droop a little and a slight sigh escapes his lips, but immediately after that, he looks straight into Sembas' eyes again.
"What about you? What happened to your village?"
-
"What about you? What happened to your village?"
Sembas chews his food and ponders for a moment, almost looking confused. Swallowing, he laughs. "Why, nothing. Nothing at all happened. I'm sure they'll miss Faile and I patrolling around the area, but they'll do just fine. No, the village will stay in the shadow of the mountains there for many more years to come."
He takes a sip of cider and continues, wiping his lips with the back of his leather glove. "I left because Faile delivered a message to me just over a week ago. She directed me to come to this god-forsaken desert. At first I believed she was putting me on. But she has never led me wrong before. And quite frankly, with our newfound condition we didn't have to worry about starving or dieing of thirst out here." He sticks a finger in his ear and twists. As he pulls it out he flicks away a few grains of sand with a frown. "Although I think it will take years to get all this sand off me..."
He sets his fork and knife on his empty plate. With a content sigh he turns to Fenwick with a serious look on his face. "I'm sorry to hear that your return to your village was not as joyful as you imagined. But life is full of surprises, for better or worse." Sembas looks at the book sitting beside Fenwick with interest. "Such a book is a powerful tool to have. Self taught, you said? There were not many mages in my village, for lack of a master. A few passed through the area throughout the years, but none lingered for very long. Those that grew up in the village who attempted to practice magic were not very accomplished. I believe I was the first person who uses magic to join the militia in many years."
Sembas's friendly demeanor darkens. He seems to be somewhere else for a moment. Narrowing his eyes, he continues speaking. "Through my time with the militia I've run into a few... unsavory mages. Faile and I both are wary around strange magic. I'm glad she knows Cleo from when she was just a chick, otherwise I'm sure this meeting would have an entirely different atmosphere..."
His face relaxes as his eyes focus. Looking to Fenwick, a smile returns to Sembas's face. "Don't worry, you seem kind as well. Either you have a good heart or you are an extraordinary actor." Sembas nudges Fenwick with his elbow as he says the last bit.
--
Meanwhile, Faile was busy watching Faran on the other side of the tent. If she could laugh, she would have when the bib was stuffed into his mouth. Instead she just clicks her beak together rapidly. She was glad to see Cleo again. Her warm demeanor always made an impression on her. When she was given the message to deliver to Sembas she was estatic when she learned of their destination.
-
Again, the orb in the corner of the room becomes active as light pours forth from the mysterious sphere. The sudden interruption is likely enough to attract everyone’s attention and the Seer quickly leaps to her feet and hurries over to it.
“SEER. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO WAIT ANY LONGER. THE YOUNG ONES MUST BE SENT TO GENERAL FURY.”
Cleo glances back at Fenwick, and the mage sees a look of sorrow affect her pretty features. “But, they’ve only just arrived, Keeper… and the others aren’t here yet. I thought you wanted me to wait until they were all accounted for.”
“WE CANNOT AFFORD TO WAIT, CLEO. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAS BECOME OF THE OTHERS. PERHAPS THE FORSAKEN INTERCEPTED THEM BEFORE THEY COULD CROSS THE DESERT. AT ANY RATE, SEND THE YOUNG ONES NOW. SHOULD THEIR COMRADES ARRIVE SOON, DISPATCH THEM TO ME AT ONCE.”
Cleo’s shoulders noticeably slump and she looks back at Fenwick with a look of resignation. “Very well, Keeper. I will do so now.”
The light quickly evacuates from the glowing orb, and the sphere returns to its dormant state. Cleo raises her arms above her head and begins to channel the energy around her. She focuses this rapidly swirling mass into one, concentrated, golden ball which she turns over in her hands until it grows in size. Once it has reached a considerable size, she releases it from her hands, launching it into the air in front of her. It begins to expand, taking the shape of an arch. The glimmering ochre portal wavers as if it was created from liquid gold, and it spills a comforting, warm light over all that it touches.
Cleo gestures for you to move forward and assembles you into a line: Faran, followed by Sembas and Faile, and finally, Fenwick.
She gives a polite nod to Faran before shaking Sembas’s hand. She then gently strokes the feathers beneath Faile’s chin, whispering a message to the bird that is unable to be perceived by any but the fair fowl. Cleo avoids Fenwick’s gaze. Her eyes are firmly upon the floor and she passes by him as if he is not even there.
“It is a bit unsettling at first,” she warns quietly. “It may make you a bit sick to the stomach, as this is likely your first travel in this manner, but it passes rather quickly. I will be closing the gates promptly behind you, so whatever you do, face forward, and do not try to pass back through this way. Good luck to you.”
She sighs heavily, and an expression of longing can be seen upon her face. “Avalon is a place of beauty… a treasure amongst all the ugly that exists in this world. Live this place… breathe it through your lungs and feel it touch your heart. Never in your life, or whatever comes after, could there exist a place that is greater.” She offers you all a sad smile and you can all see that the woman is homesick.
“Keeper will meet you on the other side.” She motions for Faran to come closer to the portal “Remember to move forward. If you are in the gateway when it closes, you will relinquish your life to the mists.”
She watches as you all begin to make your way through the gates, but as Fenwick passes her, she catches him by the sleeve. “Wicky… uh… Fenwick…” She appears nervous and you suddenly realize why she avoided your gaze. This woman is obviously on the verge of tears, and despite the clever glamour that she has access to, she can do nothing to mask her sorrow.
“I know… I know I have no right to ask anything of you… But… I was hoping that you might do me a favor. I won’t force you to come back and visit but I… I would really like it if you would visit sometime. If you can find the time, that is. I’ll…”
She looks away again, desperately trying to hide her loneliness. “I’ll understand if you don't. It’s just… I enjoy our talks. Even though I probably do most of the talking. Sorry for that by the way.” She blushes a bit and pushes wisps of blonde hair from her forehead as she looks up at you with her sparkling blue eyes. “I would REALLY like it if you would come back and visit.”
She stands upon the tips of her toes, her body leaning against yours so that she may maintain her balance as she places a gentle kiss upon your forehead before sending you on through the portal. The small spot where her lips touched your skin tingle slightly with the remnants of her small token of affection for you.
-
As Fenwick swallows a chunk of tasty turkey meat and begins to reply Sembas, a flash of light accompanied by a loud voice interrupts him, causing him to nearly choke.
“SEER. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO WAIT ANY LONGER. THE YOUNG ONES MUST BE SENT TO GENERAL FURY.”
He turns instantly to Cleo and sees her beautiful face marred by sorrow as she struggles to retort. It obviously fails though, as the Keeper simply rebutts it without any effort. Although he wills Cleo to counter, she simply slumps, her look of resignation mirrored by Fenwick's own.
"Very well, Keeper. I will do so now."
Disheartened, Fenwick takes one last bite off his turkey as he slowly stands as the last person in the queue. He keeps his eyes on Cleo, but notices that she was intentionally avoiding looking at him.
She gives the warning, but Fenwick barely manages to register it as she sighs heavily, allowing him to once again marvel at her wonderfully blessed body. Yet somehow, Avalon was supposedly more beautiful than her. He wanted nothing more than the breathe the scent of her hair and feel her skin against his, to lighten her emotional load.
"...If you are in the gateway when it closes, you will relinquish your life to the mists."
Oh... that wouldn't be advantageous.
As the others pass through the portal, he begins to do the same, but he is caught by the sleeve as she nervously calls his name.
“I know… I know I have no right to ask anything of you… But… I was hoping that you might do me a favor. I won’t force you to come back and visit but I… I would really like it if you would visit sometime. If you can find the time, that is. I’ll…”
Of course he would!
“I’ll understand if you don't. It’s just… I enjoy our talks. Even though I probably do most of the talking. Sorry for that by the way.”
But he loved hearing her!
“I would REALLY like it if you would come back and visit.”
I'd love to just not leave!!
As he tries to voice his thoughts, her kiss upon his forehead calms him down. He instantly wraps his arms around her in a hug and kisses her full on the lips. "I'd love to. I'll come visit you when I can! But our destinies in Avalon... Does your vision see us crossing again? How will we get back to you?"
Before she can reply however, he quickly adds something else. "By the way, just for earlier on..." He focuses on her eyes again, and wills every single lustful thought. His memory of her naked body, his fantasy of pushing her onto her bed, smelling her hair and his hands on her breasts, with no one entering the tent and interrupting them.
He smiles after, before hearing her reply, nodding, and entering the portal along with the others.
-
“SEER. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO WAIT ANY LONGER. THE YOUNG ONES MUST BE SENT TO GENERAL FURY.”
Sembas jumps to his feet. This intense voice was coming from somewhere in the room. Faile was also startled. She lifts her wings as if ready to take off and glances about the room. They both see the glowing sphere at the same time. Looking to one another, Sembas gives Faile a nod and she lowers her wings. He lets go of the bowie knife at his hip. He hadn't realized that he had reached for it in the first place.
“WE CANNOT AFFORD TO WAIT, CLEO. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAS BECOME OF THE OTHERS. PERHAPS THE FORSAKEN INTERCEPTED THEM BEFORE THEY COULD CROSS THE DESERT. AT ANY RATE, SEND THE YOUNG ONES NOW. SHOULD THEIR COMRADES ARRIVE SOON, DISPATCH THEM TO ME AT ONCE.”
Understanding what was happening, albiet only slightly, Sembas walks over to his equipment and collects his things. His cloak is fastened around his neck and his spear, bow and arrows are slung over his shoulders. He raises the hood of his cloak over his head again out of habit. Once he is ready, Faile flies over and lands on the thick gauntlet covering his arm. They meet eyes and share a thought between themselves.
"Let's see where this rabbit hole goes, girl." He whispers to her out loud.
They fall in line behind Faran. The portal was making them uneasy. As much as they trusted Cleo, stepping through a strange magical portal was far removed from anything they were used to. When she mentions the part about relinquishing your life to the mists Faile grips the gauntlet tighter with her talons.
Cleo comes and shakes his hand and strokes Faile's feathers. Sembas gives a worried smile, but when he speaks his voice is still strong and confident.
"We will have to come see you again, once all the commotion dies down. I know Faile would much enjoy another visit."
Faile and Cleo share a thought between them. Sembas was still getting used to another person communicating with her that way. They turn and wait behind Faran, not wanting to go first through the portal...
-
When you emerge on the other side of the portal, you find that you are standing upon an expanse of fine grain sand. However, this is far different than what you encountered in the Wastes of Faranas. Whereas that sand was coarse and grating, this causes no discomfort as the breeze wafts it towards you. It has an unusual white color, and looks as if it was grated into miniscule pieces from brilliant diamonds.
Avalon, the capital city of the Ageless, bathes the horizon in an effervescent light all its own. You gaze upon the tall, immaculate steeples and elaborately constructed rooftops that reach towards the clouds. Every inch of the city is reflected in hues of gold and ivory. Even the sun, suspended in the morning sky, resonates with jealousy over the glory of Avalon. Cleo was not exaggerating; the city is quite a sight to behold. If this is only the outside, you cannot fathom the grandeur of what is within.
You find yourself face-to-face with an older gentleman, a man who appears to be in his late-50’s to early 60’s. His flowing gray robes billow slightly in the soft breeze that swirls around you and he has a slight look of annoyance upon his face.
“Welcome to Avalon. I am Aloysius Keeper. That is simply Keeper to you. I am charged with seeing to the arrival of each of you Young Ones and will be escorting you to your mentor, Dethys Night. From there, Dethys will take you to the headquarters of the Bulwark, as General Fury has requested your presence therein. We have delayed too long, so we must be moving along immediately. If you will follow me.”
Without another word, Keeper begins to lead you towards the outer walls of the city. As you look skyward, you can scarcely see an end to the walls; this place is exceptionally well-fortified.
You make your way towards the main gates and find that the entrance is very well-guarded. Rows of enormous, muscular men in heavy armor stand vigilant in front of the gates. The majority of them are clad in gleaming, silver platemail that sparkles in the sun. Upon each of their shoulders is the emblem of a large, black bird, likely a raven. Each guard is armed to the teeth with swords, shields, knives, bows, axes, maces and every other weapon you could imagine. Their collective appearance is so awe-inspiring that even their shadows appear intimidating.
Keeper stops before the gates, raises his arms to the sky, and makes a parting motion. As he does so, the gates slowly open, allowing you passage. If Cleo is the Guardian of the Gates, then that makes Keeper the Steward of the City.
As you enter the confines of Avalon, you are greeted with wonders to behold. The roads themselves seem to be paved with gold, and each building you pass by appears to be five times taller than the largest buildings you have ever seen. The intricate engravings and eye-catching details of each edifice are impressively well-done, and you likely wonder how long it would take to construct a city of such magnitude. Each place seems to be made of thick stone walls, but armored with plates of precious metals and gems to enhance their grandeur.
Keeper leads you to an enormous piece of architecture near the center of the city. It is a massive abode, as impressive as the occupant that lives there, and is a bit of a curiosity when compared to the other buildings. Affixed to the outside of this place, there are massive clockwork pieces that move with constant motion. At intervals, fine puffs of brilliantly colored smoke are emitted through the chimneys.
As you move closer to the building, there is an ear-shattering explosion that rocks the foundations of the building, and causes the ground beneath you to vibrate violently.
Keeper sighs heavily, smacking his palm against his face. “Not again,” he mutters under his breath.
Moments later, a man emerges from within the building. As he exits, he snaps his fingers, causing the front door behind him to slam shut. He appears to be in his mid-late 20’s and wears long, flowing, robes of cream, brown and sage green. He has pale, ivory skin, piercing green eyes, and cornflower hair, so blonde that it borders upon white. He stands at about six feet, but straightens as he sees all of you.
The man smiles warmly and stretches his arms to the sides in a friendly greeting. “Hello there!”
Keeper frowns as he watches the man draw nearer. “I thought the General told you that you were not to be conducting any more experiments until we could fix the damage you did to the foundation." As an afterthought, he adds, "Besides... Last I checked, poor Serenity's eyebrows have yet to grow back.”
“Bah! They'll grow back... eventually.” The man waves his hand dismissively, his smile unfaltering. “As for the foundation, I repaired it myself.” He gesticulates with his hands and they glow with a vibrant blue light.
“Magic does not ensure structural integrity,” grumbles Keeper.
“Mine does.” He grins again.
“Yes… I suppose I must not forget who I am talking to,” allows Keeper.
You get the feeling that Keeper is likely abandoning the argument, not because he feels he is incorrect, but because he knows this man will not budge.
“I would like to present you to Dethys Night. He is the right hand of the General and one of her oldest and dearest friends. He is also our High-Mage and the First Scribe of the Sacred Order,” explains Keeper.
“Bah! Let us dispense with the formalities and titles, shall we?” Dethys shakes each of your hands. “Dethys will do just fine, thank you.” He places his hands upon his hips. “Well, my Lady tells me that I must be shepherding you around until you acclimate yourselves to this place. That’s me… Dethys Night! Glorified Babysitter to Childer Immortalis!”
Keeper looks anxious to leave and Dethys waves him off.
“Go on, Aloysius. Get back to your Gate-Watching,” says Dethys with a smirk.
“Thank you, sir.” Keeper quickly departs, leaving you alone with Dethys.
“Sooooo…” Dethys claps Sembas on the shoulder. “I suppose I am supposed to be taking you lot to the General. Don’t want to keep Fury waiting. She’s a bit grouchy when the Archon’s away on the front lines. Thus, it doesn’t take much to put her out of sorts right now. Let’s not chance her ire and let us be on our way.”
Dethys beckons for you to follow him and as he does so, his gaze settles upon Fenwick. His eyes narrow for a moment, then an enormous smile is plastered upon his face. "Ah... The Seer has taken a liking to you. She's marked you."
As he addresses Fenwick, the spot where Cleo kissed you upon your forehead glows brightly, and you realize her kiss has left a rune upon your brow.
"How is dear, Cleo anyway?" asked Dethys. "I dropped off some books awhile ago, but between you and me, she seemed a bit out of sorts during my visit. I'm a little worried for her. That much seclusion can't be good for anyone."
-
"It feels like I'm flying! Faile! Is this how flying feels?"
"It... It feels like I'm running. Sprinting like you do..."
Sembas feels a tinge of disgust coming from Faile.
"I don't like it..."
With a flash of light Sembas's feet touch down on a stretch of gentle sand. He wrinkles his nose at the sight. He had quite enough sand in the past week, and he was not excited to meet with more of it. No matter how white and remarkable it was, it wasn't green or living. Faile is still perched on his arm, equally distressed upon meeting even more sand. Sembas stomps his feet on the ground, missing the feeling of flying. Faile mockingly flaps her wings while still grasping his arm, lifting it a few inches before she stops.
"Ha, ha. Very funny. If we weren't pre-occupied I'd make you give me a ride. You owe me one." He says out loud to Faile, wagging a finger at her. She playfully snaps in the air at it.
“Welcome to Avalon. I am Aloysius Keeper..."
Sheepishly, Sembas realizes that this man was there the whole time. He follows after him as he leads them towards the outer walls of the city. It was now that Sembas began to appreciate the grandeur of the city. Curiosity and apprehension was coming from Faile. He knew she would like to fly ahead and scout the city, but nether of them were sure how well that would go over with the residents. That batallion of guards were quite a concern as well. At least he could associate with them to a degree. Having been a member of the militia back home he has respect for any individual who puts themselves in harms way to protect others.
He pulls his hood further over his head as they enter the gate. He didn't doubt there would be many more oddities than a pair of golden eyes in this city, but he still didn't want any reason to stick out.
The explosion is unexpected. Faile leaps into the air as Sembas reaches for his spear. The Keeper isn't too concerned, more annoyed than anything. Lowering his hand, Sembas looks up at Faile who caught a thermal and is hovering above the group.
"Scaredy cat!" He yells up at her. She dives down and lands on his arm, a little more heavily than necessary. Indignant, she begins preening her feathers, facing away from Sembas.
He is happy she is with him. It is good to have someone familiar with him in such an unfamiliar place. The recent events were nothing like he ever knew existed. He is very much out of his element, so far away from home. Faile is echoing the same feelings through their bond. He pats her on the head as a man with strikingly blonde hair approaces the group. He is introduced as Dethys Night, the man who sent the message that Faile delivered.
Dethys claps Sembas on the shoulder and receives a nervous smile from the falconer. Another strange mage. Before he can introduce himself Dethys notices Fenwick's mark. His forehead glows brightly, drawing a smirk from Sembas. Those two were getting on pretty well. Good for him.
-
I had to concentrate very hard to understand anything anyone was saying here. So LOUD. It began the minute I stepped out of that portal and had only gotten louder. As much as I now despised the Seer, especially for that bib incident, I found the portal to be fascinating. Dimension sang back when she opened it! Dimension was a leyline I had only read about in books. What could I sing that would make Dimension respond in that manner? It sounded like something I needed to experiment with.
“---come to ---lon. - --- Aloy--- ---per. “ That was about the extent of what I could make out from this guy when he approached us on the beach. My concentration on his words was fleeting at best. So LOUD. Nothing I had even heard could compare to this. A hundred people shouting in your ear at once might compare to it. “We -ave delayed too long, -- we must be mov--- -long immediately. If --- will follow me.”
I nodded like I had everything together and followed him down the beach. The Song was getting louder as we approached Avalon. My eyes were beginning to water now and my whole being was beginning to vibrate. The Song had always been sweet, but here this was terrible, like a man who had enjoyed his drink to the point where he was going to sick up, regretting his earlier enjoyment and vowing to never do it again. If I feared the Seer, I feared Avalon even more. I now WANTED to be back in that spacious tent with that harridan.
I barely noticed the sentinels in their impressive armor. I was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other now. My head was beginning to pound with agony. I knew covering my ears would do no good. Only being asleep could block out the Song. I only saw the ground. Every so often an drop of liquid would hit the paving stones. My tears, or my own sweat, I couldn't figure it out.
Louder still, when would this end!? I hadn't noticed we'd stopped when I nearly walked into Fenwick. We were outside some monstrous building covered with cogs and other clockwork. I heard nothing but the Song now. The Song changed and I could feel the earth vibrate slightly. I reeled and tried to keep my balance. My head swam and the world was tilting. A man had emerged from the clock tower-like building and introductions were being made.
The new man looked somewhat jovial. The two of him. Wait there were two of everybody now. When did that happen? I heard no change in the Song to make something like that happen. The New Mans were clapping the two Sembases on their shoulders when I felt a wet warmth on my face. It didn't feel like sweat or tears. I raised my hand and wiped from my mouth to my cheek. I examined my hand. Red. A lot of red. Blood? The pain was now my entire world. I looked around me to the brilliant buildings and massive walls visible through them. All sparkling with magnificence. A magnificent hell. Fear flooded me. This place was KILLING me.
I screamed. I didn't even hear myself scream. Oh Symphony, why were you so brutal? The world lurched and turned sideways. I realized I was falling. Keeping my balance hardly seemed like an important thing now, I could barely hear my own thoughts. I must have aged several hundred years before I hit the stones. I noticed the paving stones had this subtle glittery quality to them. Pretty glittery stones. I didn't notice that until I was down and laying on them. Mercifully, the Song began to grow quieter and the paving stones began to fade. I had enough clarity to think now. I must be blacking out. First good news I've had today. That brought a certain amount of peace to my mind, until I realized some fool wouldn't understand what happened to me and would try to wake me up. Then everything would start over again. Oh Symphony please don't let that happen! I don't want to wake up in this hell.
-
Dethys watches as Faran collapses to the ground in a bleeding, twisted heap. “Oh dear…” He says quietly.
Despite the rather serious nature of the situation, Dethys appears undisturbed by this turn of events. You are reminded that the Ageless, by nature, are immortal, and therefore, your recently introduced companion will likely be right as rain once he stops bleeding out of his eyes and nose.
Dethys crosses his arms over his chest, then reaches up a hand to rub his chin thoughtfully. “This one must be the Singer. Bloody hell, that’s a lot of… well… blood.” He sighs heavily. “Another delay. We’ll have to get him to Hestia. Though I know a bit about his nature, people like this lad are a rare commodity, so I fear I am a little bit out of my element. However, luckily for us, Hestia will know what to do.”
Dethys claps his hands and two young people, dressed in matching gold and burgundy robes, emerge from the clockwork abode. They hurry to their master and expectantly wait to hear the reason why they were summoned from their studies.
“Ah, very good. Seems this fellow decided to take a nap. I thought we might practice your levitation and carry him on over to Hestia,” informed Dethys.
The two new arrivals nod obediently. The shorter of the two, a female, glances towards Sembas and Fenwick and offers a weak smile. She has silky, auburn hair that falls across the tops of her shoulders, and her bespectacled brown eyes reflect her excitement over being able to put her arts into practice.
The second apprentice is significantly taller and has short, black hair that has been slicked back. He gazes at you with suspicious, green eyes, but quickly turns his attention to the task at hand. Despite some subtle differences, you notice the striking similarities between the two apprentices.
“These are my apprentices. This lovely young lady is Serenity.” As Dethys gestures to the young woman, you notice she fusses with her hair to obscure your view of her missing eyebrows. “And the lad here is Constancy. Brother and sister by birth. They arrived here at the same time. Died trying to protect each other, but didn’t have much command over their arts, and accidentally struck each other instead. However, I assure you, that they show great promise.” Dethys winks at his pupils and the two young folks blush considerably.
Dethys waves a hand to signify that they should begin. “Alright. Have at it.”
Serenity and Constancy move to either side of the incapacitated Faran. They begin to gesticulate, moving their hands in slow, deliberate arcs. As they do so, Faran’s form begins to rise until he is floating several feet off the ground.
Dethys nods approvingly and claps Constancy on the back. “Good job!”
However, this unexpected congratulations causes Constancy to lose his concentration and he nearly loses his hold on poor Faran. Constancy quickly regains his composure and chances a frown towards his sister, who merely shrugs and gestures to her own lack of eyebrows again.
Dethys motions for Sembas and Fenwick to follow behind the little procession. “Come along. We’ll have him seen to.”
-
Fenwick's journey through the portal was extremely painful. It felt as if there were waves and waves of... something... crashing against him. On one hand he tried to absorb it. On the other, he attempted to repel it. He didn't know if he was walking through the portal or crawling or running, but the pain suddenly subsided and it caused him to feel more light headed than usual. Recovering, he sketched out the city walls before him in his mind. Golden. Ivory. Architechture at its finest! Yet the inside still had to be seen...
The keeper introduces himself, and without another word, is led to a gate, guarded by many muscular men. Despite himself, he had to be a bit envious of them, although he did attempt to reason that they had several hundred years to train. Maybe he'd be able to wield magic while be physically strong at the same time... sometime.
An explosion rings out from somewhere nearby, and Sembas shouts a friendly taunt at his trusty falcon, while Fenwick himself loses his pace and nearly falls over. A man approaches and an argument over the building integrity ensues, but Fenwick does not listen. Instead, he picks up bits of the fine sand beneath him, studying them for a while.
“Dethys will do just fine, thank you.” He places his hands upon his hips. “Well, my Lady tells me that I must be shepherding you around until you acclimate yourselves to this place. That’s me… Dethys Night! Glorified Babysitter to Childer Immortalis!”
Oh, so this was the Dethys that Cleo had mentioned. He begins to introduce himself, but is stopped before he can.
"Ah... The Seer has taken a liking to you. She's marked you."
He blushes and sees a slight shimmer just above his eyes. He looks up, but the glow remains just as intense as it was before and he realises that was where he had been kissed. He quickly attempts to hide it by scruffling his hair, but quickly decides that there was no point.
"How is dear, Cleo anyway?" asked Dethys. "I dropped off some books awhile ago, but between you and me, she seemed a bit out of sorts during my visit. I'm a little worried for her. That much seclusion can't be good for anyone."
"Isn't there anybody else that can replace her? She's been there for way too long. It's bad for her state of mental and physical health. I mean, with so many..."
*Plonk*
Fenwick turns around to see Faran fall upon the ground, bleeding from his eyes and ears.
“This one must be the Singer. Bloody hell, that’s a lot of… well… blood.” He sighs heavily. “Another delay. We’ll have to get him to Hestia. Though I know a bit about his nature, people like this lad are a rare commodity, so I fear I am a little bit out of my element. However, luckily for us, Hestia will know what to do.”
Again! A 'singer'.
Two young people appear and is introduced as Serenity and Constancy... killed by the arts. Ironic. Fenwick watches in quiet amusement as they gesticulate their hands and Faran rises. Dethys doesn't seem to realise how his congragulations affected the boy, who barely manages to keep Faran up. Fenwick was a bit mystified. He himself had never needed the use of arm gestures to cast his spells. Simply some words and intense concentration.
As they walk along behind Dethys, Fenwick decides to ask his question.
"What's a Singer? What's so special about them?"
-
"Hmm?” Dethys glances over at Fenwick. “Oh... The Singer thing. Well, I've been keeping tabs on you lot and from what I've read about this lad here..." He taps the unconscious Faran upon the forehead with his knuckles. "He's in tune with leylines. Still magic of sorts, but bit of a different kind than you or I are used to. While we simply make magic happen, this fellow has to tap into a leyline for his to work."
“Really, I should have seen this coming. Avalon is laden with all form of mystical phenomenon. Probably overwhelmed him.” Dethys shrugs. “Like I said. I read about him, but I’m not the authority on this particular type of magic-user. I’ve only seen about a handful in all my 1,000 years. Maybe I should consult the tome again.” Dethys rubs his chin thoughtfully.
“You see, whenever an Ageless is made, their journey is recorded in a tome that has been entrusted to my safekeeping. So, in fact, I've read a bit about all of you. Though it can hardly tell me anything about your thoughts or emotions, it does grant me a general gist about you.”
Dethys smacks himself upon the forehead. “I almost forgot… You asked about relieving the Seer of her duties. Well, Cleo is… uh…” Dethys struggles to find the right words. “Stubborn. Stubborn as a mule. Unwilling to listen to reason when it comes to her own good. She’s all ‘greater good, greater good.’ Doesn’t put much stock in looking after herself. Then there’s the whole guilt thing…”
“But that’s not really my place to tell you. I mean, I mentored Cleo for years, and I still don’t completely understand her. Just know that she is special… and powerful! Boy, is she powerful! Don’t let this get around, lad.” Dethys leans over, whispering conspiratorially in Fenwick’s ear. “But I’d venture to say that she is even more powerful than me… At least in certain things.”
Dethys sighs heavily and places his hand upon Fenwick’s shoulder. “The story in Cleo’s entry is perhaps one of the saddest that I have ever encountered. It was lamentable what happened to her… simply terrible.” Dethys appears distraught by his recollection of Cleo’s journey in his tome. “No one should have to endure what that poor woman did. She suffers still, I know, but the fact of the matter is, Cleo simply won’t ALLOW anyone to take her place. I should know… I have tried. Time and time again. Fury has tried… Blood has tried… Hestia has tried. We’ve all tried! But at the end of the day, Cleo simply shoulders her burden again and refuses to allow us to lighten her load.”
“But you…” A smile stretches across the face of Dethys Night. “Perhaps you can… maybe…” He becomes lost in his own thoughts and is silent for several moments. “Fury… She will notice your mark, just as I did. She has been one of the biggest proponents in bringing Cleo back home. She and Cleo share a mutual respect, but Fury would never force Cleo to do anything against her will. Shame really. I had suggested I could just use a Spell of Suspension and MAKE her come back, but Fury and the Archon convinced me this would only infuriate the Seer. At any rate, when she sees your mark, Fury will likely want to speak to you about our Cleo,” he informs Fenwick.
Dethys turns his attention to Sembas. “She’s a darling you know,” he says, gesturing to Faile. “As was her mother before her.” He smiles warmly and strokes Faile under her chin. “Her mother belonged to one of our own. Little Faile here was hatched not far from here. It’s ironic really. Her mother accompanied an Ageless until her death, and now Little Faile, too, has found herself an Ageless companion.”
Dethys shakes his head. “It took poor Archer years to get over the death of poor Zarine. It nearly killed her.” Dethys gazes upon Faile sympathetically as she was likely unaware of her mother’s death. “My condolences, Faile.”
“Luckily, Hestia and I were able to locate a suitable substitute. Archer now keeps the company of Besnik, who was born around the same time as Faile here. You remember Besnik, don’t you, Faile?” Dethys laughs as he is reminded that Faile and Besnik had a bit of a rivalry when they were hatchlings. “He never could beat you in a race, but he’s gotten stronger since then. Perhaps a challenge is in order?”
He looks upon Sembas again. “You are lucky to have each other. There is something you should know, lad. As your lifespan will be significantly longer, so shall Faile’s be. You need not worry about outliving her, though you may still be parted by the hand of the Forsaken, and thus, death itself.”
-
"What do you mean Faran doesn't look too -"
Thump
"Oh..." Sembas and Faile were sharing their thoughts again. Faile noticed Faran's discomfort while hovering above the group after the explosion.
Regardless of his antisocial behavior, Sembas and Faile were worried about Faran. Sure, we were all Ageless, but a person usually doesn't pass out from a short walk through town. Let alone begin bleeding from the head...
Serenity and Constancy arrive to help. Sembas notices Serenity's missing eyebrows and grins, but it quickly fades as he notices Constancy eyeing him suspiciously. If his hood wasn't pulled down Constancy would have seen Sembas narrow his eyes at him. The mage thought he was suspicious?
Faile shakes her feathers vigorously, trying to distract Sembas. Here, of all places, was not the right place to take issue with mages. Fenwick and Cleo were fine people, and this Dethys seemed alright. But something rubbed him wrong with Constancy.
As the young mage almost drops Faran Sembas smirks to himself.
So Faran was a 'Singer.' Another magic user. Sembas sighs audibly. It seems that it is inevitable that he will be surrounded by multitudes of magic users for quite a while.
"It's no use flying against the wind..." Faile reasons in Sembas's mind. He looks down at her and their golden eyes meet. Finally he nods slightly, conceding to her wisdom.
His head snaps up as Dethys gestures towards Faile. "Incredible! You knew Faile's mother? Why, Faile must have flown forever until she met me in the mountains. She was still just a young chick..."
Upon hearing of Faile's mother's death, they both wilt considerably. Faile nods at Dethys as Sembas strokes the feathers on her back. At the mention of Besnik she springs tall and spreads her wings. Sembas snaps back his hand in surprise.
"I think she accepts the challenge!" Sembas says with a chuckle.
After hearing Dethys's last bit, Sembas nods sternly, already full aware of how the bond effects both of their lives. "I would rather rot in the dirt than be seperated with Faile. The Forsaken will find it very difficult to part the two of us for even a moment, I assure you...
"I would like to meet this Archer. While we've spent the majority of our lives together, there is still much for Faile and I to learn. My family comes from a long line of Falconers, but never before have we come across anything as remarkable as Faile. I think she would like to see Besnik again, also." She flaps her wings strongly, bristling at the thought of a challenge. A challenge from her old rival, no less...
-
Dethys laughs heartily at this display of Faile’s eagerness to defend her title. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance, lass. I’m sure you will. Unfortunately, that might not be for a bit yet. Both Besnik and Archer recently accompanied the Archon to the front lines. She’s an impressive scout that Archer… She could navigate her way through hell and back before The Adversary was the wiser. It’s little wonder that the Archon asked her to accompany him.”
The jovial expression upon the face of your mentor falls considerably. “Unfortunately, his absence isn’t so easy for those of us who are left behind. I know that Fury worries for his safety, and as such, so do I.”
He comes to a rapid halt in front of an enormous mansion and his abrupt stop nearly causes Serenity to trip over him. “Ah! Here we are! It appears Hestia is within.”
Unlike the abode of Dethys Night, the massive home before you looks as if it was fashioned from pure ivory. There are fine gold engravings along the walkways that depict all manner of flora. Flanking this walkway are plants and flowers of varying shapes and sizes. There are several tall trees, vibrantly colored flowers, some of which you’ve never seen before, and all manner of shrubberies, grasses and growths.
Despite the variegated, motley arrangement before you, there is a certain sense of order to this place. There is not a root, pebble or petal out of place and this tidiness gives the area an unsurpassed sense of beauty. It dawns upon you that you are supposed to be in a desert or beach of some sort. If this is the case, how could such a vast array of plant-life grow here?
Dethys leads you through the front door and calls out to the occupant of the home. “Hestia, dear! Are you about? I have a lad here that’s bleeding like a stuck pig and could use a bit of patching.”
An older woman, who appears to be in her mid-50’s, emerges from one of the adjoin rooms. Her spider’s silk, gray hair is tied into a neat ponytail and her violet eyes are gentle and soothing. The woman simply exudes genuine kindness and generosity, and she strikes you as the archetype of every pleasant, old grandmother who has ever lived, perhaps, even your own.
She places her hands upon her lips and nods disapprovingly. “You are staining my floors, Dethys. Did you not have the forethought to at least bandage him?” Though she chides your mentor, neither her words or manner are unkind.
Dethys blushes considerably. “Oh… Uh… Hadn’t thought of that. Must have slipped my mind.”
She smiles in amusement. “Serenity… Constancy… Take the young man to the recovery ward and I will see to him promptly.”
Serenity and Constancy do as they are instructed and escort Faran’s levitating body to the recovery ward.
“Oh… Lads, this is Hestia Hearth. She is our resident Healer, green thumb, and scholar in all matters of wisdom.” Dethys lowers his voice, whispering, “Wise because she’s old. Old lady wisdom. Old, old, old.”
Hestia sighs as she rolls her eyes. Though she feigns exasperation, she appears more amused than anything else. “I can hear you, Dethys Night, and if I may remind you, you have several hundred years on me, you crotchety, old coot. Do not be envious because I wear my age far better than you.”
Dethys stiffens. “Now, that’s just not fair! I think my figure has been preserved quite well for a man of my age.” He slouches and sticks out his gut in jest. He flexes his slim arms to enhance this posture. “That’s right… Take it in, Hestia.”
“I am quite sorry, Dethys, but if I take in any more of that hot air, I might just lose the ability to heal your friend. Perhaps if you close your mouth you might spare me such a fate.” She smirks at him and Dethys bows obediently.
“Well-played, Hestia. Very well-played.”
“Now, if I might ask, how are Carina and Laertan?”
Any semblance of a smile evaporates from Dethys’s face. “Carina is… she is… no worse, but no better.” You can tell that Dethys is uncomfortable discussing this subject, especially in front of those that he has just met. Thus, he quickly changes the subject and his typical smile comes to preside. “Laertan is quite well. He is growing so quickly. I swear! Every time I look at the boy, he has grown another foot!”
“Let us hope you are exaggerating, or soon the crown of his head will poke right through your roof,” jests Hestia. She turns to look at Fenwick, Sembas and Faile.
“You must be the Fenwick… and that would make you Sembas… It is a pleasure to meet you both.” She remarks, her gaze passing over both of you.
“And as for you…” She takes a step towards Faile. “My garden has been in terrible disarray without you hopping about and ridding it of worms.” She takes a bit of fruit from one of the pockets of her robe and offers it to Faile. She lowers her voice to nearly a whisper. “Between you and me, that Besnik is a bit of a layabout.”
She returns her attention to Dethys. “Have they been to see the General yet?”
“No. We were on our way there when Faran there… well… you saw him,” replies Dethys.
Suddenly, Hestia’s eyes widen. “Oh dear… That young man didn’t offend Blood, did he? I heard she was in an awful mood today.”
You see Dethys swallow hard. “Blood… Blood is back, is she? Any idea why she is so angry?”
“Normally, I’d say it was likely something you’ve done,” replies Hestia. “But she just arrived back this morning, and I haven’t seen you leave Avalon in weeks.”
Dethys shifts uncomfortably and again changes the subject. “Anyway, we really must be on our way. Don’t want to keep General Fury waiting. Is there anything you can do for the lad?”
“Let us see, shall we?” Hestia beckons for all of you to follow her into the recovery ward.
The recovery ward is a small building, situated in the land behind Hestia’s home. It is joined to Hestia’s abode by a glass walkway that allows you to see the gorgeous and rare flowers that she grows in her private gardens.
When you reach the recovery ward, you find that Serenity and Constancy have placed Faran upon one of the exquisitely comfortable beds intended for Hestia’s patients.
She quickly sets to work tending to Faran. As she does so, she addresses Fenwick and Sembas. “So, boys… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourselves. What is your impression of our city so far? I know you haven't gotten to see much of it, but I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that.” She smiles warmly and you feel incredibly at ease in her presence.
-
So this Archer is a woman. Even more intriguing. He knew only a handfull of falconers, and nearly all of them were men. It would be interesting to meet her. But it seems that it wouldn't be for some time. The front line is probably no place for us 'children.'
Faile shuffles down Sembas's gauntlet and grabs the piece of fruit from Hestia with her talon. Balancing on one foot she bites pieces from it. Sembas removes his hood and gives a nod to Hestia in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you as well. Although I must say it has been almost a decade since Faile has tasted a worm. She practically turns her nose up at anything that isn't fresh meat, or your fruit... it seems."
“So, boys… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourselves. What is your impression of our city so far? I know you haven't gotten to see much of it, but I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that.”
"My full name is Sembas Filden, and you seem to already know my companion Faile. I come from a small village at the foot of the mountains. Nearly a week and a halves walk from the Wastes of Faranas, if that means anything to you. I come from a long line of falconers, and was a part of my village's militia."
He shifts the gear on his back so that Faile could sit on his shoulder now that she was done eating. He was getting tired of holding his arm up for her to perch on. She climbs up to his shoulder and looks about the room.
"Avalon is spectacular. I've never seen such grand architecture. I'm used to sturdy wooden buildings, forests, and fields. I must admit, seeing your garden was a relief. I've had my fill of sand and deserts for quite some time... Are there any forests near Avalon? That would make me feel a little less out of place here."
-
Sembas speaks. "My full name is Sembas Filden, and you seem to already know my companion Faile. I come from a small village at the foot of the mountains. Nearly a week and a halves walk from the Wastes of Faranas, if that means anything to you. I come from a long line of falconers, and was a part of my village's militia."
Hestia beams, an enormous smile enveloping her face. “You were a militia man? My husband, Aldin, Divine rest his soul, was a militia man himself. Captain of the guard back in our little village. There was never much to police there. Everyone was so friendly, and the worst crime we ever endured was when little William Stevenson stole a blueberry pie from my windowsill. He gave himself away pretty easily. Blue smears all over his little face, bless his soul.” Hestia chuckles. “I told him that next time he need only ask.”
Her smile fades and her gaze becomes distant. “But there never was a next time. I suppose that innocence cannot be preserved forever, and when the denizens of the Adversary arrived on our doorsteps…Well…”
She quickly changes the subject and listens attentively as Sembas describes his feelings about Avalon.
"Avalon is spectacular. I've never seen such grand architecture. I'm used to sturdy wooden buildings, forests, and fields. I must admit, seeing your garden was a relief. I've had my fill of sand and deserts for quite some time... Are there any forests near Avalon? That would make me feel a little less out of place here."
Hestia smiles in amusement and glances at Dethys. “You haven’t told them yet, have you?”
Feigning ignorance, Dethys smirks. “Why, whatever are you talking about dear woman?”
You get the feeling there is something that they are not telling you.
Hestia smiles warmly and pats your hand with her hers. “Don’t worry about the sand, dear. Soon enough, you will be in for quite a surprise. Do not worry. I think it will be to your liking, assuming the Seer decides upon an adequate arrangement.”
She continues tending to Faran, holding her hands several inches above his head. She closes her eyes, and slowly, the dark, crimson rivulets of blood begin to recede back into the orifices they had fled from.
Faran begins to regain his color, and after some time, Hestia looks up at Dethys with a frown. “I stopped the bleeding and muted the noise a bit for him, but I doubt it will be enough. Let me call upon Muse. Songs are her forte. Perhaps she will be able to do something more for him.”
Hestia departs from the room and when she returns several minutes later, she is accompanied by a tall, red-haired woman with pale skin and shining blue eyes. She is dressed in simple garments and there is a lute slung over one shoulder, while a satchel hangs from her other. Hestia escorts her to Faran’s side and the two of them stand over the unconscious man as they study him closely.
“Quite a reaction, isn’t it?” says the new arrival. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. So this is the Singer?”
Dethys nods. “Yes. He seems to be having a bit of a rough time with this place. A bit overwhelming for him, I think.” Dethys turns to Fenwick and Sembas. “By the way, lads… This lovely young woman is Adeline Muse, Minstrel Extraordinaire! She was a bard in her mortal life, the best in fact. Her songs will make your soul dance and your heart swell.”
Muse’s tinkling laughter is pleasing to the ears and when she smiles, it is as if she illuminates the entire room. She shoves Dethys playfully. “Dethys Night, you are a shameless flatterer.”
Dethys bows with an exaggerated flourish. “I shall take that as a compliment, my dear girl.”
Muse returns her attention to Faran. She appears as if she is contemplating something and begins to rummage around in her satchel. She extracts the necessary item and glances down at Faran apologetically.
“Sorry, fellow. These will have to do for now. They are just a temporary solution, but hopefully they will block out some of the noise,” speaks Muse softly.
The items in her hands look like enormous earmuffs, and shimmer with a golden sheen. Though they appear quite ridiculous, Muse assures Dethys that they will work until a more permanent solution can be found.
Faran begins to regain consciousness, and as his eyelids flutter open, he finds a beautiful, red-haired woman looking down upon him with an expression of concern upon her face. “Are you alright?”
Though her voice sounds distant, Faran will notice that the overwhelming noise that invaded his senses is almost indiscernible now.
-
“...porary solution, but hopefully they will block out some of the noise,” A feminine voice said. Noise? What noise? My eyes opened. I checked for the Symphony. It was there, though distant. It was ALL there, but distant, which was unusual.
A beautiful red-head stood over me looking concerned. Well! If this was a dream at least it was a good one! Then my senses started checking in with me. I think this was reality. I was in a soft bed, the fragrant scent of flowers was wafting in on a breeze through some unseen window.
“Are you alright?” The pretty girl said. Her voice was... fuzzy. I couldn't understand why, she was right there. Maybe she had some kind of speech impediment. Poor thing. My eyes wandered away, taking in details. There was a older, matronly woman who stood nearby. She looked like she had a no-nonsense air about her and looked like she had seen more of the world than she cared to. And there was Sembas and Fenwick.. and... wait, Sembas and Fenwick!? And there was that guy who there was two of!
My memory chose this moment to check in with me. The tent, the Seer, the portal, Avalon, the searing pain and collapsing on the street. Avalon! That place tried to kill me! Thank the Symphony they had the foresight to get me away from Avalon before waking me up! Maybe I had given them too little credit. I checked for the Song again.. wait.. everything was there in equal measure. That shouldn't happen unless I was on another leyline nexus. Did they take me to ANOTHER place in the world where all the Songs were present? AND they brought Fenwick and Sembas with them?
I sat bolt upright in the bed to look out the nearby window. There they were, shining buildings glittering in the sunlight. Noble bastions of... whatever this place stood for. I was still in Avalon. But why wasn't I in pain? Why was the Song so distant? Why...? Why was there something on my head? I brought my hands up to my ears and found something fuzzy. Higher still and there was a band over my head. Earmuffs? And they were huge! Nearly covering the whole side of my head. Was THIS blocking out the Song? That can't be possible!
I noticed everyone was looking at me in amused silence. I didn't care really. I turned back to the red-head. “I'm... fine. thanks” I said, confused. “But that can't be right. I should be in severe pain right now.”
-
“But that can't be right. I should be in severe pain right now,” says Faran.
The red-headed woman’s soft laughter fills the air again. She is not laughing at you, but seems to find your incredulity amusing. She reaches down a delicate, slender hand and smoothes the hair from Faran’s brow. Her touch is gentle and you feel at ease in her presence. “You poor dear. You must have had quite a day. My name is Adeline Muse. You fainted in the street and Dethys and your companions brought you here to Hestia.” She gestures to the older woman who gives a slight nod of acknowledgment and a comforting smile.
“I must admit,” confesses Muse. “That while I know a great deal about songs in general, I am not very familiar with your particular brand of music, so to speak. I know that you are in tune with the leylines…”
“Yes,” speaks Hestia. “The leylines must be very strong here for his body to react in such a way.”
Muse offers a sympathetic smile. “That device upon your ears should help, but I should caution you against removing them while you are here. Though they aren’t exactly the most fashionable, they should serve their purpose. Perhaps I can find something more suitable in the mean time.”
“Is he alright then?” questions Dethys. “We mustn’t keep the General waiting any further.”
Hestia nods. “I’ll give him something to ensure that he has recovered his strength.” She crosses to a cabinet in the corner of the room and returns with a small, stone goblet. “Here, dear. Drink deep.” She presses the goblet to Faran’s lips and tilts it forward.
When the sweet, amber liquid hits your tastebuds, it is unlike anything you have ever had before. It is far more delicious than anything you have come across in your entire life, and tastes of the nectar of the gods. This sweet ambrosia not only soothes any residual pain your body may be containing, but cleanses your mind and your very soul until you enjoy a sense of unparalleled renewal.
“This, like that contraption upon your head, works on a ‘soul’ level as opposed to a physical level,” explains Hestia. “But if you feel you are having any trouble, I mean any trouble at all, you come on back and I will see to you again.” She offers you a genuine smile and you are quite certain this must be the kindliest older woman you have ever met.
Muse helps you to your feet and you notice Dethys dismissing two strangers you had not seen before. The young man and woman, who you correctly surmise are his apprentices, each give a polite nod to you before disappearing down the glass hallway that leads to this recovery ward.
While Hestia remains in the recovery ward to clean up her work area, Dethys and Muse accompany you back through the healer’s home and onto the streets of Avalon. Muse gives each of you, including Dethys, a quick peck upon the cheek before parting ways with you.
“She’s a darling that one,” explains Dethys. “Such a sweet girl. She’s been here about three hundred years or so, and she never seems to play the same song twice. Carina loves to watch her play.” Dethys’s face falls when he mentions this Carina woman. “I shall have to introduce you to the missus and my little lad, Laertan, sometime.”
“Onward, shall we?” Dethys bids you follow him as he continues to lead you through the streets of Avalon. It is not long before you arrive at your destination.
This building sticks out like a sore thumb in the grandeur of Avalon. While every other aspect of the city is a picture of excess, the enormous building before you, stretches towards the sky with mundane, gray, simplicity. It is a modest building that lacks the ostentatious qualities of those that surround it.
Dethys continues through the front gates, where several armed guards in crimson armor bow respectfully as he enters. As you pass through the doorway you realize that the interior of this building is quite unusual.
The view from the outside implied that this place was scarcely larger than many of the mansions you passed, yet the interior is far greater than you imagined. For starters, there is an enormous stone walkway that stretches out before you, serving as a bridge over some rapid, churning waters below. You can see several other massive buildings ahead. Dethys points to a steel gray building and conversationally tells you it is the headquarters of The Fierce Legion, under the charge of one Lieutenant Cedric Fierce. Dethys tells you that The Fierce Legion is one of several companies belonging to the Bulwark of Heaven.
Though the home of The Fierce Legion is quite inspiring in its magnanimity, your destination is an impressive scarlet and gold building, looming in the distance. You can tell right away that this is a place of incredible power, enough that the fine hairs on your arms stand on end at viewing such a place.
“That is the headquarters of The Blood-Wardens, General Fury’s own company,” informs Dethys as he points towards the scarlet edifice. He leads you over a second bridge that will lead to the gates of the Blood-Warden base.
As you begin to cross the second bridge, you see several heavily armored people farther down the path. One stands out more than the others and you realize it is a woman, clad in gleaming, silver chainmail.
As you begin to make out more of her features, you realize she exudes an air of dignity and a command for respect. Her light brown hair is tied back into a neat bun, and her expression is impassive as her stormy gray eyes pass over each one of you before finally settling on Dethys.
You immediately notice that your appointed mentor’s face instantly becomes pale, and the usual good humor he portrays is squelched by the paralyzing look of ire that the woman sets firmly upon his face. The woman starts towards you, and you can judge by the expression she bears that she has bodily harm in mind.
“Uh oh,” mutters Dethys and he quickly scurries behind Sembas, hoping that the falconer will keep him firmly out of harm’s way.
“YOU!” the woman roars. Her voice erupts from her pretty lips and effectively silences everyone in the immediate area. Whether you consciously realize it or not, you are easily intimidated by her presence. “YOU GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW YOU SIMPERING, FOOLHARDY HORSE’S ASS!”
Dethys sheepishly emerges from his hiding place behind Sembas. “Uh… hello there, Blood.”
“Don’t you ‘Hello, Blood” me! It is Captain Blood while I am on duty, Dethys Night! As you should be! But apparently you've been shirking your duties yet again. This is just like the time you were to build a carriage for the Archon and instead decided to teach your potted plants some imaginary language!"
"Pig Latin is not an imaginary language!" corrects Dethys indignantly.
"Where is your sense of duty?" questions Blood. "Of honor? Have you any idea how bloody the front lines have been? Severan..." she practically spits his name out. "Has been recruiting more and more young ones. Though the Archon has managed to sway several back to the cause of righteousness, we've been forced to slaughter dozens of them because Severan's hold is so strong. You were charged with finding some way to intercept them before he did. And what have you accomplished? Nothing, I should venture! Because YOU are a terrible procrastinator!"
"That's not true!" protests Dethys, shaking his head in disagreement. "I was able to get to these three! And there may still be more on the way!"
"Well, that's a start, Dethys... But the road of your good intentions are often paved with blood and... and eyebrows!" shouts Blood. "You really need to revise some of your methods. Sending the Young Ones to the Seer was a good idea, don't get me wrong, but what did you do to protect them along the way?"
"I gave Sigils of Protection to the ones that needed them."
"But would it not have been safer if you would have escorted them yourself?" argues Blood. "What is so important that you would risk their lives?" Blood throws up her hands in exasperation and begins pacing like a caged wolf. "I’ve heard reports that you were scouting the Forsaken encampment in Farrostel! Did you even bother to see if anyone tailed you back here? Or did you simply march into their camp and hand them the map to Avalon!”
“Adia, could you quiet your voice,” whispers Dethys urgently. “The General doesn’t exactly know I…”
“Of course not!” exclaims the woman. “Because if she did, she’d likely throttle you herself! And on that note, give me one good reason I shouldn’t march into her offices and tell her right now!”
“Uhm… I… Well, I haven’t really got a good reason for you. But trust me… It was well worth the trip.”
She seizes him roughly by the ear and pulls him towards her. “Are you out of your mind, Dethys?!”
“Uh… Adi… I mean… Captain… Why don’t we discuss this privately? But not too privately. A few witnesses certainly wouldn’t hurt in case you… well.”
Blood appears disgusted but acquiesces to Dethys’s wish. “Very well.” She turns to regard the three of you. “Sorry, gentleman.” Her apology seems sincere, and though she just got done ripping into your mentor, you get a feeling the relationship between these two is far more complicated than you can fathom. “This is a discussion best kept private.”
“Go on, lads,” says Dethys. “Head on up to the gates. I’ll be with you in a few moments.” He gestures for you to proceed on your way towards the headquarters of the Blood-Wardens.
As you depart, you can hear Blood continue to admonish Dethys as he attempts to assuage her anger.
-
Leaving the irate Captain and the pitiable Dethys behind gave me a moment for contemplation. Captain Blood was the woman who rescued my villagers? I have to thank this woman for doing so at some point. That will not be a pleasant experience.
We walked a bit of a ways away from the tirade behind us. All of us glad to be away from that, I wagered. I realized this was the first moment that we weren't under any supervision. Now might be a good time to talk things over with Sembas and Fenwick. I walked ahead of them to get their attention.
“Gentlemen.” I said in a conspiratorial manner. “It seems we are alone for a moment. I realize I've been a bit taciturn, however I'm hoping we can use this opportunity to make our intentions known to each other, so we can foster a working relationship. In the spirit of goodwill, I will go first.”
I stopped in the street. “I'm here to fight the Forsaken.” I said. “I abhor the strong oppressing the weak anywhere. I've seen it before and I won't allow it to happen if I can help it.” I paused and went on. “That being said, I find myself in the awkward position of wanting to have little to do with these Ageless. Some of them, I think, may be insane.” I rolled my eyes at the shouting for both example and effect. “This is awkward for me, because I already owe them several times over. I won't go into details so I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask. Anyway, I wish to be gone from Avalon as soon as possible and on task. I realize this may take some time, so it is my intent to do the least they wish of me. I'm here to fight Forsaken, not kiss some elder Ageless's ass.”
“That's the short of it anyway. I think we have little time before Sir Dethys catches us up.”
-
Leaving Dethys behind to be further emasculated, Fenwick took the short time to compress and digest everything that had happened and what he had to do sometime soon.
First, find Fury and speak with Cleo if possible. Second, Faran looked so peaceful when he was unconcious, as if gripped by death. Would he be like that too? Third, that was Blood. That was freaking Blood. No wonder no one could get past her. Finally, Blood and eyebrows were connected. Was that missing eyebrow of that Serenity girl... from her?
*Oh yes. Possibly.*
And this voice. There was some kind of voice in his head. He had initially ignored it, thinking it was his own imagination. But when he was asked for his impression of Avalon by Hestia, he had an urge to blurt out some description of it. Thing was... he hadn't thought of anything of what he was compelled to say. It had just... appeared. Lucky for him, Sembas had replied.
*Lucky? Hmm, I wouldn't say so. Think of the possible reactons*.
He took his book out from his robe sleeve. Was it... the book?
*Me? The book? No. Of course not.*
Then...
Everything stopped when Faran spoke of his plan and intentions.
“...That's the short of it anyway. I think we have little time before Sir Dethys catches us up.”
Admirable intentions, but was his action the right thing to do?
"Well in their defence it has been hundreds of years for them, fighting the same battle. But, are you implying that you'll go off on your own the first chance you have? It might be more in your favour if you stick with us..." He respectfully points to Sembas and Faile with open palms. "Faile's sight and hearing is incredible. She can help spot danger and possible targets from miles away. That will cut out your hunting time too."
"But if that's not what you meant, I apologise." Fenwick bows slightly. "Personally, I'm interested in both the Ageless and the Forsaken. The Ageless have made a choice, while the Forsaken have made theirs. I want to know what decisions they are. Knowledge is what I live and once died for." His thoughts drift over to the murder of his parents. "Perhaps..." He speaks in a slightly softer volume. "I'll Find those who killed my parents... Oh, but nevermind that. The greater good of the system is what I wish for..."
'The one, or ones, will find you.' Cleo had said. She had also said that he wouldn't be able to kill them. But, the future was not fixed. He could still change it.
He brightens up as he turns to Sembas and Faile, addressing them both. "And what about you? You don't seem to have known of this place at all, as I have not either."
-
Hestia mentions her husband and Sembas realizes just how long these people have been alive. Their friends and loved ones would have passed very long ago. He strokes Faile's feathers absentmindedly, her constant presence calming him a bit.
He is intrigued by Hestia and Dethys as they share a secret once he mentions all the blasted sand.
“Don’t worry about the sand, dear. Soon enough, you will be in for quite a surprise. Do not worry. I think it will be to your liking, assuming the Seer decides upon an adequate arrangement.”
"Well, I certainly hope she does."
A beautiful red-head walks into the room and tends to Faran. Lucky bloke. Although, once she places the ridiculous ear muffs on his head he isn't sure how lucky he really is...
Faile bristles when Muse pecks Sembas on the check. He blushes slightly, and quickly pulls his hood over his head. Faile shakes her head at him almost disappointedly.
They travel through an odd building that houses more room than it leads on. Once they reach the Blood-Wardens Dethys becomes quite nervous...
Dethys scurries behind Sembas. The falconer worridly looks anywhere in the room but at Blood. Faile was squawking and flapping her wings in disapproval.
“YOU!”
Sembas's eyes latch squarely onto Blood. He didn't want to look at her. Meeting her stare might result in a great deal of pain, but he couldn't help it. Faile immediately stopped all her commotion and was standing stock still, wings flared and beak hanging half open.
Dethys comes out from behind his back, thankfully. Sembas did not want to be caught between those two. Both he and Faile let out a breath in relief when Dethys and Blood shoo them off to the gates to wait while they squabble.
Along the way, Faran finally opens up a bit, and speaks his intentions. Fenwick counts in his own, then asks Sembas of his.
"To be honest, I don't have a care but to live in the mountains with Faile for the rest of my life, as long as it may now be. But it seems that we've all been tossed into some sort of war. There is a lot I don't uderstand about what is going on here, but what I do understand is that these Forsaken are threatening the peace and safety of our world, and it seems that we have received the power to fight them."
He looks to Faran, "Regardless of whether or not we stay in Avalon, I do hope you will help us fight the Forsaken. Fenwick is right. There is power in numbers. As eccentric as these people may be, they all seem to have incredible wisdom and power. They know far too much about Faile and I for us to just turn away from them.
"No, for now I will be following along until things start to make more sense. I hope you do too as well, Faran, for all our sakes."
-
The three of you arrive at the gates that lead to the Blood-Warden base. Two intimidating young men, who appear to be in their mid-20’s, stand at either side of the entrance.
The shorter of the two men is still quite tall in his own right, easily standing at about 6’4’’. He is clad in shining, gold platemail and though his expression is quite kindly, it is easy to assume this is not the sort of man you want to tangle with. There is an enormous greatsword fastened to a breakaway hilt upon his back. It is an impressive piece of craftsmanship, and denotes his status amongst his people.
This is obviously someone important, so you might wonder why he is charged with the relatively mundane task of guarding a gate. His deep, blonde bangs sweep the tops of his chiseled cheekbones, though the back of his mane is a little longer. His blue eyes have a laughing quality to them and despite the fact he is clearly dangerous, you feel at ease near him.
He raises a hand to stop you. “Hello, gentleman. You are obviously new here. I notice that you have no escort, thus, I must apologize that you will not be allowed passage until your paperwork is in order.”
The mountainous man on the other side of the gate lumbers towards you and takes his place at his companion’s side. This second man is nearly seven feet tall and is clad in dark brown leathers. His armor lacks sleeves, thus revealing his massive biceps, which are adorned with dark, black tribal tattoos. As he crosses his arms over his chest, his well-sculpted muscles tense considerably. He glances over each one of you suspiciously, and you find that his piercing green eyes are a bit unsettling. They appear more feral than human and there is a certain barbarian wildness to his manner. There is a huge, silver, greataxe fastened to his back and you get the impression that he certainly knows how to use it.
He says nothing but gives a short grunt when the blonde-haired man whispers something into his ear.
“So, if you have no escort, we are going to have to ask you to depart,” speaks the blonde man, and his companion nods slowly in approval.
Dethys, a sheepish smile upon his face, rejoins you. He glances at all of you apologetically. “I assure you that she is actually a pleasant woman. It seems that I just know all the ways to inadvertently irritate her.”
“Adia Blood is the Captain of The Blood-Wardens, and was appointed by the General herself,” he explains. “She takes her duties VERY seriously. She is completely fixated on the greater good and will do just about ANYTHING to protect ANYONE. Hence, why she is so irritated with me right now.”
He laughs in amusement. “In fact, she’s petitioning to have my apprentices assigned to another Ageless. Ever since Serenity lost her eyebrows in my last experiment, Blood has been haranguing me to ensure safer working conditions for my charges. Personally, I seem to think that the means justify the ends, but not Blood… not Blood.” He smiles and you note that despite their conflicts, the two must be quite close. “But she is in a far more difficult position than I. While I orchestrate from the background, she is always on the front lines.”
“We took a few losses on the front lines,” speaks the blonde-haired man. “Dignity fell in battle.”
Dethys turns his attention to the two guards at the gate, as if noticing them for the first time. He looks upon both young men, and as he beams at them, the larger one’s expression softens considerably.
“Hello there, boys!” greets Dethys warmly. “I see you arrived back safely.”
The dark-haired young man nods, and when he speaks, his voice comes out in a low rumble. “Yes, Uncle… we have… But Father is yet on his way.”
The blonde man nods in agreement. “Yes. Thus far, there has been no word from him in a few days. Mother is on pins awaiting some correspondence.”
“I am sorry to hear about Dignity, Corvus.” Dethys pats the blonde-haired young man on the shoulder. “You have my condolences. I know you were close.”
The blonde man nods appreciatively but appears to be too affected to say any more.
Noting his discomfort, Dethys changes the subject. “Is your mum inside?” asks Dethys.
The larger man nods. “Yes, Uncle.”
Dethys claps his hands together. “Good!”
He puts an arm over each man’s shoulder. It looks rather awkward as one is nearly a foot taller than the other. Looking from one to man to the other, he introduces all of you. “Lads, these are Fenwick, Faran and Sembas. And of course you know Faile.”
The larger man smiles widely at the mention of Faile. He immediately puts out his gargantuan arm and the falcon lands upon his bare wrist as if she had spent time there before. The man appears unperturbed by the talons that dig into his flesh.
His words are slow and deliberate, as if he is not used to speaking much. “Hello there, littlest chick.” He gently strokes her under her chin and she coos in approval.
“This here is Dennan Justice,” says Dethys, introducing the human giant. Dethys looks to Sembas. “Dennan here was present when Faile and her kin hatched. He and Archer saw that they were tended after their birth. Until Faile struck out on her own anyway.” He winks at Faile as she flies back to Sembas.
The man named Dennan nods. “Yes. She was the littlest chick in the nursery. But she has grown strong in her years from here.” He pats Sembas on the shoulder, and though it was meant as a friendly gesture, this man must be unaware of his own strength, as he nearly topples the falconer. He mutters an apology before he continues. “Sembas, is it? You have done well for the littlest chick. You have my utmost respect for caring for her.”
Dethys pats the blonde man upon the shoulder. “This, lads, is Corvus Virtue. He and Dennan are brothers. Don’t let the looks fool you. Corvus and Dennan are actually twins. These are the sons of the General and the Archon. They’re a bit of an anomaly of sorts.”
Corvus blushes considerably. “Uncle…”
“What? You are!” says Dethys. “They’re… special. You see, as an Ageless, you have VERY little chances of ever reproducing. Unfortunately, that’s a bit of a trade-off for our special condition. In addition, any child born of an Ageless parent is inevitably mortal.” As Dethys makes this last statement his gaze becomes distant and the two young men shift uncomfortably. Dethys quickly shakes his head to dispel whatever disturbing thought had momentarily bothered him. His normal grin is replaced upon his face. “But not these louts!” He ruffles Corvus’s hair but has to jump a bit to reach Dennan’s.
“Anyway! It’s a hell of a story! You should ask them about it sometime!” smiles Dethys. “Now, lads. These blokes are with me, so I’m just going to take them inside to have them meet with your mum. Why don’t you run ahead and let her know we’re coming?”
The young men nod obediently and open the gates, but maintain they should not leave the passage unattended.
Blood appears behind Sembas. “I’ll take care of it boys,” she assures.
Corvus grins up at his brother with youthful exuberance present upon his face. “Alright. I’ll race you there, Denny!”
Dennan grunts in approval and the two take off at a breakneck pace. They are nearly twenty yards away when Dennan Justice seamlessly shapeshifts into an intimidating dire wolf and manages to pull ahead of his brother.
“That’s cheating!” Corvus shouts after him, as they both disappear down the corridor.
“So… Today has been… eventful. Okay, some things that I should probably tell you if you didn’t already know, which some of it you likely didn’t, unless of course you did, then…” Dethys smacks his palm against his forehead. “Sorry. I’ve been working on an experiment and haven’t slept in a few weeks. It begins to wear on you after awhile. Though sleep isn't really necessary for me, I do enjoy the occasional reprieve from consciousness.”
Somewhere behind you, Bloods shouts, "That can be arranged!"
Dethys shudders. “At any rate, General Fury is the leader of The Bulwark of Heaven and is the beloved of the Archon. She answers only to him, and the Archon answers only to the Divine. The Bulwark is a collection of us Ageless who are the most proactive in seeing that the Forsaken are kept at bay.”
“Often, we fight on the front lines, and when we are not embroiled in conflict with the forces of the adversary, it is our duty to ensure that humanity is protected. The security of humanity is our utmost concern, and we lay down life and limb for each other and the preservation of our human cousins. The Forsaken seem to have forgotten that they, too, were once human. They have abandoned their roots, and under Severan’s leadership, have come to detest the very people they once called their friends and family.”
“Though the Bulwark is composed of several factions within the Ageless society, we also have found great allies in many mortal partners, such as The Crimson Wolves. In fact, they are out on a rather important mission for the Bulwark now.”
“Any Ageless in Avalon, and even some who never make it here, enjoy the protection of the Bulwark. However, not everyone is recruited into the Bulwark. The Bulwark of Heaven orchestrates very important movements and knows many secrets that the majority of Ageless are not privy to. There are many Elders, including myself, that serve as officers in the Bulwark, but upon occasion, if a Childer Ageless proves himself or herself, or has exceptional aptitude, General Fury recruits them into the Bulwark.”
“This is why we can’t simply trust EVERYONE to be a member of the Bulwark. I take my instructions from the General, as do all in the Bulwark. Of all the Ageless, she is the oldest, save for the Archon himself. She is a brilliant tactician, a relentless warrior, a just, wise person, and the best friend I have ever had. I would follow her to the Adversary’s front door if she bid me to do so.”
“But the Bulwark isn’t for everybody. There are always risks involved, though I find the benefits and camaraderie far outweigh the negatives. For example, you will be able to train with the most elite of our order, and should you become an active part of Ageless society, especially in Avalon, you will undergo the Naming Ceremony. When you prove yourself worthy, you will receive an Ageless name that reflects something about you. Mine, of course, is Night. When you are given this name, you will also receive The Blessing of the Archon, a great power that only he may bestow upon you through the will of the Divine.”
“However, despite what you are addressed as, you must always retain your human first name. It is our link to our pasts and reminds us of what we are fighting to protect.”
“Now, there is much more to it, but the reason I am telling you all this is because when you meet the General, she will determine whether or not you will be a suitable candidate for the Bulwark. Regardless of your response, we will continue to work with you, should you choose to accept our aid.”
“However, should you choose to join the Bulwark, if the offer is made, it will be far easier for us to aid you, and through your interactions with the Elders of our society, so will your might and power grow. The Bulwark of Heaven is comprised of the most elite of our order: the strongest, the wisest, the most intelligent, the most skilled, and the greatest leaders.”
“ However, it must be your decision if you wish to join us. Even if you side with the Bulwark, no one will ever force you to do anything you are opposed to. However, there must be order and cooperation for us to succeed. We all depend upon each other, and thus, you must be willing to follow the advice of the Elders.”
“Do you all understand? Do you have any questions before we proceed to the offices of General Fury?”
-
"I appreciate your being forward with us, Sir Dethys." That was the most useful and relevant bit of information I'd heard since coming here, I thought. "I have no questions."
-
Fenwick shakes his head.
"No, Dethys. Lead us on."
*Yes, my old friend. please do.*
The voice makes him jump.
"Oh, when can we next speak with you again? Cleo said that you may be interested in talking with me, but I myself have a few of my own questions."
-
Sembas is quite shocked when Faile flaps over to the giant's arm. He winces as her talons dig into his flesh. It was not often that he wasn't wearing the thick leather gauntlet on his arm, but the few times he had to hold her without it was quite painful. Unconciously, Sembas rubs his forearm, remembering the scars that still linger.
“This here is Dennan Justice... Dennan here was present when Faile and her kin hatched. He and Archer saw that they were tended after their birth. Until Faile struck out on her own anyway.”
"I must thank you for taking care of Faile so very well." Sembas says with a nod to the large man as Faile lands on his arm once again.
Dennan's big hand nearly topples Sembas over, catching him off guard. Golden eyes going a little wide, he rights himself and responds to the large man's remark of respect.
"Thank you. I've done my best caring for her, and she has returned the favor just as well."
Twins, Ageless twins. That must be quite a wonder. Sembas felt some appreciation for Dennan, noticing his leather armor and rustic nature. If he could feel at home with the Ageless then there must be a place for Sembas as well.
Blood appears behind Sembas, “I’ll take care of it boys.” He nearly jumps out of his boots at hearing her voice and Faile flaps her wings for a moment. This woman will take some getting used to...
Their apprehension is quickly forgotten when Dennan shifts into a dire wolf mid stride. Sembas stares after him, having never seem anything like that before.
Dethys explains a great deal about the Bulwark. Finally the reason they are here is uncovered.
"Yes, Dethys, things are quite clear now. Please, lets proceed."
-
Dethys smiles warmly and places a hand upon Fenwick’s shoulder. “Soon, lad, soon. As soon as we check in with the General, we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Come on, lads.”
Dethys bids you to follow him through the main corridor, which leads to an expansive, wide-open, grand reception room. All of the Blood-Warden décor is done in vibrant hues of red, bold blacks and glittering golds. Their flag is suspended over the entrance to the reception room and depicts a clenched, gauntleted, black fist closed over the hilt of a sword. At the top of the staircase is an immense gold and ivory shield that is adorned with the image of a tower upon a hill. You correctly surmise that this is the symbol for The Bulwark of Heaven.
Dethys leads you up the staircase to a room that is situated at the top of the stairs. There are two heavy, massive, crimson doors that stand like sentinels in front of this room, but as Dethys snaps his fingers, they swing inward quite easily, as if they were willed to do so by a slight breeze.
This large room is not nearly as grandiose as the reception room, but it is impressive in its own right. The black, marble floors possess an eye-catching sheen, and several of the crimson walls are occupied by retired weapons that, despite their pristine condition, were once used quite heavily. A fire burns at the far end of the room, further illuminating the watchful figure that is seated at the handcrafted obsidian desk.
The figure is flanked by two familiar ones and you see Dennan and Corvus give a slight nod of acknowledgment at your arrival. The woman before you rises from her chair and you realize that General Fury exudes an aura that commands respect. She is nearly 6’3’’ and wears a suit of heavy crimson plate. Protruding from the pauldrons of this suit of armor are large, black spikes. You see smaller versions of these upon her finely-made gauntlets.
Her expression is stern, but not unkind. She does not speak right away, but looks towards you with a single, dark brown, penetrating eye. Her death wound is obvious. She wears an armored eyepatch over her right eye to protect the source of her weakness. Despite the fact this wound is so apparent, you correctly guess that someone would have a difficult time getting close enough to inflict a second wound there.
“Gentleman,” she greets in an even voice. “Dethys.”
“What? I’m not a gentleman?” quips Dethys.
The General frowns at her friend, but you see a hint of amusement gather at the corners of her lips. “Rarely.”
Dethys smirks at her reply. “How are you, dear?”
“As good as can be expected. As the boys have likely told you, we are still waiting for further news from the front lines,” informs Fury.
“Lads.” Dethys turns to the three of you. “This is General Fury, she is the leader of The Blood-Wardens and the head of The Bulwark of Heaven.”
Fury gives a polite nod, then begins to walk towards you. She stops in front of Sembas first, her gaze panning from you to Faile. She extends her hand to you in greeting.
“Sembas Filden. I am honored to meet you. I hope your journey went well.” After hearing your response, if any, she turns her attention to Faile and her expression softens considerably. “Welcome back, Faile.”
She goes to Fenwick next, and as she stops before you, the rune upon your forehead erupts with light. Fury glances at Dethys who merely responds with a knowing smirk. Fury appears amused and pats you upon the shoulder. “Fenwick Hux. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival. Cleo has told me much about you.” Fury gestures to an obsidian orb in the back corner of the room. It looks a great deal like the one in the Seer’s possession. “It is a pleasure to meet you. If you are even half as capable of Cleo mentions, you will get along quite well here.”
Finally, Fury stops before Faran. “Faran Beshral. I heard you had a bit of trouble acclimating to Avalon. ‘Tis a pity, but I see that Muse has aided you in that regard. The fact of the matter is Avalon simply isn’t for everyone.” When she meets your gaze you feel as if she is staring right through your soul.
She glances back to Sembas. “But I assure you, Sembas, the sand is not often a concern, though it seems the Seer often prefers warmer climates.”
You’re not quite sure how she knows about your previous statement, but as you ponder this, she offers you a good-natured wink before leaning against her desk.
“I trust Dethys has told you the reason for your visit here. I will-” She suddenly stops speaking and looks towards the door. Her eye widens and she shares a look with Dethys.
Moments later, another woman enters the room. Her chocolate brown hair falls past her shoulders and her hazel eyes are firmly set upon General Fury. She is quite beautiful and her movements are graceful. There is a certain wildness about her and she looks like she would be very comfortable in a forest. She is clad in dark brown leather armor and there is an impressive bow slung over one of her slender shoulders. You can also see several pouches and a knife attached to her belt, and as she moves forward, you see a second, larger knife strapped to her calf.
Most curious, perhaps, is the companion that rides upon her shoulder. He is a large falcon, only slightly larger than Faile. His gaze, too, is firmly set upon the General, but as he passes by Sembas and Faile, his head whips around and his gold-rimmed eyes seems to grow wider. He almost appears to shake his head in disbelief and reluctantly turns his attention back towards the General.
The woman stops in front of Fury and gives a slight bow. “Fury, I bring news from the front.”
Fury appears anxious for a moment, but her nervous expression is quickly expelled from her serious visage. “Let’s hear it, Archer.”
“We’ve managed to send the Forsaken running for the hills. At least for the time being. We have endured some loss. Dignity…” Archer offers a sympathetic look to Corvus as she utters the name. “I am sure you already heard about.”
Fury puts her hand upon her son’s shoulder. “Yes. Please continue Archer.”
“And Shameless. His Death Wound was struck shortly before I left. Respite has also left our ranks. She died bravely though, just as she always said she would.”
Fury nods, processing the information she has just been given, and there is a hint of sadness in her expression, though you get the feeling she is repressing far more emotion than she will let on. “Have you had any contact with my husband?”
Archer shifts uncomfortably. “No… Not in several days. He ordered us to hold position while he and his company pursued the fleeing Forsaken. We have not seen him since.”
Fury nods slowly and chances a look back at her sons, both of whom appear crestfallen. “Is Bran with him still?” she asks.
Archer smiles widely. “No. He is quite well, actually.”
Right on cue, a young man in his early teens enters the room. There is an enormous broadsword strapped to his back, along with a very impressive shield that depicts the silhouette of a raven. He is clad in heavy plate armor, which is quite unusual as he does not appear large enough or strong enough to carry it. However, he wears it well and comes tearing across the distance between him and the General. He effortlessly closes the gap and launches himself at Fury who receives him with open arms. A rare smile comes to reside upon her face as she kisses the top of the boy’s head.
The twins come forward and you see Corvus take the young man into a headlock and mess up the young man’s shaggy, black hair. “Welcome back, little brother,” greets Corvus warmly.
Even Dennan smiles as he scoops the boy up into his arms in a brotherly bear hug. The boy lets out a slight “Oomph!” as Dennan squeezes a bit too tightly.
“Sorry,” apologizes Dennan, releasing the boy from his grasp.
The boy looks up at you and you see that he has the same, piercing blue eyes as his brother Corvus, but the same calm, serious demeanor as his brother Dennan.
“Ah!” Dethys looks to the three of you and speaks quietly as not to disturb this reunion. “That is Bran Thane. He is not an Ageless… Yet… But if he follows in the footsteps of his family, he very well may be. You see, the Archon and the General, in all their years, have only ever borne three children, all of whom are in this room. Corvus and Dennan became Ageless when they reached 25. That is a story in and of itself!”
“This lad is the youngest son, Bran. Because he is not an Ageless, he has retained his father’s mortal surname. A good boy, and well-loved. Though he’s mortal, he’s quite capable. He’s been serving upon the front lines, under the watchful eyes of his father, of course.”
Fury takes all three of her sons into an embrace and speaks gently to them. “Boys, it is getting a bit crowded in here and I have some matters to attend to. Corvus. Dennan. Will you please take Bran back down to the armory and have Smith repair his belongings.”
The two elder boys give an obedient nod before escorting their younger brother from the room. As he passes you, Bran gives a polite bow to the three of you and hugs Dethys, before disappearing through the doors again. Archer, too, departs, but not before glancing in Sembas’s direction and offering a sweet smile. The falcon upon her shoulder flaps his wings and calls out to Faile in their native tongue.
This must be Besnik. It appears a challenge has been made!
Fury regards all of you quietly for a moment, before continuing on with your original course of business. “I am sure that Dethys has already told you a bit about our organization, but I will tell you what you need to know about the intentions of The Bulwark of Heaven. Simply put, we are humanity’s first and last line of defense. While the Adversary and all of those under his command, including the Forsaken, endeavor to destroy our human cousins, we find it is our duty to protect them. The strong are obligated to protect the weak, and thus we do all we can to protect others.”
“The Bulwark consists of Ageless who are of this mindset, and allies who have joined our cause. We have representation from several human organizations, and we are even in works with the Chosen of Alviss, a people that humans often refer to as dwarves. There are others as well, but you may have the opportunity to meet them in due time. Though we hail from different backgrounds, we are all unified by our need to squelch those who would intentionally harm others.”
“That is the primary motivation of The Bulwark of Heaven. We thrive upon cooperation, and each member is willing to lay down their life for their brethren. It is dangerous work, as we are very proactive in ensuring the security of our people. However, I would hazard to say that the protection and peace of mind we bring to others is easily worth any danger we face.”
“Our particular branch is composed predominantly of Elder Ageless, but upon occasion, we accept members of… exceptional ability. Childer Ageless such as yourselves still have much to learn, but we shepherd those who are willing and aid them in reaching the height of their potential. I will speak with each of you individually to determine your aptitude, and if I determine you can hold your own, I will offer you entrance into the Bulwark, should you desire to aid our cause.”
-
Sembas removes his hood as they enter the large crimson doors. Hiding his face would be disrespectful at such a time.
"General Fury, an honor as well." He says in greeting as they shake hands. The woman towered over him, the spikes on her armor reach above his head. Faile gives a deep nod when she is addressed.
“But I assure you, Sembas, the sand is not often a concern, though it seems the Seer often prefers warmer climates.”
He returns her wink with a satisfied smile. Thank goodness. He was getting used to everyone here knowing more about him than they should, and he expected no less from General Fury.
She cuts off mid sentence and shares a look with Dethys. Faile gives a little chirp, alerting Sembas to someone entering the room behind them. As he turns around he is surprised by the woman who walks through the door. He immediately notices the falcon on her shoulder, and he could feel the anticipation and excitement coming from Faile. Without even asking her he knew that this was Besnik. Leaving the falcon to Faile, Sembas eyed the woman he was perched on. Of all the women here, this one would be giving Sembas some trouble. Judging by the cut of her armor and the bow over her shoulders she could probably teach him a few things about the wilderness. He wouldn't mind spending a night in the woods with her...
As the pair walks by Besnik is surprised to see Faile sitting on Sembas's shoulder. Faile meets his eyes and doesn't stop watching him the whole time he is in front of her.
Sembas couldn't stop staring at Archer, even when Bran enters the room. When she leaves and smiles at him he can't help but return a big toothy grin... Ever the charmer.
As Besnik calls out to Faile, she stands up straight and flaps her wings in return. She calls back a bit more shrewdly. Sembas covers his mouth as he chuckles once the display is over.
"Now, now. No need to be rude!" He speaks into her mind.
She shuffles her feathers and shakes her head, collecting herself again, before turning back towards General Fury.
The General explains more about the Bulwark. Sembas is reminded of the day he was recruited to the militia, so many years ago. He finds himself in a similar position today. Having the strength to protect others brings with it a large degree of responsibility. But instead of protecting a little village in the shadow of the mountains he has been thrust into a war. A war that has been going on before his father's father was born...
His thoughts drift back to the cut or Archer's armor... and the way it hugged her curves... Faile playfully headbutts the side of his head and he blushes, remembering the seriousness of the situation.
-
While Dethys escorts Fenwick and Faran out of Fury’s offices, the General bids Sembas to remain in her company for yet awhile longer. She seats herself behind the impressive, obsidian desk and gestures for him to have a seat in the large, intricately carved, black, wooden chair across from her. The crimson cushions are plush and comfortable, and despite the magnanimity of the woman before you, you feel quite at ease in her presence.
“Sembas, I do not think that I have to tell you your prior experience with the militia makes you an excellent candidate to aid The Bulwark of Heaven, but it is a choice that you, and you alone may make. It requires your willingness to aid others, and the desire to benefit from the wisdom of the Ageless Elders.”
“I can see great potential in you, Sembas, and would like to extend you an invitation to join The Bulwark of Heaven. It is dangerous work, but it is honest work. Whether you join our ranks or not, the Bulwark will persist. However, you are one of the few that have the opportunity to help us change the tide in our favor.”
“Fenwick will be made the same offer that you are, but your other companion, Faran, will not be extended this offer. He has already voiced his desire to leave Avalon as soon as possible, and he does not care to benefit from the wisdom of the Elders.”
“You see, I am in the unique position of being able to read the motivations of others. I can see the natures of their hearts and the desires of their souls. Often, it aids me in my pursuits, but at times, it can be a great burden. I have found that your companion, Faran, resents authority, and those more powerful than himself, and thus, would only cause harm to our organization.”
Fury sighs heavily, and you can tell that Faran’s unwillingness to cooperate pains her. “Unfortunately, by leaving Avalon, and our protection, he is condemning himself to the hands of the Forsaken. Should he continue to pursue his independence so fervently, Severan Deceit WILL find him, of this I am sure. I wish we could continue to protect him, but our resources must be allocated to those that need them most, and he has willingly shirked our aid.”
Fury steeples her index fingers before her and leans forward on her elbows. “Though Avalon is a grand place, I know you feel more comfortable in the forests, and so I will tell you the secret of the gates. Cleo Seer is charged with guarding the only entrance to Avalon. In order to keep that location hidden from the Forsaken, it must be moved periodically. Cleo is keeping the gate in the Wastes of Faranas until the others have an opportunity to make it there. However, if they do not arrive soon, she will move her operation to another place. It’s an excellent way to travel really. We spend time upon vast mountains, in dense forests, in wide, grassy plains, and even upon occasion, in the middle of the ocean.”
“Those like my son, Dennan, Archer, and several others, attempt to make their dwellings more in line with their desires. The great thing about Avalon is we construct our own environments. Usually Dethys aids with that. In fact, Archer lives atop a massive oak tree on the east side of the city, and my son has a cottage that he handmade. It is surrounded by trees and populated with creatures of the forest.”
“The reason I discuss this is because I know the primary desire of your heart is to live in peace in the confines of a mountain with your dear Faile. I just want to make you aware, that even if you join the Bulwark, which will require you to occasionally return to Avalon, you may find the comforts of home here. It is of the utmost importance that all of the Ageless under our protection remain comfortable in their surroundings, and we hope that you might be comfortable here.”
“We heartily wish for you to join The Bulwark, as you would be a great asset to our cause, and because the motivation of my heart is to protect all the Childer Ageless I can and aid them in their personal betterment.”
“We have extended to you our services, and ask only that you grant us your cooperation and your ability to help those less adept than yourself. What is your decision, Sembas Filden?”
-
Faile waits in the air as Sembas removes the weapons from his back and leans them against the back of the chair. He is careful not to damage the intricate craftsmanship of the furniture. As he sits down on the crimson cushions Faile lands softly on his shoulder once again.
Fury extends an invitation to The Bulwark, noting his militia experience beforehand. He is not surprised to hear that Faran is going to be excluded. In order to prosper an orginization needs everyone involved to cooperate and work towards the greater good. While he worried for the fate of the man, he realized that this would be best for everyone involved. At least for the time being.
His eyes widen as she explains that Cleo completely moves Avalon to different locations. The mountains, forests and plains draw a smile from the falconer, but the ocean dimishes his humor. At least Faile would have all the fresh fish she wanted in the ocean...
A massive oak tree in the east side of the city. Check. He will be visiting this place. The cottage as well. Dennan and Archer were certainly cut from the same cloth as Sembas.
General Fury asks his decision, but he felt she already knew the answer. The speech he was given before joining the militia was not alltogether different than the one he just received. Aid others, hone your skills, learn from your elders. The same sense of duty he felt then was coming through moreso now. The same feelings of duty and honor were coming from Faile as well.
He raises his left hand and Faile walks down his arm and rests on his forearm. "As you know, General Fury, the decisions I make with my life do not only effect myself. Faile and I are bonded together, such that any path that one of us decides to take the other must follow. Luckily, we differ on very few subjects. And in our hearts we share the same ideals and beliefs."
"Duty and honor. We hold these to be very important. Our power is a gift, even before we were Ageless we had the might to protect others. And we did so, even if reluctantly. Yes, we would rather prefer to live in peace in the mountains, but that is a selfish dream. Hiding away for all eternity would do no one any good."
Faile turns her head to Sembas and the two share a look before nodding to each other. Sembas rises from the chair and continues.
"It is with great honor that we accept your invitation to The Bulwark, General Fury. We will gladly aid you in protecting humanity against the Forsaken. There is much for us to learn, and we are eager to do so."
Faile flaps her wings and gives a loud cry into the air, committing herself to the Bulwark as well.
-
As Sembas accepts the invitation to The Bulwark, General Fury rises from her chair and gives his hand a firm shake. “Your eagerness is appreciated. It is always pleasant to meet someone who is willing to learn. Should you, or Faile, need anything at all, you need only ask. I shall send you back to your mentor. Dethys will be seeing to your lodgings and will be able to show you around the city, or at least point you in the right direction.”
Sembas and Faile exit Fury’s offices, and Dethys motions for Fenwick to enter. Fury is standing before the expansive fireplace in the back of the room. Despite the heat it must surely be giving off, the room is exceptionally comfortable and quite well-lit. Licks of flame are reflected upon the black marble floor, and as the General stares into the flames, she appears to be contemplating something.
“You bear the Mark of the Seer,” speaks Fury quietly. “You must have made quite an impression upon her.” She smiles sadly as she looks over to you. “You are wondering why she remains in the desert, aren’t you? I believe an explanation is in order.”
“Though many mortals have heard of us, they know very little about us. Many of them know that The Legion Immortalis exists in two factions: The Ageless, those who defend humanity, and The Forsaken, those who condemn humanity.”
“It seems as if we have been at war forever, but the truth of the matter is, it has only been about two and a half centuries. Before we fought the Forsaken, we fought the Adversary… We STILL fight adversary. He is the enemy of the Divine, and seeks to destroy all that the Divine has made. What many people DO NOT know is that Severan Deceit, the leader of the Forsaken, was once a promising young Ageless, much like yourself. He did not begin as a being of evil… he simply became one through the interventions of the Adversary.”
“The origin of Severan Deceit is a tale for another time, but what is relevant to you is the part that Cleo played in his deception, or rather, the part she THINKS she played.”
“Upon the night Severan set out to destroy the Elder Council, Cleo was in charge of the gates. It was she who had originally glimpsed Severan’s future and made the prophecy that he would one day betray us. When we asked her if his fate could be changed, she could not give us a certain answer, so the Archon and I sought to redeem Severan of his fate.”
“However, there were those amongst us who condemned him for the prophecy and were cruel to him. Some even had the gall to tell the Archon that trying to redeem Severan was a waste of time. No one is a waste of time, especially not Severan. He showed great aptitude in both combat and the arts, and the Archon and I came to regard him as a son. This was well before our own were born.”
“When Severan received his Naming Ceremony, my husband blessed him and gave him the name Severan Victor. However, members of the Elder Council called him Severan Deceit, in light of the prophecy. It began to wear heavily upon him, but he showed no outward signs of treason.”
“On the night Severan was corrupted by the Adversary, he sought his revenge upon the Council. He needed passage through the gates as he had left Avalon in order to accept the Adversary’s offer. This was still in the times that the gates Keeper guards served as our primary gate. Though Cleo sensed his agitation, she received no vision of his ill-intent. Thus, she let him pass.”
“He slaughtered the Council that night, save for Hestia who had befriended him. Cleo’s guilt was unbearable. She became withdrawn and despondent. My husband sought to aid her search for penance, and created a new gate, far from Avalon. It would be Cleo’s duty to ensure the traveler meant no harm. She would keep out all of those who threatened the security of Avalon and its inhabitants.”
“I suppose the Archon thought having some purpose would alleviate Cleo’s guilt, but I don’t think it has. To this day, she blames herself for not stopping Severan when she could have. Ever since, she has committed herself to the security of our people… but I believe her solitude pains her. I have begged her to come back, but she insists that the burden is hers, and hers alone.”
Fury sighs heavily and you can tell that she and Cleo are quite close, and that the General has the Seer’s best interests at heart. “I could MAKE her come back, but she would resent me for it. It must be her choice. Due to her affinity for you, perhaps you can convince her… reassure her that someone else can guard the gates. Ask her to return to Avalon, even if it is just for awhile.”
“Cleo is one of the cornerstones of The Bulwark, and I have never heard her vouch for someone more emphatically than she did for you. She claims that you are special, and that she sees greatness within you.” Fury puts her hand upon your shoulder. “The Seer is rarely wrong. I, too, can see that within you, Fenwick.”
“I know what you have endured and can sympathize with your need for revenge. I know what it is like to lose someone you deeply care for. My father…” You hear a catch in the General’s voice. “I watched my Father fall before me, and for the past 1,500 years, I have wondered if I could not have prevented his death. However, in my situation, the person whom I had to seek revenge upon was my own brother. He, like Severan, was twisted by the will of the Adversary. Now, Severan seeks to do the same to many of the Childer Immortalis such as yourself.”
“Both the Adversary and the Forsaken kill indiscriminately. They kill parents, children, even entire families. There is strength in numbers, there is protection amongst friends. In addition, I know that you seek to acquire great knowledge. All this may be found within The Bulwark of Heaven. I would like to extend to you an opportunity join The Bulwark of Heaven, so that you many preserve others of the same fate you endured, and so that you may aspire to become the man you wish to be. What say you, Fenwick Hux?”
-
Fenwick silently listens to Cleo's story, feeling the pain that she felt, the pain she feels. He could empathise with the pain... She had, just like he had once done, made a choice she felt mundane. A choice she would later regret.
Just like he had.
She felt guilty, embraced sadness and pain... perhaps even anger... now, she seeked redemption.
Just like he was now doing.
"I... I do not know if I can carry out what you have asked of me. I myself am going through the same problem, just as you probably know. I have not overcome it... and I am no where close to doing so. I will do my best however, for I sincerely hope that she would recover from this blow, just as I will." The rune shimmers slightly and for a brief moment, he feels as if he was Cleo in body and mind. Same pain, same actions.
Fenwick bows afterwards. "Severan has suffered much himself, and thus his actions were not to be expected. One may say perhaps, even justified. Yet although he took his revenge by slaughtering the council, he has continued to pester and undermine Avalon." He stands up straight, his hands in his robes, eyes full of conviction. "Justice has turned to murder, thus shall he face his own. I gladly join the Bulwark of Heaven, to right the things that have gone wrong."
He visibly jumps slightly after finishing the last few words.
"By the way, how can we visit Cleo again? Will she always stay in the desert? Is there an easy way to reach the gates? Where does Dethys live? Where will I live?"
He blinks once, then sheepishly realises that once again he had asked way too many questions within way too short a time.
-
“What happened to Severan is lamentable, and it is a burden my husband and I will continue to bear, either until Severan somehow redeems himself, or he dies at our hands. As dire as the situation may seem, and as far removed from his people as Severan may be, I cannot say with certainty that he is beyond redemption. That is… should he choose to accept it. Of that, I do have doubts.”
“Nothing can undo the terror he has caused, the innocents he has killed, or the villages he has laid to waste. Still, every now and then, his soul still cries out to me. Once you bond with other Ageless, whether as friends, lovers or kin, you will see that it works the same way. Even when you are apart, there are still remnants of them.”
“When I feel Severan’s presence, it is clouded with rage, but somewhere in the recesses of his heart, I feel immense sadness. It is my greatest failing that we could not save him from his fate. However, I am not willing to give up until it is truly the end. Only time will tell what will become of Severan Victor…” A pain expression affects the General’s face. “He will always be Severan Victor to me.”
“I would like to give you my personal thanks for your willingness to aid our cause. I am certain you will be quite comfortable amongst our people, and if you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask.”
General Fury claps you upon the back. “You really are much like Cleo. You lack confidence, as does she.”
“As for your questions…” Fury chuckles, and despite the ease with which she does it, such a pleasant sounds seems unnatural coming from such an intimidating person. “Yes. You may certainly visit Cleo again. Whenever you wish to see her, you need only ask Dethys or Keeper. Both gentlemen have the key to the gate and will be more than willing to send you to her. I am sure that she would appreciate your company.”
“As for whether or not she will stay in the desert, the answer to that is ‘no.’ As I mentioned to Sembas, Cleo does not merely guard the gates… she IS the gate. As such, she must constantly move the gate to a new location to avoid detection. Whenever she moves the gates, so too does Avalon move with it. It’s quite exciting actually. One day, you’re in a desert. The next, you might be upon a beach. A few days after that, you might find yourself atop an enormous mountain. Ultimately, it is Cleo who knows which place will be safest, and it is there that she takes us.”
“I do have a few matters that I will be asking you and your companions to attend to in the immediate future. However, I would like you to get acclimated first. I will give you some time to speak with your Elders and learn from them. You will have time to train and time to explore the city to uncover its treasures. Perhaps you might even visit Cleo during that time.”
“As for your lodgings, for the time being, you will remain with Dethys.” Fury sighs heavily. “As reluctant as I am to leave you in that clockwork landmine. He has promised me that he will not conduct any ‘experiments’ while you are all in his care. Trust me… they do not typically work out well.” Fury absentmindedly strokes her left eyebrow and you notice it is a touch sparse on one side. “If you enjoy your eyebrows, I would recommend being far from the vicinity when he engages in such tasks.”
“Dethys will be working with you and your companions to facilitate your lodgings. He is our architect and can make whatever dwelling you could possibly desire. Just tell him what you would like, and it will be yours. Dethys, himself, just recently upgraded to his clockwork home after his wife assured him that having a living room with a pool made of honeymeade was no place to raise a child. He is exceptionally intelligent… if only he could harness his powers for good!” She chuckles heartily.
“Now. Have you any other questions? If not, I will return you to the capable hands of your mentor so that you may see all that Avalon has to offer. Again, Fenwick… I sincerely thank you for your aid.” She gives a slight bow of acknowledgment before seating herself behind her desk and setting to work on whatever task she has at hand.
-
As Sembas and Fenwick are speaking with the General, Dethys pulls Faran aside . “You will not be seeing General Fury today. The truth of the matter is you already made your decision before you even came to Avalon. You do not wish to join the Bulwark and you do not wish to be in Avalon. These are understandable.”
“However, you have been nothing but disrespectful since you crossed the desert. You are envious of those more powerful than you, and you claim you wish to protect the weak and defenseless, yet you cannot allow us to do the same for you. At the hands of the Forsaken, it is YOU who is weak and defenseless.”
“You desire to fight the Forsaken independently, and so you shall, but I have many people who actually desire the protection that the Bulwark affords, so I cannot continue to watch over you any longer.”
The Sigil of Shadow that had been placed upon you glows brightly before disintegrating before your very eyes.
“My only hope is that the Seer’s prophecy may be circumvented. An Ageless is nothing without their comrades. By seeking your independence and exhibiting an unwillingness to cooperate, and a readiness to condemn (we are not insane, thank you) you have opened your own door.”
“Now, as I see it, you have two options. Both of your fellows have pledged to aid their brethren. You may either stay on to aid them, or you may depart Avalon.”
-
Dethys's words were harsh yet completely understandable. Why aid someone who isn't entirely on your side? But something in his words doesn't make sense... something.. Oh Symphony, this isn't going to go over well... Time to take some logical leaps.
“You don't believe in prophesy. You contradict yourself, Dethys Night. You say that I made my decision before I came to Avalon, yet you have allowed me to come as far as General Fury's anteroom. Why even send me the invitation? You believe we are men of action. You believe anyone can change. You don't believe in fate. At least, that is what your actions thus far have led me to believe.”
“I don't believe in Fate either, Dethys. I believe we make our own destiny. A seer does not see THE future, he sees A future. I make my future and so do you. You know this...” Here was another logical leap. “...and I bet the rest of the Ageless know this.”
That wasn't the worst part. My train of conversation had led me to a very sore point about this place. “Because apparently a man can't have a word in PRIVATE in this town! Symphony! I bet a man can't have a bowel movement without someone knowing about! And I've been on my best behavior since I entered Avalon, never mind that I was unconscious for part of it. So you MUST know about how well the Seer and I get along!”
“Symphony! Imagine for a moment that I was going to join with you. How could I trust any of you, knowing that everything I say, hell, maybe everything I DO is being monitored by someone? That's what trust is about Dethys. You trust that no one is going to stab you in the back, that-” I stopped. It didn't make sense. How could these people have abandoned trust so easily? How... unless something bad happened here to make it so?
I changed gears. “What.. happened here?” I said slowly. “You and the Ageless were betrayed, weren't you? I can't believe that this level of paranoia is simply because of the war.” I backed off after that. This may be another one of those sore points I'm sure they'll want to fry me to a cinder for. But if anything I said was true, I actually felt sorry for them all now. Betrayed by one of their own, no doubt.
I sighed. “Well, as for leaving Avalon, the Symphony is so strong here that I could experiment with it easily. So I have a reason to stay. I also have a reason to leave thanks to... well I've already been down that road.” I clapped my hands together. “I have it! We'll let your newest members decide whether I leave or stay. If they wish to have another ally then so be it. But if they find my presence repugnant as well, then I shall leave.”
-
Dethys shakes his head. “You obviously have me mistaken for someone else. I DO believe in fate, and I DO believe in prophecy. As much as I would like to put stock in people being in control of their own destinies there are far greater beings than we. I would be remiss in saying both the Adversary and the Divine do not have a considerable amount of control over our fate.”
“In addition, you misunderstand the Seer as well. Yes, sometimes she sees A FUTURE, but as she already tried to explain to you, some things are STATIC, some things are CERTAIN, there are some things that cannot be changed and even YOUR fate, Faran Beshral, is subject to several of these occurrences. It is then that she sees THE FUTURE.”
“As for knowing you would deny the Bulwark, that is just common sense. I knew you would be presented the option to join, but before you arrived Cleo told me you likely would not accept. When you decided to take a nap in front of my house, that merely furthered my suspicions. The final straw was when you told your brethren of your intentions. We don’t NEED to watchdog you, Faran. For your information, I have enjoyed many shits without anyone being aware of them. However, I would advise you against having ‘private’ discussions in front of two people whose hearing extends LITERALLY a mile away.”
“Your future exists upon two possible paths. You see, I have the benefit of the book. Every Ageless who has ever lived has been entered into that tome, and I know a great deal about them. Thus far, every prophecy that has been delivered has manifested as truth. Would you like to know yours, Faran? Would you like to know what happens should you shun the Bulwark? How you strike out on your own, and are successful, at least fleetingly? Would you like to know how you die again at the hands of Severan Deceit?”
“Let me see if I can remember this properly…” Dethys clears his throat.
“And so the Singer shall come to Avalon, and two paths shall fall before him. Should he choose to walk alone and forsake his Elders, the Serpent will ensnare him and steal his Song. He will be lost to the might of the Adversary, and none shall mourn his passing, for his legacy shall be his insolence.”
“ However, should he walk the path of wisdom and walk the way of the Tower, he shall find great power within the confines of Heaven. Whichever path he may choose, there shall Fate anoint him with its touch.” Dethys narrows his eyes. “Would you like to know more Faran? Perhaps how that pretty little farmer’s daughter meets her end at the hands of Lieutenant Cauter because you are too busy gallivanting about on your own?”
“You do not desire our protection, and we certainly don’t need your rebel-without-a-clue mentality. The Bulwark cannot afford to allocate resources to a self-serving, hubris engorged Childer such as yourself. There are thousands who need our protection more than you do.”
Dethys sighs in exasperation and he begins to pace like a caged animal, his slender body stalking back and forth as if ready to erupt from his prison. “Yes, we were betrayed. Before we fought the Forsaken, we fought the Adversary, and we had our hands full enough with him! This was even before the Bulwark. The Bulwark did not exist until the Forsaken existed. We fought the Adversary, but many of us were separated by our own foolish will. It was Fury who would unite us under a common banner, and it is only by her leadership that we now thrive.”
“It was Cleo who foretold that Severan might betray us. However, she could not say with complete certainty that this was a STATIC fate. Fury and the Archon hope that they might redeem him, that they could keep him from such a path. However, there were those who believed the prophecy with all their hearts. Severan…” Dethys nearly spits the name from his lips.
“Severan was grateful for the protection of the Archon and the General, and even looked to them as a young one might regard their parents. However, he craved more power, and he was growing more and more agitated at the condemnations that the others thrust upon him for the prophecy.”
“One day, he went out on his own, and unbeknownst to us, he had finally chosen to betray his people. The Adversary likely masked his intent so that Cleo could not perceive it, so the Seer allowed him through the gates, unaware of his intentions.”
“From there, Severan entered the Council Chambers and he slaughtered all within, save for Hestia, whom he had befriended. When this occurred, I had been fighting against the Adversary with Fury and the Archon. We returned just after the deed had been done, and we cornered Severan in the Council Chambers. Despite all our power, we did not have the fortune of being possessed by a greater entity. That night, Severan carried with him a part of the Adversary.”
“It was not enough for him to betray us. He did not simply slaughter our Council and put fear in the hearts of the faithful. No… He KILLED THE ARCHON!” Dethys’s face grows crimson with anger and he slams his fist against a nearby wall, inflicting an unsightly wound that crumbles around his clenched fist.
“Severan tried to wound me, and the Archon took the blow.” Dethys shakes his head sadly and rests his head in his palms. “It struck his Death Wound and he lay gasping for breath in his beloved’s arms. Severan was horrified by his own actions. He fled from Avalon with the aid of the Adversary.”
“We were sure that all would be lost without the Archon, but when the leader of the Divine’s Valkyries came to claim the Archon, Fury was berserk with desperation and sorrow and fought her off. The Divine, recognizing the bond between the Archon and his wife allowed him yet another chance, but warned him that it would be his last. Should the Archon ever fall again… it will be the end of him… for good this time.”
“If you doubt any of this, I will give you leave to view Severan’s prophecy in the book. Perhaps you may even view your own page should you wish… see the two paths for yourself, Faran. One shall lead to righteousness and the Divine, and the other… the other will lead to Severan.” Dethys looks away, a forlorn expression upon his face. “Walk the path you choose, and tempt fate if you wish, but I can tell you with certainty, some things are unavoidable.”
-
Have I ever mentioned how much I don't like prophesy? His words about me chilled me to the bone. This book, this thing... was wrong. I don't mean it was wrong about me, it was ALL wrong. It shouldn't exist. No one should know THIS much about someone else. It should be destroyed. But I don't think that's what Dethys would want to hear right now. Hey, give me some credit. I do possess a little tact.
So it was Severan who betrayed them all. It seems like everything comes back to Severan. My heart went out to Dethys. To all the Ageless. But then some of them brought it on themselves. They goaded Severan with his own so-called prophesy. More than likely the Adversary tempted him with the power to prove them all wrong, thus fulfilling the prophesy. I wonder how he would have turned out if he never knew the prophesy about him. We were a bit alike, this Severan and I. Both of us faced with a so-called fate and rebelling against it. This is why I don't like prophesy. It can be used to push people.
Sigh. That aside, it was time I faced an uncomfortable truth. Dethys's “Little Book of Ageless” actually made good sense, at least the part about me going out alone and inexperienced and getting mercilessly slaughtered by the Forsaken, forget whether it was right or not. As much as I grandstanded about going out and killing them, I knew nothing about them, where they were and how to kill them. It was like sending a child out to fight an army. The truth was that I needed more. I needed Avalon. I needed allies. These Ageless, ALL of them not just one camp, were far too clairvoyant for just one man to carry on a private war.
So I had to stay. I suppose things weren't too bad. I could probably get a few good looks at that red-head, Muse. And I think that any private communication I do will be in writing from now on. The man can hear everything within a mile!? How many more Ageless had that ability? Well, as much as it galled me to stay, I didn't have to let HIM know that.
“I believe that you believe in fate Dethys. However, I'm still not convinced. You have my sympathy for Severan's betrayal. I do not know what it is like to be betrayed by someone..” Yes, feeling sympathy for Dethys made him feel more real to me. Perhaps I could relate to him eventually. “I think I will retract my previous statement. I will stay here in Avalon.“ I smiled jovially. This man did toss an insult my way. The villagers were still a sore point for me. “Perhaps we can get on each others nerves again some time!”
-
“Perhaps we can get on each others nerves again some time!”
Dethys chuckles. Of all the people you have met so far, he is one of the few who seem to be able to take a joke, or at the very least, a thinly veiled insult, with some degree of good humor. “I look forward to it, Faran Beshral.”
When you and your companions reconvene, Dethys greets each of them with a firm handshake and a smile, welcoming them into the ranks of the Bulwark.
“Well…” Dethys rubs his hands together. “General Fury has told me she would like to give you some time to pursue your own interests. Tell me what you want to do, and I am sure that I can point you in the right direction.”
-
Faile starts pacing back and forth on Sembas's arm. She is muttering to Sembas with little chirps and squawks. It is clear to see that she is worked up over something. The exchange between her and Besnik surely has ruffled her feathers, so to speak.
“Dethys, I won't hear the end of it until Faile is able to see Besnik again. Could you point me in he and Archer's direction?”
With a quick glance up at Faile he adds with a bit of embarrassment, “I promise we'll be civil.” With the emphasis on the last word turns his head and looks at Faile with a pleading expression. In a huff she gives a shake and settles on his shoulder.
Faile exhales forcefully through her nostrils and eyes Dethys with anticipation.
-
Dethys points Sembas and his feisty falcon companion towards the east side of the city. It would be impossible to miss the imposing, arboreal edifice that Archer calls home. It is likely the largest oak tree you have ever seen, and were you to somehow peer inside it to see its rings, you would discover that it is over 400 years old. The trunk itself is taller than several of the buildings nearby, and its expansive branches reach towards the sky as if attempting to covet the clouds in their leafy embrace.
As you near the tree, you see half a dozen arrows explode from somewhere in the upper bows. Though this might cause you some alarm, you watch as Besnik squawks will glee and descends upon the arrows in sweeping, swift arcs. One by one, he snatches each arrow from the air before they can even come close to descending to the ground. Clenching the arrows firmly in his beak, he disappears into the boughs of the tree to return them to his companion.
Moments later, Besnik thrusts his feathery, brown head out of the branches and gazes down upon you and Faile. He caws loudly, then plaintively squawks back into the tree branches.
You hear a woman’s pleasant laughter, followed by Archer’s voice. “Okay, okay. Don’t start molting!”
You watch as Besnik launches himself into a swandive and barrels towards the ground. He is nearly at the halfway point of the oak when his body begins to expand rapidly until he is nearly the size of a small glider. Archer springs from the boughs of the tree and lands safely upon his back. Besnik continues his descent and lands gracefully beside you and Faile. Again, he squawks at Faile, and there is a certain smugness in his features.
“Now, now,” reprimands Archer gently. “Don’t be a prig. Faile was kind enough to call upon you and you’re going to show off like some common crow.”
Besnik lowers his head in embarrassment and gurgles softly, apologizing to his beloved master. Archer rubs the side of his head and plants a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, now, my dear. I’m not angry with you. I just wish you would be sensible. All you’ve been talking about is how pretty little Faile looks and how you could not wait to see her again.”
Besnik flaps his wings and puffs out his chest in indignation.
“Don’t try to hide it now,” laughs Archer. “It’s all over your face.”
She dismounts from Besnik who quickly returns to his normal size. He looks up at her reproachfully and begins preening himself.
“He’s a piece of work, my Besnik.” She smoothes the feathers upon Faile’s head. “Hello, dear one. You look very well. However, judging from your expression, I assume Dethys has already told you about your mother.” Archer’s expression falls as she recollects her fallen friend. “I am so sorry. We were fighting the Forsaken on the front lines when we were set upon by Lieutenant Cauter. My sweet Zarine did everything she could to save me, even sacrificing her life for mine. It has been several years, but the place she keeps in my heart still aches with her absence.”
Archer offers Faile a sad smile. “You look so much like her. I’m sure she would be proud of you. I hope you may find comfort in the fact that her final words expressed her love for her children. I offered to summon you and your brothers back to this place to say your goodbyes, but she made me promise that I would not burden you with the news of her fate. Selfless to the end, my little Zarine.”
Even Besnik calls out to Faile in sympathy as Archer speaks of Zarine.
“Perhaps we should speak of happier tidings,” suggests Archer. She turns to you, offering a pristine smile. “You are Sembas Filden. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Gladia Archer. I have heard you have joined our ranks in The Bulwark of Heaven.” She leans in close to you, and her lips are inches away from your ear. “I do mean that I heard your acceptance. That is one of the benefits I have accrued over the years. I can hear nearly anything from a mile away. That is how I knew you were coming, and knew to prepare for your arrival. Come. I’ve baked some honeycakes for us. They are still warm, and Dennan was kind enough to ask his bovine friends to provide us with some sweet cream for them as well. He likes you, you know. Says you’ve done a great job with ‘the littlest chick’ as he calls her.”
Archer leads you over to a large basket that is suspended from somewhere in the reaches of the boughs. She presses a button and you can hear something near the top of the tree begin to whir as the pulley system lifts you higher.
You soon arrive at Archer’s lodgings, the most elaborate treehouse you have ever seen. It is not a very large dwelling, but it is quaint and comfortable. Archer explains that, though she enjoys seeing the grandeur of her brethren’s homes, she prefers simplicity and is more comfortable in a tent than a mansion.
She crosses to her kitchen and collects two plates with a honeybun each. She places a dollop of cream atop the sweet confection and gives them to you and Faile before fetching two more for herself and Besnik respectively.
“So, Sembas. Tell me about yourself.”
-
Fenwick steps out of Fury's offices and waits until Kitharsis finishes before tapping Dethys on the shoulder.
"Sorry to interrupt Dethys," Fenwick acknowledges the nearby Faran. "Cleo told me that you would be interested in talking to me. I myself am curious about you and your experiments. Unfortunately, I cannot tally for too long. I want to visit the library before making my way to Cleo for a while to talk to her."
He pulls out his book from his robes, Being a mage.
"All my magic has come from this book. It fell into my hands one day when I was still a mortal merchant. The name's ridiculous, so I figured that there'd be more books on it. However, this is the only copy that I've ever come across."
He reflects for a moment, before adding,
"It has also just occured to me that I never came across any books on magic until after I obtained this, meaning that this was the first book on mages that I ever obtained. After this, many books started falling into my hands before being traded off once I learned from them."
"This contains every single ingredient of magic, so I have learned to mix and match my own style. You may think that it's heavy, but I find it quite light. Although it is possible that I've just become used to its weight."
A flash of movement catches his eye and he sees six arrows flying up before being caught by the falchon named Besnik.
"Will I be able to catch Faile's sparring with Besnik on the way to the library?"
-
As soon as you extract the tome from your robes, Dethys’s eyes widen considerably. He touches the well-worn leather cover, and as he does, you see several runes explode with light. Oddly, you don’t recall ever seeing such runes there. Dethys quickly draws back his hand and appears contemplative as his eyes remain firmly focused upon the book.
“That IS interesting,” remarks Dethys quietly. “Perhaps it is best if we discuss your… BOOK in my lab.”
As soon as Dethys utters this suggestion, a faint voice in the back of your head, its words a nagging itch that demand to be reckoned with, vocalize a simple statement.
“Uh-oh.”
Moments later, it speaks again, an edge of irritation in its voice. “Now, what would possess you to go and do that, you ninny? Do you know what happens in his lab? People periodically lose body hair! Apprentices nearly lose their minds! What if he tries to do one of those awful experiments on me? Now you’ve done it, Fenwick! You’ve got my pages in a twist over this!”
“As for the rest of your wishes, you are rather ambitious, aren’t you?” Dethys chuckles. “Cleo has told me so much. Said you had an inquisitive nature. I can arrange all these things for you. I’ll send Archer a message and tell her to let us know if there should indeed be a falcon spectacle to watch, which knowing Besnik, I don’t think he will rest until there is.”
“For now, let’s take a look at this… BOOK.” Dethys frowns as he glances down at your tome again.
He leads you back to the clockwork mansion and gives a simple gesture to snap the front doors open for you. As you access the entryway, you are besieged by the grandeur of the place. The inside is detailed in the colors of Dethys’s robes: cream, dark brown, sage green. There are filigree accents done in exquisite gold and silver details.
Walking towards the main staircase, you set eyes upon a beautiful woman who cradles a baby in her arms. Her copper –colored wavy hair sweeps across her shoulders and she looks up to the two of you with gorgeous green eyes. The infant reaches up a hand as Dethys draws near and begins to gurgle and giggle in a fit of laughter.
“Hello, my dear.” Dethys kisses the woman gently upon the cheek and reaches down so that the infant may clutch his finger with his pudgy, outstretched hand.
As you move closer, you notice something irregular about this woman. There are dark, ominous circles around her eyes, and her skin has a slight tint of yellow. Her pretty eyes look strained, and you notice the frailty of her figure. This immediately alerts you to something unusual. As far as you have heard, the Ageless are not affected be time or sickness.
“What are you doing out of bed, my love?” asked Dethys, a hint of concern in his voice. “You should be resting. Here. Let me take Laertan for a bit,” says Dethys gently.
“I’m alright, dearest. I swear, if I need any help I will come and get you.” Her gaze sets upon you and she offers a friendly smile. “Who is your friend, Dethys?”
“Ah! This is Fenwick Hux. He is one of the newest members of The Bulwark of Heaven.” Dethys pats you upon the shoulder.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Fenwick.” The woman offers a friendly smile. “I understand you and your companions will be residing with us until Dethys sees to more permanent lodgings. Our home is you home. Should you need anything, just let us know.”
“This…” Dethys puts his arm around the woman’s slender shoulders. “This is my wife, Carina, the love of my life, and my significantly better half.” He kisses her again on the cheek then gestures to the infant in her arms. “And this is our son, Laertan.”
The baby coos in reply and reaches out a hand towards you. His pudgy fingers find the cover of your book, and again the voice is moved to speak.
“Ugh! Uah! Baby drool. Disgusting!”
The baby withdraws his hand so that he might prod his father’s nose. Dethys laughs before pressing his lips to the baby’s stomach and blowing upon it to make a funny noise, which only causes the child to giggle more.
“Fenwick and I have some work to do in the lab. Where are Serenity and Constancy?” asks Dethys.
“Oh. I did not know you would need them, so I sent them to the market for some supplies. I hope you don’t mind,” replies Carina.
Dethys shakes his head. “No, not at all my dear. I don’t want them around for this anyway. Just wanted to make sure they weren’t in the lab.”
Carina gives her husband a stern expression, but the hints of a smile creep into the corners of her lips, betraying her lack of severity. “You aren’t going to be EXPERIMENTING are you? General Fury told you that you were not to be conducting any more experiments while the Childer Immortalis were in your care.”
“Bah! Fenwick is up to it!” Dethys thwacks you upon the chest. “See? Resilient lad! He’ll be alright.”
“Fine,” concedes Carina. “But if there is even a scratch upon that lad, I’m sure Fury will shake you until your head bobbles.”
“I will risk it!” exclaims Dethys cheerfully. “Come, Fenwick.”
He leads you down a hallway, and you pass a room that is filled from floor to ceiling with books. You have never seen so many tomes assembled in one spot! If this is Dethys’s private collection, what must the Ageless library be like?
You follow Dethys down a winding staircase, which leads to his basement laboratory. It is an enormous space, filled with tables laden with magnifying glasses, components, potions, beakers, vials, and all other materials indicative of a magic-user’s primary workspace.
“You cast an enchantment upon this? To protect it from the elements.” Though he phrases it as a question, you believe he already knows the answer.
He sets the book down upon one of the tables and motions for you to stand back. The voice in your mind is panicking considerably, uttering a slew of profanity as Dethys stares down at it with determination in his eyes.
Dethys utters a few words in a long-forgotten tongue, then follows this up with a simple hand gesture, pointing his index finger at the book.
There is an explosion of light and smoke that rocks the foundation of the clockwork abode, and you suddenly realize why Keeper was so concerned about the structural integrity of this place.
As the smoke clears, you see a faint, ghostly, shifting form emerging from the cover of the book. The figure sighs in exasperation and slaps its palm to his forehead. The form is only from the waist up, merely a torso and a head. You realize that the figure is that of a male in his early 30’s. His hair falls to his shoulders and he shakes his head miserably as Dethys takes a step towards him.
“Oh crap…” bemoans the figure.
“Cardack!” growls Dethys. “I should have known!”
-
Upon exiting the building Faile takes off into the air. Sembas stretches his arms over his head and watches as she rises higher and higher. A bit envious over her dominion over the sky, he lets out a sigh and flips his hood over his head.
Archer's tree is hard to miss. It is the largest one he has ever seen, thats for sure. Faile was zipping by, cutting through cross streets ahead of him. She was diving and twisting as she flew by.
"Getting in some last minute practice?" He taunts her.
She lets out a loud cry before diving right at him. He holds out his hand and moments later she lands on it softly. They were nearly to the tree by now.
A half dozen arrows burst from the canopy above them. Faile nearly takes off into the air again before Besnik squawks and emerges from the tree after them.
"We'll have to try that sometime, girl." Sembas says out loud. Faile is feigning disinterest, but still watching out of the corner of her eye. She finally turns around as Besnik grows larger and carries Archer to the ground. Sembas watches with a smile and chuckles at the two's exchange after they land.
Faile bows appreciatively as Archer mentions her mother. Sembas places his hand over his heart, grievend to hear of Zarine's fate.
As Archer leans close and whispers in his ear. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He barely hears what she says. His head is swimming in her scent and the touch of her breath on his ear tickles his skin. When she pulls away he finally finds his head... and his voice.
"You'll have to teach me that trick sometime." He says with a wink as she mentions her incredible hearing. "Honeycakes sound delicious. It's been a while since I've had something sweet. I'll have to pay Dennan a visit and thank him."
Before long he finds himself in Archer's house in the tree, with a honeycake in front of him. He takes a bite and chews it thoroughly, enjoying the taste.
"These are excellent. And your house is amazing. I'm not much for big cities. I rarely lingered long even in my own small village. It was located at the foot of a mountain range. Thats where I met Faile, actually. We've spent many years exploring those mountains."
Faile bites off a large chunk of the honeycake and nearly swallows it whole. Chuckling, Sembas pats her on the back as she has some trouble getting it down. "You'll end up choking if you just gobble it down like that, girl. Slow down and enjoy it! We don't get such nice treats every day." She gives a string of chirps in rebuttal. Sembas crosses his arms in front of his chest with a frown. "Hmph! Yes, I know I can't cook very well. Thank you. Maybe if the rabbits you brought me weren't so small we could have more than stew all the time." Faile sticks her beak into the air and sniffs. Turning her back to him she keeps eating, taking smaller bites this time.
Chuckling again, he turns back to Archer. "Sorry, I'll teach her manners yet. So yes, I prefer simplicity as well. While Avalon is a very impressive city, I'd much rather live somewhere like this." He motions around the room. "I wonder if Dethys can conjure me a mountain to live on..."
He leans forward and studys Besnik for a moment. With a grin he addresses the bird, "That was quite a display earlier Besnik, although when Faile grows in size she becomes a tad larger than that."
-
In the boughs of the old oak, Archer’s laughter fills the air. “Conjure a mountain? I love the mountains. I grew up not far from the Aldwen Pass. My father was a hunter, but took only what he needed from the land. Every now and then, we would stumble upon particularly cruel traps… poachers.” Archer frowns. “They were looking for a rare white owl that lived in our forests. My father was quite gentle and would try to mend whatever unfortunate creatures wandered to close to the camps of these poachers.”
“That’s actually how my father passed. One day, he decided to confront those men, and they killed him and fled. I pursued them for quite some time, but when I finally got my revenge upon them, I felt strangely empty.” Archer shakes her head as if dispelling these unpleasant thoughts from her mind.
“I… I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I shouldn’t bore you with my tales. That was several hundred years ago. You just… you have such… interesting eyes. Whether man or beast, the eyes are windows to the soul, and when I look at yours… I see… trust.”
She quickly changes the subject. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t put that past Dethys Night to be able to pull a mountain out of thin air. He’s a rare one. A good teacher, and an honorable man. I studied a bit with him, but I spent the majority of my time with Hestia… learning her healing arts. I occasionally spar with Blood, too, but I always come out on the losing end. I’ve met a plethora of feral beasts, and Blood, when she fights, is like a wolf in the thralls of a blood rage.”
Sembas speaks. "That was quite a display earlier Besnik, although when Faile grows in size she becomes a tad larger than that."
Besnik makes a shrill shriek and peers up at you disdainfully before puffing up his chest and glancing at Faile with irritation.
“I, too, am hard pressed to teach Besnik some manners.” She gives him an amused look, but he flaps his right wing at her dismissively as he stuffs his beak into his honeycake with vigor. “He had Faile’s brothers for company for a bit, but it was short-lived. You know how wild falcons are.”
“You see, Zarine was born in the wild. Though she became my companion, she was never a kept-bird. When they were scarcely old enough to fly, all of her hatchlings left the nest. Faile, interestingly enough, was the first to leave, a good time before her brothers at that. They still come back and visit from time to time. One of them, Anlaf, makes his home in the Raynar Mountains. The other, Cuthbert, serves in the human military as a messenger and scout. We cross paths from time to time.”
-
Well! I thought to myself. I seem to be forgotten for the moment. Capital chap that Dethys, maybe not as insane as I thought he was. Well, maybe a little.
I stood in General Fury's very, very red anteroom watching Dethys take Fenwick with him. They were all aflutter about that book Fenwick had with him. Fenwick considered this book very important to him. Seemed like one of those spell books the old mages always had with them. Horribly backwards magic, but whatever works for him, I guess. I was the only one who could hear the Song. I was fortunate in that.
I stood and gazed up at the enormous shield that hung at the top of the stairs to the General's office. Gold and ivory with the heraldry of a tower built on a hilltop. This was the organization I had decided to spurn the help of. I could have done a lot with their resources. Yes, great things, but I would still be one of their number. A cog in their machine. Well, the die has been cast and I must live with the result.
I had an enormous task ahead of me. I had to show the Bulwark that one man can make a difference. They touted their 'help' and 'protections'. Avalon was enough protection. It was a level playing field for me. A chance to grow without the threat of an army of Forsaken showing up at my doorstep. That was an interesting thought. It seemed like the world was a very dangerous place for a young Ageless like myself. Like, the whole world belonged to the Forsaken and Avalon was the only refuge.
Which led me to another point. Why wasn't this Dethys a much busier man? He has time to “experiment” and be otherwise distracted while his actual job was to protect young Ageless. Yet it had been made clear that this Severan was outpacing him in recruitment. How was Severan getting to them so fast when Dethys had his “Mystical Tome of Knowing Whether or Not an Ageless Has Picked His Nose”? Seems like Avalon needed more people with Dethys's job, since he was, evidently, overtaxed. That was a sarcastic thought. I enjoyed it.
My mind began to wander. If I could recruit some Ageless... now that would be something. There were so many wonders here in Avalon. The Ageless were capable of so many things, why couldn't they help the ordinary people? Imagine a group of Ageless devoted to improving the lot of humanity instead of detaching from them? Mortals think on the Ageless as untouchable beings, angels or devils locked in a private war. Or cursed beings, like I was accused of. I remember the times of my exile with some fondness. A faceless wanderer curing the sick and growing food. Those were good days. I wonder if I'll ever be able to get back to them? Thanks to this stupid war, probably not. All wars were stupid, no matter--
“SIR!!” I jumped out of my skin. Well, very nearly anyway. There was a guard standing behind me and looking quite flustered. “YOU ARE NO LONGER PERMITTED TO BE HERE. I AM GOING TO ESCORT YOU OFF THE PREMISES.”
Well the fellow didn't need to shout! I was standing right in front- oh. I just remembered the ear muffs I was wearing. Funny I forgot them so fast. This poor fellow had probably been shouting at me while I had been lost in thought. I gave him my best smile and nod and proceeded out the door Dethys and Fenwick had disappeared through. Generic guard 001 followed right at my shoulder, like he was escorting a prisoner. Corvus eyed me as I passed by him but said nothing. I was fast becoming a celebrity in this town. He had come back to his duties after escorting his brother to the Smith.
So I found myself deposited outside Blood-Warden HQ. The afternoon sun was sitting halfway to the horizon now. Hard to believe it had only been five hours ago that I had plopped down in the Seer's tent. Things had moved so fast... and I was unconscious for part of it. It seemed like the day should have been hotter than it was, but the air was comfortable. Probably another effect of Avalon someone dreamed up, no need to provide my own air conditioning then. Suddenly the ground shuddered and a faint wisp of dust rose from that clockwork monstrosity Dethys called home. Symphony, what was he doing now? Maybe that book blew up. I felt sorry for Fenwick just then, getting mixed up in whatever Dethys was doing. Symphony, maybe the man WAS crazy.
Ugh, enough daydreaming, Faran. Time to get to work. I started walking. I'm on my own now, so I have to work double hard. Step one: find some space to set up my Air Tent. Step two: Find a job; I want to eat sometime. Step three: find Blood; I have a debt to settle. Step four: find some space to experiment in. I need to find new songs and I need a place to find them without killing someone. I've gotta be ready when things start to happen. That might be tomorrow or next month.
I walked into a wide circular plaza where some of Avalon's roads came together. The plaza was dominated by a graceful fountain. Water gushed out of the highest pool near the northern end of the plaza. From there the water flowed and spilled into lower and progressively wider pools. The lowest and widest pool dominated the plaza with less than half a foot of water. Stones were placed at even intervals and in different pathways providing walking access across the pool. Set into the floor of each pool was a tile mosaic of various underwater scenes. The tiles so artfully placed and shaped as to depict fish and underwater plant life. Indeed, if seen from above the fountain itself looked like someone had laid a gigantic fish on its side in the middle of the plaza. The heart of the fountain was its eye, the bulk of the fish's body was the lowest pool. There was a raised platform that made up the negative space inside the crescent shape of the fish's tail. A dais of some kind. Probably for public speaking or performing.
I was standing on one of the stepping stones and admiring the pool when I noticed Captain Blood storming her way across one of the pathways in the pool. She had such a look on her face. I'm almost certain she didn't need the stone pathway, she could have simply frightened the water out of her way. As I watched, she marched across the pool and into a tavern on the far side. Looks like Step three just became Step one, I told myself, and marched after her.
The tavern building was only part of a larger complex which included a large glass enclosed area and a larger building, seemingly of only one room. The tavern itself was of stone and timber construction. The stone was perfectly washed white and the timber looked like it had been felled yesterday. One large arched doorway was the only entry into the tavern and it was complemented by several large round windows, each wreathed with trained climbing ivy. The building was capped by a red tile roof with generous overhang, allowing patrons to sit and shelter underneath.
The building was just as grand on the inside. To your right as you entered, was another doorway which led out into the enormous glass enclosed room. A garden grew inside, one that included an entire row of hops, rising may times my own height into the air. The space inside the tavern was roomy. Great beams and rafters, which seemed to grow out of the ground supported the roof above this one room tavern. The rafters and ceiling, while like the outside seemed fresh hewn, were darkened by the stains of pipe smoke. It added a certain charm to the place, which was probably why the stains were there. The floor was tiled mostly a dull red color except for a ring of white tile which barely fit inside the floor. Set into the ring itself was a repeating tile mosaic of a vine of hops, never ending and never beginning, round and round in a continuous circle. The bar dominated the center of the tavern. It was circular and set inside the tile hops circle. At its very center, stacks of tapped barrels reached nearly to the ceiling with enough space between them and the bar for the bartender to walk around and serve patrons. Several bottles of, what I assumed to be the harder stuff, stood around the inside of the bar. Probably imported.
Captain Blood sat on one of the stools at the bar with a glass of some kind of fluid inside it. Considering her reputation, I was surprised the fluid wasn't eating through the glass. I didn't like what I needed to do here, but it had to be done. I marched up to her like a soldier going to war against hopeless odds. As I marched I thought about what I was going to say. How do I address her? I remembered what she had said to Dethys about being “Captain Blood” while on duty. She didn't seem to be on duty now. I supposed some other honorific was in order.
“Um.. Good afternoon, Lady Blood.” It was at that precise moment that a mischievous thought entered my head. If the moniker “Lady Blood” had lost its pronoun status it would mean something different altogether. I wondered if her third name “Blood” had been given for more than her combat prowess. It certainly would explain her irritability. I abandoned this line of thought before it got me into trouble. “...um, I'll skip introductions, since most people already know who I am. I've come to thank you for the service you have rendered me. You cleaned up a mess that I created in my ignorance and for that I owe you a debt. I intend to see this debt paid not matter the cost, for it is my shame that I have incurred it.”
-
Blood does not even look up at you and merely responds with a grunt as she lifts her index finger into the air to hail the bartender. The tall, lanky gentleman behind the bar is well over six feet tall with short, light brown hair and eyes that are a comforting shade of green. He seems to know exactly what she wants and fetches a tall, gold bottle with some blackened liquid inside of it. He sets it before Blood who gives a nod of appreciation.
“The only debt you have to pay is the one you owe to the Divine for being such a foolish prig. No wonder Fury didn’t invite you. Despite the self-importance that exudes from your every sniveling orifice, you wreak of ignorance.” She is obviously a ray of sunshine today. Her aggravation is nearly palpable and simply being near her would be enough to put you in a state of unease. Much like Fury, she has a presence that commands respect and an intimidating aura that suffices to imply the words “back off” to whoever is foolish enough to draw near her.
Blood takes a large swig from the bottle in front of her and as you catch a whiff of it, you are surprised to find that it actually smells sweet and quite alluring. A mark upon her forehead catches your notice. It is an odd shape, almost like a diamond, set firmly in the center of her forehead. She absentmindedly rubs the scar, and as her fingers draw over it, this only seems to agitate her more.
“Anyway, I didn't do it for you... so consider yourself debt-free. The Bulwark pledges themselves to the protection of humanity, and those folks were in a pretty bad way when I found them. One of our healers saw to them, but I would venture there are several who will be having nightmares of Lieutenant Cauter for a long time to come. Asschab… I hope that wound I delivered on him festers and rots. It might not kill him, but let him writhe in a pool of his own pus. That bastard deserves it.”
"We ARE the first and last line of defense. We serve primarily in the human realm, ensuring that the Adversary and the Forsaken do not attempt to harm our human cousins. There are even a few companies whose sole purpose is to patrol possible Forsaken targets there. The Blood-Wardens, my company, and the Fierce Legion, lead by Cedric Fierce, usually accompany the Archon or the General on the front lines, but I spend a great deal of time in the field, too. We gladly forfeit our lives to ensure that humanity thrives. Such is the nature of the Bulwark... Humanity comes first."
She rounds on you and there is fire in her eyes. “You’re an ungrateful scab, you know that? Snubbing the Bulwark’s protection… Snubbing MY protection." Apparently this woman takes her job of protecting people VERY seriously. "Do you know what happens to people who can’t be protected, Faran Beshral? They die. Severan kills them.” She takes another swig from the bottle. The anger starts to manifest itself, pouring off her form in barely discernible waves. She lets out a growl and you are pushed several feet away from her by the force she is emitting. You can tell this is not an overtly hostile, or even an intentional action, but likely the result of the rage she is feeling.
“Severan KILLS them. Have you ever watched someone die, Faran? Seen their life drift from their still-warm bodies? Had a child die in your arms as its mother begs for you to save them?” In a fit of irritation, Blood slams the bottle upon the bar, causing it to shatter into dozens of pieces.
You see the bartender sigh heavily and he kneels beside Blood who glances up at him miserably. “Sorry Calming. Had a bad day.”
“I can tell, Adia. You want to tell me about it?” asks the bartender.
“Maybe later. Right now… I just want to… forget.” Blood runs a hand through her hair. “It won’t be better until Vartan returns. When he comes home… then… then I won’t worry so much. I should have gone with him. I should have gone… Why didn’t he tell me, Calming? Why didn’t he just tell me he was going? I could protect him.” She starts for the door, and glances back at the sympathetic bartender, who follows after her.
Calming puts a hand upon her shoulder. “Now, now. You know that’s not what he wanted. Vartan needs his space, Adia. You can grant him that, can’t you?”
Blood nods silently.
Calming reluctantly hands her another bottle and she makes her way out of the door to the tavern. Blood turns to you and utters a quiet. "And you're welcome."
As you look after her, a slender hand appears upon your shoulder.
“You’ll be wanting to leave her alone now,” comes Muse’s captivating voice.
Blood exits the tavern and Muse directs you to a table by the door and Calming fetches her a glass of deep, red wine. “So, you must be having quite a day.”
-
“I-I...”
OKAY! Faran, this is your brain speaking! Pick your jaw up off the floor and listen up, because shit just got real! Alright, here's the score: You really haven't been using me much today and you need to listen to me real good now. That's Muse right? Good, yes, I figured you got a good enough look at her. Now, see, she's the one who owns those ear muffs you're wearing. Piss her off and you won't be wearing them anymore. That would hurt pretty bad wouldn't it? Okay: first point then: DO. NOT. PISS. HER. OFF!! Okay, next: she's pretty cute isn't she? Second point: NEVER. EVER. PISS OFF. THE CUTE ONES. Cute is dangerous.
Okay, okay! Symphony... I had to think. Muse's appearance had turned me upside down and inside out. I had gone from fear in the presence of Blood, to comfort in Muse's voice in less than a minute. The adrenaline rush was still riding high in me. I was a bit shaky honestly, like I had just run for my life. And now here was Muse. Symphony, I don't think I can take another jolt like that again today. Sigh. Right. Muse. Okay. What do I do? Don't want to piss her off. Play the Rogue. They always like the Rogue.
'Yes.” I said sliding smoothly into the chair at the table she indicated. At least, as smoothly as I could possibly manage. I was still a bit rattled. Still getting my brain together. I put on a wry smile. “I'm... becoming quite the celebrity. I firmly believe that I will have offended enough people by the night's end that I'll have my picture on a wanted poster in every tavern in Avalon.” I didn't wait for a reaction. That was so dumb. I felt the stirrings of a headache. I sighed and dropped the act.
I didn't look at Muse. I'm not sure I wanted those big, blue eyes staring at me. I looked after Blood, or at least in the direction she went. Doubtless she had heard the entire conversation, scratch that, verbal assault. I knew she heard the whole thing, just by taking what I knew of these Ageless so far and applying it to her. Hell, a mortal might have heard that from across the plaza.
“I have seen people die before.” I said half to myself, half to Muse, half to the retreating Blood. Wait wasn't that three halves? Whatever. The question had raised some indignation in me. Was she saying I new nothing about battle and fighting for something? I didn't know anything about protecting people? Fuck her, I knew what it was to protect people. I knew what it was, AND I knew what it was to be hated for it! I was hated and I didn't hate them for it. I still cared about them.
My head pounded suddenly and I couldn't help but wince. I rested my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. Coming off of the adrenaline rush was giving me a headache. I reached out for the right Song and found it easily, even with the ear muffs on everything was so strong here. It was the song that could be heard in all mankind. It was the first time I had used the Song since leaving the desert. I voiced a few notes, wordless. I didn't need much to make this work. As soon as the first note was out of my lips I felt the song respond to me. Ecstasy. Nothing I knew of felt so good except to Sing. I wanted to go on, but I knew how to restrain myself. As soon as the Song responded, coolness settled on my head, relaxing away the ache 'til nothing was left but the memory.
I sighed and straightened. Muse was still here. Right. Trying not to offend her. Chivalry. Pay for her drink.”You must let me pay for your drink. I owe you for the help from before.” I said. I picked up my travel bag and started going through it. “Er, I have some Imperial marks and some Southern Scrip. I don't know yet what currency Avalon runs on, but if it's not either of these I can go and find a money changer.” Of which I had seen none of in this city yet, but it was a big place. I suppose that sounded competent enough. Pretty sure I'm not coming off as an ignorant fool this time.
-
In her centuries upon the earth, Adaline Muse has encountered a great deal of bravado and spades upon spades of charm. Thus she frowns in disappointment as Faran says, “I'm... becoming quite the celebrity. I firmly believe that I will have offended enough people by the night's end that I'll have my picture on a wanted poster in every tavern in Avalon.”
“Would you truly be proud of such a feat? There is little honor in celebrity, especially if it is made through the aggravation and indignation of others. You must be joking…” She raises her eyebrow, contemplating whether or not you are serious. “You ARE joking aren’t you?”
Faran switches gears, “I have seen people die before.” Muse is significantly more sympathetic.
She listens as you muddle through your words and attempt to collect your thoughts. “You must let me pay for your drink. I owe you for the help from before. Er, I have some Imperial marks and some Southern Scrip. I don't know yet what currency Avalon runs on, but if it's not either of these I can go and find a money changer.”
Muse’s laughter is a beautifully dulcet sound and you notice people look upon her with smiles on their faces. Every individual present at the bar is completely relaxed and put at ease by the soothing sound.
“My! You do have a lot to learn. We don’t use money here. Whenever you want something, you simply ask for it. Between all the conjurers, spell-casters, and the business that we do with humans in trade, we never want for anything. It is always enough to sustain us, so when we desire something, we ask our brethren for it, and we are rarely refused. Sometimes a person might ask you for a favor in exchange for rare items, but typically, even those will be negligible.”
“I suppose this place must really be an adjustment for you. Don’t worry; you’ll find your way soon enough... As long as you continue to be gracious and well-meaning." As an afterthought she adds, "I would also recommend you give Blood her space.”
“You see, Blood is…” Muse leans back in her chair, her finger delicately dancing around the circumference of her wine glass. “Blood is… well… Blood. You’d be a bit on the grouchy side, too if so many people relied upon you. She spent the majority of her mortal life as the Captain of her City Guard. She actually died by the hands of Severan himself… while she was trying to protect her people. That scar upon her forehead is actually from Severan Deceit's own spear. You will understand then why Blood is so committed to his downfall."
"Blood had always been one to trust her gut instinct and several days before the assault, she felt that some ill would befall the city. She tried to convince her superiors that fortifications should be made and the innocents should be hidden within the confines of the City Hall, as it was the most secure establishment there. However, her superiors would hear nothing of it.”
“When the assault finally came, Blood did all she could to save as many lives as possible. She was very successful actually, though there were, of course, some casualties. Mind you, not nearly as many as if she had not fought so valiantly to aid them.”
“However, Blood can’t see the lives she has saved… only the lives that were lost… the people she could not save. Now, she commits the entirety of her waking life to protecting others. She’s almost fanatical about it, but one cannot fault her for the dedication she shows to both our people and our human cousins. I could only dream of being half as brave as that woman is.” You can tell that Muse truly admires her brethren and speaks fondly of each Ageless as if they were a close member of her family.
Muse drums her absentmindedly drums her fingernails upon the table. “When I have served on the front lines, I have always been a nervous wreck. It is always Blood who helps to soothe me. We draw strength from her… just as we do from General Fury or the Archon. It is one of the things I adore about my people. We are always there for each other… to lend one another our strength. We are all strong in our own right, but there will always be moments when we experience weakness. It is at those times that we must rely on our companions to provide the resilience to persist through anything... no matter how dire the circumstances. But why am I telling you this? Surely you must enjoy such companionship all the time!”
-
As is his custom, Fenwick bows to Dethys' wife, apparentely named Carina, when introduced. When their child, Laertan, touches his book, he begins drawing it away, but is stopped when the voice bugs him again.
*Ugh! Uah! Baby Drool. Disgusting!"
What?!?!?!!?!? babies and anything associated with babies weren't disgusting!
At least, that's what he thought, directed to the-voice-coming-from-somewhere-in-his-head. Hearing no reply however, he turns his attention again to the couple, just in time to hear Carina 'scold' Dethys.
“You aren’t going to be EXPERIMENTING are you? General Fury told you that you were not to be conducting any more experiments while the Childer Immortalis were in your care.”
Dethys' reply is quick, and before Fenwick can effectively register it, he is thwacked on the chest. Fenwick heaves from this, and nearly trips over his robes.
"See? Resilient lad! He’ll be alright.”
Yep. Totally... ouch... will be.
He is led to the basement, and is asked whether he had enchanted it. "Yes, I have. Although you no doubt already knew that. I wanted to be able to control its condition, modify it if the need ever arises. Therefore, I needed to ensure that Mother Nature had less hold over it. Thus, the spell. Of course, no modifications have been made yet. I've always felt compelled not to do anything to it." He shrugs to himself, admitting that it's probably because it was too precious to him.
Dethys appears not to have heard him as he puts the book down. It is then that the voice screams and shouts as if in torment, begging to be led away, commanding Fenwick to simply grab it and run.
He almost does so, but manages to restrain himself.
The next moment, a flash of light. Then, dust. Finally... a... a... body? Half a body?
“Oh crap…” bemoans the figure.
“Cardack!” growls Dethys. “I should have known!”
Seeing Dethys' responding in such a hostile manner, Fenwick immediately puts him arms across his chest to form an X. He breathes in, focusing the magic, and quickly pushes his arms out, simultaneously releasing his breath. In that instant, he casts WISDOM--PROTECTIVE BARRIER on himself. Keeping his eyes on this 'Cardack', he voices his questions.
"What is this thing? Who is he?"
The spell wears off very quickly from lack of practice, and Fenwick is unsure what to do, although he keeps his eyes on the spirit.
-
"I'm sorry to hear of your father. He sounds like he was a good man."
“I… I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I shouldn’t bore you with my tales. That was several hundred years ago. You just… you have such… interesting eyes. Whether man or beast, the eyes are windows to the soul, and when I look at yours… I see… trust.”
"My eyes..." He begins to say, but she quickly changes the subject. Visibly relieved, he lets out a small sigh.
He laughs at Besnik's reaction to his comment.
"...You know how wild falcons are.”
"Wild through and through. But they can be the most wise and graceful creatures as well." Muse continues, talking about Faile's family. "I'm not surprised Faile was the first to leave. She hates playing second fiddle to anyone. We certainly have our hands full with these two."
Sembas finishes the honeycake and sets his plate down.
"With a name like Archer, you must be quite the expert with a bow." He pats his shortbow leaning next to him. "I'm a decent shot, and the bowyer in our village did his best to create my shortbow. But I imagine you're leagues ahead of me in skill. And your bow makes mine look like a couple of sticks tied together. Where did you get it?"
-
Dethys places his hands upon his hips and frowns in irritation. “This cretin is my former apprentice, Cardack Silenus. He never received the honor of the Naming Ceremony because, as a self-admitted pacifist, he never did anything to aid the Bulwark. He was independent and-”
“Was? Was?! Is! He IS independent. Stop talking about me as if I’m not here. Furthermore, you know I don’t like war. As for the protecting humans part, I’d like to give them a bit more credit than that. They’re pretty strong on their own,” argues the phantom.
“Yes, they are strong, but just like young, headstrong, pacifist Childer Immortalis, they require the protection of their Elders so they don’t go about getting themselves killed by the Adversary… as I assume YOU did. Didn’t I warn you? You never listen? You’re all…” Dethys puffs out his chest and imitates his apprentice in an exaggerated voice. “I’m Cardack. I’m afraid of dying again so I’m going to hide behind my book and-”
“What do you know?” demands Cardack. He assumes a mocking imitation of his former master. “I’m Dethys Night. I’m and Elder so I’m practically invincible. I-”
“Now you listen to me you foolish, rapscallion! I-”
"No, you listen to be you self-important horse's ass!" shouts Cardack.
"You ungrateful bastard! After all I did for you! And then you leave and have the gall to take my EXPERIMENT with you!"
This is getting them absolutely nowhere, and you get the feeling if you don’t intervene, this may just continue forever, or however long Cardack manages to sustain himself in that book. How is he doing that anyway?
-
Archer’s bow is exquisitely made from some dark, rich form of wood you’ve likely never seen before. As your attention is drawn to it, Archer smiles broadly and places it upon the table in front of her.
“This is made from Ironwood. It’s virtually indestructible. It grows from only ONE tree in the heart of the Besel Woods. To harm such a rare entity, even for the sake of a mighty weapon would be most cruel, so when I sought to fetch it, I simply asked the tree and it gave me a small portion of its branches on its own free will.”
Even the bowstring has an unusual gleam to it, as if it was fashioned from pure moonlight. “The string is woven from a particularly strong spider’s web. His name is Belloch, and he is the largest, and likely oldest, spider that has ever lived. I came upon him once when I was scouting in the human realm. I thought he would set upon me, but he simply stared at me and bid me bring him the largest swine I could find. I did so, as he had asked quite politely, and he rewarded me with a bit of his web.”
“As for the crafter, I did that myself. I come from a long line of bowyers and fletchers, so I make my own bows and my own arrows. This…” She raises the bow into the air, admiring it with a smile, before carefully, almost reverently, handing it to you. “This is my finest work. It never misses. Ever.”
“Would you like to shoot her?” asked Archer. You might find the use of the pronoun a bit unusual, but much of what you have seen in Avalon thus far has been a bit unusual. “I have several targets set up around the back. Dethys was kind enough to construct a shooting range for me as well. It’s in a pretty golden field behind the tree here. Maybe we could practice together?”
-
Fenwick slaps his forehead with his palm. These two were worse than kids!!!
Although they were admittedly quite amuzing.
He decided to walk right inbetween them and wave his hand right in front of their eyes just to see what would happen, before raising his hands up in the air and with a grand, deep voice, shout out a simple "ENOUGH!!!!!"
"So, Cardack Senilus, I mean, Silenus, how long have you been in this book?"
He thinks for a moment, then asks again.
"Are you also the reason why I never make any spells which directly hurt people?"
He turns to Dethys and blinks.
"And what experiment is this? Can't you just make another one?"
-
In unison, both Cardack and Dethys greet your interventions by crossing their arms over the chests and uttering a “Hmph!” of indignation.
“No. I can’t simply remake the experiment,” grumbles Dethys. “Because that horse’s ass is in it!”
“I had just as much a hand in this as you did!” shoots Cardack.
“Bah! I did all the work! You just sat there and-” Dethys cuts himself off, realizing this was a waste of time. He sighs heavily and looks to you. “The book WAS the experiment. It’s a phylactery. I was testing to see-”
“WE!” corrects Cardack.
Dethys rubs his temples with his index fingers and relents to Cardack’s interruption. “Fine. WE were testing to see if we could somehow make it so an Ageless could avoid their second death. The book was intended to house the soul of the one that keep it. It wasn’t perfect mind you. We couldn’t really figure out how it would actually work. How did you manage to get in there anyway?” asks Dethys.
Cardack beams, a proud grin expanding across his translucent face. “Binding spell. It was a bit tough to get it off while Lieutenant Cauter was beating me to death, but I made it work. I've been stuck here for almost two hundred years now.”
“I see. Any idea how to get yourself out of there?” asks Dethys.
Cardack shakes his head miserably. “No. I haven’t found a way to make myself corporeal. In fact, since I am now bound to the book, I have a feeling that if it is destroyed, so will I be.”
“Hmph!” huffs Dethys. “I do believe a book burning is in order. Let me just get this fireplace started…” He crosses to the fireplace but Cardack shouts out to him.
“No, NO! Please you old coot! I’m begging you! Besides! You don’t want to make Fenwick sad, do you? He died saving me, you know. He likes me!” says Cardack proudly.
“No, he died saving the book… not you, specifically,” corrects Dethys.
“But I AM the book!” argues Cardack. “All my magical knowledge is contained within its pages. When I fused with it, it only enhanced its power.”
“And this is my problem why?” queries Dethys, feigning disinterest.
“Come on, Dethys!” implores Cardack. “For the regard you once bore for me, can we not just agree upon this? Besides, don’t you want to see this through? Being stuck in this book, I can’t exactly discern much about my situation. Perhaps you and Fenwick could find out more.”
Dethys sighs again, but you note the lurking smile present upon his face. He is actually looking forward to such a challenge. “Fine. Maybe I can find something in the Library about this. Granted, I’ve written many of the tomes there, but I’ve forgotten more than either of you will likely ever know. Come Fenwick.” Dethys motions for you to grab the book and follow him. “And do make yourself decent, Cardack. Our brethren have enough to worry about without some ethereal half a man popping out to scare the dickens out of them. Besides… Hestia still hasn’t forgiven you for abandoning her.”
“Hestia!” exclaims Cardack. If it is possible for a ghost to blush, that is certainly what Cardack is doing now. “How… how is she?”
“Very well, actually. Though I would venture to say she has never truly recovered from your just gallivanting off without a word to her. Spends all her time in her garden now. Even planted a rose in remembrance of you when I told her you were likely dead somewhere.”
“Aww… She was always such a dove,” fawns Cardack.
-
“Aww… She was always such a dove,” fawns Cardack.
Fenwick shrugs, thinking this as good a time as any.
"You know," he turns to Cardack for effect. "If I recall, I think I casted a spell that prevents the book from being burnt... or drenched... or have you forgotten?"
"But the experiment seemed to work. I mean, I'm talking to him right now, right?" Fenwick sticks his hand through Cardack and waves it about. "And I'm certainly able to go through him, for all that matters."
Fenwick begins to lean in to Dethys to whisper something, but realises that he's still holding the book, with Cardack still... projected... out. He stares at the book for a while, then decides to stick it into his robe, muttering a quick 'sorry' to Cardack although he probably wouldn't be able to hear it.
Leaning in to Dethys now, he asks, half-jokingly, half-seriously, "Cleo told me this book would betray me someday. I can't recall if it's static or not, I don't think so, but... this... guy... what can he do?"
-
Cardack glances at you ruefully. “Protection from elements, yes. However, I have a feeling that this arrogant son-of-a-pig already knows that and will use a rare form of magical fire, thus eschewing the Protection From Elements.” Cardack puts his hands upon his lack of hips.
“Speaking of, why don’t you get on that! You’re apparently going to the library! Figure out how to protect me better! I’m stuck in here, you know! It’s not like I can just hop on our whenever I please! There are so many other dangers out there! What about bears?! I could be mauled by a bear! Or ripped apart by a toddler! How about you give me a damn Invulnerability Spell or something! But don’t let him do it!” He gestures to Dethys. “He’ll probably just turn my pages pink!”
Dethys smirks. “Personally, I think you’d look ravishing in polka dots. Maybe even fashion your cover a little dress to wear.”
“You see!” exclaims Cardack.
Dethys ignores him. “Well, the experiment KIND OF worked. To be truly successful, we’d have to find a way to make him corporeal again. Honestly, I’m not even sure if that can be done. If he gets a body, will he still have a Death Wound? Will he simply be mortal again? These are questions I cannot answer.”
Cardack grumbles as you put him into your robes and he reluctantly retreats back into the book again.
You speak to Dethys. "Cleo told me this book would betray me someday. I can't recall if it's static or not, I don't think so, but... this... guy... what can he do?"
“What can he do? Mostly irritate me and give me blistering headaches. Not to mention he is unrelentingly inquisitive! Always getting himself into trouble which I inevitably, and now you inevitably, will have to get him out of. You just make sure you don’t leave that book to its own devices. Divine knows what he could do if he was left alone!”
“As for the betrayal thing, I can’t be sure what the Seer foresaw. Again, she often gets glimpses, but sometimes they do not make sense until the event is allowed to transpire. If it’s static, then it’s unavoidable and I suggest we burn that damn thing!”
You hear a plaintive, “NO, NO, NOOOOOOO!” in the back of your head.
“But if it can be avoided,” continues Dethys. “Maybe the key to that is simply making sure that lout doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. He’s lucky he’s managed to escape the detection of the Forsaken thus far.”
-
Cardack whines about his lack of security within the book, and before Dethys can reply, Fenwick shouts out his own rebuttal.
"I didn't know that you existed! I didn't even hear your voice until we came to Avalon! What are you complaining about! I've taken good care of you, I mean, my book since I got you! Sides, what the hell were you doing being traded around by travelling merchants anyway!?!? I don't think the Forsaken would just take you and just sell you away!"
"And babies are not, and never will be, dangerous!!!" Fenwick adds quite forcefully. He could not remember getting this worked up ever in his life. Maybe he was getting old.
Dethys then talks, suggesting too the possible ways of preventing the future. A loud triplet of 'NO' bursts forth, and Fenwick realises that putting it into his robe probably wouldn't work since they were now, essentially, bound together.
"Sembas has his bow and hood, Faran has his songs, we have our magic. But perhaps it is possible to combine the disciplines into one. Maybe, if we fail to give him a body, we can bind him to some robes or something similar, which can sing, while casting magic."
The thought was entertaining and brought a smile to his lips. Then a thought suddenly occurs.
"This thing's avoided detection for two hundred years right? Then there has to be something, an enchantment, that's protecting it. If that's the case, and if we can magnify this enchantment, then it's possible to prevent Avalon, even its people, from being detected!" As he speaks, Fenwick appears to be skipping as he walks, excited by the possibility.
"People wouldn't need to die!!!!"
-
Depheir Kogthar found his summons stuffed into one of the scabbards that he carried with him. It is a simple note, in a very fine calligraphy writing, that instructs the mage to make his way to the Wastes of Faranas. Depheir knows this is an unforgiving desert, but the writer of this note seems to imply he knows a great deal about your rather unique “condition.” You are well-read, so you know what you really are. You have heard of the unending struggle between the Ageless and Forsaken, two factions of immortals known as the Legion Immortalis. You know that the former wants to protect humanity from evil, but he latter seeks to destroy it. In your travels, you may have even seen an Ageless, but the fact of the matter is, humans know very little about them other than what you have already discovered.
Being a gentleman who is on an unending search for wisdom, this summons piques your interest and you begin to make your way to the Wastes of Faranas. It takes you nearly a week to cross the barren, sweltering deserts, and as you set your eyes to the horizon, the expanse seems to be never-ending.
On the seventh day, your foot becomes stuck in the sand and you watch with growing horror as a craggy old hand reaches through the sand and seizes you by the ankle. You are dragged through the sand, and you realize with amazement that you are in the tent of an old woman. This was likely the crone that was alluded to in the letter, so you assume you are in the right place.
Her face is laden with wrinkles and her dull, vacant blue eyes inspect you with interest. “You… are late.” The old woman frowns, her expression quickly growing sour. She sighs in exasperation and presses her thumbs to your eyes. “Now… this is just a precautionary measure to make sure you are who you are supposed to be.”
This statement is simply confusing, but your confusion is interrupted by a searing pain that shoots through the woman’s fingertips and blasts through your sockets. Upon seeing that you are still alive, the old woman smiles and begins to transform into an exceptionally gorgeous blonde woman with sparkling blue eyes. Your mind still feels as if it is scrambled and she presses something moist to your lips. Once she does this, you instantly regain your composure. You find yourself upon the floor of the tent and the pretty woman extends a hand to help you to your feet.
“Sorry about that,” she apologizes. “The Forsaken have been doing all they can to find this place. I’ve got to move the gates soon, but I did not want to leave before you had a chance to arrive here.” Her apology seems sincere and she puts a delicate hand upon your shoulder. “Are you alright? I wish I did not have to resort to such measures, but it is my duty to ensure the safety of Avalon.”
She crosses to the far end of the room and fetches you something cold to drink. It is a welcome gesture since you had spent the last several days in the blistering desert.
She guides you to a table and seats herself across from you. Being so in-tune with the arcane arts, you immediately notice that her form simply EXUDES an immense amount of magic. This is a truly powerful mage, the likes of which you have never seen before.
“So you truly are Depheir Kogthar. I am Cleo Seer. It is a pleasure to meet you, though I apologize again for the… you know… the zappy thing. Anyway. It is my duty to commend you to Avalon, the Capital City of the Ageless. Several of your companions have already been sent through the gates, but we are still missing one more. We shall give him a few hours to see if he arrives, and if he does not, you shall simply have to make your journey alone. Until then, can I get you anything else? Or perhaps you have some questions about Avalon?”
-
Cardack is rendered speechless by your forceful reply. “I suppose you have done a decent job of looking after me. As for the Forsaken, Lieutenant Cauter is a horse’s refuse and was too daft to notice me. I was picked up by some mortal farmer, who, being illiterate, saw no use for a book and passed me on to some traveling merchants. Fools!”
Cardack grumbles at the prospect of being someone’s singing robe.
Dethys chuckles. “I would like to see you bound to a frilly mumu, Cardack. You’d make a fancy garment for some corpulent woman,” he teases.
Cardack silently seethes, but does not dignify Dethys’s taunts with a response.
You make an intriguing suggestion."This thing's avoided detection for two hundred years right? Then there has to be something, an enchantment, that's protecting it. If that's the case, and if we can magnify this enchantment, then it's possible to prevent Avalon, even its people, from being detected!"
“He's likely avoided detection only by the intervention of the Divine," speaks Dethys. "However, it is an interesting thought, but it would be far more difficult than you could possibly understand. You see, there are only ever about three hundred Legion Immortalis in total. Since Severan’s betrayal, we have always had superior numbers. Now, however, our numbers are nearly even. I do believe the Adversary has some hand in that. There must be some way he is reaching the Childer before we are.” Dethys appears disturbed by this thought.
“We have managed to become quite adept at hiding Avalon, as it technically exists in another plane of existence and Cleo is currently the only key. However, hiding its people, especially when we are in the human realm would be quite difficult. Perhaps not impossible, but difficult. We will have to research this extensively.”
Dethys bids you to follow him to an enormous, looming edifice in the center of Avalon. It is an immense tower done in the same gold and ivory fashion and elaborate architecture that you have come to expect from Avalon. The tower is about twenty stories high and the interior is just as impressive. You see elaborate carvings of armed warriors and tapestries of winged beings. Each section is filled from floor to ceiling with nearly every tome that has ever been written.
Dethys leads you to one of the uppermost floors. Upon this floor, there is a large shield adorned in gold and ivory and depicting a tower. You recognize it from the Blood-Warden base. This section houses the rarest tomes, many of them written by Dethys himself, and is an exclusive section of the library that is only able to be accessed by members of The Bulwark of Heaven. In order to even enter this floor, Dethys must use a very specific incantation that only he, and a handful of others, know by heart.
Dethys claps his hands together. “Well, let’s get to it then.”
-
Depheir replied to Cleo, with unconcealed curiosity.
"Yes, I have few questions. First, is that, how did you call it, "zappy thing", some sort of security?"
"Exactly", she nodded. "When the Forsaken learned of my whereabouts, and because this place is warden against them, they began to send humans posing as Ageless. There were enchantments on them that enhanced their abilities and made them seem like Ageless."
"I see. That spell might kill any human, but Ageless will withstand its power. Very clever."
She smiled to Depheir, and asked him: "Do you have any other questions, Depheir?"
"I want to know something about Avalon... and about your knowledge about magic. Perharps we can share our skills to each other."
-
"Ironwood. No I've never heard of such a tree. I've never heard of a tree simply giving up its branches either."
He holds out his hands and with the care of holding an infant turns it over and inspects it. "You made this yourself?" He flicks the bowstring lightly, shaking his head. "Beautiful. Old Lemnas would take a lifetime to make something like this. I can make simple arrows in a pinch but they miss more often than not..."
His eyes light up when she ask if he'd like to shoot her. "Why, yes I would. It would be an honor."
Faile was long finished with her honeycake and was cleaning her feathers. She was growing bored and keeps looking out the window. She nonchalantly looks at Besnik and flutters her eyes at him.
Chirp? She says sweetly.
-
In the Wastes of Faranas, Cleo gives an agreeable nod in response to Depheir's response. "Yes, I think that I might be able to teach you a spell or two. It might take some time, however, more than we have just now. Perhaps after you have taken care of your business in Avalon you might return and I can show you a bit of my magic."
Cleo goes on to explain the grandeur of Avalon, and relates a great deal of information to you about the exquisite city of the Ageless. You note that she seems quite homesick as she recounts its beauty. She tells you a bit about the companions that you will soon meet. She tells you that Fenwick is incredibly intelligent, and quite special. You notice her smile widens when she speaks of him, perhaps betraying some deeper meaning. She recounts Sembas fondly, telling you that he is polite, well-mannered, and seems wise beyond his years. She also tells you of his traveling companion, a rare falcon named Faile. When she speaks of Faran, her beautiful face scrunches into an expression of distaste. She tells you that the way he wields the arts is quite impressive, but his behavior is rather boorish and he has a tendency to be insulting.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Archer grins at Sembas as he admires the bow. “Yes, Ironwood is exceptionally rare, and the tree it comes from is the most unusual one I have ever set eyes upon. It is quite a sight to behold. Perhaps Besnik and I can take you there sometime. I could try to simply describe it to you, but I doubt I could do it justice.”
Besnik raises his head and abruptly shakes his beak from side to side to dispel bits of honeycake. He looks over to Faile and calls out a friendly trill before hoping towards the window.
“Ah… He wants to show her his nest. He’s quite proud of it. Male falcons usually don’t make such things for themselves, but Besnik is willing to try just about everything,” explains Archer.
Besnik hops out one of the windows and sticks his head back in, calling out to Faile again. “Trrrrlllllll,” he purrs, beseeching her to follow him.
Meanwhile, Archer gestures for you to follow her down to her practice area. The field that houses it is lovely, and it is yet another wonder of Avalon that such diversely different places can exist in the same place. That this seeming oasis of arboreal bliss can exist in the heart of a place is quite amazing.
Archer hands you a quiver of arrows and places the Ironwood bow in your hands. As you shoot at the target, you quickly become aware that she was quite right: not one arrow that you shoot misses the target. She is also very impressed by your natural finesse and compliments your skill with a bow.
After some time, Archer tells you that she has some business to attend to at The Bulwark, but would like to meet with you again soon in order to arrange that race between Besnik and Faile. She believes it will be quite a sight to behold, and would like to extend an invitation to her Ageless brethren to attend.
Before she parts ways with you, she hands you a well-made quiver, filled with about a dozen of her custom-crafted arrows. (see OOC) She also detaches a small belt pouch from her waist and gifts it to you. When you open the small, leather pouch, you find a small bit of the same dark, Ironwood that her bow is crafted from.
“For luck, Sembas,” she says simply.
-
Faile hops out the window after Besnik and buzzes by him in the air playfully. Sembas watches out the window as she tumbles around in the air, teasing Besnik. Cupping his hands together he yells out the window, "Manners!" He facepalms for a moment before following Archer down to her practice range.
Her bow is larger than what he is used to, yet it was surprisingly accurate. It would be difficult to return to his old shortbow after firing such a weapon.
The race will be quite a sight to see, he agrees. He goes on to mention that he would be proud for the others to come watch. It would be a great introduction to those he hasn't met yet.
Sembas is quite shocked when she hands him the quiver. He remarks about the quality and thanks her deeply. The pouch also is quite a gift. He gasps slightly, realizing the rarity of the ironwood inside.
"Thank you, Gladia. May luck bring our paths together again soon."
The two of them part, and Sembas finds his way to a bench along a side street. He takes a seat and looks up at the sky. Faile was still with Besnik. They were at his nest now. He could feel Failes feeling of uncertainty. Why would a male falcon be nesting? He was glad she was being polite for once, at least.
About fifteen minutes later She lands on the back of the bench, chattering away.
"Yes, this place is very different than home. We'll find our place here sooner than later. No. Well, yes, she is very beautiful. Yes, these arrows are from her. No, its not food in the pouch. I'll show it to you later. Of course we'll be seeing them again. Hopefully quite ofte-"
He slaps a hand over his mouth. Whipping his head around he looks to see if anyone was nearby. It was hopeless, nonetheless. She probalby heard he and Faile's exchange as clear as day.
He sighs loudly and holds out his arm. "Come on." She giggles in his mind as she hops on his arm.
"Did you happen to see where Dennan lives while you were flying around? Yes, I'd like to pay him a visit too."
The two begin walking towards Dennan's cottage. Hopefully the large man is at home.
-
Faile is able to point Sembas in the direction of Dennan’s humble abode. She mentions it was quite easy to find it from her vantage in Archer’s tree, that it isn’t quite far, and that at least from what she could see, it had not changed at all in her absence.
From Archer’s tree, you make a left and can see a large barrier of trees further down the path. These tall forest sentinels stand vigilant over the Ageless giant’s simple cottage. In front of the cottage there is a large, grassy yard, and you can make out a tanned, mountainous shape performing some repetitive action. As you draw nearer, you see that Dennan is chopping wood upon an old tree stump. You somehow know that this is an action he does more for the enjoyment than the applied practice. Someone like Dethys could probably just summon up some logs for him. Yet, everything you know of Dennan so far indicates that he is a man of simplicity who does not care for the more elaborate aspects of Avalon.
Dennan takes notice of you and brings his massive hand into the air for a welcoming wave. You see him gather up several logs from around the stump and carry them towards his home.
You are taken by surprise as an enormous shape bolts across the distance between you and the cottage and roughly knocks you to the ground. As you gather your senses, you find that you are staring up at the dripping mouth of a gargantuan bear. Your first instinct is likely to locate Faile, but you see her sitting atop the bear’s head. You hear her laughing uproariously in your mind and she spreads her wings in glee at your current position.
You hear Dennan’s booming voice emanating from the direction of the cabin. “Fensten! Come here now. Leave poor Sembas be. He’s not used to your greetings yet.”
The bear whines slightly and drags his long, sand-papery tongue across your face in a gesture of apology, before loping off towards his master. Faile is still seated upon his head and looks quite comfortable on her “bear mount.” She glances back at you and you can feel her amusement.
Dennan approaches you and scoops you up off the ground, placing you firmly upon your feet. “Sorry. Fensten is well-meaning, but sometimes he does not know his own strength.”
You had heard somewhere that animals often share some resemblance with their human companions, and when Dennan mentions that his bear friend does not seem to know his own strength, you are reminded of your introduction to the General’s son.
Dennan sniffs the air and you notice he exhibits certain feral qualities. The man himself is much like the beasts he keeps company with. “Honeycakes. Did you enjoy the cream I sent? Personally, I believe that Archer’s cakes are amazing without it, but she seems to like it, so I always keep some on hand. She sent over a basket of them, but someone engorged himself upon them before I could enjoy them.” He glances towards Fensten who whines sheepishly at this acknowledgment of his role in the missing honeycakes.
-
Sembas and Faile return Dennan's wave. Faile raising her left wing while Sembas raising his right hand. The effect looks a bit... odd. Caught off guard, he is tackled to the ground by what he finally realizes is a large bear. Sembas groans and rolls his eyes once he sees Faile sitting happily atop the bear's head, laughing away in his mind.
The long, sandpapery lick leaves him stunned for a moment. As he is placed back on his own two feet he gingerly wipes the drool off of his cheek.
"Um, thank you... Erhem..." Dennan smells out the honeycakes, drawing a smile from Sembas.
"Yes, Archer had some waiting by the time Faile and I arrived at her house. I'm sure sweet cream makes them a tad better. That was actually one of the reasons I stopped by, to thank you for the cream!" He chuckles, looking over at Fensten. "It looks like he could woof down more than a few honeycakes all by himself. I'm sure just a basket of them were barely a snack for the big fella!" Faile starts scratching one of Fensten's ears with her beak, saying hello to an old friend.
"The other reason I've stopped by, Dennan, is because of what I saw earlier today. You changed into a wolf! I've never seen anything like that before. I must say I was quite impressed by the whole thing. Where did you ever learn to do something like that?" Catching himself, he adds, "If you don't mind me asking, of course..."
-
Dennan blushes at your acknowledgment of his skills. Again, you are reminded of the slow and deliberate nature of his pattern of speech. You can tell his is unaccustomed to speaking much and likely spends the majority of his time in silent reflection, or perhaps communicating with his animal companions.
“My father taught me… When I was young. Every year, my father and mother would take Corvus and I to a large forest in the human realm. Father said he had enjoyed the place when he was a boy, and wished for us to see it. It looked much like this… with tall, green grass and a little creek full of fish. It was beautiful! But the thing I loved best was the animals.”
“My brother Corvus never really cared too much for the wide, open spaces. He loves city’s and when we travel in the human realm, he seeks them out like a moth to light. He loves to surround himself with others, and is always the center of their attention, no matter where he goes. I prefer the silence… to stay in the background and observe. Words can be vacant and hollow… they can mislead and betray… but actions… actions speak volumes.”
“I am not like the others… All Ageless begin as humans… But Corvus and I…” Dennan shakes his head and you can tell that his origins are quite conflicting for him. “We simply stopped ageing. There was no Death Wound, like mother’s eye or father’s heart. We just… stopped.”
“I was born in Avalon. While Corvus has been content to remain here in this grand place I have always enjoyed accompanying mother and father into the human world. When he goes, he leaves reluctantly. I, however, will embrace any chance I can to look upon the oceans, to tromp through the forests, or to stand upon the highest peaks. This is the world I desire, and so my mother and father asked Dethys to create this place for me. For when I am needed here.”
“I cannot complain,” says Dennan. “Here, I am always surrounded by family and friends. It makes the distress and pain that we encounter in the human world that much easier to bear. I feel bad for them… to know such fear and sadness with little chance of respite. But me? I can always come back to Avalon. Though we do not spend much time here, as the business of the Bulwark requires us to be in the human realm quite a bit, sometimes it is welcome to be in such a safe haven.”
“Come. I shall introduce you to my kindred,” offers Dennan.
Dennan shows you around his piece of earth and allows you to acquaint yourself with his closest friends. There are several horses, a few bovines, wild boar, turtles, several forms of feathered fowl, a small family of deer, and a mated pair of wolves. He shows you the proper way to approach wild animals and demonstrates how to speak to them in their natives tongues. Most impressively, he shows his ability to take the forms of all of these animals, and tells you of even more forms he has access to.
“The key to Shapeshifting is not imitation, but truly becoming the animal,” explains Dennan. “They are not suits to be worn, but beings to channel. To really be able to take an animal’s form, you must see the world through their eyes. Perhaps sometime I can show you how to hone this ability, though it will take some time for you to master.”
-
I was flabbergasted, There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice. She genuinely thought I worked like the rest of Bulwark; relying on each other for strength as they relied on Blood. And she honestly didn't think I was joking when I made that crack about being on wanted posters. This one was very... trusting. I liked it. I was amused by it. She wasn't condescending, which was very refreshing. Oh, everyone had been very hospitable, but everything had been edged with a certain air of superiority. Sort of: “If you know what's good for you.”
But now I felt a little sad. I couldn't hide behind a sarcastic response with her, she'd take it the wrong way. Everyone seemed to have a penchant for being open with each other around here, so I might as well give it a shot.
“I'm afraid that I do not enjoy such companionship all the time.” I said simply. “I know no one. I am a vagabond, you see. I move from place to place holding no ties. I draw my strength from inside me. My only love is the Song and it is my constant companion. She fills me when I caress her. She aids me as I travel, warming me when I am cold, sheltering me from the rain, hiding me in danger, growing food for the hungry, healing those who are sick.” I chuckled. “One of my favorite things to do in my travels is, on entering a village, finding out who is sick and late at night, Singing under their window. They would be better the next day and no one could figure out why.“ I laughed despite myself. I really enjoyed that. Always amused me.
“It is Ecstasy to Sing. A deceptive ecstasy. It's better than anything I've ever felt. Performed wrong and it can cause untold destruction. Give in too much and...” I stopped. This was ground I didn't want to tread. “...well, let's just say I learned control.”
I left it there. That was a lot more than I thought I would say. Something about her made me comfortable in doing so. I suppose it was her trusting manner. The afternoon sun slanted through the open doorway, catching motes of dust in its beam. The contrast of light and the shadows of the tavern made the place seem a little darker, but not a bit less inviting. A light, cool breeze drifted through the door, bringing the smells of bread baking from one of the establishments across the plaza. An Ageless who still enjoyed making food the old fashioned way.
Which brought me to the startling revelation Muse had given me about this place. People just ASKED for stuff? My mind reeled. An economy based on honor and favors. How did they keep track of it all? How did they stop people from abusing this system? Well, I guess if it works for them. But that also meant that if I was staying here I'd have to do some “shopping” sometime. I can't just pull things out of the air like some of these people. I wasn't that good with the Song. If my reputation had already spread across the city I'd have to kiss some serious ass to keep from going hungry. Ugh, why couldn't I just wash dishes or something? It irked me to owe something to someone. I'd rather just pay silver for something and then be on my way. Fewer ties that way.
Her comments on Captain Blood were interesting. Ever vigilant over her charges: The Ageless and all over humanity. The poor woman Takes too much on herself. I can see why she a little bit grumpy. Little bit? The look she gave me could have curdled milk. I suppose that she was hard on people because she cared so much. She was very admirable, but she was going about everything entirely the wrong way. She was going to self-destruct if she kept being so hard on herself. Everyone else was going to self-destruct if her kept being so angry at them. I hope she finds some peace soon.
-
Fenwick nearly faints with delight as he enters the gigantic library. What little disappointment he had felt when his suggestion didn't hold disappeared. Books, books, books!!!
At the uppermost floor, Fenwick had to restrain every muscle in his body so as not to jump on Dethys and force him to mutter that cursed incantation faster. He only hears what Dethys says, something about them getting to it... But he might as well have not said it. He had seemingly zoomed forward to the closest shelf and grabbed one of the old looking tomes off the wall, gently but definitely urgently.
The pages were yellowed, and apparentely the author was Dethys himself. Clutching it to his sides, he glances over at the book next to it and frowns slightly. Dethys again? But this book was almost as old as the one he was holding.
It was the same for the one next to that one... and the one after that... and...
Holy crap it was a freaking shelf of books by Dethys!!
Fenwick looks over his shoulder to where Dethys was. Perhaps it was shock he saw, or some smile--it didn't matter--that hit him on the head and suddenly, writing a whole shelf of thick books seemed a lot more probable. Especially when you were hundreds of years old.
"Your hands must be incredibly tired." He muses, turning over the new tome he held. "At this rate, I can just throw my old book away and just bring these instead." He delibrately waits for some response from Cardack, before moving over to a table and flipping over the pages, still standing.
"It would take me time, time that I do not have right now, to read through everything here..." He makes no effort to hide his regret over this fact. "But am I allowed to bring one out? A copy or something similar? Not the original oh no!!! They're sacred, but..." Unable to continue, Fenwick simply lets it trail off. But the reason why they had come in the first place came flooding into his mind suddenly.
"Oh yea. A spell for this Cardack fellow. Where do we start?" He looks squarely at Dethys, fully expecting him to know where to start.
It was, after all, his books.
-
Depheir listened, how Cleo described the Capital City of Ageless and draws its majestic appearance in his mind. "It must be a magnificent city. I shall explore it all, but first, I'll go to the library.", he thought.
"Library of Avalon may reveal some of spells to you", she said suddenly.
"What the...?", Depheir was a little surprised. "Is she able to read minds of others?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she began to describe each of companions he will soon meet.
When Cleo said few words about the others, Depheir asked her suddenly: "Where is that missing Ageless?"
"Do you want to go now?"
"No, i still have time... but I am afraid that he may be caught by Forsaken."
-
Sembas is thoroughly enjoying himself in the company of Dennan. His plot of earth amidst the city is so very refreshing. The smell of the grass and the shade of the trees sets him right at ease.
Dennan's menagerie is all very friendly. Sembas realizes just how wild the man is as he speaks to each animal in their native tongue.
“The key to Shapeshifting is not imitation, but truly becoming the animal... They are not suits to be worn, but beings to channel. To really be able to take an animal’s form, you must see the world through their eyes. Perhaps sometime I can show you how to hone this ability, though it will take some time for you to master.”
"I... I would appreciate it greatly if you were to show me how to do that. To become an animal." His eyes go kind of misty as he continues. "I would finally be able to fly next to Faile in the sky..." He spreads his arms and wiggles his fingers.
Faile, still parading around on top of Fensten's head, spreads her wings and chatters at Sembas. He blushes and lowers his arms, embarrassedly laughing to himself. Dennan's deep laughter doesn't help ease his embrrassment.
"It is good to see Faile again. I see she hasn't lost her sense of humor. How did you know to care for her? Falcon's can be... Particular." Dennan asks.
"Why, I come from a long line of falconers. My father taught my brothers and I how to care for falcons from as soon as we could walk. When Faile found me in the mountains after a storm I already knew a great deal about the birds. None of us were prepared for Faile, though." He says with a smile. "She surely turned us on our heads a few times."
Faile flaps over and lands on his shoulder. Dennan rubs the feathers under her beak and she coos and leans into his fingers.
"I see you and Besnik have quit your squabbling. At least long enough for a private tour of the city, littlest chick."
Faile's eyes go wide as she lurches away from his hand. She begins shaking her head and gives a rebuttal in rushed squawks and grunts. Both Sembas and Dennan laugh as she fumes and flaps away into a nearby tree.
"It's ok, girl. Not many saw the two of you, so high in the air. I'll keep your reuptation intact." Dennan calls after her.
Turning to Sembas, his features go serious. "About your interest in becoming an animal. Begin slow. For now ponder on an animal you associate closely with. Try and imagine how they move, how they see and how they live. Meditate on this for a while." He clasps a large hand on Sembas's shoulder. Sembas braces himself this time, but still is set off balance. "While you do so, feel free to stop by anytime and pay a visit to my friends and I. I may not always be here, but they enjoy the company."
Shaking hands and saying their farewells Sembas starts walking down the road away from the cottage. Dennan hefts his axe over his shoulder and begins chopping wood once again.
Fensten climbs up a tree, the branches rustling all the way. Finally Faile bursts out of the thick leaves, squabbling and scolding the bear on her way past. If a bear could laugh Fensten would be doing so as he slides back down the trunk of the tree.
Dennan had pointed him in the direction of the Armory. While Sembas's weapons were just fine for militia work. He imagines the duties of The Bulwark were a great deal more demanding on equipment. Faile was flying ahead, having heard the directions from her perch in the tree.
-
@ Faran:
Muse listens attentively as Faran speaks. You get the feeling that she is an exceptional listener and has a great deal of practice at it.
“I'm afraid that I do not enjoy such companionship all the time.I know no one. I am a vagabond, you see. I move from place to place holding no ties. I draw my strength from inside me. My only love is the Song and it is my constant companion…”
Her face falls and she gives you a look of genuine sympathy. “That sounds like a lonely life, Faran. Though my songs may be different than yours, I do find comfort in them as well. However, it is no replacement for the companionship that my brethren lend me. Simply being in each other’s company, especially when we’re in the human realm, is a great comfort to me. I know that no matter where I am, I always carry my brethren with me.”
“One of my favorite things to do in my travels is, on entering a village, finding out who is sick and late at night, Singing under their window. They would be better the next day and no one could figure out why.”
Muse giggles. "That sounds like a wonderful thing to do. Helping people out of the kindness of your heart with no need for accolades."
“It is Ecstasy to Sing. A deceptive ecstasy. It's better than anything I've ever felt. Performed wrong and it can cause untold destruction. Give in too much and...well, let's just say I learned control.”
“You seem to have great passion for your song, as do I. It can be a great help to others, which is why I use my arts to aid both humanity and my brethren. I care deeply for both of those things.”
“This is quite a pleasant turn for me, to have so many to care for, and who care for me in return. When I was mortal, I was a member of a royal family. My father was the king’s brother, and when my uncle died, my father took the throne. I was an only child and my mother died when I was young. My father was often called away for diplomatic purposes so I spent a great deal of time alone.”
“I suppose that made me a princess. I hated it though. No one ever cared about who I really was. I was just this symbol for them to dote upon. No one knew the real Adaline.”
“At any rate, my father was a rather inept king, and the country suffered under his reign. They executed him, and then turned their eyes to me.” Muse appears uncomfortable discussing this part of the story and shifts in her chair.
“When my father died, I knew that I would be next. So, I did what I had always wanted to do: I traveled. I had always held in my heart a great passion for music. So, I became a minstrel, and was quite good at it! It let me see the world, and bring joy to people who desperately needed it. Until…” Muse abruptly cuts off and changes the subject.
“At any rate, this all happened a long time ago. The long and short of it is, I spent all my mortal life feeling distant from others. Now, I surround myself with friends. The Bulwark is my family now, and they bid me to do what I’ve always wanted: to help people. I get to travel with my companions to human villages and comfort the weary, and heal the sick. I know we can’t fix all of humanity’s problems; there are some things they must do themselves. However, I enjoy the hand that I have in their happiness when it can be found.”
-
@Rethagos:
Cleo tilts her head slightly. “I do not think he is lost to us just yet. After all, you made it here alright, albeit a little late. Perhaps he is just tardy as well. I will know if he falls to the Forsaken. When you are as old as I am, you get a feeling for these things.”
A strange orb in the back of the room erupts with light and you hear a male voice being transmitted through it.
“SEER. HAVE ANY OF THE OTHERS ARRIVED?”
“Yes!” responds Cleo, leaping to her feet. “Depheir has arrived, but there is still no sign of Aldgar.”
“I SEE. WILL YOU BE MOVING THE GATES THEN?”
Cleo contemplates this for a moment. “I will give him yet another day, but we cannot afford to wait much longer. If he is not here by this time tomorrow, I will move the gates.”
“VERY WELL. WILL YOU SEND DEPHEIR THROUGH?”
“Yes, Keeper.”
“I WILL LET DETHYS KNOW THAT ANOTHER OF HIS CHARGES WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY.”
“Thank you, Keeper.” Cleo turns to you. “It looks like they’re ready for you.”
@ Fenwick:
Fenwick speaks. "Your hands must be incredibly tired. At this rate, I can just throw my old book away and just bring these instead."
“Hey!” exclaims Cardack defensively. “So quick to forget everything I’ve done for you!”
Dethys chuckles at your unbridled excitement. “Luckily, Ageless hands do not tire easily. Sometimes I forget just how many of these I have written.” Dethys selects a specific tome from the shelf and places it in your hands.
“It would take me time, time that I do not have right now, to read through everything here... But am I allowed to bring one out? A copy or something similar? Not the original oh no!!! They're sacred, but...”
Dethys laughs again and puts his hand upon your shoulder. “Yes, these are all quite rare, but that does not mean you cannot take at least a bit of this knowledge with you. Here.” He gestures to the tome he had given you. “The spell you need for old, dust-in-his-pages should be in here. However, let me teach you another interesting trick.” (see OOC)
After some time, Keeper breathlessly enters the room and informs Dethys that a new Childer Immortalis has arrived at the Seer’s tent. Dethys recognizes your desire to see Cleo and bids you follow him and Keeper to the main gates.
“Let’s do a quick exchange, shall we, Keeper? Let Cleo know that Fenwick is on his way and that she may send Depheir through.”
You see a small building just outside the gates and Keeper disappears within for a few moments. When he returns he gives Dethys a nod. “She will send Depheir through now. I told her we will be transmitting someone else through our side, but I did not tell her it would be Fenwick. She should be in for a pleasant surprise.”
@Rethagos:
In the tent, Depheir sees Cleo open a portal, and the swirling mass of golden energy undulates and churns as it prepares for you to be sent through to Avalon. Cleo gives you the same warning she gave the other. “Keep walking forward, and do not turn back, lest you may be lost to the mists. It may feel a bit unusual for you. It’s different for everyone that passes through it.”
Cleo sends you through, and the sensation you feel is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. While you walk forward, you pass by a gentleman clad in simple cloth clothing. You glance at him, but heed the Seer’s warning and continue your way forward.
When you emerge on the other side, you are greeted with quite a sight to behold. The massive, sprawling city, constructed with elaborate detail in hues of ivory and gold, must surely be Avalon! Before you are two men. One is clad in robes of gray and acknowledges you with a nod as you exit the portal. The other has hair so blonde that it is nearly white, and piercing green eyes. You raises his hand to you in welcome.
The man in gray introduces himself as Keeper, the Steward of the City and unofficial greeting committee. He introduces the other man to you as Dethys Night, an Elder Ageless who will serve as your mentor and take you to the headquarters of The Bulwark of Heaven.
@Fenwick:
Again, you feel as if you are pushed and pulled in all directions, though the effect of the portal is far less unsettling than before. As you cross through the dimensional space that will lead you to the Seer, you cross paths with another gentleman. You sense magic radiating off of him, and recognize him as a fellow mage.
You know it would be unwise to tarry in this space, so you give him a nod of acknowledgment before continuing onward.
You emerge on the other side of the gate and find yourself face-to-face with a speechless Seer. Cleo glances from you to the portal, waits until she is sure Depheir has safely passed through, and closes the gates behind you.
The disbelief is clearly present upon her face. “You… you came back! I can’t believe you actually came back!” She throws her arms around your neck drawing you close to her, and you can feel her body tremble with excitement at your fulfillment of your word.
She is so elated to see you that small tears form in the corners of her eyes, and again you are reminded of the constant loneliness she must feel in this place.
-
@Sembas:
Sembas makes his way back towards the headquarters of The Bulwark of Heaven, as this is where the armory is contained. As you make your way towards the main gates of the Blood-Warden base, you see that Corvus is still at his post. He does not bother to ask you for papers or the whereabouts of your escort as he knows his mother has welcomed you into the Bulwark. You are now free to come and go as you please.
He gives a polite wave as you pass by and you quickly find yourself just outside of the Blood-Warden base. Rather than entering the main establishment, you follow the directions that Dennan gave you and take the left path to a rather large building nearby. Curls of smoke pour out of a vent in the roof of this establishment, and there is no mistaking this building for anything but a smith’s safe haven.
As you enter, you are greeted by a grizzled old man who carries a smithing hammer in his hand. He wears a blacksmith’s apron and the fires of his forge cast a bright gleam off of his bald head. He has a short beard that would be white if it were not covered in ash and soot, and though there is an air of intimidation about him, he greets you with a welcoming smile.
“Ye must be one of the Young Ones the General told me about.” He wipes his palm upon his apron and extends his hand to you for a firm handshake. “I’m Armen Smith, but everyone here just calls me Smith.”
“So, what can I do fer ye, lad?”
-
“Well, it seems you and I have some things in common then.” Especially omitting things from our pasts. “We are agreed. There is simple joy in aiding the common man.” Though it was almost creepy in a way. Everyone here seem to ready and willing to share their life stories with complete strangers. Was this what living for hundreds of years does to people? Out in the world, I was used to getting nothing more than a grunt or two from someone I was pressing for information.
I went on. “I think I would enjoy being a common man again. I really try not to think of myself as an immortal. I fear that if I did I'd lose my connection with them. There shouldn't be an “us and them” mentality between humans and immortals. We should all be the same. We should be out living amongst them.” I sighed. I should be out there right now, but I'm stuck here. “I really look forward to the day I'm strong enough to walk the world on my own again without fear of being set upon by Severan and his minions. I suppose that's one reason why I'm so resentful of this whole situation. I went from being an adult and knowing exactly how the world works and being able to fend for myself, to being a child again and needing everyone's “protection”. I want to stand on my own again.” I said with some heat in my voice.
-
@Faran:
Again, Muse demonstrates her skills as both an attentive, and sympathetic, listener.
“You must remember, Faran, we are not TRULY immortal. We can still die, but only under specific circumstances. That is why everyone here is so concerned for your protection. You see, when we venture into the human realm, we must be careful where we go and what we do. Though we are quite good at keeping humans protected, if we are to tarry in one place for too long, we actually put the very people we are trying to protect in danger. Just as we can sense the Forsaken, at least to a degree, they can also sense us.”
“That is why we must stick together and move in groups when we are there. One Ageless would be quite easy to corner and take down. However, if we move in small groups, this increases our chances of survival. Especially right now, survival is of the utmost importance.”
“There are only ever roughly three hundred Legion Immortalis at any given time. The Ageless used to be in the majority, but in the past two centuries or so, our numbers and those of the Forsaken are beginning to even out. Whenever an Ageless dies, a new one is made. However, with Severan somehow finding a way to intercept the Childer Immortalis, this has become quite problematic.”
“You see, since the rise of the Forsaken, each Childer Immortalis is given the choice to come to Avalon, or to neglect their summons. Because of this choice, we cannot simply go out and bring the Young Ones here on our own; the Divine has made that very clear. To ensure the loyalty of our people, they MUST be given that choice. It must be THEIR choice to join their brethren. Should they fail to arrive in Avalon, many of them end up coming face to face with Severan and accepting his terms instead. To a Young One, Severan does not come off as the cruel and relentless man he truly is. One of the dangers about him is his innate charm and leadership.”
-
Sembas shakes Smith's hand firmly in return. The falconer has an air of officiality about him, and as Smith speaks he stands at attention.
"Yes sir, I am one of the Young Ones. My name is Sembas Filden, and this is my companion Faile." Faile bows to him in greeting. "It is good to meet you, Smith."
Sembas pulls the spear off of his back and stands it on end in front of him. He also pulls out his bowie knife from its sheath on his hip. Presenting them to Smith, he carries on with a formal tone.
"I was in the militia in my village, while I was still a mortal. It was customary for the militia men to gather at the Smithy once per season to have our weapons and equipment inspected." Nodding to his spear and knife, he continues. "It would mean a great deal to me if you were to inspect my equipment, sir. If you find it wanting, please let me know what I can do to find suitable replacements. 'A man is only as good as the friends at his back and the spear in his hands.' As my countrymen would say. I've made quite a few friends today, and hopefully I can add you to that count. I would like to know that I have the means to defend them as well as they can me, if the need arises."
-
@Sembas:
“Good to meet ye, Sembas. And ye, Faile.” After shaking your hand, he extends his index finger to Faile and shakes her talon. Faile seems to find this gesture amusing, but nevertheless, indulges the old man.
As you present your weapons to him, Smith carefully picks them up in his hands as if he fears holding them too roughly would cause them to break As you mention you have your weapons and equipment once a season, his eyes go wide and he shakes his head in disbelief. “Once a season! Great Divine, lad!”
“If you find it wanting, please let me know what I can do to find suitable replacements. 'A man is only as good as the friends at his back and the spear in his hands.' As my countrymen would say. I've made quite a few friends today, and hopefully I can add you to that count. I would like to know that I have the means to defend them as well as they can me, if the need arises."
“Those are honorable goals, lad, and I’m glad ye are finding Avalon and its gentle folk to yer liking. If yer working with the General ye’ll need the finest weapons, and to tell ye the truth, it might take me a bit o’ time to make something that will suit ye best. But, I can give ye something that’s spades better than what ye have here. In fact, I INSIST ye allow me to give ‘em to ye. I can’t bear the thought of ye fightin’ Forsaken with, if ye will pardon the honesty, lad, these bits o’ bruised metal and warped sticks. All I ask is that ye promise me one thing: ye must promise me that ye will retire these weapons and never use them again!” Smith lightly taps you on the chest with the wooden handle of your bowie knife.
He leads you to his back room, which is simply burgeoning with all manner of weapons. You doubt you’ve ever seen so many weapons assembled in one spot, and Smith explains that this is what happens when you leave an old smith to his own devices.
“I get bored,” he explains with a shrug.
Smith rummages through a large stack of weapons and emerges with a finely crafted spear and an impressive hunter’s knife. As he turns to hand them to you, he notices the embroidered belt pouch that Archer gifted to you.
“Ye’ve been to see ol’ Archer have ye? Ah… now that’s a fine bit of…” He suddenly realizes his words could be misconstrued. “Wood! Wood! That bow she’s always totin’ around! What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on a fine piece of Ironwood. My, I could make ye a weapon fit for the Divine with a piece like that!” he exclaims.
“If I could get a bit of that and maybe some Alviss-Touched Ore from the Chosen of Alviss… That would be a dream! But the former is nigh impossible to get and the latter is the stuff of legends! The Chosen of Alviss covet it above all else, and ye’d have to delve deeper and darker than any mortal would ever dare dig. Or have a Chosen of Alviss in yer back pocket. They refuse to sell or trade it, and ye’d be a lucky lad to ever even set eyes on it.”
“For now, these will have to do ye.” He hands you the weapons and as you inspect them, you note that they are of the finest craftsmanship you have ever seen. There is a strange, blue tint to the weapons, coupled with an unusual sparkling.
“These are made of Blue Steel that’s been combined with diamonds. Stuff will cut through just about anything! These blades will never wear, and these weapons will never break. It’s the best I can do for ye now.”
-
"Nice to meet you", Depheir said to two men standing before him. "I am..."
"You don't need an introduction. We know who you are", Dethys said to him, with a sign of amusement in his voice. "So, do you want to go to the headquarters of the Bulwark of Heaven?"
"Yes, I want... but first, take me to the library. Or... No, better take me to the headquarters."
"Okay", Dethys replied. "Follow me. But... why are you so hesitant? We can go to the library first."
"No. Duties first. Lead on."
-
Smith calls his weapons 'bits o' bruised metal and warped sticks.' Sembas was always sure to keep his weapons in good order, making sure his spear and knife were sharpened daily. He was quite embarrassed to find that his villages workmanship was not up to par. Being tapped on the chest with his own bowie knife did nothing to raise his spirits.
But he INSISTS that he gives Sembas some new weapons. The amount of weapons that the man keeps in the back room is staggering. Sembas quickly forgets his dismay as he studies the wide array of equipment kept in this room.
The spear and hunter's knife are exquisite, far surpassing anything he ever had in his possession.
“Ye’ve been to see ol’ Archer have ye? Ah… now that’s a fine bit of…”
Sembas quirks an eyebrow at the man before he quickly catches himself.
“Wood! Wood! That bow she’s always totin’ around...”
Sembas chuckles and replies. "It's quite an amazing bow. She allowed me to fire her and I think it was the first time I never missed a target. Not even one arrow off track!"
Smith goes on to explain about the Alviss-Touched Ore. Sembas makes a note of it. "If I ever have the chance to get my hands on some of this ore, or that ironwood, I'll be sure to get them to you as soon as possible. These weapons are the finest I've ever seen, I couldn't imagine what you could do with those materials!"
As Sembas receives the weapons he notices the sparkling blue tint to them. Hearing Smith's explanation his gold eyes widen considerably.
"Blue Steel?! I've only heard of this material from traveller's passing through my village." He turns the hunter's knife over in his hand, watching the diamonds catch the light as they sparkle. "I'll wield these with great honor, Smith. Thank you very much for your generosity. Hopefully I can repay you for these some day."
Sembas slides the hunter's knife in the sheath at his hip, and ties his strap to the spear and slings it over his back. He collects his old weapons and looks at them longingly.
"These are some of the few remnants I have from my old life. I'd like to keep them, if you don't mind. Not for battle, certainly not when I have your beautifully powerful weapons. No, I'd like to keep them as mementos from a simpler time..."
-
Fenwick quickly opens the first few pages and casts his new spell, COUNTERFEIT, on it. Pages after pages magically appear from the air and into his left hand as his right hand hovers over the original.
Thanking Dethys, he is led to the portal to Cleo... and steps through.
"You… you came back! I can’t believe you actually came back!”
He is about to reply when she pulls him closer to her. Instictively, he wraps his arms around her, but not before catching a tear just at the corner of her eye. Fenwick closes his eyes and simply lets the moment engulf him, engulf them.
"Of course I would. I made a promise." He says softly after a while, still holding onto Cleo. "I always keep promises." He smiles at that thought, "Or try to."
Then, as he finally, slowly releases her, a childlike anticipation creeped in. He is almost bouncy as he speaks next.
"Dethys taught me a few tricks!!! He brought me to the library, taught me two new spells! Look!" He pulls out the boo....er... Cardack, from his robe, and the copied text from the other. "These papers," he waves them for emphasis, "Are copies from the original!! I didn't have time to see what to take though, and just did the first few pages."
It is only now that he notices how the pages are.
"Oh... but they're yellowed and the words are a taaaad bit unclear.... heh. I'll make do with it... probably something to do with the spell."
But this revelation does not put him down as he looks Cleo straight in the eye and lifts the book up.
"But this, this!!!! Watch this!!!!!!!"
He casts the spell PACIFIST'S LULL and the book slowly disappears from Cleo's sight. He smiles at her reaction and in one grand movement made it such that he willed her be able to see the book.
"So... apparentely it's now immune to magic and projectiles too... Want to do the honours?" He mimicks her movement for the 'zappy thing' and her movement around the eyes with a big grin on his face. Then, looking at the book, looking at Cardack, he warns.
"Prepare yourself Cardack! Let's see if this spell actually works!!!!"
-
@Sembas:
“These are some of the few remnants I have from my old life. I'd like to keep them, if you don't mind. Not for battle, certainly not when I have your beautifully powerful weapons. No, I'd like to keep them as mementos from a simpler time...”
Smith nods in agreement. “Aye, lad. Ye must always hold dear to ye yer times as a true mortal. When ye forget yer ties to our human cousins, that’s when ye begin to become like the Forsaken. It is why, even after the Archon gifts us our Heart’s Names…” Realizing you may not know the meaning of this term, Smith elaborates.
“The Heart’s Name is the name that each Ageless of the Bulwark receives at their Naming Ceremony. Mine, you may be shocked to know, is Smith. When the Archon grants ye yer Ageless name, it fulfills its own purpose. It may be something about ye or something ye hold dear, but whatever it is, it suits ye. Truth be told, my smithin’ increased ten-fold when I got me name.”
“To keep our ties to the mortal realm alive, we keep our first names, and the Ageless name becomes as a second name, or as a title.” He gestures to your old, mundane weapons. “Little mementos like those… those are important to keep to.
He gestures for you to follow him and leads you to his personal office, a small room in the rear of the smithy. Upon the wall is a grand shelf, hand-carved and exquisite in its detail. This is unusual as you contrast it with the seemingly paltry offerings that it bears. There is a rather unremarkable Blacksmith’s hammer, a wooden thimble, a baby’s rattle, and a hand-drawn portrait of a beautiful young woman.
“This… this be me first hammer. Given to me by my Da’ when he took me on as his apprentice. This thimble… this belonged to my Ma. She was quite a seamstress, and when I was a boy, I’d take this little pieces and draw faces upon them. I’d put them on my fingers, waggle them around, and fancy them little soldiers in a war with these blokes over here.” He waggles the fingers upon his right hand for emphasis and chuckles at the memory.
“This rattle belonged to me first son, my boy, Amos, and this is a picture of my dear, darling girl, Victoria.”
He reverently takes the portrait into this rough hands and gazes upon the figure within with great fondness and enduring love. “Ye see, Sembas, lad, I keep these to remind me of where I came from, so I never lose sight of where I’m going.”
-
@Fenwick:
Cleo listens as you exuberantly tell her of your adventures thus far in Avalon and nods agreeably as you tell her of your new spells. However, when the name Cardack escapes your lips, her eyes narrow considerably and she scarcely hears you as you suggest her use of “the zappy thing” to test the new spell upon the book.
You have noticed that Cardack has been eerily silent since your passage through the gates, and as Cleo resolutely makes her way towards the tome, you can just barely see Cardack’s eyes protruding through the cover of the book. Those eyes look VERY nervous, and they widen considerably as Cleo stares down into them.
“YOU!” she exclaims forcefully.
Cardack tries to retreat further into the tome, but Cleo thrusts her outstretched hand into the cover of the book and seizes him roughly by his ethereal head of hair.
“OW!” exclaims Cardack as the Seer pulls his form as far as it will go.
“YOU! YOU DARE TO SHOW YOUR FACE IN AVALON AGAIN AFTER WHAT YOU DID, YOU MISERABLE CAD?! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW MUCH YOU HURT POOR HESTIA?!”
Cardack whines miserably. “Come now, Cleo, be sensible!”
“HOW ABOUT I BE MERCIFUL INSTEAD AND END YOUR MISERABLE EXISTENCE?!”
“Cleo, dear, I understand you are upset. I know Hestia is like a mother to you and surely the pain I caused her must have had some effect upon you. Believe me when I say that I intend to apologize for my misdeeds,” assures Cardack feelingly.
Cleo crosses her arms over her chest and gazes upon Cardack defiantly. “Why should I believe you?”
“Cleo, two hundred years is a long time to dwell on your mistakes. You, of all people, should understand just how much time can wear upon a past transgression,” Cardack replies.
Cleo relents, but is all too eager to help you experiment on your book. She places one hand on the book, and the other on Cardack himself. Though the book itself remains entirely unscathed, Cardack is not so fortunate, and his agonized cries pierce your ears as electricity pulses through his incorporeal form.
“Hmph! So you can still feel pain,” says Cleo simply. She then turns to you. “Well, you will be pleased to know that the spell has granted your book certain spell immunities, an impressive amount, in fact. However, that tome-dwelling miscreant will not be so fortunate. If he remains in the book while you are engaged in combat, he should be fine.”
“However, if he emerges from the confines of its pages, the immunities will not extend to him any longer. The spell can protect the book, but not a person, nor the cowardly remnants of a person.” Cleo, again, glares at Cardack. “So, I should warn you to be careful about airing him out if there are enemies around.”
-
@Depheir:
Keeper returns to his duties at the gatehouse and Dethys leads you to a deceptively large building that appears much smaller from the outside. You tread the same paths that your soon-to-be companions had mere hours before, and soon find yourself in the offices of General Deya Fury, wife of the Archon, General of The Blood-Wardens, and Head of The Bulwark of Heaven.
Despite the natural respect-commanding attitude and intimidating appearance of the woman before you, General Fury is exceptionally hospitable as she explains why you were brought before her, the intentions of The Bulwark of Heaven, and her acknowledgment of your talents. It seems the Elder Ageless already know a great deal about you. You are unsurprised by this as Dethys has already informed you about a tome that was entrusted to his safekeeping. Purportedly the tome records an entry for every one of The Legion Immortalis that has ever been Chosen.
At one point, the General leans back in her high-backed chair and appears to contemplate something. “I have told you the purpose for The Bulwark of Heaven. We are an organization made up of humans, Ageless, and many others who have committed themselves to the protection of mankind, the fall of the Forsaken, and the undoing of The Adversary, the true enemy of The Divine.”
“Your skills speak volumes, and I believe you have a great deal to offer our organization. We also have a great deal that we can offer you in terms of training, weapons, and the further refinement of your skills. In the end, however, this is a choice that you alone can make. Should you join the Bulwark, the road ahead will be a dangerous one, and as is the case with nearly everything in life, your survival cannot be assured. However, if you choose to set out upon your own, it is very likely that Severan and the Forsaken Horde will attempt to capture you. Me, and the Elders, are here to aid you. Should you accept our offer, we will more than happy to welcome you into our ranks.”
-
Fenwick can barely move as the vulnerable mage had suddenly turned into an angry soul hellbent on revenge. The book seems to have grown eyes, no doubt those of Cardack, and Fenwick quickly decides to lay it down on the table as Cleo shouts and screams at him. It is only when he appeals to her own guilt that she stops...
...Only to zap him as a reward.
Cleo stops and turns to him. “Well, you will be pleased to know that the spell has granted your book certain spell immunities, an impressive amount, in fact. However, that tome-dwelling miscreant will not be so fortunate. If he remains in the book while you are engaged in combat, he should be fine.”
Oh, so at least the spell worked. Too bad that in trying to live forever, Cardack had forgotten about the possibility of pain.
She ends with a final warning. “So, I should warn you to be careful about airing him out if there are enemies around."
He hears a slight whimper somewhere in his mind and he can only hold sympathy at this point for him, regardless of how much he had affected the other members of the Bulwark. Of course, it helped that he didn't really know him, despite the book having been in his possesion for a few years.
"I'll... er... just... skip asking you how you're doing." Fenwick offers Cleo a weak smile, attempting to diffuse the situation. He knows, however, that sooner or later he would have to ask what had happened. Might as well make it now.
"What happened? Are you okay?" He can feel the magic around her, still fuzzy and tingly from the earlier shocks. Nervously, very lightly, he places a hand on her shoulder, just as he had when Faran had peeved her off. He looks at her beautiful face, but can only turn his head between her and Cardack, still feeling the tension around them. "Perhaps I should just put that away?" As much as he wants to make Cleo feel better, he didn't want to risk Cardack and his book. It simply held too much value to him.
He reaches out for the book, almost comically stretching for it while attempting to keep his other hand on Cleo's shoulder. It appears to be a bit too far however, and he reluctantly lets go to fully retrieve the book.
'We'll talk about this afterwards, Cardack.' He mentally tells the book, before putting it away safely in the folds of his robes.
-
"I have told you the purpose for The Bulwark of Heaven. We are an organization made up of humans, Ageless, and many others who have committed themselves to the protection of mankind, the fall of the Forsaken, and the undoing of The Adversary, the true enemy of The Divine."
"So, you are to destroy them and to protect the mankind", Depheir gathered all the information in his own words. "And you want every Ageless to help you in doing so. But one thing remains a bit unclear to me. Who is their leader?"
"Severan Deceit. His right-hand man is Lieutenant Cauter."
"Ah... Severan. I've heard that name somewhere before.", Depheir whispered to himself.
General Fury looked at him, as she noticed that Young Ageless speaks to himself. Few seconds after, she continued.
“Your skills speak volumes, and I believe you have a great deal to offer our organization. We also have a great deal that we can offer you in terms of training, weapons, and the further refinement of your skills. In the end, however, this is a choice that you alone can make. Should you join the Bulwark, the road ahead will be a dangerous one, and as is the case with nearly everything in life, your survival cannot be assured. However, if you choose to set out upon your own, it is very likely that Severan and the Forsaken Horde will attempt to capture you. Me, and the Elders, are here to aid you. Should you accept our offer, we will more than happy to welcome you into our ranks."
"Yes, I accept your offer.", Depheir replied to General. "Is there anything I can do for the Legion now?"
-
Smith explains the Heart's Name that each Ageless of the Bulwark is given. That explains Gladia and Dennan's last names of Archer and Justice. Sembas nods with understanding. The Naming Ceremony has been mentioned before, but the further explanation was helpful. He wondered what his given name would be...
Smith tells him about his finger soldiers, and Sembas joins him in a chuckle over the memory. When he mentions the rattle and the picture Sembas feels a pang of sadness for the man, for all the Ageless.
"The more people I meet in Avalon, the more the downfalls of immortality become apparent. Everyone is happy, for the most part. But the wear of time shows through, if only in passing moments. It breaks my heart to think that my family and friends back home will continue to age and die, while I will be preserved like this for eternity... Divine willing."
The falconer runs his fingers down the shaft of his old spear. "This was given to me by the leader of my village's militia. He hand picked it out of the smith's allotment for the year I joined. It is the first piece of equipment I've ever owned thats purpose was to harm others. I was afraid of it, to be honest. But use and duty relieved me of that fear quickly. Rather than a weapon meant to harm I realized that it was a shield, a shield for the people of my village."
He leans the spear on the wall and runs his fingers down his old bowie knife. "This was given to me by my father on my sixteenth birthday." He gives Smith a boyish grin. "It was his knife before he gave it to me. He showed me how to sharpen and oil it. The handle was already molded to his hand. As I grew up my hand fit the handle more and more, until it fit my hand just as well as his."
Sembas lets out a long sigh. "I wonder if I'll ever see him again. He would do flips over seeing the workmanship of your weapons." Shaking off his somber mood, he smiles again. "Thank you for sharing these pieces of your mortal life with me, Armen Smith. It means a lot to know that we can still look back on our past lives with fondness instead of sorrow."
Faile has been reverently silent during their whole discussion. As Sembas spoke of his father he could feel that she missed him too. Even though they just saw him a few weeks past, the distance and the knowledge of their condition made their old life seem like ages ago.
-
Thread closed for length.